The Stags Head

“All right, spill - what happened this weekend?” 

Boy, nothing gets by you, does it? “What do you mean ‘what happened this weekend’?” 

“Oh girl, don’t even,” Fanboy retorts with a snort as they wander out into the hallway. “You and Bob have been staring and smiling at each other alllll morning, which leads me to believe that something happened between you guys. So, what happened?” 

Despite Fanboy being rather annoyingly perceptive about her love life (damn him), Katie can only chuckle. “Really hell-bent on winning that five bucks, huh?”

“I mean, it’s an easy win for me; it’s obvious you two have something going on.” 

“Either that, or you’re seeing things. Speaking of seeing things, what’s this I hear about you seeing a girl in Los Angeles? Halfpint said you were gone all weekend with someone-”

“Ah ah ah, we’re not talking about me; stop avoiding the question-”

“Oh my god - we went to the aquarium and looked at fish. Happy now?” In her defense, she is telling Fanboy the truth - she just fails to mention the kiss they shared in the kelp forest exhibit, the hours of conversation, and the secondary kiss she gave him after he walked her back to her room. It’s not like it’s important for him to know the details right now. 

Fanboy knows she’s lying - or, at the very least, he looks at her like he knows she’s lying, complete with his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed, just the tiniest bit. “You’re not telling me something. I dunno what it is yet, but I’ll figure it out - and you’re in trouble when I do.”

Katie heaves a sigh. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

Fanboy sounds almost affronted when he scoffs at her. “I’ve got five dollars on the line; of course I’m not letting it go.” He sets his garrison cap squarely on his head and lines it up with the bridge of his nose, then starts for the front door - only to double back and lean in towards Katie. “Her name’s Gianna, by the way.” 

He’s already walking by the time Katie thinks to respond. “You better gimme details on her, Garcia!”

“Only when you gimme details on you and Bobber!” he yells as a final farewell, just as the front doors cut him off with a loud clang!

Katie can’t help but groan. Can’t he at least give her the courtesy of some privacy before divulging the details of her love life? Apparently not. Nosy-ass.

“Boy, Fanboy’s in fine form today, isn’t he?” Bob’s come up behind her, hand brushing her shoulder blade to let her know that he’s there. 

She ignores the tingling she gets from his hand brushing against her and sighs. “You heard all that, huh?”

“Yeah… What was that all about?” 

Katie blows a raspberry with her lips, shakes her head. “He’s being nosy about this past weekend. He’s got money riding on you and me getting together.” 

“Wait…” Bob’s eyebrows furrow. “There’s a bet going?” 

“Five dollars that you and I become a thing in a matter of weeks,” Katie explains. She doesn’t even try to hide the wince on her face. “In my defense, I didn’t do shit to encourage him. He made the bet all on his own.” 

“Sounds like something he’d do,” Bob replies with a hum as he’s positioning his garrison cap. 

They’re outside now, making their way towards Katie’s 4Runner. The sun’s hanging directly overhead, beaming down and hitting Bob’s hair in a way that turns it to gold in the light. For a second, it’s all Katie can focus on, all she wants to focus on. Christ, he’s handsome…

She coughs after a moment. She hates to end it so soon. “Yeah, well, his competitiveness is making him badger me for money. He’s pretty well convinced you and I are a sure thing.” 

“Well, what do you think? Are we a sure thing?”

Katie’s breath stops mid-inhale. Oh boy. She should’ve known that it was going to come up; she just wasn’t expecting it to come up as soon as it did. 

She forces the air out in a small exhale, purses her lips as they climb into the 4Runner. “I think…” Choose your words carefully Katie… “I think we only just realized we have feelings for each other,” she says slowly. “And… while we’re figuring out where we wanna go with those feelings, I think I want to take things slow with you.” 

She’s half-expecting Bob to hang his head in disappointment, or to say something passive-aggressive in response - anything to suggest she’s in the wrong for trying to set boundaries and manage expectations. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to her. 

To her surprise, though, Bob nods. “That’s more than fair. Certainly makes things a little less intimidating.”

When he says that, Katie’s not sure if he’s speaking for her, or for himself. 

In any case, she hums in agreement as she starts the car up - then smirks. “If last weekend was any indicator, though, I’d say things are heading in a good direction.” She reaches over, slips a hand into Bob’s, squeezes softly as her eyes meet his. “Wouldn’t you agree?”  

Bob gives her a grin and his own squeeze of her hand as a reply. Wholeheartedly, it seems to say. 

She smiles, cranks her music volume, and points them  in the direction of downtown San Diego. 

Likewise, Bob. 

Likewise. 

***

Tuesday morning is a timeframe like most others these days - early rise, quick rinse, fresh flight suit…

And coffee with Bob in his lodge room. 

At 0730 he’s in his usual spot behind the kitchen bartop, hand-grinding coffee beans and keeping a casual eye on the kettle on the stove, watching for steam. Equally, Katie is in her usual spot too, elbow on the counter, propping up her head resting in her hand, eyes on Bob, lazy, sleepy half-smile on her face. She likes watching him make coffee for the both of them. It’s soothing, a balm for the unpleasantness of waking up early in the morning. 

Beans sufficiently ground, Bob pops the cap on the grinder and dumps them into his French press. “This stuff smells phenomenal. Where did you get it from again?” 

“Y’know James Coffee over on India Street?”

“Oh yeah, those guys. Been meaning to check ‘em out sometime. How’s their coffee?” 

Katie nods. “It’s really good - kinda’ fruity. At least that’s what the guy who sold it to me said.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Bob takes the kettle in one hand, wets the grounds with some water before giving them a stir. “You can smell the berries and chocolate in the beans.” He pours the rest of the water into the press, all the way to the top, then sets the plunger. “It’s gonna make a helluva cup of coffee, I can tell you that much.” 

He splits the resulting liquid between two white mugs, and hands one off to Katie, who takes a single long sip and hums serenely. Warm, toasty, and chocolatey.  Bob’s right - this is a damn good cup of coffee. 

“Dude, can I just, like… Take you back to Virginia with me when this is all over? Have you make me coffee everyday or something? Like goddamn.” She takes another sip of coffee, revels in the rich, fruity taste, the heat warming her insides, the caffeine flowing through her. “Seriously, I don’t think I can go back to my Keurig after this,” she says with a laugh. 

Bob chuckles as he comes around the bartop and takes the seat to Katie’s left. “I dunno. Big daddy Navy might have something to say about that, but” - he takes a long sip - “I’m sure we could figure something out.” 

“Eh, it’s nothing an SRC can’t take care of.” 

A shrug and a lip-curl of agreement. “SRC’s do take care of a lot of things.” 

“See? Problem solved.” Katie takes another pull of coffee. Right now she can’t get enough of it, it’s so good. “Just say that you’re, I dunno… establishing a coffee mess detachment in Norfolk. Y’know, something that says ‘mission critical’ and makes upper leadership happy.” 

“Spoken as if it’s actually gonna work,” Bob replies with a snicker. 

“Oh what, you think it won’t?”

“Trust me, I wish it would.”

“Oh, it definitely will. I mean, it’s gotta; I’ve got cute guy-supplied coffee on the line here.” 

Bob’s cheeks color, and there’s just the tiniest hint of bashfulness in the smile that crosses his face. “Cute, huh?” 

“Oh yeah.” She leans into him, hand running feather-light down his forearm before resting atop his free hand. “Very cute.”

Her heart still pounds in her chest when she leans in further and kisses Bob. She may be the picture of cool and collected on the outside, but there’s no controlling the anxious shriek of her nerves, the too-fast rush of her blood through her veins as her lips brush his, taste him. Kissing a man certainly isn’t a novelty for Katie, but… 

This is Bob Floyd she’s kissing now, and Bob, he’s… Well, where the hell does Katie begin? He’s…

Unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. 

She pulls back, surveys his face for a moment. Bob is blank-faced - dumbstruck, even. Clearly he wasn’t expecting a kiss this morning. 

“What about what you said yesterday?” 

Despite the hammering in her ribs, she sidles up next to Bob, leans until her lips are just close enough to brush the shell of his ear. Bold of her. VERY bold of her. “Just because we’re taking it slow, doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you,” she whispers. 

Katie can practically feel the heat coming off of Bob all of a sudden, can feel the goosebumps prickling across his skin. Hell, his breathing hitches for a second. So. Close proximity definitely has an effect on him. It’s a bit of a mean thing to do this early in the morning, but she’s definitely got his attention with that. She’s also fairly certain he’s not going to complain much about it, if he even complains at all. 

A moment later, Bob replies. “Well,” he says around a thick swallow, “thank god for that, because I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since Saturday.” 

He hasn’t? 

He turns back towards Katie, and picks up where she left off, nice, easy, no pressure. Unlike Katie, though, he doesn’t pull back after the one kiss. No - he stays there, wanting more, giving more. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, so nice and tender, and suddenly Katie’s the one with goosebumps. It’s so… intimate. It’s closeness that she hasn’t had, not in a long, long time. 

And it’s closeness that she wants more of. 

Her hands move of their own free will, creeping up to cradle Bob’s jaw, every bit as tender as the embrace he has her in, more more more please more - 

And then the soft rattle of a doorknob turning has them breaking apart and shoving away faster than they have time to process. Dashed is the moment of closeness, the moment of bliss that Katie was all too happy to let herself sink into - like a bubble bursting and fizzing into the ether.

The door to the left-side bedroom swings open, and out comes Rapture, swiping a hand down his sleep-riddled face, the very picture of ‘I’m up too early against my will’ as he all but stumbles into the shared space. 

He’s utterly oblivious to his WSO having kissed their fellow aviator all but two seconds ago, to the flushed pink tinting both their cheeks, their lips.  

And dare Katie even think it for a second, but she’s… annoyed by the sudden appearance of Bob’s front-seater. Very annoyed. 

“Pre-class coffee?” Rapture mumbles, to which Bob nods in answer. “Smells good.”

“Man, you have no idea. This stuff is amazing. You want a cup?”

Rapture all but moans. “Please.”

It’s a fight to keep a scowl from creeping across her face. Goddamn it Rapture, you couldn’t have done this earlier?

Bob seems to sense the thought running through Katie’s head, because his eyes dart to hers as he stands and goes to fix a cup of coffee for his front-seater - and if she’s reading the glimmer in them correctly, it’s definitely saying “I hear you.”

Perhaps he also had other things in mind before Rapture showed up. 

In an attempt to be conversational while waiting on the coffee, Rapture turns to Katie. “How’re you doing this morning?”

“Not too bad. Enjoying my one moment of peace for the day before other people see fit to destroy it.” The smile on her face is polite, but tight. Very tight. Pointedly tight. 

“Christ, that’s a mood,” Rapture mutters before taking the coffee Bob’s just passed to him and drinking, seemingly unfazed by the wording and stiff expression - and heaves a long sigh of bliss. “Y’think anyone’ll care if I take the mug with me off lodge property?”

“Uh… No?”

“Good. This is coming with me then. Fuck, this is good.” He takes another sip, smacks his lips, starts for the front door. “I’ll see y’all at the schoolhouse.”

Then, Rapture’s gone, breezing through the front door, leaving Bob and Katie to slump in the kitchen. Universe: one. Two romantically involved aviators: zero. 

“God bless my front-seater, but he has terrible timing sometimes,” Bob all but groans. 

“Yeah, tell me about it. S’pose we oughta’ follow his lead though and get moving; muster is in 15 minutes.”

“Yeah, you’re right; we should go. You driving or am I?”

“Eh, I’ll drive.”

“All right. Just leave your mug on the counter; I’ll wash it later.” Bob scoops up his notebooks and study material, dumps it into the black Navy-issued backpack resting against the kitchen floorboards, loops his arms through one of the straps, grabs his garrison cap off the counter. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“‘Kay. Let’s go.” 

They march down the hall towards the stairwell at the opposite end, strides long and purposeful, minds clear and focused now. At least, Katie’s mind is, no thanks to Rapture and his sudden interruption. It’s definitely for the best though; being half-dazed and delirious from a kiss while learning rigorous combative flight technique is probably not the best state to be in. 

They’re making their way down the stairs, boots all but thundering as they hit the steps, when Bob comes to a standstill right at the bottom. Katie’s lucky she catches herself in time; one more step forward and she would be tumbling over him. 

“You good there?” 

“Fine. Just forgot something, is all.”

Katie’s eyebrow shoots up. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Bob says nothing else - just turns and leans into Katie and kisses her, right there at the bottom the stairwell, one second, two seconds, three. When he pulls away, there’s a grin - a self-satisfied, mischievous one - on his face. “That. We’re good now.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” Even though her eyes roll and her voice scoffs, her lips still curl upwards in a smile.

“Can’t help it that I like kissing you - and that I’m gonna take every chance I get to do it.”

And with that, Bob smiles broadly, nudges Katie in the shoulder, and pushes through the door into the lobby, leaving Katie to follow with her mouth in a silly grin and her face flushed. 

So much for having a clear mind today.

***

The outdoors call to Katie today, more than usual. It probably has something to do with today’s lecture and hop being on the more hellish side, but by the time everyone’s released for the day and she’s made it back to her room to change, the initial reason doesn’t matter all that much. She just has to get outside, and soon. 

She texts Bob and Fanboy as she’s swapping over to shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. “Going hiking, y’all wanna come with?” 

Bob’s answer comes through almost immediately. “Sure. Where to?”

“No idea,” Katie texts, shrugging as she does, as though Bob can somehow see her reacting to the message. “You wanna pick?” 

As Bob takes time to ponder, another message chirps through - Fanboy this time. “Fuck it, why not?” his message reads. “Where we going?”

“No idea. Bob’s picking a spot.” 

“Cool cool. Bobber, where to?”

“Uhhhhhh thoughts on Bayside Trail? Two and a half mi roundtrip and it’s right along the ocean.”

Ah, a nice, quick oceanside hike. More importantly, a nice, quick oceanside hike at golden hour. How pretty - and romantic, Katie realizes a second later. 

Shit. Fanboy is definitely going to read into this now. 

She swears to herself, threads her braided hair through the back of the ball cap Bob bought for her, pulls it down tight on her head. She suddenly finds herself praying to the higher powers that be, asking them to please, for the love of all things holy, let her (and Bob, for that matter) have a nice afternoon without any prying questions from their friend, or (Christ) even so much as a sly sideways glance at the two of them. 

HA, she thinks, then groans. Who the fuck am I kidding? 

Much to Katie’s surprise, though, he doesn’t. In fact, Fanboy hardly says a damn word the whole time they’re together. Even when it’s an hour and a half later and she and Bob are drifting and talking to each other a good deal closer than most friends would, he doesn’t say anything. 

Maybe he doesn’t notice, Katie thinks briefly, right before shaking her head. No way. He’s noticed and he’s just choosing not to say anything. 

She all but confirms this when they reach the trail’s terminus and she snaps a picture of the three of them, standing high above the ocean in all its blue- and gold-hued glory, and goddamn it if Fanboy doesn’t smirk in the picture - smirk at her, more specifically. 

Yep, he definitely noticed. 

And he makes as much clear when he knocks shoulders with her on the return trip and murmurs to her, “Still think you’re not paying me that five bucks?”

“Yeah, when hell freezes over.”

“Y’know, that day might be coming a lot sooner than you think.”

“Fanboy, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, only after you pay me.”

Insufferable, that one. Really and truly insufferable. 

And yet, Katie doesn’t have it in her to resent Fanboy. For as much as he pokes at and pesters her about it, for as much as it drives her damn nuts, they both know that there’s a point being made:

Something is brewing between her and Bob, something big, and to continue to deny it is a fool’s errand. Fanboy’s right, and not only does he know it, but Katie knows it too. 

…She’s still not giving him the money, though. 

***

She hasn’t stopped thinking about Tuesday morning. 

It’s been two days since then and her face still feels warm where Bob had laid his hand - tingly warm, good warm. A man caressing her face the way he did isn’t a novel experience to her - at least, it shouldn’t be; past boyfriends and flings have made similar moves in similar situations, but none of them affected her the way this one, this man, did. 

It’s made Katie realize lately how badly - how very, very badly - she wants Bob to touch her like that. To touch her in general. To run his hands over her face and her body and…

Her cheeks go from pale and freckled to burning and flushed in a matter of seconds. It paints a wonderful image in her head, but she scolds herself. They’ve only just started figuring things out; she doesn’t need to be having those thoughts just yet. 

But here she is, having them anyway. And she’s not in much of a rush to stop them. 

Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them. 

Oh god, she’s in trouble. She’s supposed to be meeting up with him in five minutes for some studying, and in his room, no less. How the hell is she supposed to manage that with the thoughts, the images racing through her head? 

Katie groans, tips forward and lets her forehead smack against the mirror in her bathroom. “Please, I am begging you,” she moans to herself, “get your shit together. You’re supposed to be taking this slow, remember?”

If only it were so easy to keep that in mind. 

She splashes some water on her face, wills her brain to stop racing and the flush in her face to disappear. The flush proves easy to dispel. The thoughts? Not so much. They circle and circle, over and over, and goddamn it, this is so not helping. 

It’s only when she forces herself to think of the most unsexy things in the world - namely, UCMJ articles and the Navy code of ethics - that she’s able to feel calm enough to handle things. She’s in control. She can do this. 

…Right?

Turns out that’s a lie - a big, fat one, because when Bob greets her in his doorway five minutes later, wearing a USN hoodie with the sleeves bunched up to reveal the tone of his forearms, Katie’s body goes hot and all thoughts of calm and control go flying out of her head. 

Did he have to wear something that shows off one of the best parts of him?

Thinking those thoughts about a friend of yours… Have you no shame?

For once, Katie doesn’t wince at the nagging little voice in the back of her head. 

“All right, I’ve got Thai food on the counter,” Bob says without a moment of hesitation. “I say we eat first and then dive into studying.”

It’s enough to snap Katie out of her momentary stupor. She nods in agreement and follows him through the doorway. “What’ve you got?”

“Summer rolls with peanut sauce, pork pad kee mao, and green curry with chicken. The pad kee mao’s good but if you’re not a fan of spicy, I’d skip it.”

“Well,” Katie asks as she takes a plate from him, “how spicy are we talking here?”

“Like a five, maybe a soft six out of ten.”

“Am I gonna be doubled over in your bathroom in twenty minutes if I eat it?”

“Eh, I don't think so. If you can handle last week's Chinese food, you'll handle this just fine."

Katie’s first response is to purse her lips in thought - then to take the spoon nestled in the noodles and dump a big scoop of them onto her plate. “Guess we’ll see how I’m doing in twenty minutes then.”

Luckily for her, twenty minutes go by without any issue (fire-coated throat and tongue notwithstanding). She makes a mental note to order from this place sometime after going for her second serving of pad kee mao and green curry. Or, better yet, to just have Bob make all her food decisions from now on. He hasn’t steered wrong yet and the food he’s picked out only seems to get better. 

“All right - so, what do we wanna go over?”

“I mean, anything and everything,” Katie shrugs, “but uh… Lecture notes? Lab notes? Flight observations?”

“Lecture was pretty dense today…” Bob flips open one of his many notebooks, eyes scanning through line after line of bullet points and side notes. “Wanna start with radar?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

And so it goes. Books are flipped open, old notes are thumbed through, new notes are scribbled down in the margins. For Bob and Katie, it’s the heaviest use of their brain power outside of the schoolhouse. 

Three hours later, at 2100, they sit side by side on the sofa in Bob’s living space, dialed into their studies while vaporwave drones in the background, poring over pages and pages of notes and analysis, over papers that lay scattered across the coffee table, over… Well, who really knows at this point? 

Katie traces a line of text with the tip of her pen, willing the words to, one: make sense; and two: stick in any way possible. Whether it’s due to the late hour or her own subconscious desire to stop learning for the day, none of what she’s reading is making much sense to her. 

Seems like there’s only one thing to do at this point. 

She sighs, turns to Bob, whose eyes seem to rove over the same paragraph repeatedly in his book. “Is your brain as soupy as mine or…?”

Bob snorts. “Katie, if you tipped my head to one side, I’m pretty sure it would fall out of my ear.”

Noted. 

“So we’re calling it for the night then?”

A nod. “Yeah, we’re calling it.” 

“Fair enough.” Katie flips her guidance book shut, tosses the pen onto the coffee table with a curt sigh. “Now what?”

“Dunno - we relax, I guess.”

“As if we don’t relax together every weekend?” Katie says wryly. 

“Ah, that’s different. That’s ‘morale is high and we have a whole day to ourselves’ relaxing. This is ‘stare at a wall and contemplate our life choices’ relaxing.”

“Seems a little sad, but I suppose you’re right.” Katie sinks back into the couch, blows a strand of hair out of her face. “I am kind of wondering what I got myself into here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, y’know, wondering why I said ‘sure’ to my boss when he told me I was going to TOPGUN, that sort of thing. All it’s done for me is get my ass kicked.”

“Well, even if it is getting your ass kicked, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Glad someone is,” Katie replies with snark. 

“Hey, c’mon now, I am. You’re one of the few people keeping me sane here.” 

“Oh, is that why you’re so interested in me?” 

Bob only gives Katie a look that can be described as withering, but it’s hard to call it that when he can barely keep a smile from spreading across his face. “You know it’s for more than that.”

“I know. I’m just teasing. Oh man…”

Katie tips to the side, into Bob, her temple knocking into the curve of his shoulder. Bob, meanwhile, stacks himself on top of Katie with a sigh, cheek pressing into the crown of her head. His hand comes to rest on the inside of her leg, by her knee, but he doesn’t dare inch it up any further than that. 

It doesn’t matter. Even in a spot so unassuming, his hand on her knee is enough to send lightning ripping up her spine.

Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This man is going to be the death of her. 

“Guess it’s my turn to be the nervous wreck now,” she comments wryly, voice bordering on a rasp. 

She can feel Bob frown against the crown of her head. “Why do you say that?”

“Y’know how you weren’t able to stop thinking about kissing me? Guess it’s my turn now.”

“…Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm. Your hand on my knee is, uh, having quite an effect.” As if emphasizing her words, her knee gives a twitch beneath his hand. 

“If it’s making you uncomfortable I can take it off-”

“No, no. It’s…” Oh man, why are words suddenly hard? “I want you to keep it there. It’s… It’s nice.” 

“Yeah?”

She manages a nod, the words failing her this time. All she can think about - all that really matters - is his hand on her leg - that closeness between them. 

Oh, they’re playing a dangerous game now. Katie realizes it the second the thought goes through her head. After that first kiss in the aquarium, she’s realized just how starved for physical contact she’s been, and with Bob being more than willing to give it to her…

Oh yes - a dangerous game, indeed. 

And Katie can’t bring herself to care all of a sudden. 

She turns, curls into him with a long, soft sigh, face pressing into the curve of his neck. He’s warm - so warm, and it radiates through, soaks into her, and it damn near makes her hum. This. This is nice. Real nice. 

She drapes an arm loosely across him, nuzzles into Bob, seeking the heat of him. 

Bob is utterly still beneath her. 

…To hell with it. 

Katie removes her face from the crook of his neck - only to lean in, mouth slanting over Bob’s in a soft, questioning kiss. Do you want this? 

His hand slides up her shoulder, rests on her neck, pulls her closer, ever so gentle. Please. 

She obliges. More than that, actually; she pushes in hard, steals the breath from his lungs and replaces it with her own. She needs to be close to him, as close as humanly possible - needs to feel him in some way. 

And Bob? Bob meets her halfway every time she dips in, meets Katie touch for touch, kiss for kiss, sigh for sigh. His teeth prick down on her lower lip and tug it into his mouth, and it’s all Katie can do to clamp down on the heat surging between her legs. The thoughts from earlier resurface. She can’t get enough of the way he feels against her.

She needs more. 

She threads her fingers into Bob’s golden-brown hair, nails digging ever so gently into his scalp. It’s been a long time since she’s done this - shamelessly made out with a man, lost herself in the fog of lips and teeth and tongue. Lips that burn hot against her own. Teeth that pull her in close, into him. Tongue that tastes her. And god, is Bob good with them - better than she would’ve guessed. 

It makes Katie wonder what else he’s capable of… 

Makes her wonder where else he could make her burn and feel utterly breathless. 

Before she’s even fully aware of it, her leg is thrown over Bob’s lap and she’s half straddling him, body going through motions she hasn’t been through in ages, motions she’s all too happy to surrender herself to - that is, until Bob groans beneath her, and suddenly her brain catches up with the rest of her body and it all comes to a screeching halt. In an instant she’s pulling back, her breath frozen in her throat and her eyes wide in mortification. 

“Oh my god-” She shoves herself off, puts some desperately-needed space between the two of them. “I’m so sorry, I got totally carried away-”

“Katie-”

“I’m not trying to give you mixed signals or force you into something-”

“Katie-”

“I swear I wasn’t trying to-”

“Katie!”

Katie freezes, a deer caught in the headlights. Did she just royally screw things up? 

Her heart is hammering in her chest as Bob, with his mussed hair and flushed cheeks and full lips, reaches over and takes her face in both his hands, thumbs brushing over the lines of her cheekbones. “Look at me, look at me - it’s okay. You did nothing wrong.” 

“But- But you groaned and-” Why, why, why does she sound like a nervous high-schooler? Christ - she really is out of practice with this… 

Bob chuckles, and a bit breathlessly at that. “I can’t help it when I’ve got a girl practically on top of me, doing some real nice things to me…” 

“I, uh… don’t know if that helps.”

“Katie, it’s fine. I’m having the time of my life here. I mean…” His eyes travel downward, and Katie follows them, and… 

It’s the first time she’s looked at him since they started this whole thing - really looked at him. And now that she’s here, in this moment, there’s no missing the stiffness in Bob’s jeans. It’s a total rush of blood to the head, seeing how she’s affected him.

Katie lifts her head, light blue gaze meeting Bob’s newly dark blue gaze. “Do you want me to keep going?” 

“Oh god, more than anything, but…” He’s gentle as he takes her hands in his. “Do you wanna keep going?” 

The warmth pulsing between Katie’s legs all but screams ‘yes’ - but she finds herself sighing and drawing back. “Maybe we should hold back a little, or… I dunno. I think if we’re trying to take it slow and figure things out, this kind of isn’t the way to do it… Y’know?” 

“Yeah, you do have a point there.” 

She’s waiting for the 180, the moment when he tells her that he is, in fact, disappointed in her for stopping and guilts her into changing her mind. Only it never comes. Of course it never comes, because it’s Bob, and why on earth would he do that? He’s not one of the boyfriends of days past. 

And he’s certainly not her. 

“D’you want me to walk you back?” 

Yes, and lock us in my room and pin me to my bed and- “I appreciate the offer, but uh, there’s that slight risk of getting handsy again and uh…”

Bob’s lips quirk up in a smirk. “Well, who says that’s a bad thing?” 

The heat in Katie’s core flares like a sunburst. Whether or not Bob knows it, he’s making it damn difficult for her to want to slow this down. 

“I think I’ll walk myself back,” she answers softly - then smiles. “But thank you.”

She doesn’t give Bob a chance to convince her to stay, or even to reply; to do so would be to invite trouble - tempting, fun trouble, yes, but trouble all the same. 

She stands, gathers up her instruction binders and notebooks into her arms, her pens clasped in one hand, key card clasped in the other. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“See you.” His eyes remain locked on her, smoldering despite the easygoing, sweet smile on his face. It’s a look that sends heat blazing through Katie’s body. 

Yes, time for her to go. 

She turns, makes for the front door, slips through it, her steps silent. 

She’s certain she can feel Bob’s eyes on her long after the door shuts behind her. 

***

The walk back from Bob’s room to Katie’s own is a long one. 

At least, she tries to make it that way. She makes her steps slow and measured, takes the stairs down to the first floor, then all the way back up to the third, and makes her steps even more slow and measured going down the hallway…

All in an effort to quell the burning of her body, the burning between her legs. 

Something happened tonight - something big. Something earth-tilting. 

Something that makes Katie want to turn on her heel and march right back to Bob’s room. 

To finish what they started. 

She approaches her room, heart thumping, pounding in her rib cage, body aching - aching in ways it hasn’t in a long time. Christ, everything in the realm of intimacy hasn’t happened in a long time. It’s been years between partners - hell, flings - and now she seemingly has one again and everything in her just… aches. Yearns. 

Needs. Needs needs needs. 

There’s only one light on in the living space of her room. In the bedroom to the right, it is mercifully black, quiet - the perfect environment to help quiet the storm roiling within her. 

Hopefully. 

Her study materials are tossed into the living space without a second thought, the single light shut off with a paw of her hand against the wall. She slips into the bedroom, closes the door, takes the one, two, three, four steps to her bed before twisting and falling back-first into it. It takes minutes for her to adjust to the darkness surrounding her, to the stillness that comes with it. 

To the thoughts, the feelings it seems to invite. 

Katie knows full well that she is alone in the room, but the darkness seems to conjure shadows, figures. Figures that can move. Figures that can do things. Things to her. 

Things she had half a mind to do with Bob earlier. 

Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them.

They were definitely going somewhere before her thoughts had stalled her and pulled her out of the fog, somewhere heated. Katie had felt one of his hands trailing down her side, coming to rest on her hip, fingers flexing, gripping firm yet gentle. Bob had wanted her there, just as much as she’d wanted to be there, and…

The ache is back. And it’s between her legs again, warm and pulsing and wanting. She squeezes her thighs together, bites her lip at the pressure it creates. 

And it does nothing to alleviate the burning she feels. In fact, it intensifies it. 

She needs more.

She needs release. 

Somewhere in the five seconds it takes her to figure out what her body is desperate - screaming - for, Katie’s heartbeat goes erratic, off-sync and shaking in her rib cage. This. She really hasn’t done this in a long time. 

Her breath stutters out of her mouth in shallow breaths as she reaches down and undoes the button and zip of her jeans, pushes them down to a bunch around her knees. The cool air from the air conditioning nips into the skin of her thighs and she twitches, presses her legs together again, writhes when it gives her that sweet, warm pressure, those goosebumps prickling across her skin. They’re featherlight, almost like the barest brush of a hand. 

What Katie imagines Bob’s hands feel like, brushing ever-so-gentle across her bare skin. 

She can envision it: the long, delicate fingers, the soft tips, the veins running along the back, those beautiful, beautiful hands just… touching, tracing, whispering along her. 

Her hands move along the same trail he would take with his. They skim up the length of her quad muscles, drift up and across her hip bones, her stomach, the sensation like small bolts of lightning and heat on her skin. They continue upwards, nudging up the hem of her t-shirt, the band of her bralette, up and up and up, and they whisper across the swell of her breasts, now pebbled and sensitive in the chilled air of her room. Then, imagination has them moving back down, across the planes of her stomach, across her pelvis, and then her fingers alight along the lace edge of her underwear and… 

She contemplates leaving them on and simply pushing them to the side, or even just dipping her hand beneath and forgoing the extra movement. She has no need for it, for all the suspense and built-up tension and thrill.

But what would Bob want? What would he do?

Bob, Katie decides, would pull them down - not all the way, just to around her thighs, just enough to give him full view, full access. He would want to see all of her; Katie’s sure of it.

So, she inches her underwear down, grants herself that openness, that exposure. The cold air breathes across her, across the wetness of her, and she shudders at the sensation and fuck, she needs to touch herself now. 

Her fingers go low and drag upwards through her folds, arousal wetting the tips, and it’s bliss as they circle her clit, nice and slow and steady. She imagines it’s Bob doing it, that it’s his fingers circling her, rolling across her most sensitive parts. It could’ve been his fingers, his hands doing this, if she hadn’t let her brain catch up and she’d just let them feel, lose themselves to the pleasure, she thinks. 

No matter now. She’s in the dark, and here, anything is possible. Here, Bob can give her the touch, the pleasure, the release she so desperately craves. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, deep in the recesses, a voice - a shitty, cutting one - hisses at her that what she’s doing is the height of crass, the height of disgusting, masturbating to someone she knows but isn’t quite involved with. She gives the thought maybe a half-second of consideration - and then decides that she doesn’t care, not as her fingers tease and touch and stroke softly. She finds that the voice deadens to a whisper the more she does it. 

Of course, Katie finds that it disappears entirely when she drops her hand fully between her legs and slips her middle and ring fingers inside, palm pressing against her clit as she curls into her own velvet softness, breath leaving her lungs in a gasp, because oh good god, she forgot how good this feels…

And then she thinks of Bob doing it and suddenly her body blazes. 

He had a gentleness to him when he touched her earlier in his room. The way his hands ran over her, sure and warm and soft… It’s that same gentleness she pictures, feels in the hand between her legs, that same soft touch that she writhes and arches against. 

Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them. 

It’s not long before heat, sinful and borderline unbearable, is pooling low in her stomach and her cunt is fluttering around her fingers, desperate for one more touch, one more stroke that will send her over the edge. It’s an effort to keep her moaning contained; she has to bite down hard on her lip to keep it from floating through the walls - but god, she can’t help herself. The things that run through her head, that she feels… In the dark, it’s Bob’s hand that Katie rides, his fingers that clench her bare breast, pinch and roll her peaked nipple…

And in the dark, it’s his thumb that drags up and presses into her clit, rolling and stroking across it, and it feels so good that it makes Katie want to sob, and… and…

It’s enough. She comes hard, a ragged cry tearing from her mouth as her body bows and spasms against the bed, against the hand still sliding into her, drawing out every last little bit of pleasure, until she finally collapses against the mattress, chest heaving with the intensity of it all. For something so… one-sided, it’s left her feeling spent - utterly mindless. 

A feeling she hasn’t had in a long while.

Haze quickly fills her, the sleepy, sated kind. Katie doesn’t even bother redressing, or crawling into bed properly. She shucks off her half-removed clothing and flings them into the darkness of her bedroom, to be dealt with in the early hours of the morning. Then, she pulls the nearest edge of the covers over her, and wraps, swaddles herself within them, warmth immediately seeping into her naked body and lulling her, easing her into sleep. 

Burning blue eyes are the last thing her mind conjures before she slips off into oblivion, warm, black, and depthless. 

“Would you wanna come with me to one on Saturday?”

After the events of last weekend, things are different between the two of them. Katie’s still not sure what exactly it is, but something has shifted and the pull towards Bob is only getting stronger. Part of her wants nothing to do with it, wants desperately to cling to the ‘capable single female’ persona she’s worked hard at and not let feelings interfere with her goals. Few things torpedo aspirations faster than emotional connection, and with everything she’s already been through, Katie is hard-pressed to let them affect her. Very, very hard-pressed. 

And yet… another part of her is curious. The pull is compelling, and perhaps against her better judgment, she wants to see what might be in store for her - hell, the both of them. 

So, Katie agrees, with a hesitant but smiling ‘sure’ that has Bob grinning like he just won the lottery. The whole thing is enough to raise an eyebrow at, sure, but nothing to worry about, right?

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Of course, it isn’t until Saturday rolls around that Katie realizes that, oh shit, this is a lot more serious than she might’ve thought. 

She knows she’s in trouble when it takes her well over a half-hour to decide on what she’s wearing. Outfits that she normally wouldn’t give a second thought to are all of a sudden not good enough, or convey too much of one thing and not enough of another. Comfy old t-shirt and jean shorts? Way too casual. Linen button-down and a crop top? Nope. Leggings and Birkenstocks? Absolutely not. Each outfit proves more unworthy than the last, and it’s all Katie can do not to curl up in a ball and scream. If things are already this nerve-wracking, what’s the rest of the day going to be like for her? 

Eventually, she manages to settle on an outfit, opting for a light gray t-shirt, mom jeans, and a well-loved pair of sage-colored sneakers, but then… Should I opt for jewelry? It all looks kinda’ plain without it - but what if it looks like I’m trying too hard? Oh my god, this can’t be happening…

One moment later and Katie is donning a pair of small gold hoops, but it’s not without its fair share of anxious butterflies. This is so stupid, she thinks. No one is going to care how much or how little effort she puts into what she’s wearing. And why should they? It’s not a big deal. It’s literally just another hangout with Bob, no different from the countless others they’ve had over the last few weeks. 

Only it’s not, not by a long shot. 

Sure, the hangout on Saturday was casual, easy, devoid of any sort of emotional tension - about as far away from a date as a person could possibly get. But then Sunday happened, and now everything is suddenly a mess of confusion, complicated emotions, and unanswered questions. Today’s hangout is different. After last weekend, this one now feels an awful lot like a real, no-shit date - and as much as she hates to admit it, it freaks Katie out. Whether it’s because she’s out of practice and refuses to admit it, or because it involves Bob and there is something pulling the two of them together, her heart is pounding frantically in her ribcage, and for a while, she’s not sure how to make it stop.  

She ruminates on the current state she’s in while she fiddles with her hair in the bathroom, fingers twisting it up, pulling it down, twisting it up, pulling it down. Most likely she’s the only one freaking out here, and if that’s the case then she needs to stop. She doesn’t need to be making Bob feel weird because she can’t regulate her emotions - but god, if only she knew where she stood with him. It would make dealing with her feelings - and her nerves - so much easier. 

She heaves a heavy sigh, pulls some of her hair back into a low half-pony. It doesn’t matter. They’re friends, and good ones, at that. That should certainly be enough for Katie - and for the most part, it is. 

Still, the ‘more’s’, the what-if’s… they nag at her, make her wonder and ponder and panic, because what if?

“Oh for fuck’s sake - enough,” she hisses at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You’re going to an aquarium with a good friend of yours; that is all you’re doing today. You’re not getting married, you’re not pledging eternity with him, you’re not making a long-term dating pact - you are going to a fucking aquarium.” She closes her eyes, breathes deep, musters up more courage for herself. “You may have feelings for him, but you don’t have to let them complicate things. Just… don’t make it weird. Please don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, because I can’t bear the thought of losing him like that. 

Katie heaves a long sigh, tucks a strand of loose hair behind one ear - and smiles at her reflection in the mirror, almost bravely. She looks nice - and that’s what she’s going to focus on. That, and just enjoying the day. There’s no telling how today’s going to go (if it’s even going to go in any direction), but she’s not about to let her nerves, or her feelings, or the fear of the unknown, or anything compromise today. She can do this. This’ll be no sweat. 

Hopefully. 

***

Bob Floyd is certain he’s going to have a heart attack today. 

For the last five minutes, he’s been fighting the urge to pace back and forth across the lobby, something that - for whatever reason - his brain is telling him is critical for his survival today. Not that it would do him a lot of good. If anything, it would probably worsen the anxiety gnawing at him. 

It had been such a good idea on Wednesday, inviting Katie to tag along with him to the Birch Aquarium over the weekend. They’d been spending so much time together already; inviting her to come along had been a no-brainer. 

Of course, only now does Bob realize that maybe this isn’t such a great idea. After the events of this past Sunday, something is different. There’s something going on between the two of them, and while Bob can’t necessarily put his finger on what it is, he knows it’s there, and it’s making him nervous. He shouldn’t be doing this right now. He should be laying low, trying to figure out what’s going on, and trying to make an appropriate plan of action.

And yet, here he is, sticking to his plans with his hands clasped and a tight but pleasant smile on his face. Of course, whether or not he’s an idiot for it remains to be seen. 

He doesn’t wait very long for Katie. He’s leaning forward, stretching his legs when she appears in his line of sight, dressed casually with her dark hair half down and spilling softly over her shoulders. That’s new, he thinks - Bob can’t recall a time recently that Katie’s worn her hair down… or a time ever, for that matter. It’s… 

Pretty. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she looks nice, that he likes seeing her with her hair down, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The words stick miserably and stubbornly in his throat. 

If only things were easy. 

He stands and smiles, still tight but gradually loosening. “Ready?” 

Katie nods, trails behind him out of the Navy Lodge and into the parking lot. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” he says as he jangles his keys in one hand, “I was thinking we grab something for lunch before we head over. After that, just… wander around the aquarium and hang out, I guess.”

“Sounds good to me… What’re you thinking for lunch?”

“Chinese food sound good to you? I’ve had a craving for chili dumplings and mapo tofu lately.”

“Ooh, I’d be down for some dumplings. Let’s do it.”

“Sweet.” They clamber into Bob’s car, Katie seated somewhat primly in the passenger seat, Bob settled behind the driver’s wheel, his hands flexing in nervous anticipation. Keep it calm, guy, he tells himself sternly as he turns the key in the ignition and starts the car up. There’s no telling what’s gonna happen today, but right now, you’re just getting lunch with her. That’s it. Just keep it calm. 

He swings out of the parking lot, steers them off-base and onto the freeway, fingers gently tapping the steering wheel in time with his music. Not much is said between the two of them; they’re each lost in their own heads - and even if they weren’t, what’s there to say right now? 

Of course, Bob can only hope that this is the limit of it all. He’s not sure how he’ll get through the afternoon if they wind up not speaking to each other the whole time. 

About twenty minutes later, the two of them are seated inside a small Chinese restaurant, one couple out of three occupying the space. It’s much quieter here than Harry’s Coffee Shop was last weekend, not to mention more subdued and serious. Bob can’t help the thought that his choice of lunch spot might not have been the right one today. Then again, Bob’s convinced that every decision he’s made for today has been a wrong one, but such is the nature of anxiety. Logically, he knows that this is not true - but to his annoyance, the thought persists.

Save for some small talk in between bites of food, they spend almost the whole meal in silence. Bob’s head is a whirl of thoughts and questions as he eats, eyes carefully watching the woman sitting across from him. In some ways it feels like the lunch they had the first time they met. However, unlike the first time they met, Bob knows Katie now, has spent considerable time with her and learned things about her. He doesn’t need to guess if she likes being around him, or wonder if they have anything in common or if she’s just humoring him - at least, until now he hasn’t needed to. The fact that he suddenly feels like he does leaves a pit in his stomach, a large one. 

Did things really change that drastically between them last weekend?

“So why the aquarium?” Katie asks out of nowhere. It’s nearly the end of the meal, and not including the moments of small talk, it’s the first time she’s spoken to Bob since they left the lodge. “Got something planned or are you just a big fan of sea life?”

Bob shrugs before spooning the last of his mapo tofu into his mouth. “I guess it’s the second one. Uh” - c’mon Floyd, keep it together - “I’ve been going to aquariums since I was a kid, and, well… I like checking out the ones I haven’t been to before. Y’know?”

“That’s fair. God… I honestly can’t remember the last time I went to an aquarium…” 

Bob’s not entirely sure how to respond to that, but he manages a partial smile. “Well, hopefully you like the one we’re going to. Birch Aquarium’s supposed to be really nice.” Christ - maybe this is more like the day they met than he thought; he can’t remember any other time their conversations have been this stiff and awkward. God, I hope it doesn’t stay this way.

They finish their lunch quietly, then head back out to Bob’s car and crawl their way through downtown San Diego to the aquarium. When they get there, it’s packed, pulsing with the energy of young children out with their families for the weekend. Bob, though initially taken aback (if not a bit overwhelmed) at the chaotic busyness of the place, finds himself relieved at its presence. His interactions with Katie have been far more enjoyable and relaxed in places like this, where the noise and energy are good distractions from the thoughts racing through his head. They take up enough of his time and attention as it is. All he wants right now is to enjoy his day out with Katie. 

 “Looks like all of San Diego decided today was a good day to head to the aquarium,” Katie quips wryly after they buy their tickets, right as a gang of children whizzes by them in a shriek of laughter. 

Bob chuckles. “Sure does. You’re okay with the crowds and kids, right? I probably should’ve asked before we got here, but uh…”

“Oh yeah, I’m good. Honestly it’s a good thing there are a ton of kids here on the weekend; I’d be kinda’ concerned if there weren’t.”

“Fair enough… So… Whaddaya wanna look at first?”

Katie looks over at Bob with a grin on her face, her gaze landing on his in a way that makes his heart stutter, just the tiniest bit. “You’re the aquarium guy here,” she replies amusedly. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

“Okay… Hope y’know that means we’re looking at everything then.”

“Buy me a snack halfway through and it’ll be no problem,” Katie snarks. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They venture into the first of many exhibits, a large atrium with penguins on display, which fly off the rock shelf and shoot through the water, their speed and precision almost reminiscent of the jets they fly around in. Then, it’s on to the next atrium, a room full of sharks and stingrays and “other big beasties,” as Katie calls them, swimming languidly in their never-ending loops and figure-eights. About an hour later, it’s the seadragons and seahorses exhibit, followed by the tide pools, a peek into the oddities area, and - as promised - a small snack for Katie. 

Speaking of Katie… She’s still quiet, but not the awkward, conversation-devoid kind she was at lunch. In here, she’s studiously quiet, eyes and attention intently focused on the sea life swimming before her, lips curled up in a permanent, happy smile.

How wonderful it is when she smiles, Bob thinks. 

Of course, her smile is even bigger and brighter when they make their way into the coral reef exhibit and the world explodes into aquatic color. Fish of all kinds peek through the crevices, flashing across the glass before darting out of sight once more. At the sight of them, Katie’s eyes practically sparkle. 

“The coral reef tanks were always my favorite,” she says, voice warm and filled with fondness. “I didn’t really do the whole aquarium thing much, but anytime I did, this was always my favorite part.”

“Mine too. Well, that and the open ocean tanks. I like watching the shoals.” 

She’s watching a yellow tang swim to and fro in rapt interest when he says it. “...The shoals?”

“Yeah, the uh… the big groups of fish that kind of… move as one, I guess? Like they do this kind of tornado or helix movement in the water-”

“Oh, those things!” Katie exclaims. “I love watching those. It’s kind of like watching fish ballet. D’yknow if we can see them here?” 

“Y’know, I’m not sure. Lemme look at a map real quick.” Bob pulls a twice-folded map from his back jeans pocket, scans it for signs of the exhibit in question. Unfortunately for them, this aquarium doesn’t seem to have one, something of a mild disappointment for Bob (and Katie too, if the slightly crestfallen look on her face is any indication). He does, however, notice something else that might be of interest. “Any interest in checking out the kelp forest? It’s a couple rooms over. If this map’s any indicator it’s also the biggest one here.” 

“I’m down. Let’s do it.” 

They make their way through the winding hall of tropical reefs and brilliant fish, past families and oohing-aahing gangs of children, into an area that grows darker and darker until, suddenly… 

Katie gasps when they find themselves walking into a blue-tinged atrium with easily the largest tank either of them has ever seen. Bob’s not that far off, releasing a long, low whistle at the sight before him. This is unlike anything he’s seen before - and he’s been to a lot of aquariums in his lifetime. 

“This might’ve just become my new favorite part. God, look at this…” Katie positions herself front and center before the tank, blue eyes bright and glittering in the low light of the room. “I love it.”

By some miracle, it’s quiet in the exhibit room. No families or massive groups of kids and teenagers, no yelling and shrieking, no buzz of conversation - just Bob, Katie, and the massive kelp forest before them. Peace at last, and the beauty is theirs alone to enjoy. And oh, it really is beautiful. Fish of all kinds drift languidly amongst the leaves, riding the currents that rock them gently from one side to the other. Light shimmers down into the water and filters through the kelp, scattering soft shards of gold through the otherwise blue exhibit room. And the bright, crystalline blue radiating out from the tank softens, then fades into the darkness of the room it’s contained within. It is… otherworldly. 

“Have you ever seen something so beautiful?” Katie breathes, utterly mesmerized by the view before her. 

It is, it absolutely is - and yet Bob can’t bring himself to care about it. His focus is on one thing and one thing only: the woman standing beside him. Katie is already pretty to begin with, but in here? She’s ethereal. The soft wave of her hair down her back, the blue light of the water on her face, the gleam of awe and fascination in her eyes…

Bob would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for Katie Garland - strong feelings. Hell, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that he’s in love with her. He’s been in love with her, ever since the day they went hiking together at Pyles Peak. He may not have been entirely sure of those feelings before, but in here, in this room, after four weeks of morning coffee and classes and quiet (and not-so-quiet) moments together, he realizes two things - just how sure he is of his feelings, and equally how screwed he is. 

Surely there has to be a way to tell her. 

That’s the thing, though. There is a way, and Bob knows it - but it involves physical contact, and Bob’s not sure if that’s a gamble he should take. He’s lucky enough just to be friends with Katie; the thought of doing something that might compromise that friendship, that might push her away from him… It scares him. It scares the living shit out of him. After everything they’ve been through and done together in the last five weeks, it would be the worst damn thing to lose her like that. 

So why does the thought persist?

He breathes deep, watches a leopard shark glide past him. What he’s thinking of doing is risky - really risky, and if there is one thing that Bob doesn’t like doing, it’s taking risks. As a WSO, he can’t afford to take them; he needs to be sharp and on the money at all times, needs to know everything about everything and all their little in-betweens. Anything less than that will get him burned, and badly. He can’t take risks. He just can’t. 

But he also knows that if he doesn’t do this, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life.  

Now or never, Bob. Now or never. 

Bob breathes, mumbles to himself, resigned but resolute - “Fuck it.” 

And then he does the unthinkable: he reaches over, turns Katie gently towards him with his hand on her cheek, and leans in. 

He feels her go stiff beneath him the instant he kisses her, and for a second, it’s all Bob can do not to panic, because oh fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck, did he miscalculate the whole thing? 

But then, another second passes, and just when Bob thinks he’s destroyed this relationship beyond all recognition, Katie leans into him and returns the kiss, and… 

It’s as if the world just disappears around them. In seconds, the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters, is the feeling of her lips on his own, and suddenly Bob’s almost mad that he didn’t think to do this sooner. They’re soft, warm, gentle - her, in every way possible. It’s as close to a dream come true as Bob thinks he’s gotten in a while. 

When Katie finally pulls away, there’s no missing the blown-out appearance of her eyes, nor the way her chest stutters as she breathes. Surprised? Taken aback? Boy, both of those would be a hell of an understatement. 

“Well,” she says quietly. “That certainly changes things, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, um… I guess it does.” Bob’s heart is racing, pounding in his chest as he watches emotions and the most miniscule of expressions fleet across Katie’s face. What is she thinking right now? Hopefully not that I’m a creep. The anxiety of all this might actually kill him.

But, if there’s one thing that the smile that blooms on Katie’s face makes clear, it’s that she’s not angry or upset. In fact, as she slips her hand into his, Bob realizes that she’s quite the opposite. It’s all he can do not to heave a sigh of utter relief. 

Risk calculation: successful. Very successful. 

“So… We gonna check out the rest of the aquarium or what?” 

Bob blinks. “Hm?”

“I mean, you did say something about looking at everything earlier - unless you’ve changed your mind and just wanna stare at me holding your hand now…” 

Heat floods Bob’s cheeks as he realizes that he has, in fact, been staring at Katie’s fingers interlaced with his own for far longer than he probably should. Smooth, Floyd. Real smooth. 

He smiles sheepishly at her. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m kind of in awe right now.” 

“Yeah?”

“Pretty girl like you returns a kiss I give her, and wants to hold my hand?” His bottom lip curls up and he nods, underscoring the point he’s trying to make. “Yeah, I’d say I’m in awe.” 

“Keep saying things like that and I might give you another one,” Katie jokes, eyes twinkling. 

Oh, I’d be the damn luckiest man if you did. 

“C’mon.” She squeezes his hand, draws him closer to her. “We’ve got more fish to look at.” 

Bob doesn’t even try to subdue the grin that splits across his face. He leaves it there for all the world to see, big, bright, and utterly filled with joy. This is quite possibly the best day of his life.

He’s never been so goddamn happy to have taken a risk. 

***

Not once does Katie let go of Bob’s hand the rest of the time they’re at the aquarium. She’s certain that if she does, she’s going to float away, drift off on a current of pure euphoria.

Or shock. Especially shock. 

Katie may be all smiles and laughs and bright eyes, but inside she’s a mess, a shaking, heart-pounding, slack-jawed mess. Bob Floyd kissed her. Bob fucking Floyd kissed her. She might’ve had the tiniest inkling that something was going to happen (after last weekend, how could she not?), but still… 

Color her fucking surprised. 

Is she, though? Is she really that surprised that something happened? 

Or is she more surprised that Bob beat her to it? 

Because truth be told, she had been contemplating doing the same thing to him back in the kelp forest exhibit. 

In hindsight, for as compelled as she was to do it, Katie doubts she would’ve been able to; her body had turned to lead and her feet had rooted themselves to the floor the moment they’d set foot in the exhibit room. No amount of resolve, bravery, or desire could’ve overcome that. No… In hindsight, Katie’s relieved that Bob acted first. No doubt he was just as nervous as she was, but… he did it. And she’s never been so glad for it. 

Now, here they are, one kiss later, holding hands and strolling shoulder to shoulder, wandering ‘round the aquarium as if they’re the only two people in existence… And what a grand feeling it is. It feels… 

Right. 

Hours go by - hours that feel like minutes. By the time they stop to think about it, it’s almost 1700 and closing time. They’re being all but herded out of the aquarium by staff, but they manage to convince someone to let them poke around the gift shop for five minutes. “In and out,” Bob tells them. “Promise.” 

Sure enough, he makes good on his promise, doing one quick orbit around the gift shop before confidently picking out a t-shirt and a baseball cap. “You planning on getting anything?” Bob asks Katie as he’s making his way to the front to pay.

“Eh, I thought about it, but probably not.” 

“Good.” He pays for his things, folds up and tucks the t-shirt under one arm before turning and handing the baseball cap to Katie. “This is for you. New gear to wear next time you go hiking.” 

The cap is dusty blue, emblazoned with ‘Birch Aquarium’ in white block lettering with a shark below it - nice and simple, definitely something she’d get for herself. Hell, she’d looked at it and considered buying it before making up her mind not to. Bob must have noticed her looking at it, because he’d plucked it out of the dozens of other hats on display without a second thought. For him to do that… 

Katie has never had anybody do that for her before. 

Her words are quiet as she takes the cap and attaches it to the strap of her purse. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but…” He smiles. “Seemed like a good way to wrap up a nice day.” 

This man. Good god. 

She feels the blush creeping across her face at his words, and on instinct, she ducks her head away - only to have her face turned back towards him. 

“You don’t have to do that, y’know. It’s cute when you blush.” 

Forget blushing. Scarlet rips across Katie’s face at that comment. 

“Jesus Bob,” she hisses with a giggle, “didn’t realize you were trying to kill me in public here.” She slips her hand into his, and pulls him out of the gift shop and the aquarium before anyone else has a chance to see how thoroughly red-faced he has her. 

And Bob? Bob laughs the entire way out. 

A few more hours later, they’re back at the Navy Lodge, bellies full after an impromptu dinner at In n’ Out, smiles on their faces after all kinds of conversation and not-so-subtle flirting. The day might not have started out as a date, but it did eventually turn into one, and Katie has to admit, after everything that’s happened today, she’s really fucking glad it did. No doubt Bob’s on the same page, she thinks briefly. 

They make it a point not to hold hands or have any sort of physical contact when they walk through the lobby and ride the elevator up to the third floor; they’re in new territory and need time to figure out how exactly to tread in it. That, and god forbid Fanboy or someone else in their class turns a corner and sees them doing that. There would be no end to the sly comments and innuendo from the others. 

But that doesn’t mean that they don’t hover as close to each other as humanly possible. 

Bob escorts Katie back to her room in relative silence, hand near the small of her back, body turned just the tiniest bit towards hers. He radiates warmth and it’s all Katie can do not to curl into him. 

“I know I took you by surprise earlier, but I hope you didn’t mind,” he says quietly when they arrive back at her room and she unlocks the door. 

Katie shakes her head. “Not at all.” When she tells Bob why, she’s certain she sees small stars fly across his eyes. 

“Man, my luck’s been real good to me lately… Would you, uh, want to meet up and do something tomorrow? I’m not sure what yet, but, uh… something.” 

Oh Bob, do you even have to ask at this point? 

“I’d love that.” She’ll happily do anything with Bob if it means getting to spend time with him in this capacity from now on. She likes this - what they have, whatever it is. She likes it a lot. 

Bob says nothing - simply smiles at Katie, nods his head once. He then turns to leave and head back to his room, but before he’s even taken a step, Katie’s hand around his wrist stops him, draws him back to her. Not yet, you. 

“Wait - is there anyone in the hall?”

“Uh” - Bob leans back, swings his head from one side to the other - “no, there isn’t, wha…”

Katie says nothing. She glances down the hall to her left, then to her right - then raises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to Bob’s, right palm cupping his jaw, fingertips curling gently into the soft blond hair on the back of his head. It’s a short, simple kiss, barely three seconds long, but it reaffirms the one they shared earlier in the afternoon, the one that changed… well, everything. 

She gives him one more, just for good measure, then steps back. “There,” she beams. “Now that’s how you wrap up a nice day.” 

Bob says nothing; he simply stands there, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Katie, who has to cover her mouth with one hand to stifle her laughter. If she had known that initiating a kiss was all it would take to short-circuit Bob, she would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

When he’s able to collect himself a moment later, he coughs. “S’pose that’s fair payback for the comment I made earlier,” he mumbles sheepishly. 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Her laughter soon dies away and her face softens. There’s one last thing she needs to say before they end things for the night. “Today was probably the nicest time I’ve had with someone in a long time.” 

A pause - a long one. “...Really?”

Katie nods. “Yeah.” 

Another pause. Then… A smile, the brightest, sweetest one he’s given her yet. “I’m glad.” 

If a smile could send her straight to heaven, this one absolutely would. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bob,” Katie all but whispers. 

He reaches out, gives her hand a single squeeze, then turns and strolls off down the hall, steps light and springing. It’s the last thing she sees before she closes the door and heads straight to her bed, ready to fall onto it in a mess of giggles and happy, dopey smiles. 

Of course, the last thing she sees has nothing on the last thing she hears - a single hissed “Yes!” from the farthest end of the hallway, a restrained cry of triumph. 

She laughs, curls herself around a pillow. That, right there. That is her favorite part of today. 

It’s just past 08 the next day when she awakens to the chirp of her phone on the nightstand. Well, sort of awakens. She can barely crack her eyes open as she reaches out and slaps her palm against the hard surface, nor as her fingers curl around the phone and bring it to within inches of her face. 

Turns out, it’s a text from Bob - nothing too out of the ordinary, considering how often they spend time together these days. She wonders what he could be up to at this hour. 

She taps open the message, squints at the gray bubble on her screen. “Planning on getting breakfast in downtown SD,” it reads. “Wanna come with?”

Hm. Katie could go for a full breakfast plate. Yet…

Her fingers fumble their way across the keyboard. “I thought you weren’t a breakfast person tho.”

“I mean normally I’m not, but if it means I get to spend time with a friend like you, then I can be persuaded otherwise.”

Well then. 

The flush is creeping across Katie’s face before she’s fully processed the message. Thank god he isn’t in the room with her; she’s pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he saw just how crimson-faced she is after reading that text. 

But why is she, though? It’s an invitation to get breakfast with Bob. Breakfast with a member of the opposite sex is a total non-issue. Hell, it’s not like she hasn’t done this sort of thing dozens of times in the last couple of weeks with him. Granted, those ‘dozens of times’ are short mornings sipping coffee in his hotel room, but what does it matter?

It’s not a date. It is 100% not a date. In fact, as far as she’s concerned, as far as she’s forcing herself to be concerned, it’s the opposite. It’s a shared outing, something as casual and noncommittal as the hike they went on during their first week here. There’s no need for her to freak out and turn red like this. She needs to calm down, and right now. 

Closing her eyes, Katie takes a deep, steadying breath, gives herself a moment to recompose before opening her eyes and tapping out a reply to Bob. 

“Can I dress like a bum or do I have to put in some effort with my outfit?”

“Dress however you want. If it helps, I’m wearing jeans and a tshirt.” 

Shit. No sweatpants for her then. “Put in some effort with my outfit, got it. See you down in the lobby in 10?”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Cool cool. Who’s driving?”

“Uhhhh, you know what I will. Least I can do to say thanks for driving me everywhere most days.”

“Works for me.”

Katie doesn’t give herself much time to think; she just sets herself in motion and goes. She quickly settles on jean shorts, an oversized worn green shirt with ‘FEAR THE DUCK’ scrawled across the chest, and her Birkenstocks. Then, it’s on to the bathroom. Teeth? Brushed and flossed. Face? Moisturized. Hair? Loosely French-braided. All things to suggest she made somewhat of an effort this morning, but not too much. Besides, why should she make a big fuss over how she looks? It’s breakfast, not a red carpet event. 

Heaving a sigh, she grabs her phone, wallet, and sunglasses, and makes her way down to the lobby, where Bob’s waiting for her on one of the side couches. True to his word, he’s wearing jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. However, it’s a t-shirt that hugs his biceps just a little too tightly, and it’s all Katie can do not to outright ogle. Holy Christ, has he always had those?

C’mon idiot, say something - “You ready to go?” she asks with a bright - if not somewhat forced - smile on her face. 

“Always.” Bob stands, palms his car keys, motions for her to follow. “You hungry?”

“Starving. Where are we going for breakfast anyway?” 

“You ever heard of Harry’s Coffee Shop?”

Katie shakes her head. “Don’t think I have.” 

“It’s this little diner-type place out in downtown. I’ve heard nothing but good things about it so I thought I’d go and check it out, y’know?”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah. They’ve supposedly got really good cinnamon rolls.”

“So you’re a sweets for breakfast guy,” Katie says with a wry smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed that with the way you drink coffee.”

Bob snorts, almost as if it’s an obvious revelation. “Of course. It helps balance out the bitterness.”

The two are now making their way down the far right aisle of the parking lot, towards the nose of a dark gray car - a Subaru, Katie realizes when they draw closer. It’s one of the sporty hatchback models, complete with carbon-black rims and what’s sure to be its own bite under the hood, but it’s… small. Granted, Katie wasn’t sure what to expect (with Bob, she hardly ever knows these days), but she’s not entirely sure she expected this. 

“A Subie, huh?” Katie’s lips curl into a gentle smirk as she ducks into the passenger seat. “Not really a big truck type?”

“Nope,” Bob replies, lips popping on the ‘p’. “I make a living flying around in a massive multimillion-dollar aircraft, but take comfort driving a little hatchback. Ironic, huh?” 

“I mean, I guess.”

“End of the day, the less machinery I have to operate, the better.”

“Considering your car’s a manual, I’d call that ironic.”

“Oh har-har.” He sticks the key in the ignition, turns the car on. “Do you know how to drive stick?”

“Only in theory,” Katie says with a sigh. “I’ve tried so many times to learn from different people but I have the worst time trying to get-”

“-TOO MANY DOSES AND I’M STARTING TO GET AN ATTRA-”

Bob’s immediately slamming his hand on the audio power button with a grimace and a hissed ‘Jesus Christ’. Katie, though startled (more like scared shitless) by the sudden blast of music coming from Bob’s speakers, frowns, letting the lyrics roll around in her head like a ball in a roulette wheel. She’s heard those lyrics before, she knows it…

After a moment of contemplating, she glances over at Bob, brows furrowed. “…Was that Avenged Sevenfold?”

Bob cringes. “Teenage Bob was a big fan,” he replies sheepishly. “…You were saying, though?”

“I was saying that I have the worst time trying to get moving in first. Honestly, I think I’m just destined to drive automatic for the rest of my life.”

Bob scoffs as he maneuvers the car out of the parking lot with practiced ease. “Oh please - not like you’re much worse than I was. First few times I drove, it took me twenty minutes just to get moving in first gear. Twenty.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Yep. It was bad.”

Katie can’t help herself. A snicker bubbles from within her. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“Glad we agree on that,” Bob snickers back. “Anyway, um… If you ever wanna get better at driving stick, I’d be happy to help you practice.”

“You risk me breaking your transmission.”

“This baby can handle it. She’s sturdier than she looks. Seriously though, let me know. Your issue is nothing that practice can’t fix.” 

“If you say so.” Katie pauses, contemplates, chuckles after a moment. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything too strenuous this weekend, ‘cause, y’know, this past week in class was hell, but uh, I guess… if you’re not doing anything tomorrow and are cool with me stalling your car a bunch of times, maybe…?”

Bob grins. “Let’s do it.” He wheels the car left, right, left, right, shifts seamlessly between the low gears as they drive off-base. “So, what are we listening to?”

Katie shrugs. “I mean, it’s your car; it’s your call.”

“Well, considering I stole your aux cord and played my music last time we went somewhere, I think it’s only fair that you get to do it this time.”

“Hmm…” Katie pulls up her Spotify playlists, thumbs through her myriad of songs while she chews on her bottom lip. Song-wise, there’s any number of directions she can go in - there’s Milo Korbenski and the Hot Garbage album; there’s My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless album (actually, on second thought, maybe not that one - the ‘noise’ aspect might be a bit too much this early in the morning); there’s copious amounts of Swervedriver and Catherine Wheel and Echodrone. 

And then she scrolls past one song and suddenly, she knows what she wants to listen to. 

“You ever heard of the band Lush?” she asks as she hooks her phone up to Bob’s soundsystem. 

Bob shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Okay… How do you feel about shoegaze or dream pop-type music?”

“I mean, I’ll listen to anything once. Usually wind up liking whatever I listen to. And honestly, I’ve liked whatever you put on when you drive.” 

“Good,” Katie smirks, “that makes me feel better about putting this on.” 

And with that, she hits the ‘play’ button, and out comes the opening chords for Lush’s Sweetness and Light, ringing out in hazy, perfect harmony and glory. It’s a song she’s heard many times over the last several years, but it never gets old. There’s beauty in the lyrics’ sweet nothings and warm sentiments - and it’s beauty she’s all too happy to revel in, and to share with others willing to listen. 

“I like it,” Bob muses over the music’s heightening volume. “Very spacey.”

“Yeah, that’s shoegaze for ya.” She settles back in the passenger seat, closes her eyes, smiles blissfully. “This is what happiness sounds like to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” She swirls her hand through the air, loosely matches the rhythm of the song. “Love, adoration, and… sweetness and light.” 

“Well, whaddaya say we play it good and loud?”

Katie’s eyes slide open, and Bob’s looking at her with a smirk on his face and his eyebrows quirked as he’s reaching for the volume knob.  

He’s getting to know her quite well now, isn’t he?

She grins. “Crank that shit.”

Bob obliges, turning the dial up high just as the intro crescendos, spins into the main verses, the sound of saturated guitar and endless dreamy reverb soaking into them as readily as the morning sun does. 

And Katie? Katie just grins, and grins, and grins. This. This is what makes her happy. 

What a wonderful way to start things off today. 

***

Harry’s Coffee Shop on Girard Avenue is a veritable time capsule of the ‘60s. Big and white with red lettering adorning its roof, its outside appearance serves as a small taste of its overall retroness. Inside, it’s tenfold, with walnut-colored wood paneling running the whole perimeter of the restaurant, two-tone leather-covered booths, schoolhouse pendant lights hanging over the diner counter, green carpeting, and framed photos of various sizes hanging on the walls, telling the restaurant’s nearly 60-year-old story in shades of faded color and black and white. 

The restaurant is buzzing with activity when Bob and Katie walk in through the double doors. Customers occupy every other booth and table. Waiters breeze from spot to spot, customer to customer, carrying various elements of each person’s breakfast. Somewhere through the din of conversation and hustle-bustle, the Doors’ Peace Frog beats out a jaunty, keyboard-laden rhythm that sets the tone for the morning. Every inch, every movement, every sound contained within the space screams ‘busy Saturday morning’ - and yet, that only makes the restaurant all the more inviting. 

Katie and Bob quickly find themselves seated in a small booth at the front, right beside a window that looks out at the street and surrounding neighborhood. It’s the ideal place for people watching that maintains some semblance of privacy, of anonymity, and normally, that would be a big draw for two people like Bob Floyd and Katie Garland. 

But neither of them are here for that. 

Bob’s in the middle of regaling Katie with tales of past OCS instructors when they’re seated, and he hardly misses a beat as they take their spots opposite each other. “I had this one RDC when I went through; still not entirely sure what I think of him,” he says. “He always had this blank, borderline-bored look on his face, and it stayed that way the whole damn time we were going through it. He’d be absolutely beating our asses in the compartment and it would just be” - Bob passes his hand over his face, which immediately relaxes into the blank look he speaks of - “completely flat.”

“By any chance, was it Lieutenant Reynoso?”

“Yeah, actually, it was.”

Well, boy howdy. 

“Reynoso was one of my RDC’s when I went through,” Katie smiles wryly. “That guy honestly scared the shit outta me for a while.”

Bob’s face instantly splits into a grin as a laugh bubbles from him. “Scared? Why?”

“I didn’t know what he was thinking! He always had that blank look in his eyes, AND major resting bitch face; I didn’t know if he was contemplating murder or playing the Mii Channel theme on loop!”

“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!”

“Oh bullshit - tell me you weren’t intimidated as hell by him that first week.”

“...Okay, maybe a little.”

Katie giggles. “See? Reynoso was fuckin’ scary. Probably would’ve stayed scary if he’d let the other RDC’s do the talking. Oh man… Who else did you have?”

“Let’s see…” Bob holds up his hand, counts off instructors with his fingers. “There was Gunny Haltermann, MMSC Stennis-”

“No fucking way, you had Stennis?!” This conversation keeps getting better and better. “He was one of the RDC’s for my brother div!”

“No kidding.”

“Oh my god, this is wild - did he play Tupac during your div’s PT sessions?”

“Sure did. Had the lyrics to Ambitionz az a Ridah practically memorized after a few weeks with him.”

“Oh my god, yes, same.” Katie is practically giddy with excitement over the new information; after all, what are the odds of knowing someone who had virtually the same training experience as you, the same mentors and instructors? “He played that shit all the time during our sessions with brother div. It was kind of nice, actually. Like, nice in the sense that we got to hear music other than cadence during training.”

“Honestly, nice that we got to hear music, period,” Bob comments. 

“I’ll take a black coffee, thanks - yeah, true. Y’know I made a list of music I was gonna listen to the second I finished training?”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. I had, like, somewhere around 75 songs on that list,” she laughs. 

“Make that two black coffees, ma’am - what was the first one?” 

Katie snickers. “Highway Tune - Greta Van Fleet. Specifically so I could blast it as I was leaving base and yell ‘see ya fuckers’ out the window.”

“Sounds about right,” Bob snickers back. “Kinda figured you’d have shoegaze at the top with how much you listen to it.”

“Oh trust me, there was plenty of it there. If I remember correctly, song number two was a My Bloody Valentine song.”

“Hell of a band name.”

“It belies the dreamy acid trip vibe.” With their coffee having been delivered by their waitress, Katie takes a sip, proceeds to doctor it with a packet of creamer. “Enough about me though - I wanna hear more about you.”

“The La Jolla Scramble, cinnamon roll on the side please - uh, not really much to tell. Got orange-carded once for screwing up facing maneuvers. Listened to a lot of Tupac and Childish Gambino when Stennis was leading things. Honestly, you’d have gotten a better answer if you’d asked me about college.”

“I’ll have the Mediterranean omelet and a cinnamon roll on the side, please - well, I guess this is me asking you about college then.”

Bob purses his lips, ponders for one, two, three seconds. “Well, I went to the University of Georgia, graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. In and out in four years.”

“Definitely weren’t in NROTC while you were there, if the, uh, OCS bit was any indication.”

“Nope,” Bob replies with a shake of his head and a sip of his pitch-black coffee. “Honestly, the Navy wasn’t even a thought in my head until after I graduated.”

“Wasn’t in mine either.” Katie pauses - then smirks. “Did you have a raging hard-on for your college football team?”

Bob scoffs, and loudly at that. “Hardly. Couldn’t care less about football.”

“Isn’t college football a big thing where you’re from, though?”

“It is - but you forget this is me we’re talking about,” Bob replies wryly. “Only reason you’d really catch me saying ‘go ‘dawgs’ was so I didn’t get the shit beat outta me, y’know?” 

“Mmm. So not much of a football guy, got it.”

“Eh, not much of a sports guy, really. I like hiking though. And biking. Shit, put my happy ass on a bike and I’ll ride it ‘til the cows come home.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you like anything that gets you outside and exploring the world around you.”

“Exactly.” Another sip of coffee, then Bob sets his hands one on top of the other. “Your turn now. I think I know what you’re gonna say, but where’d you wind up for school?”

“U Oregon. Go Ducks and all that, woo woo, rah rah.”

“Kinda sounds like you weren’t much of a sports person either,” Bob comments with a chuckle. 

“Sports, no. School pride, yes. I loved it there.”

“Very well then. Whadja major in?”

At that, Katie snorts out a laugh. “Political science,” she says around the rim of her coffee mug. “I had this convoluted - and I mean really convoluted - reasoning that it would be useful for working in nonprofit - something about ‘understanding how our laws and policies work and using that knowledge to help nonprofits with their missions’.”

“Yeah, how’s that working out for you now?”

“I dunno,” Katie laughs, “ask the Navy.” 

“Man, I’m one to talk, though. All this ‘ooh and ah’ with a mechanical engineering degree and you don’t see me putting it to good use eith-”

“No, you cut that out; you actually have a useful degree. Mine’s a glorified scrap of paper that’s going to sit in my important files and collect dust for the rest of my life. And clearly, I’m putting my knowledge of U.S. and foreign policy to good use as a pilot in the Navy, right?” 

“I mean, just because you’re not using it now, doesn’t mean it’s useless for the rest of your life. Pretty sure all the three-letter agencies would go nuts for someone like you. They’d be worth considering when you’re done doing barrel rolls and shooting things out of the sky.”

Yeah, I suppose.” An amused smirk makes its way across Katie’s face. “I could go to work for the NSA and do some spooky government stuff. That would be pretty neat.”

“See? That’s the spirit. Just gotta consider the possibilities.” 

It’s not long before their waitress comes ‘round with their breakfast, fluffiest of omelets loaded with filling, lustrous scrambled eggs, and hand-sized cinnamon rolls painted with white icing, and goddamn, does it look good. 

More than that, it tastes good. Katie takes a bite of the massive cinnamon roll she’s been presented with and her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. Yeah - Bob definitely knew what he was doing when he picked this place out. 

He’s in a similarly rapturous state with his plate of scrambled eggs, Katie sees when she regains (some of) her senses and looks across the table at him. “Remind me to come here every weekend for breakfast from now on,” he all but groans. “Christ, this is good.”

“If the food I get is this good, honestly, I’d trust you to take me anywhere.”

“Good,” Bob snarks around a mouthful of eggs, “there’s a lotta places I wanna try while we’re here.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Katie snarks back. 

Silence soon fills the space between them, the easy kind borne of mutual understanding and comfort with one another. Katie tucks into her omelet and cinnamon roll in turns, pondering the state of things. It’s… strange. Good strange, to be sure, but still. She’s not really the type to sit comfortably in silence with another person. People have expectations for her, for the interactions between them - expectations that usually don’t involve silence. Anything contrary to that is… unnatural. 

But not here. Not with him.

With Bob, it’s different. Katie doesn’t have to worry about filling the empty spaces with talking and constant noise. She can just be, exist in the quiet moments. Hell, they both can. It’s nice, being this kind of comfortable with each other - and no doubt Bob has been thinking the same. 

She’s cutting off a piece of omelet to eat when Bob breaks the silence between them. He sips his coffee, clears his throat. “So, uh… Not to bounce around or anything, but… What made you decide to join the Navy?”

There it is - the question that everyone inevitably asks her. Oh boy. 

Katie takes the bite of her omelet, chews thoughtfully, shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I was ‘unfulfilled’ or anything. I went home, got a job at a nonprofit for homeless veterans, and it was great and all, being a part of my hometown in that capacity, but…”

The truth. It lingers on the tip of Katie’s tongue, waiting to make its appearance in the conversation. And god, does she want to let it out, but… 

“It didn’t… I dunno, add up. Job wasn’t really going anywhere and I felt stuck. Trapped, actually.”

“Yeesh, don’t I know that feeling.”

“Like, it was at work and at home. Practically everyone I’d gone to school with had up and left Portland and started living their lives, and I was just… home, suffocating. Tethered to my house like I’d been for the last eighteen years, and… I didn’t want to be that anymore.”

“So you joined the Navy.”

Yeah, pretty much. “Walked into the nearest recruiting office and asked what was available for someone with a degree,” Katie says. “The AO2 I talked to basically told me I could do anything, buuuuut he also told me that he’d personally kick my ass if I came in and tried to pick a rate without putting in a package for OCS. Told me it’d be a waste of my degree if I went enlisted.”

“You actually had an AO tell you to go officer? Man, I had a CTIC at my recruiting office and he was hell-bent on trying to get me to go enlisted.”

“Thank god you didn’t; you make a lot more sense as a WSO.”

“And you make a lot more sense as a pilot.”

Heat and blush (seriously, what is with you?) creep their way across Katie’s cheeks. “Took me until BFT to realize it, but I’m glad we agree on that.”

She’s about to slip another piece of omelet in her mouth when her phone vibrates and chimes from her pocket. She pops the piece into her mouth, pulls it out to look at the message that’s come through - most likely from Fanboy, she thinks. No doubt he’s dying to know what she and Bob are up to (nosy bastard he is). 

Only it’s not from him. 

No - it’s from someone much worse. 

“Katherine, we need to talk,” the text reads. “Your behavior last week was absolutely unacceptable and needs to be addressed immediately.” 

Carrie. It’s all Katie can do not to groan out loud, not only at the timing of the text, but at the sheer audacity of it. Her behavior was unacceptable? Was she being serious?

Keeping her face smooth and neutral proves to be difficult as she types out a reply. “Pretty sure I told you not to contact me. AND to give Naomi her phone back.”

Carrie’s response is almost immediate. “What gives you the right to talk to your mother like that?” she seems to snap through the phone. “Call me NOW.”

The reaction is almost instantaneous - stomach in knots, shakes radiating outwards from within. No, not this, not now. She doesn’t need this woman barging back into her life and bullying her.  

Tightness in her chest is starting to set in. Anxiety. Strong anxiety. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. 

Katie stands abruptly, shuffles out of the booth with a mumbled “gonna use the head” and takes off in a brisk march towards the bathroom. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bob and the entire restaurant have their eyes on her, she would be running. She doesn’t want people - especially him - seeing her on the verge of an anxiety attack.

She shoves through the restroom door in the back of the restaurant, trudges to the nearest sink and curls her body above it, hands gripping the edges white-knuckle tight and breath coming in shallow shudders. God damn it. God fucking damn it. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Two texts from her mother and it’s enough to reduce Katie to a near mess in a diner bathroom. It’s as if the last four years of silence and purposely missed calls and texts never even existed. Worse still, it’s as if she’s back in college and her mother is down the road from her, ready and waiting for her to do something, anything to snatch her away and prove that she is helpless without her. 

That she is nothing without her. 

Katie swallows thickly, grips the sink edge so hard that her hands ache. She’s wrong. She’s a fighter pilot in the world’s finest navy, a warrior, an angel of death and savior of people. She is all of these things and more, a real powerhouse of ‘something’ - and she did all of it without her mother. Carrie can go fuck herself. After all the shit she’s put her through, Katie owes her nothing. 

She lifts her head, stares down her reflection in the mirror. “I owe her nothing,” she utters in a low voice, steeling it against the shaking wracking her body. “I owe her nothing. Not a phone call, not an explanation text, not a single goddamn thing. I owe her nothing after everything she’s put me through, and I will not let her guilt me into anything else.” She repeats the words, over and over and over again, wills them to stick. I owe you nothing. I owe you nothing. I owe you absolutely NOTHING. 

Eventually, the words do stick, and she’s able to calm down enough to suck in a deep breath and steady herself. She can do this. Carrie can rage and harass her daughter all she wants, but she has no power over her. Katie won’t let her have it. 

She takes another big breath in, blows it out nice and slow. She’s ready. She can face the world again.

With a final breath, Katie turns and makes her way back out into the restaurant, mind working its way back to the point before Carrie interrupted her and Bob. She was having such a nice time with him before she had to show up… She just wants to go back to that point and forget that the last 5 minutes ever happened…

Unfortunately for her, there are other plans in store. 

When Katie makes eye contact with Bob, there’s no missing the gleam of concern in his eyes. Oh no. “Hey, uh, your phone’s been ringing nonstop for the last five minutes.”

Oh fuck me, she didn’t - “Has it now?”

“Yeah. Same person too, from the looks of it.” Bob’s face colors as the implication that he might’ve done something stalkerish dawns on him. “Not that I was going out of my way to get in your business, you left your phone facing up and I could see the name on caller ID-”

“No no, you’re fine; I get what you’re trying to say.” Katie slides back into the booth and takes her phone in her hands, stifling another groan when she sees the never-ending list of missed calls from her sister. Only it’s not Naomi, she thinks, her thoughts edged with a growl. Christ, Carrie’s in fine form today. 

No sooner does the thought pass through her head than her phone starts ringing again, ‘Naomi’ scrolling across the top of the screen, the damn thing playing that stupid marimba ringtone while it buzzes expectantly in her hand. It has to be the 11th time her mother’s tried to call her now. 

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. She clicks the power button to decline the call, switches it to silent mode, and all but whips it to the far end of the table, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in a death grip. Stepping out to fend off an anxiety attack was bad enough, but this… She does not need this today. She absolutely does not need this today. 

“…You’re not gonna take that?”

Katie doesn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”

“You sure? Whoever’s calling must really wanna get a hold of you if they’ve been going like that.”

“Yeah, well, she can choke.” Katie stabs her fork into the piece of cinnamon roll she’s just cut up, sticks it in her mouth and chews stiffly. Christ, she can’t believe this is happening right now. 

“Oh.” Bob’s gaze shifts down, blinks as he contemplates his next move, if it’s even appropriate to have one at this point. Katie’s hoping he drops the subject and moves on to something different, but she can’t say she’s surprised when his eyes steel and he looks back up at her, trying to understand. “What’s, um… What’s the story with” - he steals a glance at the list of missed calls - “Naomi?”

“She’s my little sister,” Katie replies around a sip of coffee. “Problem is that she’s not the one spamming my call log.” 

“Oh? Who is then?”

“My mother,” she mutters. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls between them again, permeates the air for one, two, three, four, five seconds. This silence, however, is uncomfortable, uneasy, heavy. It’s not often that Carrie and her bullshit make their existence public. In the four years she’s been in the Navy, Katie has worked hard to keep it that way. Now? She’s being forced to acknowledge it (in public, and to one of her friends, no less), and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. 

“I don’t…” Katie closes her eyes, takes a long, deep, steadying breath. No one wants to hear this. Why the fuck am I doing this? “I don’t have a good relationship with my mom.” 

She pauses, looks at Bob, wills him to say something, anything in reply. But he doesn’t. He just stares, gives her that intent look that tells her he’s listening and that he’s not saying anything until she’s good and done, REALLY good and done. 

Fuck. Not the reaction she was hoping for.

Well then. Looks like brevity is about to be her best friend for this conversation. 

“It took a long time for me to realize it, but she’s… damaged. Like, really fucking damaged. And she’s done stuff that’s messed me and my sister up over the years.”

“Like what? Um, if you don’t mind me asking.” 

So much for keeping this brief. Fuckity fuck.

Katie licks her lips, sucks her teeth in thought. “Well… A lot, really, but uh… Gaslighting, emotional abuse, manipulation… You uh, you name it.” Her chest aches from the truth and the rawness of it all straining against it, but she forces it back, forces it deep inside her where it can’t see the light of day. She doesn’t want to talk about it with Bob anymore, not right now, not when things are going as nice as they are and he thinks she’s a good person to be around. He certainly wouldn’t think that if he knew, would he, Katherine Mae? You’re not damaged. You’re worse than damaged; you’re categorically shattered-

“…Katie? You okay?”

Katie blinks, punches Carrie and her noxious words deep into the recesses of her brain. She really needs to stop having moments like these. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles. “It’s, um… It’s a tricky thing for me to talk about.”

“It’s all right; I shouldn’t have asked about it in the first place. I’m sorry.” Bob takes a long, ponderous sip, eyes following the people strolling on the other side of the window. “Guess that explains why you joined after college.”

“Yeah. Shitty circumstances, but definitely the best decision I could’ve made.” Katie’s mouth curls upwards in a soft smile. “I have a job I love, I’ve already been to a few cool places, and I’m basically in an honors program for fighter pilots… I’d say I’m doing pretty okay these days.”

“I’d agree with you.”

“Bonus points for some of the people I’ve met recently, too,” she adds, the smile growing just the tiniest bit larger. “I haven’t known them long but they’ve made a pretty big difference in my life.”

At that, Bob’s cheeks go pink and he grins sheepishly. He still can’t quite smoothly take a compliment, but at this point Katie doesn’t care and she chuckles to herself. If anything, she finds it rather endearing. 

They soon return to the silence of before, tuck into their breakfasts amidst the din of the restaurant and with a renewed sense of ease and contentment. There’s beauty in being comfortable with silence. The simple pleasure of their company is enough for them; there’s no real need to speak. 

Until…

“We’re being watched.” 

Bob’s buttering a piece of toast when he says it, and he says it so nonchalantly and with such a calm face that at first Katie thinks he’s joking. But, she follows the line of his gaze, and sure enough… 

She’s not really noteworthy, the old lady sitting by herself at a nearby table. She nurses a cup of coffee that’s far more milk than it is coffee, and picks slowly at a raspberry danish on a small white plate. If she’s not holding the coffee in her veined right hand, then it’s a weathered copy of some old romance book. So absorbed is she in her little routine of coffee, pastry, and reading that Katie wonders if Bob’s imagination might be playing tricks on him. 

However, all of that goes out the window when the lady looks up and catches Katie’s gaze with her own. She grins at her, and suddenly, inexplicably, Katie has a bad feeling about where this is heading. 

“Y’know,” she says, “I’ve had dozens of boyfriends in my time, and none of them ever treated me the way he treats you. You’ve got yourself a good one there!”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Katie’s not sure who turns beet-red first: her, or Bob. She’s also not sure who starts coughing first. Oh my god. That actually happened. 

She can’t believe it. First there’s Fanboy making jokes during PT. Then there’s Halfpint making snide comments whenever he sees them together. Now there’s some old lady mistaking them for a couple at a diner. Holy Christ, Katie’s inner thoughts moan, what is going on here?

“Oh no,” Bob coughs, “no no no, we’re just friends, ma’am.” 

Katie’s quick to voice her agreement with Bob (albeit around a massive wheezing fit), but she gets the sense that the lady isn’t buying it. She nods politely and smiles at them before returning to her book, but there’s no missing the twinkle in her eye, the one that clearly says ‘you’re in denial’. 

Christ - if Katie didn’t know any better, she’d say that this little old lady is a damn Cupid in disguise, trying to bend the universe and push her and Bob together. 

Whoo boy. She doesn’t want to dedicate even a second of thought to that. Breakfast has already been complex enough without adding that in. 

Thank god for the both of them, their remaining time in the restaurant is short-lived. Bob has them rung up and checked out in less than two minutes, and they slip out of the booth and through the front doors with hardly a word exchanged between them. The last thing Katie sees before they leave is the old lady grinning at them, twiddling her twisted fingers in farewell. 

It’s only when they’re outside that they fully react to the exchange that’s just taken place, and while Katie heaves a heavy breath and stares up at the sky with her hands on her hips, Bob damn-near doubles over with laughter. 

“Well, that turned into a real interesting breakfast, didn’t it?” 

“Yeah, sure did… God, I can’t believe she thought we were a couple…” Katie’s head is spinning and her insides are burning. The universe, it seems, is really trying to pull something with her and Bob, and with each passing day, with each shared moment and second-too-long glance at one another, she’s beginning to question whether she even has a choice in the matter. 

We’re friends and nothing more. We’re friends and nothing more. WE’RE FRIENDS AND NOTHING MORE. 

But, as they start making their way back to the car, Katie looks down at Bob’s hand, veined and strong and relaxed beside his leg, and two thoughts pass through her head. They’re thoughts so… out of left field, so dubious and unlike her, she wonders if it’s really even herself: what if? What if she were to reach out and take his hand in hers? 

And… what if they were ‘something more’? 

***

A day and some change later, Katie has effectively put Bob’s Subaru through its paces and thensome. They spend close to four hours in the car, doing everything from going forward and backwards in one empty aisle of an isolated lot, to puttering around one of the on-base neighborhoods, to making full laps around North Island. 

At first, it’s rough - really rough. Seeming to follow in Bob’s footsteps, Katie stalls out multiple times and struggles to make the car move in first gear. There’s frustrating, and then there’s what Katie feels, and it’s borderline agonizing. She knows how to drive, and goddamn it, she’s good at it; why is she suddenly so categorically unable to now? 

She’s certain Bob’s going to boot her out from behind the wheel and take over driving, is certain that this is the worst attempt anyone’s ever made to drive manual, is certain that she’s a lousy driver and that everyone, Bob and the entire on-base population included, knows it. After all, she’s long since lost count of how many times the car has jerked forward and shut off, has lost count of the number of times she’s sworn out loud every time she’s slammed them back in their seats. Bob’s car has to be the damn finickiest piece of machinery she’s ever sat behind, but good god, it REALLY doesn’t help that she can’t get her shit together and just drive the car. She’s making an ass of herself and at this point, she’s waiting, waiting, waiting for Bob (Christ, practically begging him in her head) to just heave a sigh and tell her to stop. 

But he doesn’t. Quite the opposite. He sits calmly in the passenger seat, bears each violent jolt and jerk with an understanding smile, tells Katie that she’s doing great in a way that makes her stomach flutter and her cheeks threaten to burn crimson. There it is again, that calm, quiet kindness of his. It’s like a pressure valve loosening within her.

Katie grits her teeth, pushes onward. Goddamn it, she has to nail this - if not for herself, then for the man sitting beside her. 

And she does. For as awful as it is subjecting him to her inexperience, the numerous attempts and spiteful reattempts do finally pay off. She’s not perfect, but she does manage two laps around base without stalling or any significant lurching.  And that? That is a victory she’ll take.  

Hours later, it’s closing in on 8 p.m. and the two of them are occupying their usual corner of the Hard Deck, accompanied tonight by Fanboy, Halfpint, and a rather hefty pitcher of Coors (at Katie’s insistence because, even with her earlier success behind the wheel of Bob’s car, holy Christ, does she need a drink). 

“So what’s this I hear about you learning stick with Bobber earlier?” Fanboy asks as he’s pouring himself a glass. 

It takes all of Katie’s strength not to roll her eyes at the barely-there sly smirk on his face. Still trying to imply shit. Of course he is. 

“It was more putting the theory into practice, but yeah,” Katie shrugs, just as a wince flashes across her face. “Pretty sure I tortured Bob’s car doing it, but I guess it all worked out.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Did a couple laps around base with little issue, so I’d say I did pretty good.”

“Sheesh,” Fanboy says with a whistle, “maybe I’ll let you start driving my car when we get back to Virginia-”

“Nah, I had my fill driving Bob’s today; I think I’m good for, like, the rest of my life.” 

“Wise choice,” Halfpint mutters around the lip of his beer glass. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get behind the wheel of that thing.”

“Bro, why you gotta be like that?”

“Because your car’s a death trap and the last thing you wanna do is put a newly-minted manual driver in it!”

“Oh my god, it’s not that bad.”

“What do you drive, Fanboy?” Bob asks. 

“An ‘09 370Z.”

“What, like a Nissan?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s a shitbox,” Halfpint cuts in, much to the annoyance of his WSO, who throws his arms up in exasperation. 

“It is not a shitbox! It gets from point A to point B with no issue, and it sounds cool doing it!”

Halfpint snorts. Loudly. “My dude, you put more emphasis on that trash can exhaust mod than on, like, anything else in that car - y’know, like safety, or what actually makes the car run.”

“Oh what the fuck would you know, huh?”

“More than you, apparently.”

“First of all, if I’m gonna go anytime soon, then it’s gonna be in a blaze of glory. Second, bitch, have you heard my car? If it don’t sound like I have a hive full of angry fuckin’ bees under the hood, then it’s not a proper tuner!”

“Well if you’re going for loud, then you’ve definitely got that down, because Jesus… You’re worse than the fuckers who blast down the highway at two in the morning.”

“Well” - Fanboy swills the last of his beer and clanks the glass down hard on the tabletop - “I’m clearly being attacked here, so I’m just gonna go home now.” He stands up, and makes like he’s actually going to walk out and head out, but allows himself to be swung back to the table by Katie, who loops an arm through his with a laugh and a promise not to bully him anymore. 

“We’re literally just giving you shit. Promise we’ll stop.”

“Yeah girl, you better,” Fanboy scoffs. “I know where you work.”

“Yeah, I know where you work too, dumdum,” Katie shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Enough about shitboxes though - how was y’all’s weekend?”

“Couldn’t tell you a damn thing about Halfpint’s weekend, but mine was pretty good - hit up Coronado Beach yesterday, then spent the rest of it catching up on Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen-”

“Nerrrrrrrd-”

“Fuck off, Kozer! At least I left my room this weekend!”

As the pilot and his WSO launch into another spat of arguing and name-calling, Katie leans over towards Bob. “I swear, it’s like hanging out with a married couple with these two,” she murmurs to him around a sip of beer.

“Tell me about it… Do we break ‘em up or let ‘em keep going?” 

“Eh,” Katie shrugs, “let ‘em bitch. Think they’ll notice if we drink all the beer?”

“Dunno. Let’s find out.”

Katie merely clinks her glass with Bob’s, then swills down the remains of her drink and pours a fresh one. To no one’s surprise, neither Fanboy nor Halfpint notice their classmates quietly kill the pitcher of Coors between them. When Bob orders them a second pitcher, it’s much of the same: more drinking, more people watching, more quiet laughing. For a Sunday evening, it’s a good way to pass the time. 

Eventually, things wind down for the night. When the Hard Deck closes things down at 10, the two of them are among the last to leave. Fanboy and Halfpint have long since headed back to the Navy Lodge, and there are maybe four other patrons occupying the bar with them, all paying their tabs and shuffling off to their cars or loping their way back to their quarters. Despite Bob’s protesting, Katie pays for the pitchers. 

“Gotta let me pay for something sometime, Bob,” she says with a wink as she’s scribbling her signature on the receipt.

“Do you realize I have a Georgia-based mother to deal with?” Bob groans (albeit jokingly). “She’d kick my ass if she found out I didn’t pay for a lady.” 

“Well, guess it’s a good thing you’re all the way on the other side of the country in California,” she grins. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.” 

“You wanna drive or do you want me to drive?” 

“Oh dude, that’s all you. I put you and your car through enough today.” 

“You sure?”

Katie nods with a tight smile. “Oh yeah.”

They push through the front doors into the warm, salt-tinged air of the night, chatting casually amongst themselves, ready to end the evening with a nice, easy drive home...

“Hey, you’re gorgeous.” 

Katie whips her head around to the source of the comment, and finds herself looking at a man propped up against one side of the walkway railing. Judging by the way his words slur, he’s drunk - very drunk. Katie pays him no mind, continues on her way to the parking lot with Bob.

“Damn, I give you a compliment and you can’t even be bothered to say ‘thank you’? Th’ fuck’s amatter with ya?” 

Oh Christ, I SO don’t need this right now - “Well,” Katie huffs as she turns on one heel to face the guy, “I’m a little hard-pressed to when I don’t even know you.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s easy to fix.” He pushes himself away from his spot on the railing, stumbles over to Katie, body lurching to a stop when their chests are practically touching. Only they aren’t. Katie’s eye-level with his collarbone, and the realization of this twists her stomach. This guy is a fucking giant compared to her, and something tells her he knows it and is using it to his advantage. 

Shit. She already doesn’t like how this is going.

“Gimme your number and we’ll get to know each other better sometime.” 

She tries to play things cool, plays the noncommittal angle. “Maybe,” she sighs. “They keep us pretty busy at TOPGUN. Doubt I’ll have time to get away from all that-” 

“Oh, you’re one of those snobby pilot bitches, aren’t ya?” The guy leans down, leers in her face, sour beer breath curling across her nose. “Think you’re too good for me, huh?” 

“Seriously? You’re the one acting like an asshole and getting all up in my personal space,” Katie bites. 

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just gimme your number - so how ‘bout it?” Inch by inch, he’s moving forward, and inch by inch, Katie’s moving backward, closer and closer to the wood railing behind her, closer and closer to trapping and being trapped. “Make this easy for the both of us, huh?”

“C’mon man, she’s not interested” - Bob makes to step between Katie and the nameless guy harassing her - “leave her alone-”

It’s like Bob’s not even there. The guy shoulder checks him out of the way and continues on with Katie as if nothing happened. Undeterred, Bob makes another attempt to shield her - and is shoved off with a laugh and a ‘get lost bitch’. 

Katie’s vision immediately goes red. Enough of this. It’s bad enough that this guy’s harassing her - but putting hands on her friend and calling him names? Absolutely not. 

“You want my number? Here.” She snatches the guy’s phone out of his hand, punches in a series of numbers, and all but throws it back at him. “There’s my number. Now can you leave me the fuck alone?” 

“All right, all right, damn, don’t need to be a bitch about it! I’ll hit you up later, yeah?”

In your dreams, asshole- “Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Katie mutters before taking Bob’s hand and leading him down the ramp to the parking lot. She doesn’t even care that she’s being rude or putting herself in a risky position anymore; she just wants to leave and never see this asshole again. 

“Better be ready for me when I do!”

Katie doesn’t even dignify that with a response - just stomps off for the car with Bob in tow. She’s fairly certain that if she did, it would be an aggressively physical one - and she definitely doesn’t need the kind of trouble that would bring. Neither of them do.

The instant they’re out of earshot, Bob’s got an arm around her shoulders and he’s pulling her tight to his frame, sheltering her from the two pricks they’re fast leaving behind. Were this a normal situation, Katie would be a blushing mess right now, but after the last five minutes, she’s too rattled and on-edge to be flustered. She wordlessly accepts the pull into him, snakes her own arm around his waist - and he jumps, just the tiniest bit. He must not have been expecting reciprocation from her. No matter.

His voice is soft, low. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine… Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine…” He pauses, purses his lips. “Please tell me you didn’t actually give that guy your phone number.”

“Wha- no. I gave him a bunch of randoms. I don’t even know if what I gave him is a phone number.”

“Good…”

“Believe me, I want nothing to do with that asshole.” 

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Bob says nothing else beyond that. At least, he doesn’t at first. He’s far too focused on putting distance between them and the harasser - but it’s clear that he’s got something on his mind, something to say. 

“...Bob?”

No response. Just step, after step, after silent step.

“C’mon Bob, talk to me.” 

Still no response. Step, after step, after silent step. Katie exhales in disappointment and goes to drop the subject, but before she can, he speaks. 

“That’s why my callsign’s Bob.”

“…What?”

“You asked me three weeks ago why my callsign’s my first name. That’s why.”

There’s no missing the hard edge in Bob’s voice. He’s angry - a rare thing, given his usually easygoing, soft spoken disposition. It’s not just in his voice, though. It’s in the way he stares straight forward, even when he’s speaking directly to Katie; it’s in the stiffness of his walking; it’s in the tautness of his arm around her shoulders. This is a full-body, full-brunt feeling - and quite honestly, it unsettles Katie. 

“Wait, hold on-” She steals a quick glance over her shoulder, turns back and looks up at Bob as she juts a thumb back. “What does he have to do with it?” 

“It’s guys like him,” Bob replies stiffly.

Katie’s brow furrows but she says nothing. She’s not entirely sure where he could be going with this, but she’s not so sure she wants to find out - or, rather, that she should be finding out.

“All my life, I’ve been pushed around and counted out by guys like that. It happened every three, four years when dad would haul us with him to a new duty station; it happened when he retired and we settled in Georgia; it happened when I went to college.” He pauses, inhales deeply through his nose, presses on. “I joined the Navy because I thought things would be different - y’know, that I’d get to prove myself and show people I’m someone to be taken seriously. You know what it actually was? Same shit. More pushing around, more laughing, and more forgetting.”

“Bob-”

“Guys like that who look at me and don’t think I’m even worth the dirt on their boots, much less their time and consideration? They’re everywhere in the Navy, but I picked the one community that’s absolutely infested with them.” He barks out a laugh, a mirthless one. “God, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking you were gonna end that cycle of bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I tried to, but… Nope. I wound up being an afterthought all through OCS and primary flight training. I didn’t even get a callsign until well over six months at Lemoore, and when I did, it was a matter of ‘who are you and why don’t you have a callsign? I guess it can be Bob, whatever.’” When Katie looks up at him again, Bob’s gaze is glazed over, distant - and while the rest of his face is smooth and neutral, there’s no missing the shame, resentment, and hurt in his eyes. “They gave me that name because I’m forgettable and don’t mean much. And… And what you saw just now proved what I am and what people think of me.”

Oh, Bob.

Katie’s throat closes and she thinks she might actually start crying. So that’s why Bob never told her. That’s why he’s kept that story so close and tight to him. And it makes perfect sense, but god, if it doesn’t rip her heart into little pieces. 

“Do you really think that?” she asks him quietly. 

Bob sighs, shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what everyone else thinks.”

In an instant, the hurt and sadness is replaced with anger of her own, a burning, snarling anger. 

The words that come out of Katie’s mouth bite the air around them. “Fuck them,” she spits. “Fuck all of them. They don’t know a damn thing about you. And for the record, I don’t think that about you.”

“Katie, you don’t have to-”

“No, lemme finish.” She shushes Bob with a single pointed glance. “You’re genuinely one of the nicest, smartest, coolest guys I know, not to mention you’re pretty terrifying in a Super Hornet. I think you’re fucking incredible, okay? I could never forget about you - and quite frankly, I don’t wanna forget about you.” 

Bob is silent, staring at her with a gleam of awe in his eyes. One would think he’s never heard reassurance like this before; judging by the way he was talking earlier, he hasn’t. Well, enough of that. He deserves better and Katie knows it. 

“Seriously, fuck that guy back there, and people like him. I doubt you’ll ever run into him again, but even if you did, he doesn’t matter in the long run, and neither does his opinion of you.”

“I know. Just…” Bob exhales, long and exhausted. “I’m tired, Katie. I’m so tired of it.” 

“I know you are, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with that shit for so long.” She’d give anything to reach over and just wipe away the tired, defeated look on his face. She hates seeing him look like that. 

“Gonna have to put up with it as long as I’m in the Navy…” The look lingers for one second more, then in an instant it’s gone, replaced with one of resolve, of steel. “You’re right, though. He doesn’t matter.”

“No, he doesn’t - and I’ll tell you what, if that guy had put his hands on you one more time, I would’ve turned around and decked him.”

“…Really?”

Katie nods. “Really. You matter more to me than he does.” Her cheeks are burning bright and she’s certain that Bob can see it, but she doesn’t care. It needs to be said. 

When Bob speaks again, his voice is soft, softer than anything it’s been in the last five minutes, so soft that she has to strain to hear him - but she does, and oh. 

“You matter to me too, y’know. A lot.” 

It’s no different than what she just said to him a moment ago, but coming from him this time around? It hits differently. There’s something there, something peculiar, something hanging between the two of them; Katie can feel it. She’s certainly not one to read too much into situations or energy, but there’s no ignoring the something between them, not after the last few weeks. Hell, the last 24 hours. She can’t. 

And, with one look into the cerulean blue eyes walking beside her, Katie is certain that Bob can’t, either. 

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

And off they go, Bob’s arm around Katie’s shoulders, her arm around his waist, their steps synched with the other’s…

And god, if it isn’t the most natural feeling in the world. 

It almost feels like home.

It’s just past 08 the next day when she awakens to the chirp of her phone on the nightstand. Well, sort of awakens. She can barely crack her eyes open as she reaches out and slaps her palm against the hard surface, nor as her fingers curl around the phone and bring it to within inches of her face. 

Turns out, it’s a text from Bob - nothing too out of the ordinary, considering how often they spend time together these days. She wonders what he could be up to at this hour. 

She taps open the message, squints at the gray bubble on her screen. “Planning on getting breakfast in downtown SD,” it reads. “Wanna come with?”

Hm. Katie could go for a full breakfast plate. Yet…

Her fingers fumble their way across the keyboard. “I thought you weren’t a breakfast person tho.”

“I mean normally I’m not, but if it means I get to spend time with a friend like you, then I can be persuaded otherwise.”

Well then. 

The flush is creeping across Katie’s face before she’s fully processed the message. Thank god he isn’t in the room with her; she’s pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he saw just how crimson-faced she is after reading that text. 

But why is she, though? It’s an invitation to get breakfast with Bob. Breakfast with a member of the opposite sex is a total non-issue. Hell, it’s not like she hasn’t done this sort of thing dozens of times in the last couple of weeks with him. Granted, those ‘dozens of times’ are short mornings sipping coffee in his hotel room, but what does it matter?

It’s not a date. It is 100% not a date. In fact, as far as she’s concerned, as far as she’s forcing herself to be concerned, it’s the opposite. It’s a shared outing, something as casual and noncommittal as the hike they went on during their first week here. There’s no need for her to freak out and turn red like this. She needs to calm down, and right now. 

Closing her eyes, Katie takes a deep, steadying breath, gives herself a moment to recompose before opening her eyes and tapping out a reply to Bob. 

“Can I dress like a bum or do I have to put in some effort with my outfit?”

“Dress however you want. If it helps, I’m wearing jeans and a tshirt.” 

Shit. No sweatpants for her then. “Put in some effort with my outfit, got it. See you down in the lobby in 10?”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Cool cool. Who’s driving?”

“Uhhhh, you know what I will. Least I can do to say thanks for driving me everywhere most days.”

“Works for me.”

Katie doesn’t give herself much time to think; she just sets herself in motion and goes. She quickly settles on jean shorts, an oversized worn green shirt with ‘FEAR THE DUCK’ scrawled across the chest, and her Birkenstocks. Then, it’s on to the bathroom. Teeth? Brushed and flossed. Face? Moisturized. Hair? Loosely French-braided. All things to suggest she made somewhat of an effort this morning, but not too much. Besides, why should she make a big fuss over how she looks? It’s breakfast, not a red carpet event. 

Heaving a sigh, she grabs her phone, wallet, and sunglasses, and makes her way down to the lobby, where Bob’s waiting for her on one of the side couches. True to his word, he’s wearing jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. However, it’s a t-shirt that hugs his biceps just a little too tightly, and it’s all Katie can do not to outright ogle. Holy Christ, has he always had those?

C’mon idiot, say something - “You ready to go?” she asks with a bright - if not somewhat forced - smile on her face. 

“Always.” Bob stands, palms his car keys, motions for her to follow. “You hungry?”

“Starving. Where are we going for breakfast anyway?” 

“You ever heard of Harry’s Coffee Shop?”

Katie shakes her head. “Don’t think I have.” 

“It’s this little diner-type place out in downtown. I’ve heard nothing but good things about it so I thought I’d go and check it out, y’know?”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah. They’ve supposedly got really good cinnamon rolls.”

“So you’re a sweets for breakfast guy,” Katie says with a wry smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed that with the way you drink coffee.”

Bob snorts, almost as if it’s an obvious revelation. “Of course. It helps balance out the bitterness.”

The two are now making their way down the far right aisle of the parking lot, towards the nose of a dark gray car - a Subaru, Katie realizes when they draw closer. It’s one of the sporty hatchback models, complete with carbon-black rims and what’s sure to be its own bite under the hood, but it’s… small. Granted, Katie wasn’t sure what to expect (with Bob, she hardly ever knows these days), but she’s not entirely sure she expected this. 

“A Subie, huh?” Katie’s lips curl into a gentle smirk as she ducks into the passenger seat. “Not really a big truck type?”

“Nope,” Bob replies, lips popping on the ‘p’. “I make a living flying around in a massive multimillion-dollar aircraft, but take comfort driving a little hatchback. Ironic, huh?” 

“I mean, I guess.”

“End of the day, the less machinery I have to operate, the better.”

“Considering your car’s a manual, I’d call that ironic.”

“Oh har-har.” He sticks the key in the ignition, turns the car on. “Do you know how to drive stick?”

“Only in theory,” Katie says with a sigh. “I’ve tried so many times to learn from different people but I have the worst time trying to get-”

“-TOO MANY DOSES AND I’M STARTING TO GET AN ATTRA-”

Bob’s immediately slamming his hand on the audio power button with a grimace and a hissed ‘Jesus Christ’. Katie, though startled (more like scared shitless) by the sudden blast of music coming from Bob’s speakers, frowns, letting the lyrics roll around in her head like a ball in a roulette wheel. She’s heard those lyrics before, she knows it…

After a moment of contemplating, she glances over at Bob, brows furrowed. “…Was that Avenged Sevenfold?”

Bob cringes. “Teenage Bob was a big fan,” he replies sheepishly. “…You were saying, though?”

“I was saying that I have the worst time trying to get moving in first. Honestly, I think I’m just destined to drive automatic for the rest of my life.”

Bob scoffs as he maneuvers the car out of the parking lot with practiced ease. “Oh please - not like you’re much worse than I was. First few times I drove, it took me twenty minutes just to get moving in first gear. Twenty.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Yep. It was bad.”

Katie can’t help herself. A snicker bubbles from within her. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“Glad we agree on that,” Bob snickers back. “Anyway, um… If you ever wanna get better at driving stick, I’d be happy to help you practice.”

“You risk me breaking your transmission.”

“This baby can handle it. She’s sturdier than she looks. Seriously though, let me know. Your issue is nothing that practice can’t fix.” 

“If you say so.” Katie pauses, contemplates, chuckles after a moment. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything too strenuous this weekend, ‘cause, y’know, this past week in class was hell, but uh, I guess… if you’re not doing anything tomorrow and are cool with me stalling your car a bunch of times, maybe…?”

Bob grins. “Let’s do it.” He wheels the car left, right, left, right, shifts seamlessly between the low gears as they drive off-base. “So, what are we listening to?”

Katie shrugs. “I mean, it’s your car; it’s your call.”

“Well, considering I stole your aux cord and played my music last time we went somewhere, I think it’s only fair that you get to do it this time.”

“Hmm…” Katie pulls up her Spotify playlists, thumbs through her myriad of songs while she chews on her bottom lip. Song-wise, there’s any number of directions she can go in - there’s Milo Korbenski and the Hot Garbage album; there’s My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless album (actually, on second thought, maybe not that one - the ‘noise’ aspect might be a bit too much this early in the morning); there’s copious amounts of Swervedriver and Catherine Wheel and Echodrone. 

And then she scrolls past one song and suddenly, she knows what she wants to listen to. 

“You ever heard of the band Lush?” she asks as she hooks her phone up to Bob’s soundsystem. 

Bob shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Okay… How do you feel about shoegaze or dream pop-type music?”

“I mean, I’ll listen to anything once. Usually wind up liking whatever I listen to. And honestly, I’ve liked whatever you put on when you drive.” 

“Good,” Katie smirks, “that makes me feel better about putting this on.” 

And with that, she hits the ‘play’ button, and out comes the opening chords for Lush’s Sweetness and Light, ringing out in hazy, perfect harmony and glory. It’s a song she’s heard many times over the last several years, but it never gets old. There’s beauty in the lyrics’ sweet nothings and warm sentiments - and it’s beauty she’s all too happy to revel in, and to share with others willing to listen. 

“I like it,” Bob muses over the music’s heightening volume. “Very spacey.”

“Yeah, that’s shoegaze for ya.” She settles back in the passenger seat, closes her eyes, smiles blissfully. “This is what happiness sounds like to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” She swirls her hand through the air, loosely matches the rhythm of the song. “Love, adoration, and… sweetness and light.” 

“Well, whaddaya say we play it good and loud?”

Katie’s eyes slide open, and Bob’s looking at her with a smirk on his face and his eyebrows quirked as he’s reaching for the volume knob.  

He’s getting to know her quite well now, isn’t he?

She grins. “Crank that shit.”

Bob obliges, turning the dial up high just as the intro crescendos, spins into the main verses, the sound of saturated guitar and endless dreamy reverb soaking into them as readily as the morning sun does. 

And Katie? Katie just grins, and grins, and grins. This. This is what makes her happy. 

What a wonderful way to start things off today. 

***

Harry’s Coffee Shop on Girard Avenue is a veritable time capsule of the ‘60s. Big and white with red lettering adorning its roof, its outside appearance serves as a small taste of its overall retroness. Inside, it’s tenfold, with walnut-colored wood paneling running the whole perimeter of the restaurant, two-tone leather-covered booths, schoolhouse pendant lights hanging over the diner counter, green carpeting, and framed photos of various sizes hanging on the walls, telling the restaurant’s nearly 60-year-old story in shades of faded color and black and white. 

The restaurant is buzzing with activity when Bob and Katie walk in through the double doors. Customers occupy every other booth and table. Waiters breeze from spot to spot, customer to customer, carrying various elements of each person’s breakfast. Somewhere through the din of conversation and hustle-bustle, the Doors’ Peace Frog beats out a jaunty, keyboard-laden rhythm that sets the tone for the morning. Every inch, every movement, every sound contained within the space screams ‘busy Saturday morning’ - and yet, that only makes the restaurant all the more inviting. 

Katie and Bob quickly find themselves seated in a small booth at the front, right beside a window that looks out at the street and surrounding neighborhood. It’s the ideal place for people watching that maintains some semblance of privacy, of anonymity, and normally, that would be a big draw for two people like Bob Floyd and Katie Garland. 

But neither of them are here for that. 

Bob’s in the middle of regaling Katie with tales of past OCS instructors when they’re seated, and he hardly misses a beat as they take their spots opposite each other. “I had this one RDC when I went through; still not entirely sure what I think of him,” he says. “He always had this blank, borderline-bored look on his face, and it stayed that way the whole damn time we were going through it. He’d be absolutely beating our asses in the compartment and it would just be” - Bob passes his hand over his face, which immediately relaxes into the blank look he speaks of - “completely flat.”

“By any chance, was it Lieutenant Reynoso?”

“Yeah, actually, it was.”

Well, boy howdy. 

“Reynoso was one of my RDC’s when I went through,” Katie smiles wryly. “That guy honestly scared the shit outta me for a while.”

Bob’s face instantly splits into a grin as a laugh bubbles from him. “Scared? Why?”

“I didn’t know what he was thinking! He always had that blank look in his eyes, AND major resting bitch face; I didn’t know if he was contemplating murder or playing the Mii Channel theme on loop!”

“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!”

“Oh bullshit - tell me you weren’t intimidated as hell by him that first week.”

“...Okay, maybe a little.”

Katie giggles. “See? Reynoso was fuckin’ scary. Probably would’ve stayed scary if he’d let the other RDC’s do the talking. Oh man… Who else did you have?”

“Let’s see…” Bob holds up his hand, counts off instructors with his fingers. “There was Gunny Haltermann, MMSC Stennis-”

“No fucking way, you had Stennis?!” This conversation keeps getting better and better. “He was one of the RDC’s for my brother div!”

“No kidding.”

“Oh my god, this is wild - did he play Tupac during your div’s PT sessions?”

“Sure did. Had the lyrics to Ambitionz az a Ridah practically memorized after a few weeks with him.”

“Oh my god, yes, same.” Katie is practically giddy with excitement over the new information; after all, what are the odds of knowing someone who had virtually the same training experience as you, the same mentors and instructors? “He played that shit all the time during our sessions with brother div. It was kind of nice, actually. Like, nice in the sense that we got to hear music other than cadence during training.”

“Honestly, nice that we got to hear music, period,” Bob comments. 

“I’ll take a black coffee, thanks - yeah, true. Y’know I made a list of music I was gonna listen to the second I finished training?”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. I had, like, somewhere around 75 songs on that list,” she laughs. 

“Make that two black coffees, ma’am - what was the first one?” 

Katie snickers. “Highway Tune - Greta Van Fleet. Specifically so I could blast it as I was leaving base and yell ‘see ya fuckers’ out the window.”

“Sounds about right,” Bob snickers back. “Kinda figured you’d have shoegaze at the top with how much you listen to it.”

“Oh trust me, there was plenty of it there. If I remember correctly, song number two was a My Bloody Valentine song.”

“Hell of a band name.”

“It belies the dreamy acid trip vibe.” With their coffee having been delivered by their waitress, Katie takes a sip, proceeds to doctor it with a packet of creamer. “Enough about me though - I wanna hear more about you.”

“The La Jolla Scramble, cinnamon roll on the side please - uh, not really much to tell. Got orange-carded once for screwing up facing maneuvers. Listened to a lot of Tupac and Childish Gambino when Stennis was leading things. Honestly, you’d have gotten a better answer if you’d asked me about college.”

“I’ll have the Mediterranean omelet and a cinnamon roll on the side, please - well, I guess this is me asking you about college then.”

Bob purses his lips, ponders for one, two, three seconds. “Well, I went to the University of Georgia, graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. In and out in four years.”

“Definitely weren’t in NROTC while you were there, if the, uh, OCS bit was any indication.”

“Nope,” Bob replies with a shake of his head and a sip of his pitch-black coffee. “Honestly, the Navy wasn’t even a thought in my head until after I graduated.”

“Wasn’t in mine either.” Katie pauses - then smirks. “Did you have a raging hard-on for your college football team?”

Bob scoffs, and loudly at that. “Hardly. Couldn’t care less about football.”

“Isn’t college football a big thing where you’re from, though?”

“It is - but you forget this is me we’re talking about,” Bob replies wryly. “Only reason you’d really catch me saying ‘go ‘dawgs’ was so I didn’t get the shit beat outta me, y’know?” 

“Mmm. So not much of a football guy, got it.”

“Eh, not much of a sports guy, really. I like hiking though. And biking. Shit, put my happy ass on a bike and I’ll ride it ‘til the cows come home.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you like anything that gets you outside and exploring the world around you.”

“Exactly.” Another sip of coffee, then Bob sets his hands one on top of the other. “Your turn now. I think I know what you’re gonna say, but where’d you wind up for school?”

“U Oregon. Go Ducks and all that, woo woo, rah rah.”

“Kinda sounds like you weren’t much of a sports person either,” Bob comments with a chuckle. 

“Sports, no. School pride, yes. I loved it there.”

“Very well then. Whadja major in?”

At that, Katie snorts out a laugh. “Political science,” she says around the rim of her coffee mug. “I had this convoluted - and I mean really convoluted - reasoning that it would be useful for working in nonprofit - something about ‘understanding how our laws and policies work and using that knowledge to help nonprofits with their missions’.”

“Yeah, how’s that working out for you now?”

“I dunno,” Katie laughs, “ask the Navy.” 

“Man, I’m one to talk, though. All this ‘ooh and ah’ with a mechanical engineering degree and you don’t see me putting it to good use eith-”

“No, you cut that out; you actually have a useful degree. Mine’s a glorified scrap of paper that’s going to sit in my important files and collect dust for the rest of my life. And clearly, I’m putting my knowledge of U.S. and foreign policy to good use as a pilot in the Navy, right?” 

“I mean, just because you’re not using it now, doesn’t mean it’s useless for the rest of your life. Pretty sure all the three-letter agencies would go nuts for someone like you. They’d be worth considering when you’re done doing barrel rolls and shooting things out of the sky.”

Yeah, I suppose.” An amused smirk makes its way across Katie’s face. “I could go to work for the NSA and do some spooky government stuff. That would be pretty neat.”

“See? That’s the spirit. Just gotta consider the possibilities.” 

It’s not long before their waitress comes ‘round with their breakfast, fluffiest of omelets loaded with filling, lustrous scrambled eggs, and hand-sized cinnamon rolls painted with white icing, and goddamn, does it look good. 

More than that, it tastes good. Katie takes a bite of the massive cinnamon roll she’s been presented with and her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. Yeah - Bob definitely knew what he was doing when he picked this place out. 

He’s in a similarly rapturous state with his plate of scrambled eggs, Katie sees when she regains (some of) her senses and looks across the table at him. “Remind me to come here every weekend for breakfast from now on,” he all but groans. “Christ, this is good.”

“If the food I get is this good, honestly, I’d trust you to take me anywhere.”

“Good,” Bob snarks around a mouthful of eggs, “there’s a lotta places I wanna try while we’re here.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Katie snarks back. 

Silence soon fills the space between them, the easy kind borne of mutual understanding and comfort with one another. Katie tucks into her omelet and cinnamon roll in turns, pondering the state of things. It’s… strange. Good strange, to be sure, but still. She’s not really the type to sit comfortably in silence with another person. People have expectations for her, for the interactions between them - expectations that usually don’t involve silence. Anything contrary to that is… unnatural. 

But not here. Not with him.

With Bob, it’s different. Katie doesn’t have to worry about filling the empty spaces with talking and constant noise. She can just be, exist in the quiet moments. Hell, they both can. It’s nice, being this kind of comfortable with each other - and no doubt Bob has been thinking the same. 

She’s cutting off a piece of omelet to eat when Bob breaks the silence between them. He sips his coffee, clears his throat. “So, uh… Not to bounce around or anything, but… What made you decide to join the Navy?”

There it is - the question that everyone inevitably asks her. Oh boy. 

Katie takes the bite of her omelet, chews thoughtfully, shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I was ‘unfulfilled’ or anything. I went home, got a job at a nonprofit for homeless veterans, and it was great and all, being a part of my hometown in that capacity, but…”

The truth. It lingers on the tip of Katie’s tongue, waiting to make its appearance in the conversation. And god, does she want to let it out, but… 

“It didn’t… I dunno, add up. Job wasn’t really going anywhere and I felt stuck. Trapped, actually.”

“Yeesh, don’t I know that feeling.”

“Like, it was at work and at home. Practically everyone I’d gone to school with had up and left Portland and started living their lives, and I was just… home, suffocating. Tethered to my house like I’d been for the last eighteen years, and… I didn’t want to be that anymore.”

“So you joined the Navy.”

Yeah, pretty much. “Walked into the nearest recruiting office and asked what was available for someone with a degree,” Katie says. “The AO2 I talked to basically told me I could do anything, buuuuut he also told me that he’d personally kick my ass if I came in and tried to pick a rate without putting in a package for OCS. Told me it’d be a waste of my degree if I went enlisted.”

“You actually had an AO tell you to go officer? Man, I had a CTIC at my recruiting office and he was hell-bent on trying to get me to go enlisted.”

“Thank god you didn’t; you make a lot more sense as a WSO.”

“And you make a lot more sense as a pilot.”

Heat and blush (seriously, what is with you?) creep their way across Katie’s cheeks. “Took me until BFT to realize it, but I’m glad we agree on that.”

She’s about to slip another piece of omelet in her mouth when her phone vibrates and chimes from her pocket. She pops the piece into her mouth, pulls it out to look at the message that’s come through - most likely from Fanboy, she thinks. No doubt he’s dying to know what she and Bob are up to (nosy bastard he is). 

Only it’s not from him. 

No - it’s from someone much worse. 

“Katherine, we need to talk,” the text reads. “Your behavior last week was absolutely unacceptable and needs to be addressed immediately.” 

Carrie. It’s all Katie can do not to groan out loud, not only at the timing of the text, but at the sheer audacity of it. Her behavior was unacceptable? Was she being serious?

Keeping her face smooth and neutral proves to be difficult as she types out a reply. “Pretty sure I told you not to contact me. AND to give Naomi her phone back.”

Carrie’s response is almost immediate. “What gives you the right to talk to your mother like that?” she seems to snap through the phone. “Call me NOW.”

The reaction is almost instantaneous - stomach in knots, shakes radiating outwards from within. No, not this, not now. She doesn’t need this woman barging back into her life and bullying her.  

Tightness in her chest is starting to set in. Anxiety. Strong anxiety. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. 

Katie stands abruptly, shuffles out of the booth with a mumbled “gonna use the head” and takes off in a brisk march towards the bathroom. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bob and the entire restaurant have their eyes on her, she would be running. She doesn’t want people - especially him - seeing her on the verge of an anxiety attack.

She shoves through the restroom door in the back of the restaurant, trudges to the nearest sink and curls her body above it, hands gripping the edges white-knuckle tight and breath coming in shallow shudders. God damn it. God fucking damn it. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Two texts from her mother and it’s enough to reduce Katie to a near mess in a diner bathroom. It’s as if the last four years of silence and purposely missed calls and texts never even existed. Worse still, it’s as if she’s back in college and her mother is down the road from her, ready and waiting for her to do something, anything to snatch her away and prove that she is helpless without her. 

That she is nothing without her. 

Katie swallows thickly, grips the sink edge so hard that her hands ache. She’s wrong. She’s a fighter pilot in the world’s finest navy, a warrior, an angel of death and savior of people. She is all of these things and more, a real powerhouse of ‘something’ - and she did all of it without her mother. Carrie can go fuck herself. After all the shit she’s put her through, Katie owes her nothing. 

She lifts her head, stares down her reflection in the mirror. “I owe her nothing,” she utters in a low voice, steeling it against the shaking wracking her body. “I owe her nothing. Not a phone call, not an explanation text, not a single goddamn thing. I owe her nothing after everything she’s put me through, and I will not let her guilt me into anything else.” She repeats the words, over and over and over again, wills them to stick. I owe you nothing. I owe you nothing. I owe you absolutely NOTHING. 

Eventually, the words do stick, and she’s able to calm down enough to suck in a deep breath and steady herself. She can do this. Carrie can rage and harass her daughter all she wants, but she has no power over her. Katie won’t let her have it. 

She takes another big breath in, blows it out nice and slow. She’s ready. She can face the world again.

With a final breath, Katie turns and makes her way back out into the restaurant, mind working its way back to the point before Carrie interrupted her and Bob. She was having such a nice time with him before she had to show up… She just wants to go back to that point and forget that the last 5 minutes ever happened…

Unfortunately for her, there are other plans in store. 

When Katie makes eye contact with Bob, there’s no missing the gleam of concern in his eyes. Oh no. “Hey, uh, your phone’s been ringing nonstop for the last five minutes.”

Oh fuck me, she didn’t - “Has it now?”

“Yeah. Same person too, from the looks of it.” Bob’s face colors as the implication that he might’ve done something stalkerish dawns on him. “Not that I was going out of my way to get in your business, you left your phone facing up and I could see the name on caller ID-”

“No no, you’re fine; I get what you’re trying to say.” Katie slides back into the booth and takes her phone in her hands, stifling another groan when she sees the never-ending list of missed calls from her sister. Only it’s not Naomi, she thinks, her thoughts edged with a growl. Christ, Carrie’s in fine form today. 

No sooner does the thought pass through her head than her phone starts ringing again, ‘Naomi’ scrolling across the top of the screen, the damn thing playing that stupid marimba ringtone while it buzzes expectantly in her hand. It has to be the 11th time her mother’s tried to call her now. 

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. She clicks the power button to decline the call, switches it to silent mode, and all but whips it to the far end of the table, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in a death grip. Stepping out to fend off an anxiety attack was bad enough, but this… She does not need this today. She absolutely does not need this today. 

“…You’re not gonna take that?”

Katie doesn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”

“You sure? Whoever’s calling must really wanna get a hold of you if they’ve been going like that.”

“Yeah, well, she can choke.” Katie stabs her fork into the piece of cinnamon roll she’s just cut up, sticks it in her mouth and chews stiffly. Christ, she can’t believe this is happening right now. 

“Oh.” Bob’s gaze shifts down, blinks as he contemplates his next move, if it’s even appropriate to have one at this point. Katie’s hoping he drops the subject and moves on to something different, but she can’t say she’s surprised when his eyes steel and he looks back up at her, trying to understand. “What’s, um… What’s the story with” - he steals a glance at the list of missed calls - “Naomi?”

“She’s my little sister,” Katie replies around a sip of coffee. “Problem is that she’s not the one spamming my call log.” 

“Oh? Who is then?”

“My mother,” she mutters. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls between them again, permeates the air for one, two, three, four, five seconds. This silence, however, is uncomfortable, uneasy, heavy. It’s not often that Carrie and her bullshit make their existence public. In the four years she’s been in the Navy, Katie has worked hard to keep it that way. Now? She’s being forced to acknowledge it (in public, and to one of her friends, no less), and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. 

“I don’t…” Katie closes her eyes, takes a long, deep, steadying breath. No one wants to hear this. Why the fuck am I doing this? “I don’t have a good relationship with my mom.” 

She pauses, looks at Bob, wills him to say something, anything in reply. But he doesn’t. He just stares, gives her that intent look that tells her he’s listening and that he’s not saying anything until she’s good and done, REALLY good and done. 

Fuck. Not the reaction she was hoping for.

Well then. Looks like brevity is about to be her best friend for this conversation. 

“It took a long time for me to realize it, but she’s… damaged. Like, really fucking damaged. And she’s done stuff that’s messed me and my sister up over the years.”

“Like what? Um, if you don’t mind me asking.” 

So much for keeping this brief. Fuckity fuck.

Katie licks her lips, sucks her teeth in thought. “Well… A lot, really, but uh… Gaslighting, emotional abuse, manipulation… You uh, you name it.” Her chest aches from the truth and the rawness of it all straining against it, but she forces it back, forces it deep inside her where it can’t see the light of day. She doesn’t want to talk about it with Bob anymore, not right now, not when things are going as nice as they are and he thinks she’s a good person to be around. He certainly wouldn’t think that if he knew, would he, Katherine Mae? You’re not damaged. You’re worse than damaged; you’re categorically shattered-

“…Katie? You okay?”

Katie blinks, punches Carrie and her noxious words deep into the recesses of her brain. She really needs to stop having moments like these. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles. “It’s, um… It’s a tricky thing for me to talk about.”

“It’s all right; I shouldn’t have asked about it in the first place. I’m sorry.” Bob takes a long, ponderous sip, eyes following the people strolling on the other side of the window. “Guess that explains why you joined after college.”

“Yeah. Shitty circumstances, but definitely the best decision I could’ve made.” Katie’s mouth curls upwards in a soft smile. “I have a job I love, I’ve already been to a few cool places, and I’m basically in an honors program for fighter pilots… I’d say I’m doing pretty okay these days.”

“I’d agree with you.”

“Bonus points for some of the people I’ve met recently, too,” she adds, the smile growing just the tiniest bit larger. “I haven’t known them long but they’ve made a pretty big difference in my life.”

At that, Bob’s cheeks go pink and he grins sheepishly. He still can’t quite smoothly take a compliment, but at this point Katie doesn’t care and she chuckles to herself. If anything, she finds it rather endearing. 

They soon return to the silence of before, tuck into their breakfasts amidst the din of the restaurant and with a renewed sense of ease and contentment. There’s beauty in being comfortable with silence. The simple pleasure of their company is enough for them; there’s no real need to speak. 

Until…

“We’re being watched.” 

Bob’s buttering a piece of toast when he says it, and he says it so nonchalantly and with such a calm face that at first Katie thinks he’s joking. But, she follows the line of his gaze, and sure enough… 

She’s not really noteworthy, the old lady sitting by herself at a nearby table. She nurses a cup of coffee that’s far more milk than it is coffee, and picks slowly at a raspberry danish on a small white plate. If she’s not holding the coffee in her veined right hand, then it’s a weathered copy of some old romance book. So absorbed is she in her little routine of coffee, pastry, and reading that Katie wonders if Bob’s imagination might be playing tricks on him. 

However, all of that goes out the window when the lady looks up and catches Katie’s gaze with her own. She grins at her, and suddenly, inexplicably, Katie has a bad feeling about where this is heading. 

“Y’know,” she says, “I’ve had dozens of boyfriends in my time, and none of them ever treated me the way he treats you. You’ve got yourself a good one there!”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Katie’s not sure who turns beet-red first: her, or Bob. She’s also not sure who starts coughing first. Oh my god. That actually happened. 

She can’t believe it. First there’s Fanboy making jokes during PT. Then there’s Halfpint making snide comments whenever he sees them together. Now there’s some old lady mistaking them for a couple at a diner. Holy Christ, Katie’s inner thoughts moan, what is going on here?

“Oh no,” Bob coughs, “no no no, we’re just friends, ma’am.” 

Katie’s quick to voice her agreement with Bob (albeit around a massive wheezing fit), but she gets the sense that the lady isn’t buying it. She nods politely and smiles at them before returning to her book, but there’s no missing the twinkle in her eye, the one that clearly says ‘you’re in denial’. 

Christ - if Katie didn’t know any better, she’d say that this little old lady is a damn Cupid in disguise, trying to bend the universe and push her and Bob together. 

Whoo boy. She doesn’t want to dedicate even a second of thought to that. Breakfast has already been complex enough without adding that in. 

Thank god for the both of them, their remaining time in the restaurant is short-lived. Bob has them rung up and checked out in less than two minutes, and they slip out of the booth and through the front doors with hardly a word exchanged between them. The last thing Katie sees before they leave is the old lady grinning at them, twiddling her twisted fingers in farewell. 

It’s only when they’re outside that they fully react to the exchange that’s just taken place, and while Katie heaves a heavy breath and stares up at the sky with her hands on her hips, Bob damn-near doubles over with laughter. 

“Well, that turned into a real interesting breakfast, didn’t it?” 

“Yeah, sure did… God, I can’t believe she thought we were a couple…” Katie’s head is spinning and her insides are burning. The universe, it seems, is really trying to pull something with her and Bob, and with each passing day, with each shared moment and second-too-long glance at one another, she’s beginning to question whether she even has a choice in the matter. 

We’re friends and nothing more. We’re friends and nothing more. WE’RE FRIENDS AND NOTHING MORE. 

But, as they start making their way back to the car, Katie looks down at Bob’s hand, veined and strong and relaxed beside his leg, and two thoughts pass through her head. They’re thoughts so… out of left field, so dubious and unlike her, she wonders if it’s really even herself: what if? What if she were to reach out and take his hand in hers? 

And… what if they were ‘something more’? 

***

A day and some change later, Katie has effectively put Bob’s Subaru through its paces and thensome. They spend close to four hours in the car, doing everything from going forward and backwards in one empty aisle of an isolated lot, to puttering around one of the on-base neighborhoods, to making full laps around North Island. 

At first, it’s rough - really rough. Seeming to follow in Bob’s footsteps, Katie stalls out multiple times and struggles to make the car move in first gear. There’s frustrating, and then there’s what Katie feels, and it’s borderline agonizing. She knows how to drive, and goddamn it, she’s good at it; why is she suddenly so categorically unable to now? 

She’s certain Bob’s going to boot her out from behind the wheel and take over driving, is certain that this is the worst attempt anyone’s ever made to drive manual, is certain that she’s a lousy driver and that everyone, Bob and the entire on-base population included, knows it. After all, she’s long since lost count of how many times the car has jerked forward and shut off, has lost count of the number of times she’s sworn out loud every time she’s slammed them back in their seats. Bob’s car has to be the damn finickiest piece of machinery she’s ever sat behind, but good god, it REALLY doesn’t help that she can’t get her shit together and just drive the car. She’s making an ass of herself and at this point, she’s waiting, waiting, waiting for Bob (Christ, practically begging him in her head) to just heave a sigh and tell her to stop. 

But he doesn’t. Quite the opposite. He sits calmly in the passenger seat, bears each violent jolt and jerk with an understanding smile, tells Katie that she’s doing great in a way that makes her stomach flutter and her cheeks threaten to burn crimson. There it is again, that calm, quiet kindness of his. It’s like a pressure valve loosening within her.

Katie grits her teeth, pushes onward. Goddamn it, she has to nail this - if not for herself, then for the man sitting beside her. 

And she does. For as awful as it is subjecting him to her inexperience, the numerous attempts and spiteful reattempts do finally pay off. She’s not perfect, but she does manage two laps around base without stalling or any significant lurching.  And that? That is a victory she’ll take.  

Hours later, it’s closing in on 8 p.m. and the two of them are occupying their usual corner of the Hard Deck, accompanied tonight by Fanboy, Halfpint, and a rather hefty pitcher of Coors (at Katie’s insistence because, even with her earlier success behind the wheel of Bob’s car, holy Christ, does she need a drink). 

“So what’s this I hear about you learning stick with Bobber earlier?” Fanboy asks as he’s pouring himself a glass. 

It takes all of Katie’s strength not to roll her eyes at the barely-there sly smirk on his face. Still trying to imply shit. Of course he is. 

“It was more putting the theory into practice, but yeah,” Katie shrugs, just as a wince flashes across her face. “Pretty sure I tortured Bob’s car doing it, but I guess it all worked out.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Did a couple laps around base with little issue, so I’d say I did pretty good.”

“Sheesh,” Fanboy says with a whistle, “maybe I’ll let you start driving my car when we get back to Virginia-”

“Nah, I had my fill driving Bob’s today; I think I’m good for, like, the rest of my life.” 

“Wise choice,” Halfpint mutters around the lip of his beer glass. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get behind the wheel of that thing.”

“Bro, why you gotta be like that?”

“Because your car’s a death trap and the last thing you wanna do is put a newly-minted manual driver in it!”

“Oh my god, it’s not that bad.”

“What do you drive, Fanboy?” Bob asks. 

“An ‘09 370Z.”

“What, like a Nissan?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s a shitbox,” Halfpint cuts in, much to the annoyance of his WSO, who throws his arms up in exasperation. 

“It is not a shitbox! It gets from point A to point B with no issue, and it sounds cool doing it!”

Halfpint snorts. Loudly. “My dude, you put more emphasis on that trash can exhaust mod than on, like, anything else in that car - y’know, like safety, or what actually makes the car run.”

“Oh what the fuck would you know, huh?”

“More than you, apparently.”

“First of all, if I’m gonna go anytime soon, then it’s gonna be in a blaze of glory. Second, bitch, have you heard my car? If it don’t sound like I have a hive full of angry fuckin’ bees under the hood, then it’s not a proper tuner!”

“Well if you’re going for loud, then you’ve definitely got that down, because Jesus… You’re worse than the fuckers who blast down the highway at two in the morning.”

“Well” - Fanboy swills the last of his beer and clanks the glass down hard on the tabletop - “I’m clearly being attacked here, so I’m just gonna go home now.” He stands up, and makes like he’s actually going to walk out and head out, but allows himself to be swung back to the table by Katie, who loops an arm through his with a laugh and a promise not to bully him anymore. 

“We’re literally just giving you shit. Promise we’ll stop.”

“Yeah girl, you better,” Fanboy scoffs. “I know where you work.”

“Yeah, I know where you work too, dumdum,” Katie shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Enough about shitboxes though - how was y’all’s weekend?”

“Couldn’t tell you a damn thing about Halfpint’s weekend, but mine was pretty good - hit up Coronado Beach yesterday, then spent the rest of it catching up on Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen-”

“Nerrrrrrrd-”

“Fuck off, Kozer! At least I left my room this weekend!”

As the pilot and his WSO launch into another spat of arguing and name-calling, Katie leans over towards Bob. “I swear, it’s like hanging out with a married couple with these two,” she murmurs to him around a sip of beer.

“Tell me about it… Do we break ‘em up or let ‘em keep going?” 

“Eh,” Katie shrugs, “let ‘em bitch. Think they’ll notice if we drink all the beer?”

“Dunno. Let’s find out.”

Katie merely clinks her glass with Bob’s, then swills down the remains of her drink and pours a fresh one. To no one’s surprise, neither Fanboy nor Halfpint notice their classmates quietly kill the pitcher of Coors between them. When Bob orders them a second pitcher, it’s much of the same: more drinking, more people watching, more quiet laughing. For a Sunday evening, it’s a good way to pass the time. 

Eventually, things wind down for the night. When the Hard Deck closes things down at 10, the two of them are among the last to leave. Fanboy and Halfpint have long since headed back to the Navy Lodge, and there are maybe four other patrons occupying the bar with them, all paying their tabs and shuffling off to their cars or loping their way back to their quarters. Despite Bob’s protesting, Katie pays for the pitchers. 

“Gotta let me pay for something sometime, Bob,” she says with a wink as she’s scribbling her signature on the receipt.

“Do you realize I have a Georgia-based mother to deal with?” Bob groans (albeit jokingly). “She’d kick my ass if she found out I didn’t pay for a lady.” 

“Well, guess it’s a good thing you’re all the way on the other side of the country in California,” she grins. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.” 

“You wanna drive or do you want me to drive?” 

“Oh dude, that’s all you. I put you and your car through enough today.” 

“You sure?”

Katie nods with a tight smile. “Oh yeah.”

They push through the front doors into the warm, salt-tinged air of the night, chatting casually amongst themselves, ready to end the evening with a nice, easy drive home...

“Hey, you’re gorgeous.” 

Katie whips her head around to the source of the comment, and finds herself looking at a man propped up against one side of the walkway railing. Judging by the way his words slur, he’s drunk - very drunk. Katie pays him no mind, continues on her way to the parking lot with Bob.

“Damn, I give you a compliment and you can’t even be bothered to say ‘thank you’? Th’ fuck’s amatter with ya?” 

Oh Christ, I SO don’t need this right now - “Well,” Katie huffs as she turns on one heel to face the guy, “I’m a little hard-pressed to when I don’t even know you.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s easy to fix.” He pushes himself away from his spot on the railing, stumbles over to Katie, body lurching to a stop when their chests are practically touching. Only they aren’t. Katie’s eye-level with his collarbone, and the realization of this twists her stomach. This guy is a fucking giant compared to her, and something tells her he knows it and is using it to his advantage. 

Shit. She already doesn’t like how this is going.

“Gimme your number and we’ll get to know each other better sometime.” 

She tries to play things cool, plays the noncommittal angle. “Maybe,” she sighs. “They keep us pretty busy at TOPGUN. Doubt I’ll have time to get away from all that-” 

“Oh, you’re one of those snobby pilot bitches, aren’t ya?” The guy leans down, leers in her face, sour beer breath curling across her nose. “Think you’re too good for me, huh?” 

“Seriously? You’re the one acting like an asshole and getting all up in my personal space,” Katie bites. 

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just gimme your number - so how ‘bout it?” Inch by inch, he’s moving forward, and inch by inch, Katie’s moving backward, closer and closer to the wood railing behind her, closer and closer to trapping and being trapped. “Make this easy for the both of us, huh?”

“C’mon man, she’s not interested” - Bob makes to step between Katie and the nameless guy harassing her - “leave her alone-”

It’s like Bob’s not even there. The guy shoulder checks him out of the way and continues on with Katie as if nothing happened. Undeterred, Bob makes another attempt to shield her - and is shoved off with a laugh and a ‘get lost bitch’. 

Katie’s vision immediately goes red. Enough of this. It’s bad enough that this guy’s harassing her - but putting hands on her friend and calling him names? Absolutely not. 

“You want my number? Here.” She snatches the guy’s phone out of his hand, punches in a series of numbers, and all but throws it back at him. “There’s my number. Now can you leave me the fuck alone?” 

“All right, all right, damn, don’t need to be a bitch about it! I’ll hit you up later, yeah?”

In your dreams, asshole- “Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Katie mutters before taking Bob’s hand and leading him down the ramp to the parking lot. She doesn’t even care that she’s being rude or putting herself in a risky position anymore; she just wants to leave and never see this asshole again. 

“Better be ready for me when I do!”

Katie doesn’t even dignify that with a response - just stomps off for the car with Bob in tow. She’s fairly certain that if she did, it would be an aggressively physical one - and she definitely doesn’t need the kind of trouble that would bring. Neither of them do.

The instant they’re out of earshot, Bob’s got an arm around her shoulders and he’s pulling her tight to his frame, sheltering her from the two pricks they’re fast leaving behind. Were this a normal situation, Katie would be a blushing mess right now, but after the last five minutes, she’s too rattled and on-edge to be flustered. She wordlessly accepts the pull into him, snakes her own arm around his waist - and he jumps, just the tiniest bit. He must not have been expecting reciprocation from her. No matter.

His voice is soft, low. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine… Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine…” He pauses, purses his lips. “Please tell me you didn’t actually give that guy your phone number.”

“Wha- no. I gave him a bunch of randoms. I don’t even know if what I gave him is a phone number.”

“Good…”

“Believe me, I want nothing to do with that asshole.” 

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Bob says nothing else beyond that. At least, he doesn’t at first. He’s far too focused on putting distance between them and the harasser - but it’s clear that he’s got something on his mind, something to say. 

“...Bob?”

No response. Just step, after step, after silent step.

“C’mon Bob, talk to me.” 

Still no response. Step, after step, after silent step. Katie exhales in disappointment and goes to drop the subject, but before she can, he speaks. 

“That’s why my callsign’s Bob.”

“…What?”

“You asked me three weeks ago why my callsign’s my first name. That’s why.”

There’s no missing the hard edge in Bob’s voice. He’s angry - a rare thing, given his usually easygoing, soft spoken disposition. It’s not just in his voice, though. It’s in the way he stares straight forward, even when he’s speaking directly to Katie; it’s in the stiffness of his walking; it’s in the tautness of his arm around her shoulders. This is a full-body, full-brunt feeling - and quite honestly, it unsettles Katie. 

“Wait, hold on-” She steals a quick glance over her shoulder, turns back and looks up at Bob as she juts a thumb back. “What does he have to do with it?” 

“It’s guys like him,” Bob replies stiffly.

Katie’s brow furrows but she says nothing. She’s not entirely sure where he could be going with this, but she’s not so sure she wants to find out - or, rather, that she should be finding out.

“All my life, I’ve been pushed around and counted out by guys like that. It happened every three, four years when dad would haul us with him to a new duty station; it happened when he retired and we settled in Georgia; it happened when I went to college.” He pauses, inhales deeply through his nose, presses on. “I joined the Navy because I thought things would be different - y’know, that I’d get to prove myself and show people I’m someone to be taken seriously. You know what it actually was? Same shit. More pushing around, more laughing, and more forgetting.”

“Bob-”

“Guys like that who look at me and don’t think I’m even worth the dirt on their boots, much less their time and consideration? They’re everywhere in the Navy, but I picked the one community that’s absolutely infested with them.” He barks out a laugh, a mirthless one. “God, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking you were gonna end that cycle of bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I tried to, but… Nope. I wound up being an afterthought all through OCS and primary flight training. I didn’t even get a callsign until well over six months at Lemoore, and when I did, it was a matter of ‘who are you and why don’t you have a callsign? I guess it can be Bob, whatever.’” When Katie looks up at him again, Bob’s gaze is glazed over, distant - and while the rest of his face is smooth and neutral, there’s no missing the shame, resentment, and hurt in his eyes. “They gave me that name because I’m forgettable and don’t mean much. And… And what you saw just now proved what I am and what people think of me.”

Oh, Bob.

Katie’s throat closes and she thinks she might actually start crying. So that’s why Bob never told her. That’s why he’s kept that story so close and tight to him. And it makes perfect sense, but god, if it doesn’t rip her heart into little pieces. 

“Do you really think that?” she asks him quietly. 

Bob sighs, shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what everyone else thinks.”

In an instant, the hurt and sadness is replaced with anger of her own, a burning, snarling anger. 

The words that come out of Katie’s mouth bite the air around them. “Fuck them,” she spits. “Fuck all of them. They don’t know a damn thing about you. And for the record, I don’t think that about you.”

“Katie, you don’t have to-”

“No, lemme finish.” She shushes Bob with a single pointed glance. “You’re genuinely one of the nicest, smartest, coolest guys I know, not to mention you’re pretty terrifying in a Super Hornet. I think you’re fucking incredible, okay? I could never forget about you - and quite frankly, I don’t wanna forget about you.” 

Bob is silent, staring at her with a gleam of awe in his eyes. One would think he’s never heard reassurance like this before; judging by the way he was talking earlier, he hasn’t. Well, enough of that. He deserves better and Katie knows it. 

“Seriously, fuck that guy back there, and people like him. I doubt you’ll ever run into him again, but even if you did, he doesn’t matter in the long run, and neither does his opinion of you.”

“I know. Just…” Bob exhales, long and exhausted. “I’m tired, Katie. I’m so tired of it.” 

“I know you are, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with that shit for so long.” She’d give anything to reach over and just wipe away the tired, defeated look on his face. She hates seeing him look like that. 

“Gonna have to put up with it as long as I’m in the Navy…” The look lingers for one second more, then in an instant it’s gone, replaced with one of resolve, of steel. “You’re right, though. He doesn’t matter.”

“No, he doesn’t - and I’ll tell you what, if that guy had put his hands on you one more time, I would’ve turned around and decked him.”

“…Really?”

Katie nods. “Really. You matter more to me than he does.” Her cheeks are burning bright and she’s certain that Bob can see it, but she doesn’t care. It needs to be said. 

When Bob speaks again, his voice is soft, softer than anything it’s been in the last five minutes, so soft that she has to strain to hear him - but she does, and oh. 

“You matter to me too, y’know. A lot.” 

It’s no different than what she just said to him a moment ago, but coming from him this time around? It hits differently. There’s something there, something peculiar, something hanging between the two of them; Katie can feel it. She’s certainly not one to read too much into situations or energy, but there’s no ignoring the something between them, not after the last few weeks. Hell, the last 24 hours. She can’t. 

And, with one look into the cerulean blue eyes walking beside her, Katie is certain that Bob can’t, either. 

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

And off they go, Bob’s arm around Katie’s shoulders, her arm around his waist, their steps synched with the other’s…

And god, if it isn’t the most natural feeling in the world. 

It almost feels like home.

Edit: forgot a picture