As the three-year-old twins' voices drew closer, Cece hoped the childproof doorknob cover would continue to confuse them. But, knowing her luck, this would be the day her snack-fiend little ones would accomplish the difficult task of squeezing and twisting. As much as she loved her children, it had been a long day - hell, a long week - at the bakery in the lead-up to Christmas, to the point that she couldn't stop to eat.

So yes, hiding in the pantry from her children wasn’t her proudest parenting moment, but damn it, she was hungry and wanted to eat her chicken and fries in relative peace and comfort. Sitting on the floor made her aching feet feel better, though the cold floor was killing her back. It had never quite recovered after her pregnancy - not that a job where she was constantly on her feet made it any better. 

A chiming noise startled her, and she swiped the fry grease onto her flour-dusted legging before grabbing her phone. Cece groaned at the picture on the screen: her drink with a prominent fast food logo on the cup. Wanna explain, Mrs. Seresin? So close to dinner?

Don’t rat me out, and I’ll give you a chicken tender

Deal

Cece bit her lip to keep from laughing at the speed of his reply. From the other side of the door, she heard a clap. “I wonder if Mama’s taking a nap?”

“Yeah!” Liam said.

“Naps are for babies,” Abby huffed.

“Naps are for tired parents and growing kiddos,” he countered. “Now, we have to be very quiet in case she is sleeping, alright?”

“Shhhh,” Liam shushed loudly.

“Right. Now, where would Mama take a nap? The bathtub?” 

“No!” the twins giggled. 

“Really? Mama took naps in the bathtub when we were in college. Wanna go check?” The sound of running was the only response, followed by a cautious, “Be careful - and don’t wake Mama up!”

The pantry opened quickly, allowing her the briefest glimpse of a silhouette before shutting. The sound of callouses on the wall was her only warning before the overhead light turned on. Clapping a hand to her eyes, Cece heard a deep chuckle and peeked through her fingers to see a sight for sore eyes: Jake crouching in front of her, his green eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter. When her hand dropped, he lifted her cup to his mouth, sipping from the straw. “I only slept in the bathtub once.” 

The unexpected words made him choke on the soda, and he cleared his throat before setting the cup beside her. “Your 21st was pretty memorable, from what I heard,” he agreed. Carefully lowering his bad knee to the floor, he planted a hand beside her hip and curved the other around her cheek. 

Jake still smiled every time he kissed her. 

Cece’s eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheeks. The tension drained from her body when their noses brushed. His forehead pressed against hers, and her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs. “Hey, Cupcake.”  

“Hi,” she breathed. 

“Another long day?” Sighing, she nodded, trying - and failing - to open her eyes. “Almost over, at least.”

“Thank god. Remind me to hire more staff next year.”

“Will you listen to me next time or tell me the same thing you did this year?” The thinly veiled ‘told you so’ was motivation enough to open one eye and half-heartedly glare. Jake’s whispered suggestion that she bring on holiday staff had been dismissed whenever he brought it up. Even though the coffee shop/bakery was doing well, increasing payroll - even temporarily - still felt risky when she could handle the work with her usual crew. But the volume of sales and orders kept increasing, and she’d returned to work multiple times after putting the twins to bed to prep for the following day. 

Chuckling, he leaned forward to kiss her again. “You’re a meanie-head,” she muttered, using their son’s favorite insult. He laughed against her mouth, pulling away to run his thumb lightly over the dark circles under her eyes. 

“Well, this ‘meanie-head’ misses you. You have to go back - ”

“Daddy!”

“Where he go?”

Small hands slapped the pantry door, and they both bit back a groan. “Maybe if we’re really quiet, they’ll go away,” Cece whispered. That hope quickly went out the window when the pounding continued, joined by the spinning of the child lock on the knob and a thud.

“Hey!” Jake snapped. “You better not be kicking my doors.” The pounding stopped immediately. “Go sit on the couch. Daddy’ll be there in a minute.” The twins loudly made their way out of the kitchen as Cece smothered her laughter at their childish grumbling, resting her head on his shoulder. “They get that from you,” he huffed.

“Excuse me! You’re the one who punches trees.”

“Not for years.” 

“Thank god. We know how it ended the last time you did.”

“Pretty sure it ended with you kissing me.” Wrapping her fingers in the collar of his flight suit, she kissed him again. 

“Who would have thought we’d be hiding in the pantry six years later?” 

“Who woulda thought,” he agreed. “Now, I think you owe me a chicken tender, Mrs. Seresin.” Groaning, her head tipped back, and she smiled when Jake’s mouth gravitated to the hinge of her jaw.

“Any chance you’d be willing to exchange a tender for something else, Lieutenant Commander Seresin?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Gift wrapping tonight, then maybe…” her fingers skated down his front, toying with the zipper tab. 

“Bedtime can’t come soon enough,” he murmured before crushing his lips to hers. She didn’t notice his hand sneaking into the bag at her hip until he pulled away and clamped a fry between his teeth. Reaching behind her, he grabbed two juice boxes from the shelf and pushed to his feet. “Enjoy your contraband. I’ll keep them distracted for a bit.”

With a wink, he walked out of the pantry. Greeted by the squeals of the kids, he quickly closed the door, hiding her from view.

A loud moan burst from her mouth, and Cece turned to stifle it in her arm. Jake chuckled from where he knelt between her thighs, hands closing around her waist when she pushed back against him. “Feel good, baby?” A whimper and nod were her response, and he grinned, planting a fist in the mattress by her shoulder and brushing aside her shower-dampened hair to kiss the back of her neck. Cracking one eye open, she smiled sleepily at him.

“Harder.” 

“I feel like I’m gonna break your back if I go harder,” he said, shifting back onto his knees and resting his hands on the swell of his wife’s ass.

“You won’t,” she assured him, wiggling slightly to invite him to return his hands to where she wanted them. After a moment, she felt his thumbs digging into her lower back and moaned again. Pregnancy had destroyed her back, and - contrary to what the doctors said - it wasn’t getting better on its own. After spending a small fortune on massages, Jake started watching videos online and offered to do them. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he’d teased before the first one, his touch light and unsure. “Especially after you did all the work to have them both look like me.” 

Cece hoped the massages wouldn’t stop after her MRI in January. 

Goosebumps erupted on her skin when his fingers grazed the curve of her breast as his hands moved higher, thumbs running parallel to her spine. The bed dipped as he moved to her side, and Cece lifted her head to rest on her folded arms. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched him work; his brows furrowed with concentration as he soothed her aching muscles. As much as she loved the attention from her husband, it was bittersweet. She knew he felt some misplaced sense of guilt over her body not bouncing back after delivering the twins, and he was well aware of her reluctance to discuss having any more kids until they figured out what was wrong. Living off of over-the-counter painkillers and dealing with tingling in her arms and fingers wasn’t fun, and he hated thinking about the night her pain had flared up so badly that he’d had to carry her into the emergency room while Phoenix and Rooster sat with the twins. 

Cece hated that it sometimes felt like she was edging closer to eighty than in her thirties and that she couldn’t play with her kids as much as she wanted to without feeling it the next day. But not a single part of her would have changed it if it meant being without Abigail and Liam. She loved talking to them about their day at ‘school’ - the daycare on base that they were fortunate enough to get spots in - and everything they learned that day. Kneeling by the tub and watching the epic stories they created with their toys. The weight of them crawling into their bed after waking up in the middle of the night, fingers tangling in her hair, and the odd elbow, knee, or foot nudging her, echoing their movements when she’d carried them.

But most of all, Cece loved seeing Jake as a father. Having witnessed the Seresin men parent for years, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he took to it like a duck to water. He had been there for every midnight feeding, helping to juggle the babies on the nursing pillow and cooing as they burped or spit up. There was no judgment when she couldn’t hold them when it came time for shots, and she fell in love with him just a little more when she saw the tears gleaming in Jake’s eyes as their children wailed after every injection. The way he sought her out after having to mete out punishment, curling up in her lap and regretting making their little lips wobble and tears spill down their cheeks as he dissected every word made her want to laugh and cry and hold him. 

“Will’s the same way with the boys,” Ally had once told her. “He hates punishing them and thinks they’ll hate him forever, no matter how many times I tell him they’ll forget about the time out or getting sent to bed without dessert. He thinks he’s traumatizing them.” 

And Abigail… she was a force to be reckoned with. Older by fourteen minutes, she was well aware of her status as the firstborn and had inherited generations of Seresin bull-headedness. When Cece had remarked on this to her mother-in-law, Mama Seresin had only laughed. “Your mama and daddy come from a long line of stubborn folks, too, Julie. My granddaughter comes by it honest from her grandparents AND her parents.” 

Liam, though… Liam was her sweet boy, who loved to cuddle with her. A true mama’s boy, he broke his daddy’s heart every time he pushed out of his arms and reached for her. On nights she worked late, Cece would inevitably get a call from her son, tears on his face as he begged her to come home. It bothered Jake how quickly the switch would flip - if she wasn’t home, Liam was fine. But when it came time for bed, or she was in sight, Liam wanted nothing to do with his father. Will had assured him that it was expected - Tyler had gone through the same thing, and Kevin was in the same stage - but it was cold comfort. 

“Keep goin’, and I’m gonna fall asleep,” Cece yawned. Jake chuckled, pulling away when she rolled onto her side. Lifting a heavy arm, she slung it over his shoulders and tugged him down. His lips were soft as he settled between her thighs, and she pushed down his shorts. Jake’s cock sprung free, and she took him in hand. He grunted, smirking against her mouth.

“Definitely worth a chicken tender.” That startled a laugh out of her, which choked off when he thrust into her. “Miss you, baby.”

“Holiday rush is almost over,” she panted as he rocked against her. 

Afterward, she snuck into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and glasses while Jake grabbed the wrapping paper and gifts. And, as they wrapped presents, they caught up on each other’s day and traded kisses. Tipsy and tired, she giggled while pulling off her shirt and pressing two bows to her nipples, posing when her husband grabbed his phone and snapped a picture.

Thankfully, everything was hidden away when little hands opened the bedroom door. Jake lifted the twins into bed when Abby poked him awake, forfeiting his time to spoon with his wife. Instead, he cuddled his daughter to his chest as Liam starfished over his mother, his towhead tucked under her chin and fingers tangling in her shirt.

“Squeeze gently,” Cece cautioned, then bit her lip when a glob of green frosting burst out of the piping bag. 

“Beautiful,” Jake snickered. Liam beamed at his dad before setting aside the bag and rearranging the frosting with his finger.

“Definitely a cookie for Santa,” she said, watching Jake’s smile drop just a fraction. He was responsible for eating Santa’s cookies. Eating anything sweet after taste-testing her products for weeks turned Cece’s stomach. 

“Daddy, look!” Abby said before dumping almost an entire container of sprinkles onto her cookie. Thankfully, the paper plate caught most of them, but the rest rained down on the table, bouncing and hitting the floor. 

“Looks like another Santa cookie!” Shooting his wife a look, Jake started to sweep up the sprinkles from the table while Cece grabbed the broom. Having the kids decorate cookies on Christmas Eve was always more fun in theory than practice. 

After dictating letters to Santa and a spectacular sea battle in the bathtub that left all the Seresins soaked, it was bedtime. The twins shared a room, and Liam pulled Cece into his bed while Abby and Jake grabbed three books. The twin bed was a tight squeeze for the four of them, and Jake had to keep a foot on the floor to keep from falling out. 

The twins were asleep by the end of the Polar Express, and he moved Abby to her bed while Cece carefully extracted herself from Liam’s grasp. Together, they tiptoed out of the room, splitting off at the kitchen. “What time do you want to put the stuff out?” Jake asked, walking into the living room and offering her a glass of water. Lying on his stomach with his head resting on her chest, he tucked his head under her chin, shivering with pleasure when Cece’s fingers carded in his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. One arm dangled from the side of the couch while the other loosely wrapped around her, eyes drifting closed.  

“Maybe an hour? That way, they’re really asleep and before they come into our room.”

“You think we’ll ever get our bed back to ourselves?”

“Not for a few years,” she smirked.  

He was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “‘M gonna miss this when I deploy.”

“Me too.” The notice had hit his inbox a few weeks ago, and he’d told her as soon as the kids were in bed. While he’d gone on a few short missions since their birth, this would be the first time he would be gone for an extended period. “It’s only three months.”

“A long three months.”

“It’s what? A couple weeks longer than a semester?” She asked, lifting a shoulder. “We’ve done longer than that.”

“What if the kids forget about me?” His eyes shot open when Cece flicked the tip of his nose. 

“Please. They won’t forget about you because you’re away for a few months.” Catching her hand, he ran his thumb along her wedding band as her nails lightly scratched the back of his neck. 

“They might.”

“Not gonna happen.” 

“They’re little, and their memories aren’t that good.”

“Three months isn’t enough time to erase three years. Your kids aren’t going to forget you.” 

“Are you gonna be okay?” That made her pause for a heartbeat.

“I’ll miss you.”

“You’re gonna be outnumbered.”

“It’ll be easier than when they were both in diapers.”

“I’m thinking of dropping my papers.” Cece’s movements froze as she blinked down at the crown of his head, eyebrows nearly reaching her hair. “I just… I don’t want to lose my family to the Navy. Not again.”

Shaking off his hold, her palm rasped on his stubble as she encouraged him to meet her soft gaze. Worry creased his brow, the Christmas tree lights twinkling in his solemn green eyes. “You won’t, Farm Boy. I promise you - Abby, Liam, and I will be here waiting for you to come home.” 

“I worry - ”

“I know you do,” she cut him off. “And I love you for it. But we’ll be okay. Let’s… let’s talk about dropping your papers in the New Year if you’re really thinking about it.”

“I am.”

“Alright. I just…” her teeth dug into her lower lip momentarily before clearing her throat. “I don’t want you makin’ a hasty decision after all of the work you put in without giving us a chance to prove that we can do it.” When he opened his mouth to reply, Cece placed her finger over his lips. “The New Year.”

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he pushed onto his hands and kissed her, licking into her mouth. Time seemed to slow as they made out on the couch like teenagers, the couch feeling just slightly larger than his truck cab in high school. 

And, after putting the presents under the tree and stuffing the stockings, Jake flipped the lock on their bedroom door after pressing his wife against it, fingers delving into her panties to find her wet. 

Not even an hour later, small hands hitting wood woke them, accompanied by sleepy cries for Mama. Pausing only long enough to pull on his boxers and toss Cece her clothes, he crossed the room and unlocked the door. The twins stumbled in, Abby raising her arms for him to lift her while Liam rubbed his eyes and ambled toward his mother’s outstretched arms. “C’mere baby,” Cece cooed. 

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” the kids screeched as the call connected, and they caught sight of their grandparents. Nursing her second cup of coffee and nibbling on another orange cranberry scone, Cece smiled at her in-laws. After saying their hellos, the grandparents focused on their grandchildren, making appreciative noises at everything they tried to share while talking over one another. 

Setting aside his second plate of French toast casserole, Jake acted as a cameraman as Liam showed off his new dinosaurs and Hot Wheels, and Abby her baby dolls and dress-up clothes.

Thankfully, the only knitted baby blanket this year had been addressed to Abby for her toys.  

Will and Ally were at the main house, and Jake and Cece caught sight of them as the phone was passed around. Ty and Kev took their turn showing off their presents, and the four cousins talked over one another. 

But then Bill took the phone and cleared his throat. “Your Granny and I got you kids a present. I need you to put on your boots and jacket so we can go see it.”

“What’d you get, Pops?” Jake asked, shooting a look at his wife.

“Just something for them to enjoy whenever y’all come out. Keep ‘em distracted while we paint the house.” The bi-annual house painting was scheduled for the summer, not too long after Jake was to get home from the deployment. They’d already decided to take time off and drive home on a road trip, partly to allow themselves to explore and partly to save on the expense of flying the four out and renting a car.

Once the family was bundled up and the twins settled in their parents' laps, Bill led them outside to the barn. Jake bit his tongue, having a pretty good idea of the gift. The camera shook as Bill told his grandsons to stay back before passing it off to Mama Seresin.

And there, standing in the last stall with its head peeking out, was a spotted Appaloosa. She stuck out on a farm that mainly bred Quarterhorses and American Paints. “Horsie!” Abby squealed, bouncing in Jake’s lap as he ran a hand down his face. 

“Pops.”

“You got them a horse?” Will huffed. 

“She’s beautiful!” Ally sighed. 

“Broken for riding already,” Bill said proudly, striding closer and petting her forelock. “Her last owners said she loved kids and taught theirs how to ride.” Ty and Kevin got closer, each holding one of Will’s hands.

“How big is she?” Cece asked.

“Just under 15 hands,” Mama Seresin answered. “And sweet as can be. Don’t worry, Julie - the twins will be in good hands with her.”

And they were. When summer came, the Seresin grandchildren took turns riding Nutmeg. Abby and Liam were only slightly behind their cousins in riding lessons and would have stayed in the barn all day if allowed. 

So when Jake saddled up two horses, handing Abby up to Cece, and settled his son in front of him, the twins held tight to the saddle horns and grinned excitedly. After months of physical therapy, Cece was feeling better than ever with her back pain - multiple bulging disks right where her uterus had pulled on her spine - finally being addressed. “Ready?” he asked, looking back at his wife, who nodded and adjusted Abby’s little cowgirl hat on her head. The ride across the ranch was slower; both parents worried about kids bouncing out of saddles, but it was still enjoyable. Liam, who had clung to Jake after he got home, asked a million questions as they rode. 

Under his favorite tree on the property, Cece laid out a picnic she’d packed while Jake tumbled in the high grass with the kids. When called to eat, he sat beside his wife and listened to her story about running into Betty Roberts in the grocery store. He was positive that there was some new story about them running through Magnolia. There were plans to have dinner with Lucy and her family and to stop by the firehouse to introduce the kids to some of Brian’s friends. 

And, of course, they needed to visit her parents.

On their last night in Magnolia, they sat on the front porch swing, watching the twins chase fireflies with their cousins. With his eyes drooping closed and his wife’s head resting on his shoulder, he sighed contentedly.

“Hmm?” Cece hummed. 

“Nothin’,” Jake replied. “Just thinkin’ about how happy I am to be home.” 

---------------------------------------

Author's Note: I couldn't *not* revisit Jake and Julie at Christmas. I credit @tgmreader for encouraging me to continue writing these two. I had fun going back through the fic and pulling out reminders of my favorite scenes (such as Jake being comforted by Cece on the couch, and having Liam sleep the same way).

I definitely pulled the back pain part from my friend's experience with it after having her twins.

Happy (belated) Christmas to those who celebrate!

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“Giving Hangman shit already, Syla?” Payback asked, tossing an arm over the woman’s shoulder. The woman grinned up at the pilot and raised an eyebrow. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” she laughed. Jake felt a shot of disappointment at the fond look that passed between the two. “But if you’re Hangman,” she added, turning her attention back towards Jake, “this is for you. Thanks for letting me crash.” She extended a bottle towards him - Wolcott bourbon, bottled in the bond.

“Thanks. Syla your name or callsign?” 

“Callsign.”

“You stationed here?”

“Soon, but I’m in town for the show.” 

“The…” he frowned, then nodded. “You’re a Blue Angel?”

“That I am.” The Blue Angels were the Navy’s flight demonstration team. Stationed at NAS Pensacola, they were the most high-profile squad that toured across the US. It’d made the news that they finally had their first female aviator on the team two years ago. “At least until the end of the tour, then I’m headed back to TOPGUN.”

“Oh, come on,” Fanboy grumbled, watching as the University of Miami quarterback was sacked. Across the kitchen, Syla pumped her fist and silently cheered while nursing her water bottle. Jake smirked into his beer. Fanboy and Syla had exchanged some good-natured shit-talking since Florida State and Miami were in the same conference and would be playing against one another later in the season. 

When she’d shared the story behind her callsign - Syla, short for See Ya Later Alligator - Fanboy had gone red in the face laughing as Jake chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Bob asked. 

Heaving a sigh, Syla explained, “My team is FSU Seminoles. We hate the Florida Gators, and there was a Gators fan in FRS with me. Our COs got tired of us shit-talking the whole season and decided to punish us by making our callsigns have to do with our rivalry. So I’m Syla, and he’s Renegade after our mascot.” 

“At least it’s not Swamp,” Jake offered, thinking of how Gainesville, where the University of Florida was located, was nicknamed ‘The Swamp.’

“Yeah, that cost me 150 pushups.” 

“Run, run, run, run, run!” Syla screamed, jumping off the couch with Jake beside her. 

“Come on!” he yelled. When the player was tackled after a 40-yard run, he whooped and held a hand to Syla, who laughed and slapped his palm before leaning around him to high-five Fanboy. 

“Fuck. There’s three of them,” Phoenix grumbled. 

The afternoon passed into shouts of “He was wide fucking open!”, “No! Sit his ass down!”, “Where’s the damn flag?”, “Pass interference!” and “Find it! Find it!” During commercials, they quickly learned about one another - Syla was a Florida girl born and raised in Tallahassee. She’d graduated from FSU and attended as many games as possible during the last three years she’d been stationed in Pensacola. Touring with the Angels made it hard since she was on the road from March to November, but the constant travel was worth it to be the first female Blue Angel. She was looking forward to the stability of being an instructor at TOPGUN and not living out of her duffle bag.

Syla retrieved her uniform from Payback’s car at halftime and disappeared into the bathroom. “She’s nice,” Coyote told Payback as Jake stepped into his backyard. 

“She’s great. Pain in the ass perfectionist, but that’s what got her on the Angels.” 

“She’ll be a good trainer,” Phoenix added. “Have you seen that diamond maneuver they pull?” 

“So, how do you know each other?” Jake asked, glancing at Payback.

“We met in flight school and kept in touch from there.” 

“You guys…” Rooster cocked an eyebrow.

“Nooo,” Payback quickly replied, then shuddered. “She’s like a sister. A sister,” he repeated, pinning the other men with a stern, warning look.

A while later, the door opened, and Syla peeked out, her eyes meeting Jake’s. “They’re about to kick off.” 

“Be right in,” he smiled back. After collecting the empty beer bottles from his friends, he jogged back inside. Syla had swapped out her jean shorts and t-shirt for her dress white skirt, and white tank top. She declined another drink - she’d sipped a glass of bourbon earlier before switching to water, saying that she needed to be sharp for work later - but accepted a soda. 

The Daggers drifted in and out of the house, Payback sometimes joining them in the cheering squad, but Syla and Jake were glued to the game. When Texas threw a 39-yard touchdown to pull further ahead, Jake screamed and jumped around his living room, much to the amusement of his friends. Syla whooped and clapped, raising her hand for a high five. Their palms slapped, and his fingers curled around hers, giving a quick shake before collapsing beside her. His shoulders brushed against her as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and covering his mouth.

“We gotta head out soon if you’re gonna make the dinner,” Payback said as the game clock wound down. 

“Shit,” Syla groaned, glancing at her watch. Between plays, she quickly slipped on her blouse, lower lip between her teeth as she watched the action and did up the buttons. Jake couldn’t help but glance at her legs as she swayed beside him, their knees touching as she tucked in her shirt.

When the quarterback took a snap and dropped to his knee, Jake exploded off the couch, whooping as Texas won. Without thinking, his arms wrapped around a laughing Syla, lifting her off her feet as he celebrated his team beating the Crimson Tide on their home field.

“Syla, we really gotta go,” Payback said. 

“Fuck, okay, uh,” she said, stepping out of Jake’s reach and patting his shoulder. “Congrats on the win. It was nice meeting all of you. I’ll hopefully see you in a couple months if I don’t get reprimanded for being late for dinner with the top brass. Oh, and Fanboy - I’ll think of you when I’m in Doak for the game in November.”

Smirking, Fanboy held up his hands, his thumbs touching to make the Miami ‘U’ signal. She gave him a saccharine smile and did the same; all her fingers were down except her middle ones, so she flipped him off. “I’ll walk you out,” Jake offered, grabbing Syla’s bag from the dining room table. Payback narrowed his eyes at the other man. “It sucks you can’t watch your team play tonight.” 

“It’s fine,” she shrugged, “we played our hard game against LSU last week, and it’s an easy match-up this week. I’ll just duck into the bathroom and check the score every once in a while.” 

“What time do you fly tomorrow?”

“Gates open at 0800, and we’re the closer at 1520. Why, gonna come to the show, Hangman?”

“You never know,” he winked. “Heard the Angels do a pretty impressive diamond formation.” 

“18-inch clearance, wingtip to canopy,” she smirked. “If you come, I’ll be in the blue and yellow flight suit.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Chuckling, she took her bag, their fingers brushing and sending a pleasant tingling sensation up his spine. “Good to meet you, Syla.”

“You too, Hangman.” 

Payback paused beside Jake when she walked away and hissed, “No.”

---------------------------------------------------

Notes: The Blue Angels are based out of Pensacola and just welcomed their first female pilot in 2023 - callsign Stalin. I miss seeing them buzz the beaches and hear them practice in the afternoons. They tour the US and Canada, and the clips I've seen are phenomenal. If you haven't seen the pilot perspective of the tight diamond formation, I highly recommend it.

The 0800 and 1520 are military time, so it's 1520 is 3:20PM.

“I know, sweetheart. Soon.”

“Not soon enough.” 

“I know. As soon as Javy gets back, I’m gonna let you go. I need to let my XO know what’s happening.”

“Jake.” His name was a sob, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“You got this, darlin’.” Glancing up, you saw Javy locking the front door, your laptop and charger in hand. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I’ll let you know what’s happening.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to breathe through the triage exam. Javy had stepped out into the hall to give you some privacy, and Jake’s call was on speaker phone. He’d assured you that he was set up and ready to jump on a video call the moment you said you wanted him to. But since arriving at the hospital, you had only had a single cramp, something you’d proudly told the doctor. 

“You’re definitely doing some work - I checked with Dr. Shearer, and you’re more effaced than your last appointment with her, but still two centimeters dilated,” the on-call doctor told you as she removed her gloves.  

“Do I have to stay here?” you asked. 

“Your water didn’t break, so we’re not going to admit you now.” You grinned as Jake sighed. “That’s good news?” the woman asked, confusion evident in her tone.

“Amazing news.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Usually, moms want to get admitted, especially when they’re at their due date.” 

“Nope, we want this one to wait at least two more days until her daddy gets home. This is the only time we want a Seresin to be running late.” Jake laughed at that.

“Agreed, darlin’. Make sure our daughter knows that.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re leaving,” you assured him before ending the call. The doc nodded to the phone.

“Your husband’s out of state?” 

“On deployment,” you sighed. Her look of amusement faded as she nodded. 

“I’ll get the paperwork done to get you out of here. But if your contractions become more regular - every 3-5 minutes for at least an hour, make sure to come back in. If you’re unsure, I want you to call and talk to one of the providers.”

Javy was at your side the moment the door opened, helping you to sit up. “So? Is it baby time?”

“Not yet.”

The group chat had blown up while you were at the hospital. You sent a quick message saying that you were heading home before putting your phone on silent. After making sure you were settled in and didn’t need anything, you sent Javy back to work. 

With Jake back on duty as well, you had nothing to distract you. So, rather than sit at home and anxiously time what you accepted to be contractions, you rummaged through the work bag you’d shoved in the back of the closet and grabbed your purse before heading out. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you drove along the outskirts of the base before pulling into a small parking lot. Backing Jake’s truck in was a pain in the ass, but you managed before putting on your aviation earmuffs and gingerly getting out of the cab. Holding onto the door handle, you blew out a breath, rubbing your stomach as it tightened with a contraction. Even with ear protection, you heard the rumble of an engine and looked up to see a jet speeding toward you down the flightline, another not far behind. With just a glance, you noted the darker grey color and nose cone shape, identifying it as an F-35C. As it neared, you watched the first jet’s front tire leave the ground before smoothly lifting. The landing gear folded into place, the radar-absorbent skin of its underbelly smooth as the plane passed overhead, its speed ruffling your hair. Its twin followed moments later, and you turned in time to catch the design etched on the tail.

Looks like the Rough Raiders were also flying today. 

The duo pointed their noses up and started an unrestricted climb as the contraction eased, and you rubbed your stomach. “Don’t tell Daddy, but I like the Lightnings better than the Super Hornet,” you said. “They just look sleeker.” As if to assure you of her secrecy, Sloane wiggled against your hand. Chuckling, you shut the car door and circled to the back of the truck to pull down the tailgate. It was a pain in the ass to get in on the best of days, and this certainly wasn’t one of those. But after some finagling and forcefully pushing away the thought that you probably looked like a beached whale, you managed to get up. After running your fingers along the Baby on Board sticker that Bob had placed on the back window months ago, you leaned against the cab. Putting on your sunglasses, you settled in to watch the following duo line up at the far end of the flightline. 

“We’re watching Newton’s Third Law in action, Sloane-girl,” you sighed. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It’s the fundamental law of understanding flight.” Your belly pressed against the back window when you turned to track the jets’ rapid climb, eyes fixated on the afterburner. Watched as the wings were enveloped by condensation, created by the change in pressure and temperature as air was forced over them. Folding your arms on the top of the truck, you murmured, “Thrust is equal to the exit mass flow rate times the exit velocity minus the free stream mass flow rate times the free stream velocity.” The equation flowed over your tongue, sweet as sugar, and your fingers itched for your notebook. 

Most of the time, you were too busy to watch the planes you worked near. Sure, you could pause a few minutes to watch as they taxiied past, or shade your eyes to watch as they shot by. But actually taking the time just to enjoy? Not very often. It made you think of the air shows you went to with your dad. Of how you’d one day imagined working on those engines before deciding against going into the Air Force. How those dreams had shifted to figuring out how to improve the propulsion systems.

Your hand migrated to your stomach again, swaying subtly as you remembered how it had felt to sign the paper, switching your major from Engineering to English. How right it had felt in that moment, taking a proactive step to protect yourself against something so determined to hurt you, even as a small part of you railed against it. Hated that the guys in your program would see it as confirmation of your inability to cut it rather than you making the conscious decision to turn away from a lifelong dream. 

For the first time, you understood your parents' shock, worry, and sadness about making such a big change without discussing it with them. At that time, you saw yourself as striking out as an adult and making an independent decision about your life. But now, with your own daughter, you understand where your parents were coming from. You hadn’t needed their permission, of course, but maybe they could have talked you out of making the rash decision. Of throwing away your lifelong dream out of what you now recognize as fear. 

Tears pricked your eyes, and you blinked them away. For a split second, you thought about calling your parents to apologize for everything you put them through, but calling so soon after getting out of the hospital would freak them out. So, instead, you took out your phone and filmed the next set of jets taking off. 

Your granddaughter loves the planes. I'm pretty sure there will be some airshows in the future.

Your parents quickly sent back their answers.

Your dad’ll love that.

Can’t wait to take my girls to one. 

It wasn’t wholly unexpected when Javy showed up at the house after work, an overnight bag in hand. While you weren’t thrilled to wear clothes around the house, having him around wasn’t a hardship. It was nice to have someone else decide what to have for dinner (ordering pizza), and get up to get you a glass of water when heaving yourself off the couch seemed too difficult. And he let you pick what to watch on TV.

At least, it wasn’t a hardship until you noticed him texting every half an hour.

When you asked him about it, he stared at you before shoving his phone under his leg. It wasn’t until you got up to pee - ignoring Javy jumping to his feet in a movement that you weren’t at all jealous of while leveraging yourself up - that you caught sight of his screen. Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tell your worry-wart boyfriend that I’m fine and to stop bugging you for updates.”

Javy choked on air and cackled, “You text him.”

“We both know he won’t believe me.” 

“Well, you did refuse to get out of the tub earlier.”

“Excuse me,” you snapped, holding up a finger before pointing it at your stomach. “The baby is in the same place she was then. So who was right about not being in labor? That’s right - the one with a vagina said baby will be exiting.”

“The doc said you were in labor. Just not… You know…” he made a vague gesture with his hands that made you raise your eyebrow. Color tinged his cheeks as he sighed, “The whole vagina exiting kind.” 

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you rolled your eyes. Holding your hand out for his phone, you danced in place a bit, the urge to pee warring with the need to reassure your husband. As soon as you hit send on the text, you tossed the phone back and waddled to the bathroom. “Oh, come on,” Javy groaned, and you hustled to keep from wetting yourself with laughing.

If you don’t stop checking in on me with your boyfriend, you’ll never get another video from me again.

The text had ended with a kissing emoji. A response was waiting on your phone when you made it back to the couch.

It’s not nice to traumatize our daughter’s godfather. Who's gonna watch her for us when it’s time for another video? 

Laughing, you almost told him about the photos awaiting him - teasing him with something to hold him off while you recovered from childbirth - but held onto the secret. Instead, you snapped a picture of your barely visible feet kicked up on the coffee table, your bump dominating the frame.

I’m fine - a few contractions here and there, but nothing consistent. Sloane and I had a long talk this afternoon, so hopefully she'll listen and stay put.

And you had. Sitting in the back of Jake’s truck, you had a silent conversation with your daughter, pausing every time a jet flew overhead. You’d reminded her that in less than 48 hours, her daddy would be home. Begged her to stay nice and safe where she was. Promised that you wouldn’t even mind her using your ribs as her personal kicking bag as long as she waited. 

A picture flashed on your phone, and you opened it to see a stack of luggage. You’re not the only one with their bags packed and ready to go, darling. Make sure Sloane knows that her daddy’ll buy her whatever she wants as long as she waits for me to get there. 

Convincing Javy that you didn’t need him to call in sick the next day was an exercise in patience. While you appreciated his concern, you wanted to be alone in the house for a bit. It had taken all of your strength and practice in customer service not to point to the garage door and shove him through it when he stalled in the kitchen the next morning.

The minute you heard the Jeep back out of the driveway, you tore off your shirt and shorts, hating the feeling of the material on your skin. It didn’t help that you felt hot, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. Grasping the kitchen counter, you swayed, trying to will away the contraction that hit, wishing the back pain would loosen its grip on you. 

“Sloane, your father will be home in 27 hours. We are not doing this right now, young lady,” you hissed. 

When the contraction loosened its grip, you forced yourself to go about your day. There was a checklist on your phone of things to do before Jake got home and you went to the hospital, so you focused on those. If you had to pause and breathe through a contraction, that was your business. They still weren’t regular enough to raise an alarm, and your research said that you were okay unless you had difficulty walking or talking through them. So you kept up a conversation with Sloane when they hit, almost begging your daughter to hold on. 

Around three, you retreated to the bathroom. You sprinkled Epsom salt into the tepid bath, hoping that the lavender scent would help you relax. With your glass of water sitting on the rim of the tub and hair piled on top of your head, you pictured Jake sitting beside you, chin resting on his arm, as his fingers trailed through the water before drawing circles on your stomach. You imagined running your hand through his hair, watching his green eyes dart to meet yours when your stomach tightened under his touch. How his head would lift so he could track the time on his watch, counting the seconds as your fingers curled around his forearm. 

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. You wanted Jake so badly. And, while the six months apart were difficult, the last day without him was the worst. In less than 19 hours, you would be waiting for him on the flightline. He would be home and safe in your arms. 

“Come on, Sloane,” you said. “Just a little bit longer.”

“This has to be the weirdest place I’ve ever had dinner,” Javy sighed, propping his foot against the tub rim. You didn’t bother opening your eyes. 

“Feel free to go back to the living room.”

“Not until you get out of the tub.”

“Might as well grab a sleeping bag, then,” you huffed, lifting your hand out of the water to adjust the strap of your bikini. The top was too small, your breasts nearly spilling out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d only put the bathing suit on when it was clear that Javy wasn’t going to leave you to yourself when he came over with another overnight bag. And, as much as you wanted to be alone, the scent of jet fuel coming off his flightsuit was oddly relaxing as he ate his warmed-up pizza from the night before. 

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta be a prune by now. Maybe it’s time to - ”

“If you say call the doctor, I’m gonna hang up on you, Jacob Michael Seresin.” Javy snickered, and you cracked one eye open to glare at him. “Don’t think I won’t kick you out of here, too.”

“Your wife’s grumpy when she’s in labor, Hangman.” Dipping your hand back into the water, you flicked droplets at him as Jake chuckled. 

“I’d like to see you be a ray of sunshine when you have a tiny human preparing to make her appearance and making your back ache like a motherfucker.” 

“You know what would help with the back pain? Seeing the doc - ” Irritated, you hit the button to end the call, cutting Jake off. Unsurprisingly, he called back immediately. When you stared at the screen, Javy reached over and answered, putting it on speaker again. Jake huffed your name.

“My contractions aren’t consistent enough to call the doctor. And I can still talk through them. I’m fine.”

“Darlin’,” he sighed. “Promise me you’re not just toughing it out until I get there.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say you could neither confirm nor deny, but you knew that you would be tugged out of the tub and marched to the hospital if you let that slip. “I promise,” you said, mentally crossing your fingers. 

That didn’t keep you from frantically searching the internet when you finally got out of the tub and saw blood dotting the liner of your bathing suit bottoms. 

You kept the bloody show to yourself, curling up in bed and trying to think calming thoughts as you hugged your pregnancy pillow.

Just a few more hours, and then Jake would be home. 

Gripping the bathroom sink, you swayed back and forth, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. You’d been up throughout the night, waddling to the bathroom and trying to breathe through the contractions that started and stopped. Around two in the morning, you almost caved and called triage to see if you needed to come in before the time between contractions lengthened again.

Nerves had kept you awake for the next few hours, and you finally dozed off before hearing your alarm go off at 6:30AM. 

Waking up felt like Christmas morning as a kid - the anticipation propelling you out of bed and into the shower. The warm water felt like heaven on your back, and you braced yourself on the wall, recalling how Jake had massaged your tight muscles after the flight to Japan. In just over three hours, he could do it again. 

Javy and Jake had hammered out the details of how the morning would go as you soaked in the tub. The air wing was scheduled to arrive around 10:00AM, with the families invited to come around 8:00AM. While you were more than willing to drive yourself, the men in your life were adamant that you take it easy. So, instead, Javy would drive you to the base in the truck and catch a ride with one of the other Daggers after work to pick up his Jeep. “I’ll officially be off baby watch,” Javy had said, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

So, as sleep-deprived as you were, you didn’t mind getting up early to get ready. Sure, the contractions made it so you had to pause while doing your hair and makeup to focus on your breathing. And yeah, the burgundy dress you’d bought offline wasn’t the most comfortable on your belly, but it hopefully wouldn’t be on for too long. After grabbing Jake’s brown leather jacket from the back of the closet, you forced yourself to examine your appearance in the mirror. Your lipstick almost perfectly matched the color of your dress, and your cheeks flushed with excitement. 

In just a few hours, your husband would be home. 

Homecoming morning was always hectic. Between making sure that everything was packed, grabbing breakfast, shoving bags into the travel pod, and wrapping up last-minute tasks, it was controlled chaos. There would be one last briefing - a reminder of the flight pattern and where each pilot would be in the flyby - before being dismissed to the flightline. The fixed-wing aircraft would launch before the carrier neared San Diego, making the hour flight back to Lemoore. The choppers would launch closer to shore, returning to North Island before the carrier docked in San Diego. Across the state, military families would be welcoming their sailors and aviators home. 

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other soon,” Mav said, shaking Jake’s hand as they stood below deck, watching the F-18s being loaded onto the elevators to be brought topside. 

“Coming up to Lemoore?” Jake asked. The tight-lipped smile the senior aviator gave him made him suppress a groan. “My wife’s not gonna be happy, is she?” 

Chuckling, Mav clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it right now. We’ll talk soon.” 

“It wasn’t the worst, being deployed with you,” Rooster said, offering his hand. 

“High praise, Rooster. Better watch it, or people might think we’re friends.” A smirk tugged at the other man's mouth as they shook. 

“I told Nat I’ll be up your way in a few weeks. I’d like to drop by and meet your daughter, if you’re okay with it.”

“Sure.” Jake was shocked when he was pulled into a back-slapping hug. “Get home safe, Hangman. Tell your wife I said hi.”

And, as he sat in his jet, waiting for his turn to launch, Jake ran his finger along the pictures he’d stuck on the panel: one from your wedding, and Sloane’s sonogram. Soon - but not soon enough - he’d be home. 

The line to get on base was ridiculous, but Javy navigated the traffic easily while you impatiently sat in the passenger’s seat, rubbing your stomach and breathing through contractions. Sloane wiggled and turned, feeling your excitement and sharing her own. You pointedly ignored Javy’s nervous glances. 

Families were directed to the Bounty Hunter’s hangar to await their loved ones, and you felt a moment’s regret at not making a sign or something to welcome your husband home when you saw the posterboards that many people carried. Women swayed babies on their hips, and kids chased one another, and you even saw a photographer or two waiting to document the homecoming for their clients. 

But, rather than join them, you followed Javy to the Sidewinder’s hangar. Or, at least, you tried. You were constantly stopped by people you knew - maintenance crew members that you placed orders for, aviators who knew Jake, and civilian contractors you worked with. A smile was fixed to your lips as they exclaimed at you still being pregnant, tears stinging your eyes when they said how relieved they were that Jake was coming home in time. Javy hovered by your side until you waved him off to go to his 9:00AM briefing, promising to take it easy and put in the group chat if you needed anything before Jake landed. 

Your coworkers escorted you to the Vigilante’s hangar to get a bottle of water when you mentioned being thirsty. At some point, you knew that you needed to get back to the Bounty Hunter’s hangar, but it was nice to catch up with your friends. And it was a good distraction from the pain radiating from your back to your stomach, which you tried to ignore. 

“I heard you were here, Mrs. Seresin - it’s good to see you,” Admiral Tritz, Jake’s boss, said as he stepped into the break room. You set the water bottle on the counter and took the man’s outstretched hand. It had been a while since you’d seen him, but anytime you’d been in the hangar for work, he’d made it a point to check on you.

“Good to see you again, Admiral.” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded to your stomach.

“I have to say - between his promotion to Lieutenant Commander and your little one being late, Hangman’s in for a good year.”

“As long as there’s no PCS in the cards for us, I’d agree,” you smiled, breath catching as another contraction hit. Tritz’s eyes narrowed, and his head cocked.

“Are you alright?” Unable to force the word from your lips, you nodded, fingers curling around the counter rim. And then you felt it.

A popping sensation low in your belly, and the trickle of fluid down your thighs. 

It wasn’t a dramatic gush, like you’d seen in too many movies. Instead, you seriously questioned if you’d just pissed yourself in front of your husband’s boss. “Oh fuck,” you groaned.

“Oh fuck, indeed,” Admiral Tritz agreed. 

The California coast sprawled beneath the wings of the jet, but Jake’s eyes kept darting to the HUD, watching the miles to the base tick down. He knew that, like himself, the other pilots were leaning heavier on the throttle than necessary, the anticipation of getting home outweighing fuel rationing. This far out, they were still flying in the looser formation, not worrying about how they looked. Once they got closer to Lemoore, he’d call for a tighter formation, leading everyone home. 

Already, he was imagining the scene. The smooth landing on his home flightline. Quickly doing his post-flight checks. Joining the huddle behind the jets to retrieve the rose he’d shelled out $10 to one of the guys for - his buddy doing the flower pick up so that the returning aviators would have something to give their loved ones. Forcing himself to walk across the tarmac instead of running to you. Finally, having you in his arms again. Kissing you. 

“Hangman, Fritz. Lemoore Tower.”

“Roger, Tower.”

“Roger, Tower,” Jake repeated.

“Relay new orders. Fritz to lead flyover. Hangman to land without flyby.”

“Leading flyover,” Fritz echoed. Jake’s brow furrowed, his hand tightening on the throttle. 

“Say again,” he said.

“Fritz to lead flyover. Hangman to land without flyby,” the air traffic controller repeated. His eyes flitted to the gauges, worried he’d missed a warning that he was having mechanical issues but saw none.

“What’s the reason for the change in orders?” he asked. 

“Hangman to land without flyby.” 

“Wilco.” ATC went quiet at his agreement to comply with the new orders, and Jake glanced over to his left to see Fritz looking at him. 

“You got any hot gauges?” the other pilot asked. 

“None.” After a moment, he announced, “Climbing.” Pulling back on the stick, he rose above the other pilots, allowing Fritz to drift into the lead spot. Once settled into the back of the pack, safely away from the jetwash, he glanced at his watch. The squad was already running late, a few mechanical issues delaying the launches. At this rate, it would be closer to 10:30AM when they approached Lemoore. 

But if he didn’t have to do the flyby, he would be on the ground within 45 minutes. 

“You’re not pushing, are you?” Javy demanded, head whipping to look at you as he stopped at a light. Ignoring him, you gripped the ‘oh shit’ bar and let your head fall back against the headrest as another contraction hit. 

As soon as your water broke, Admiral Tritz helped you to sit in one of the chairs while sending your coworkers to put in an EMS report to have them sterilize the room. Another was sent to check how far away Jake was, while you quickly messaged Javy to let him know what was happening. The sound of boots slapping the ground heralded the arrival of the Daggers, and Javy and Bob helped you get to the truck, hands hovering anytime you had to stop to breathe. Nat went to pick up your hospital bag from the house, while Reuben hung back to update Jake when he landed. You’d dashed off a quick text to your parents to let them know what was happening. As the date had neared, you’d all agreed that they would wait to come out until you were out of the hospital if Jake made it home. After assuring them that you wanted to stick to that plan, especially with your husband only a few hours away, you handed your phone to Javy to manage it. “You should probably text his family and let him know,” you added as an afterthought.  

Triage was a blur, but you were sent to Labor and Delivery after confirming your water had broken, and you were already 6 centimeters dilated. “Where’s Jake?” you asked Javy as they rolled you into your room.

“He’s still in the air. Should be here soon.”

Thankfully, Nat arrived in time with your bag and helped you change into the dressing gown a coworker had recommended. “Payback texted - Tritz went to the Tower and had them relay to Jake that he’s to land immediately.”

“Did they tell him why?” you asked, looking away as the nurse placed an IV in your hand. 

“I don’t think so. Probably safer - don’t want him testing the speed limits of the aircraft.” That pulled a wry smile out of you, a welcome distraction from the numb feeling in your hand when the cold fluids started. 

His tires hit the tarmac, and Jake let out a sigh of relief. He was home. Glancing up while taxiing, he saw the other jets lining up to land. As much as he would have liked to show off for you, at least he would be the first one to finish his post-flight checks. But as he maneuvered to the hangar and started to power down the engine, he noticed two people sprinting toward him.

The minute the engines stopped spinning, before the blocks were put around his tires, the canopy was going up. “What happened? Jake demanded, glancing down at Bob and Payback’s anxious expressions.

“Get out. I’ll do your checks while Bob gets you to the hospital,” Payback ordered. 

“Hospital?” Panic nearly choked him, but Bob gave him a reassuring smile.

“No baby yet. Phoenix and Coyote are with her.” His scramble down the ladder was less than graceful, nearly ending with him landing on his ass, but Jake managed to get down safely while tugging at one of his pockets to get his phone. They - along with smart watches - were forbidden on the flightline, but he powered it on anyway. While texts rolled in from his mother and sister, there were none from you. Payback took no time, climbing into the jet to double-check things while Bob grabbed Jake’s elbow and hurried him toward his waiting car. The buckles on his g-suit clanked as he ran, helmet still in place. 

“Hangman!” 

The voice pulled him up short, and he turned to see Admiral Tritz grinning at him. “Sir.”

“Told you the first is usually late. We’ll talk about your paternity leave in a few days. Congratulations, son.”

A nervous grin tugged at his mouth, and Jake threw possibly the sloppiest salute of his career. But it didn’t matter as he put his head down and followed Bob’s jog to the parking lot. After tossing his helmet into the backseat, he called; you answered on the second ring.

“Darlin’?” 

“Jake,” you sobbed.

“Hey, Mama. You okay?” 

“I need you.” 

“I know, baby. I’m on my way.” 

“Get here. Please.” 

“I’m comin’, darlin’ - I’ll be there soon.” He kept up the reassurances, barely aware of what he was saying as he struggled to strip off his g-suit while Bob wove through traffic. Thankfully, the gates to get off base weren’t nearly as backed up as those getting on. Jake couldn’t help but think about how he was retracing the route that had started this - from picking you up on base when you fainted, to driving you to the ED to get checked out, and finding out that you were pregnant. 

But this time, rather than dropping you off and moving the truck, he was being dropped off at the hospital by Bob and rushing through the doors. With his phone pressed to his ear, listening to you breathe, he spotted Nat waiting for him in the lobby. Jake was grateful that she didn’t take the time to hug him; instead, she only motioned for him to follow. The call dropped in the elevator, which took too long, stopping at almost every floor. “She’s good, Hangman,” Nat assured him, noticing his uncharacteristic fidgeting. 

It took everything in him to keep from running in the halls. Understanding his urgency, Nat lengthened her stride to match his. And then her hand wrapped around his elbow, tugging him to a stop outside a door that he’d already started walking past. “Good luck, Jake,” she said, squeezing gently before tapping on the door and pushing it open. A curtain blocked his view, but he quickly pushed it aside to see the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Your head was lowered, one hand braced on the bed as you swayed. Your hair was piled on your head, tendrils falling and sticking to your face. Javy grinned from where he stood next to you, a hand between your shoulders and the other holding yours tightly. When you let out a moan, both men’s attention snapped back to you. Frozen in the doorway, the sound forced Jake to move, circling to take the spot at your free side. When his hand slid onto your lower back, your head lifted to meet his gaze. “Hey, darlin’.” 

Tears pricked your eyes as you bit your lip to keep from sobbing. Leaning heavily into your husband, you took his hand, nails digging into his skin. Finally, when the contraction ended, you fell into Jake’s arms. Ignoring the monitor wrapped around your belly, you snuggled as close to him as possible as his lips pressed to the top of your head. “You made it,” you breathed before bursting into tears. 

“I made it,” he echoed, hand curling around the back of your neck. Jake peppered kisses across your face until he captured your mouth, crushing you to him. “I’ve gotcha, darlin’. It’s alright, sweetheart.”  

Javy snuck out, leaving the two of you alone. At least until the nurses came back in to check on you and found you clinging to your husband as he helped you sway through another contraction.

Later, he crouched in front of you to maintain eye contact, murmuring his love as you got the epidural. Held your hand through the worst of the shakes while brushing the hair from your face, and called for medication to help with the nausea. Made sure you had whatever you needed. 

And finally, when your little girl made her long-awaited arrival, he was right beside you, blinking back tears as he watched Sloane being placed on your chest. Carefully cut her cord when Dr. Shearer offered before quickly returning to his spot on the bed. His eyes followed Sloane’s every movement as she was cleaned and weighed, unwilling to rely on the bracelets on both of your wrists and her ankle to keep track of her. 

Much later, after you moved into a recovery room and the wave of text messages congratulating you both had tapered off after you’d sent pictures of your perfect little girl, Jake sat in the uncomfortable chair next to you with his shirt off. You struggled to keep your eyes open, watching your husband’s awestruck expression as he studied Sloane’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger. “Hey,” you murmured. Immediately, his gaze swung to you, sitting up in the chair slightly. 

“Yeah? You need something, Mama?” Smiling tiredly, you shook your head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Carefully, he stood and walked closer. Sloane looked so tiny in her father’s arms, and he cautiously adjusted her before leaning down to kiss you. “Close those pretty eyes and relax, sleepy girl. Daddy’s got it.” 

Tears sprang to your eyes as you reached up to cup Jake’s cheek, your thumb tracing his jaw as he smiled softly down at you. “Babe?” 

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s a little early, but… I think we may need to revisit our contract.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as Jake grinned.

“Weren’t you the one who said we should focus on one life-changing event before doing that?” 

“I changed my mind.”

“You wanna renegotiate three months before our dating anniversary?” Biting your lower lip to keep from grinning, you nodded. “What terms are you offering?” 

Shaking your head, you traced his mouth with your thumb. “Mostly updates. We didn’t change the language to be husband and wife.” Nodding, he leaned closer to kiss you, but you pulled away at the last minute. “And I want to have McDonald's for our anniversary tradition. Dating and marriage.” 

His laugh was warm against your face before he kissed you. “You'd better offer something amazing in return to get that,” he chuckled. 

“You’re holding her.” 

Grinning, Jake looked down at his daughter and shook his head. “Sloane-girl, I love you so much. But your mama’s gonna have to offer more than you to get out of letting me spoil her rotten for one of our anniversaries.”

“If you’re implying another kid while my vagina is still recovering from pushing your daughter out - ” Jake choked on a laugh and shook his head. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. But I’m just sayin’... I could be open to it if the conditions are right.” 

“Name your terms, Seresin.”

“I’ll have to think of them, Seresin.” Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head. 

“You’ve got three months.” 

“Definitely have more than that,” he countered. “If it doesn’t make the contract this year, we’ll have the next. And then the one after that. And after that. And - ”

You cut him off with a kiss, shifting over when he sat beside you. The move jostled Sloane, who let out a dissatisfied whimper. Instantly, both of your attentions were on her, and Jake gently rocked her while settling in next to you. His arm went around your shoulders, gently encouraging you closer as you checked on her. 

And, while it wasn’t the homecoming either of you had pictured after his first big deployment, neither you nor Jake would have traded it for the world. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: She's finally here! And Jake made it home! I had struggled since starting to plot this story if it was gonna happen. I wanted this fic to be a more realistic approach to what military families go through, so initially I was going to have him watch the delivery while he was deployed. Then I thought about Mav pulling some strings with the higher ups to get him home when Darlin' went into labor the day before homecoming. But the other night I had a dream about this scenario and it fit - just a smidge of an Admiral putting his thumb on the scale to get Jake home quicker by missing a flyby rather than the entire carrier scrambling to launch one ship.

This fic isn't over - there's still at least one more chapter left. I hope this didn't disappoint after the (too long) buildup! We finally hit D-Day, i.e., delivery day (originally, I snuck the word 'delivery' into every chapter... that quickly trailed off).

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“I know, sweetheart. Soon.”

“Not soon enough.” 

“I know. As soon as Javy gets back, I’m gonna let you go. I need to let my XO know what’s happening.”

“Jake.” His name was a sob, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“You got this, darlin’.” Glancing up, you saw Javy locking the front door, your laptop and charger in hand. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I’ll let you know what’s happening.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to breathe through the triage exam. Javy had stepped out into the hall to give you some privacy, and Jake’s call was on speaker phone. He’d assured you that he was set up and ready to jump on a video call the moment you said you wanted him to. But since arriving at the hospital, you had only had a single cramp, something you’d proudly told the doctor. 

“You’re definitely doing some work - I checked with Dr. Shearer, and you’re more effaced than your last appointment with her, but still two centimeters dilated,” the on-call doctor told you as she removed her gloves.  

“Do I have to stay here?” you asked. 

“Your water didn’t break, so we’re not going to admit you now.” You grinned as Jake sighed. “That’s good news?” the woman asked, confusion evident in her tone.

“Amazing news.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Usually, moms want to get admitted, especially when they’re at their due date.” 

“Nope, we want this one to wait at least two more days until her daddy gets home. This is the only time we want a Seresin to be running late.” Jake laughed at that.

“Agreed, darlin’. Make sure our daughter knows that.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re leaving,” you assured him before ending the call. The doc nodded to the phone.

“Your husband’s out of state?” 

“On deployment,” you sighed. Her look of amusement faded as she nodded. 

“I’ll get the paperwork done to get you out of here. But if your contractions become more regular - every 3-5 minutes for at least an hour, make sure to come back in. If you’re unsure, I want you to call and talk to one of the providers.”

Javy was at your side the moment the door opened, helping you to sit up. “So? Is it baby time?”

“Not yet.”

The group chat had blown up while you were at the hospital. You sent a quick message saying that you were heading home before putting your phone on silent. After making sure you were settled in and didn’t need anything, you sent Javy back to work. 

With Jake back on duty as well, you had nothing to distract you. So, rather than sit at home and anxiously time what you accepted to be contractions, you rummaged through the work bag you’d shoved in the back of the closet and grabbed your purse before heading out. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you drove along the outskirts of the base before pulling into a small parking lot. Backing Jake’s truck in was a pain in the ass, but you managed before putting on your aviation earmuffs and gingerly getting out of the cab. Holding onto the door handle, you blew out a breath, rubbing your stomach as it tightened with a contraction. Even with ear protection, you heard the rumble of an engine and looked up to see a jet speeding toward you down the flightline, another not far behind. With just a glance, you noted the darker grey color and nose cone shape, identifying it as an F-35C. As it neared, you watched the first jet’s front tire leave the ground before smoothly lifting. The landing gear folded into place, the radar-absorbent skin of its underbelly smooth as the plane passed overhead, its speed ruffling your hair. Its twin followed moments later, and you turned in time to catch the design etched on the tail.

Looks like the Rough Raiders were also flying today. 

The duo pointed their noses up and started an unrestricted climb as the contraction eased, and you rubbed your stomach. “Don’t tell Daddy, but I like the Lightnings better than the Super Hornet,” you said. “They just look sleeker.” As if to assure you of her secrecy, Sloane wiggled against your hand. Chuckling, you shut the car door and circled to the back of the truck to pull down the tailgate. It was a pain in the ass to get in on the best of days, and this certainly wasn’t one of those. But after some finagling and forcefully pushing away the thought that you probably looked like a beached whale, you managed to get up. After running your fingers along the Baby on Board sticker that Bob had placed on the back window months ago, you leaned against the cab. Putting on your sunglasses, you settled in to watch the following duo line up at the far end of the flightline. 

“We’re watching Newton’s Third Law in action, Sloane-girl,” you sighed. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It’s the fundamental law of understanding flight.” Your belly pressed against the back window when you turned to track the jets’ rapid climb, eyes fixated on the afterburner. Watched as the wings were enveloped by condensation, created by the change in pressure and temperature as air was forced over them. Folding your arms on the top of the truck, you murmured, “Thrust is equal to the exit mass flow rate times the exit velocity minus the free stream mass flow rate times the free stream velocity.” The equation flowed over your tongue, sweet as sugar, and your fingers itched for your notebook. 

Most of the time, you were too busy to watch the planes you worked near. Sure, you could pause a few minutes to watch as they taxiied past, or shade your eyes to watch as they shot by. But actually taking the time just to enjoy? Not very often. It made you think of the air shows you went to with your dad. Of how you’d one day imagined working on those engines before deciding against going into the Air Force. How those dreams had shifted to figuring out how to improve the propulsion systems.

Your hand migrated to your stomach again, swaying subtly as you remembered how it had felt to sign the paper, switching your major from Engineering to English. How right it had felt in that moment, taking a proactive step to protect yourself against something so determined to hurt you, even as a small part of you railed against it. Hated that the guys in your program would see it as confirmation of your inability to cut it rather than you making the conscious decision to turn away from a lifelong dream. 

For the first time, you understood your parents' shock, worry, and sadness about making such a big change without discussing it with them. At that time, you saw yourself as striking out as an adult and making an independent decision about your life. But now, with your own daughter, you understand where your parents were coming from. You hadn’t needed their permission, of course, but maybe they could have talked you out of making the rash decision. Of throwing away your lifelong dream out of what you now recognize as fear. 

Tears pricked your eyes, and you blinked them away. For a split second, you thought about calling your parents to apologize for everything you put them through, but calling so soon after getting out of the hospital would freak them out. So, instead, you took out your phone and filmed the next set of jets taking off. 

Your granddaughter loves the planes. I'm pretty sure there will be some airshows in the future.

Your parents quickly sent back their answers.

Your dad’ll love that.

Can’t wait to take my girls to one. 

It wasn’t wholly unexpected when Javy showed up at the house after work, an overnight bag in hand. While you weren’t thrilled to wear clothes around the house, having him around wasn’t a hardship. It was nice to have someone else decide what to have for dinner (ordering pizza), and get up to get you a glass of water when heaving yourself off the couch seemed too difficult. And he let you pick what to watch on TV.

At least, it wasn’t a hardship until you noticed him texting every half an hour.

When you asked him about it, he stared at you before shoving his phone under his leg. It wasn’t until you got up to pee - ignoring Javy jumping to his feet in a movement that you weren’t at all jealous of while leveraging yourself up - that you caught sight of his screen. Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tell your worry-wart boyfriend that I’m fine and to stop bugging you for updates.”

Javy choked on air and cackled, “You text him.”

“We both know he won’t believe me.” 

“Well, you did refuse to get out of the tub earlier.”

“Excuse me,” you snapped, holding up a finger before pointing it at your stomach. “The baby is in the same place she was then. So who was right about not being in labor? That’s right - the one with a vagina said baby will be exiting.”

“The doc said you were in labor. Just not… You know…” he made a vague gesture with his hands that made you raise your eyebrow. Color tinged his cheeks as he sighed, “The whole vagina exiting kind.” 

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you rolled your eyes. Holding your hand out for his phone, you danced in place a bit, the urge to pee warring with the need to reassure your husband. As soon as you hit send on the text, you tossed the phone back and waddled to the bathroom. “Oh, come on,” Javy groaned, and you hustled to keep from wetting yourself with laughing.

If you don’t stop checking in on me with your boyfriend, you’ll never get another video from me again.

The text had ended with a kissing emoji. A response was waiting on your phone when you made it back to the couch.

It’s not nice to traumatize our daughter’s godfather. Who's gonna watch her for us when it’s time for another video? 

Laughing, you almost told him about the photos awaiting him - teasing him with something to hold him off while you recovered from childbirth - but held onto the secret. Instead, you snapped a picture of your barely visible feet kicked up on the coffee table, your bump dominating the frame.

I’m fine - a few contractions here and there, but nothing consistent. Sloane and I had a long talk this afternoon, so hopefully she'll listen and stay put.

And you had. Sitting in the back of Jake’s truck, you had a silent conversation with your daughter, pausing every time a jet flew overhead. You’d reminded her that in less than 48 hours, her daddy would be home. Begged her to stay nice and safe where she was. Promised that you wouldn’t even mind her using your ribs as her personal kicking bag as long as she waited. 

A picture flashed on your phone, and you opened it to see a stack of luggage. You’re not the only one with their bags packed and ready to go, darling. Make sure Sloane knows that her daddy’ll buy her whatever she wants as long as she waits for me to get there. 

Convincing Javy that you didn’t need him to call in sick the next day was an exercise in patience. While you appreciated his concern, you wanted to be alone in the house for a bit. It had taken all of your strength and practice in customer service not to point to the garage door and shove him through it when he stalled in the kitchen the next morning.

The minute you heard the Jeep back out of the driveway, you tore off your shirt and shorts, hating the feeling of the material on your skin. It didn’t help that you felt hot, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. Grasping the kitchen counter, you swayed, trying to will away the contraction that hit, wishing the back pain would loosen its grip on you. 

“Sloane, your father will be home in 27 hours. We are not doing this right now, young lady,” you hissed. 

When the contraction loosened its grip, you forced yourself to go about your day. There was a checklist on your phone of things to do before Jake got home and you went to the hospital, so you focused on those. If you had to pause and breathe through a contraction, that was your business. They still weren’t regular enough to raise an alarm, and your research said that you were okay unless you had difficulty walking or talking through them. So you kept up a conversation with Sloane when they hit, almost begging your daughter to hold on. 

Around three, you retreated to the bathroom. You sprinkled Epsom salt into the tepid bath, hoping that the lavender scent would help you relax. With your glass of water sitting on the rim of the tub and hair piled on top of your head, you pictured Jake sitting beside you, chin resting on his arm, as his fingers trailed through the water before drawing circles on your stomach. You imagined running your hand through his hair, watching his green eyes dart to meet yours when your stomach tightened under his touch. How his head would lift so he could track the time on his watch, counting the seconds as your fingers curled around his forearm. 

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. You wanted Jake so badly. And, while the six months apart were difficult, the last day without him was the worst. In less than 19 hours, you would be waiting for him on the flightline. He would be home and safe in your arms. 

“Come on, Sloane,” you said. “Just a little bit longer.”

“This has to be the weirdest place I’ve ever had dinner,” Javy sighed, propping his foot against the tub rim. You didn’t bother opening your eyes. 

“Feel free to go back to the living room.”

“Not until you get out of the tub.”

“Might as well grab a sleeping bag, then,” you huffed, lifting your hand out of the water to adjust the strap of your bikini. The top was too small, your breasts nearly spilling out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d only put the bathing suit on when it was clear that Javy wasn’t going to leave you to yourself when he came over with another overnight bag. And, as much as you wanted to be alone, the scent of jet fuel coming off his flightsuit was oddly relaxing as he ate his warmed-up pizza from the night before. 

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta be a prune by now. Maybe it’s time to - ”

“If you say call the doctor, I’m gonna hang up on you, Jacob Michael Seresin.” Javy snickered, and you cracked one eye open to glare at him. “Don’t think I won’t kick you out of here, too.”

“Your wife’s grumpy when she’s in labor, Hangman.” Dipping your hand back into the water, you flicked droplets at him as Jake chuckled. 

“I’d like to see you be a ray of sunshine when you have a tiny human preparing to make her appearance and making your back ache like a motherfucker.” 

“You know what would help with the back pain? Seeing the doc - ” Irritated, you hit the button to end the call, cutting Jake off. Unsurprisingly, he called back immediately. When you stared at the screen, Javy reached over and answered, putting it on speaker again. Jake huffed your name.

“My contractions aren’t consistent enough to call the doctor. And I can still talk through them. I’m fine.”

“Darlin’,” he sighed. “Promise me you’re not just toughing it out until I get there.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say you could neither confirm nor deny, but you knew that you would be tugged out of the tub and marched to the hospital if you let that slip. “I promise,” you said, mentally crossing your fingers. 

That didn’t keep you from frantically searching the internet when you finally got out of the tub and saw blood dotting the liner of your bathing suit bottoms. 

You kept the bloody show to yourself, curling up in bed and trying to think calming thoughts as you hugged your pregnancy pillow.

Just a few more hours, and then Jake would be home. 

Gripping the bathroom sink, you swayed back and forth, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. You’d been up throughout the night, waddling to the bathroom and trying to breathe through the contractions that started and stopped. Around two in the morning, you almost caved and called triage to see if you needed to come in before the time between contractions lengthened again.

Nerves had kept you awake for the next few hours, and you finally dozed off before hearing your alarm go off at 6:30AM. 

Waking up felt like Christmas morning as a kid - the anticipation propelling you out of bed and into the shower. The warm water felt like heaven on your back, and you braced yourself on the wall, recalling how Jake had massaged your tight muscles after the flight to Japan. In just over three hours, he could do it again. 

Javy and Jake had hammered out the details of how the morning would go as you soaked in the tub. The air wing was scheduled to arrive around 10:00AM, with the families invited to come around 8:00AM. While you were more than willing to drive yourself, the men in your life were adamant that you take it easy. So, instead, Javy would drive you to the base in the truck and catch a ride with one of the other Daggers after work to pick up his Jeep. “I’ll officially be off baby watch,” Javy had said, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

So, as sleep-deprived as you were, you didn’t mind getting up early to get ready. Sure, the contractions made it so you had to pause while doing your hair and makeup to focus on your breathing. And yeah, the burgundy dress you’d bought offline wasn’t the most comfortable on your belly, but it hopefully wouldn’t be on for too long. After grabbing Jake’s brown leather jacket from the back of the closet, you forced yourself to examine your appearance in the mirror. Your lipstick almost perfectly matched the color of your dress, and your cheeks flushed with excitement. 

In just a few hours, your husband would be home. 

Homecoming morning was always hectic. Between making sure that everything was packed, grabbing breakfast, shoving bags into the travel pod, and wrapping up last-minute tasks, it was controlled chaos. There would be one last briefing - a reminder of the flight pattern and where each pilot would be in the flyby - before being dismissed to the flightline. The fixed-wing aircraft would launch before the carrier neared San Diego, making the hour flight back to Lemoore. The choppers would launch closer to shore, returning to North Island before the carrier docked in San Diego. Across the state, military families would be welcoming their sailors and aviators home. 

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other soon,” Mav said, shaking Jake’s hand as they stood below deck, watching the F-18s being loaded onto the elevators to be brought topside. 

“Coming up to Lemoore?” Jake asked. The tight-lipped smile the senior aviator gave him made him suppress a groan. “My wife’s not gonna be happy, is she?” 

Chuckling, Mav clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it right now. We’ll talk soon.” 

“It wasn’t the worst, being deployed with you,” Rooster said, offering his hand. 

“High praise, Rooster. Better watch it, or people might think we’re friends.” A smirk tugged at the other man's mouth as they shook. 

“I told Nat I’ll be up your way in a few weeks. I’d like to drop by and meet your daughter, if you’re okay with it.”

“Sure.” Jake was shocked when he was pulled into a back-slapping hug. “Get home safe, Hangman. Tell your wife I said hi.”

And, as he sat in his jet, waiting for his turn to launch, Jake ran his finger along the pictures he’d stuck on the panel: one from your wedding, and Sloane’s sonogram. Soon - but not soon enough - he’d be home. 

The line to get on base was ridiculous, but Javy navigated the traffic easily while you impatiently sat in the passenger’s seat, rubbing your stomach and breathing through contractions. Sloane wiggled and turned, feeling your excitement and sharing her own. You pointedly ignored Javy’s nervous glances. 

Families were directed to the Bounty Hunter’s hangar to await their loved ones, and you felt a moment’s regret at not making a sign or something to welcome your husband home when you saw the posterboards that many people carried. Women swayed babies on their hips, and kids chased one another, and you even saw a photographer or two waiting to document the homecoming for their clients. 

But, rather than join them, you followed Javy to the Sidewinder’s hangar. Or, at least, you tried. You were constantly stopped by people you knew - maintenance crew members that you placed orders for, aviators who knew Jake, and civilian contractors you worked with. A smile was fixed to your lips as they exclaimed at you still being pregnant, tears stinging your eyes when they said how relieved they were that Jake was coming home in time. Javy hovered by your side until you waved him off to go to his 9:00AM briefing, promising to take it easy and put in the group chat if you needed anything before Jake landed. 

Your coworkers escorted you to the Vigilante’s hangar to get a bottle of water when you mentioned being thirsty. At some point, you knew that you needed to get back to the Bounty Hunter’s hangar, but it was nice to catch up with your friends. And it was a good distraction from the pain radiating from your back to your stomach, which you tried to ignore. 

“I heard you were here, Mrs. Seresin - it’s good to see you,” Admiral Tritz, Jake’s boss, said as he stepped into the break room. You set the water bottle on the counter and took the man’s outstretched hand. It had been a while since you’d seen him, but anytime you’d been in the hangar for work, he’d made it a point to check on you.

“Good to see you again, Admiral.” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded to your stomach.

“I have to say - between his promotion to Lieutenant Commander and your little one being late, Hangman’s in for a good year.”

“As long as there’s no PCS in the cards for us, I’d agree,” you smiled, breath catching as another contraction hit. Tritz’s eyes narrowed, and his head cocked.

“Are you alright?” Unable to force the word from your lips, you nodded, fingers curling around the counter rim. And then you felt it.

A popping sensation low in your belly, and the trickle of fluid down your thighs. 

It wasn’t a dramatic gush, like you’d seen in too many movies. Instead, you seriously questioned if you’d just pissed yourself in front of your husband’s boss. “Oh fuck,” you groaned.

“Oh fuck, indeed,” Admiral Tritz agreed. 

The California coast sprawled beneath the wings of the jet, but Jake’s eyes kept darting to the HUD, watching the miles to the base tick down. He knew that, like himself, the other pilots were leaning heavier on the throttle than necessary, the anticipation of getting home outweighing fuel rationing. This far out, they were still flying in the looser formation, not worrying about how they looked. Once they got closer to Lemoore, he’d call for a tighter formation, leading everyone home. 

Already, he was imagining the scene. The smooth landing on his home flightline. Quickly doing his post-flight checks. Joining the huddle behind the jets to retrieve the rose he’d shelled out $10 to one of the guys for - his buddy doing the flower pick up so that the returning aviators would have something to give their loved ones. Forcing himself to walk across the tarmac instead of running to you. Finally, having you in his arms again. Kissing you. 

“Hangman, Fritz. Lemoore Tower.”

“Roger, Tower.”

“Roger, Tower,” Jake repeated.

“Relay new orders. Fritz to lead flyover. Hangman to land without flyby.”

“Leading flyover,” Fritz echoed. Jake’s brow furrowed, his hand tightening on the throttle. 

“Say again,” he said.

“Fritz to lead flyover. Hangman to land without flyby,” the air traffic controller repeated. His eyes flitted to the gauges, worried he’d missed a warning that he was having mechanical issues but saw none.

“What’s the reason for the change in orders?” he asked. 

“Hangman to land without flyby.” 

“Wilco.” ATC went quiet at his agreement to comply with the new orders, and Jake glanced over to his left to see Fritz looking at him. 

“You got any hot gauges?” the other pilot asked. 

“None.” After a moment, he announced, “Climbing.” Pulling back on the stick, he rose above the other pilots, allowing Fritz to drift into the lead spot. Once settled into the back of the pack, safely away from the jetwash, he glanced at his watch. The squad was already running late, a few mechanical issues delaying the launches. At this rate, it would be closer to 10:30AM when they approached Lemoore. 

But if he didn’t have to do the flyby, he would be on the ground within 45 minutes. 

“You’re not pushing, are you?” Javy demanded, head whipping to look at you as he stopped at a light. Ignoring him, you gripped the ‘oh shit’ bar and let your head fall back against the headrest as another contraction hit. 

As soon as your water broke, Admiral Tritz helped you to sit in one of the chairs while sending your coworkers to put in an EMS report to have them sterilize the room. Another was sent to check how far away Jake was, while you quickly messaged Javy to let him know what was happening. The sound of boots slapping the ground heralded the arrival of the Daggers, and Javy and Bob helped you get to the truck, hands hovering anytime you had to stop to breathe. Nat went to pick up your hospital bag from the house, while Reuben hung back to update Jake when he landed. You’d dashed off a quick text to your parents to let them know what was happening. As the date had neared, you’d all agreed that they would wait to come out until you were out of the hospital if Jake made it home. After assuring them that you wanted to stick to that plan, especially with your husband only a few hours away, you handed your phone to Javy to manage it. “You should probably text his family and let him know,” you added as an afterthought.  

Triage was a blur, but you were sent to Labor and Delivery after confirming your water had broken, and you were already 6 centimeters dilated. “Where’s Jake?” you asked Javy as they rolled you into your room.

“He’s still in the air. Should be here soon.”

Thankfully, Nat arrived in time with your bag and helped you change into the dressing gown a coworker had recommended. “Payback texted - Tritz went to the Tower and had them relay to Jake that he’s to land immediately.”

“Did they tell him why?” you asked, looking away as the nurse placed an IV in your hand. 

“I don’t think so. Probably safer - don’t want him testing the speed limits of the aircraft.” That pulled a wry smile out of you, a welcome distraction from the numb feeling in your hand when the cold fluids started. 

His tires hit the tarmac, and Jake let out a sigh of relief. He was home. Glancing up while taxiing, he saw the other jets lining up to land. As much as he would have liked to show off for you, at least he would be the first one to finish his post-flight checks. But as he maneuvered to the hangar and started to power down the engine, he noticed two people sprinting toward him.

The minute the engines stopped spinning, before the blocks were put around his tires, the canopy was going up. “What happened? Jake demanded, glancing down at Bob and Payback’s anxious expressions.

“Get out. I’ll do your checks while Bob gets you to the hospital,” Payback ordered. 

“Hospital?” Panic nearly choked him, but Bob gave him a reassuring smile.

“No baby yet. Phoenix and Coyote are with her.” His scramble down the ladder was less than graceful, nearly ending with him landing on his ass, but Jake managed to get down safely while tugging at one of his pockets to get his phone. They - along with smart watches - were forbidden on the flightline, but he powered it on anyway. While texts rolled in from his mother and sister, there were none from you. Payback took no time, climbing into the jet to double-check things while Bob grabbed Jake’s elbow and hurried him toward his waiting car. The buckles on his g-suit clanked as he ran, helmet still in place. 

“Hangman!” 

The voice pulled him up short, and he turned to see Admiral Tritz grinning at him. “Sir.”

“Told you the first is usually late. We’ll talk about your paternity leave in a few days. Congratulations, son.”

A nervous grin tugged at his mouth, and Jake threw possibly the sloppiest salute of his career. But it didn’t matter as he put his head down and followed Bob’s jog to the parking lot. After tossing his helmet into the backseat, he called; you answered on the second ring.

“Darlin’?” 

“Jake,” you sobbed.

“Hey, Mama. You okay?” 

“I need you.” 

“I know, baby. I’m on my way.” 

“Get here. Please.” 

“I’m comin’, darlin’ - I’ll be there soon.” He kept up the reassurances, barely aware of what he was saying as he struggled to strip off his g-suit while Bob wove through traffic. Thankfully, the gates to get off base weren’t nearly as backed up as those getting on. Jake couldn’t help but think about how he was retracing the route that had started this - from picking you up on base when you fainted, to driving you to the ED to get checked out, and finding out that you were pregnant. 

But this time, rather than dropping you off and moving the truck, he was being dropped off at the hospital by Bob and rushing through the doors. With his phone pressed to his ear, listening to you breathe, he spotted Nat waiting for him in the lobby. Jake was grateful that she didn’t take the time to hug him; instead, she only motioned for him to follow. The call dropped in the elevator, which took too long, stopping at almost every floor. “She’s good, Hangman,” Nat assured him, noticing his uncharacteristic fidgeting. 

It took everything in him to keep from running in the halls. Understanding his urgency, Nat lengthened her stride to match his. And then her hand wrapped around his elbow, tugging him to a stop outside a door that he’d already started walking past. “Good luck, Jake,” she said, squeezing gently before tapping on the door and pushing it open. A curtain blocked his view, but he quickly pushed it aside to see the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Your head was lowered, one hand braced on the bed as you swayed. Your hair was piled on your head, tendrils falling and sticking to your face. Javy grinned from where he stood next to you, a hand between your shoulders and the other holding yours tightly. When you let out a moan, both men’s attention snapped back to you. Frozen in the doorway, the sound forced Jake to move, circling to take the spot at your free side. When his hand slid onto your lower back, your head lifted to meet his gaze. “Hey, darlin’.” 

Tears pricked your eyes as you bit your lip to keep from sobbing. Leaning heavily into your husband, you took his hand, nails digging into his skin. Finally, when the contraction ended, you fell into Jake’s arms. Ignoring the monitor wrapped around your belly, you snuggled as close to him as possible as his lips pressed to the top of your head. “You made it,” you breathed before bursting into tears. 

“I made it,” he echoed, hand curling around the back of your neck. Jake peppered kisses across your face until he captured your mouth, crushing you to him. “I’ve gotcha, darlin’. It’s alright, sweetheart.”  

Javy snuck out, leaving the two of you alone. At least until the nurses came back in to check on you and found you clinging to your husband as he helped you sway through another contraction.

Later, he crouched in front of you to maintain eye contact, murmuring his love as you got the epidural. Held your hand through the worst of the shakes while brushing the hair from your face, and called for medication to help with the nausea. Made sure you had whatever you needed. 

And finally, when your little girl made her long-awaited arrival, he was right beside you, blinking back tears as he watched Sloane being placed on your chest. Carefully cut her cord when Dr. Shearer offered before quickly returning to his spot on the bed. His eyes followed Sloane’s every movement as she was cleaned and weighed, unwilling to rely on the bracelets on both of your wrists and her ankle to keep track of her. 

Much later, after you moved into a recovery room and the wave of text messages congratulating you both had tapered off after you’d sent pictures of your perfect little girl, Jake sat in the uncomfortable chair next to you with his shirt off. You struggled to keep your eyes open, watching your husband’s awestruck expression as he studied Sloane’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger. “Hey,” you murmured. Immediately, his gaze swung to you, sitting up in the chair slightly. 

“Yeah? You need something, Mama?” Smiling tiredly, you shook your head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Carefully, he stood and walked closer. Sloane looked so tiny in her father’s arms, and he cautiously adjusted her before leaning down to kiss you. “Close those pretty eyes and relax, sleepy girl. Daddy’s got it.” 

Tears sprang to your eyes as you reached up to cup Jake’s cheek, your thumb tracing his jaw as he smiled softly down at you. “Babe?” 

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s a little early, but… I think we may need to revisit our contract.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as Jake grinned.

“Weren’t you the one who said we should focus on one life-changing event before doing that?” 

“I changed my mind.”

“You wanna renegotiate three months before our dating anniversary?” Biting your lower lip to keep from grinning, you nodded. “What terms are you offering?” 

Shaking your head, you traced his mouth with your thumb. “Mostly updates. We didn’t change the language to be husband and wife.” Nodding, he leaned closer to kiss you, but you pulled away at the last minute. “And I want to have McDonald's for our anniversary tradition. Dating and marriage.” 

His laugh was warm against your face before he kissed you. “You'd better offer something amazing in return to get that,” he chuckled. 

“You’re holding her.” 

Grinning, Jake looked down at his daughter and shook his head. “Sloane-girl, I love you so much. But your mama’s gonna have to offer more than you to get out of letting me spoil her rotten for one of our anniversaries.”

“If you’re implying another kid while my vagina is still recovering from pushing your daughter out - ” Jake choked on a laugh and shook his head. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. But I’m just sayin’... I could be open to it if the conditions are right.” 

“Name your terms, Seresin.”

“I’ll have to think of them, Seresin.” Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head. 

“You’ve got three months.” 

“Definitely have more than that,” he countered. “If it doesn’t make the contract this year, we’ll have the next. And then the one after that. And after that. And - ”

You cut him off with a kiss, shifting over when he sat beside you. The move jostled Sloane, who let out a dissatisfied whimper. Instantly, both of your attentions were on her, and Jake gently rocked her while settling in next to you. His arm went around your shoulders, gently encouraging you closer as you checked on her. 

And, while it wasn’t the homecoming either of you had pictured after his first big deployment, neither you nor Jake would have traded it for the world. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: She's finally here! And Jake made it home! I had struggled since starting to plot this story if it was gonna happen. I wanted this fic to be a more realistic approach to what military families go through, so initially I was going to have him watch the delivery while he was deployed. Then I thought about Mav pulling some strings with the higher ups to get him home when Darlin' went into labor the day before homecoming. But the other night I had a dream about this scenario and it fit - just a smidge of an Admiral putting his thumb on the scale to get Jake home quicker by missing a flyby rather than the entire carrier scrambling to launch one ship.

This fic isn't over - there's still at least one more chapter left. I hope this didn't disappoint after the (too long) buildup! We finally hit D-Day, i.e., delivery day (originally, I snuck the word 'delivery' into every chapter... that quickly trailed off).

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“I know, sweetheart. Soon.”

“Not soon enough.” 

“I know. As soon as Javy gets back, I’m gonna let you go. I need to let my XO know what’s happening.”

“Jake.” His name was a sob, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“You got this, darlin’.” Glancing up, you saw Javy locking the front door, your laptop and charger in hand. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I’ll let you know what’s happening.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to breathe through the triage exam. Javy had stepped out into the hall to give you some privacy, and Jake’s call was on speaker phone. He’d assured you that he was set up and ready to jump on a video call the moment you said you wanted him to. But since arriving at the hospital, you had only had a single cramp, something you’d proudly told the doctor. 

“You’re definitely doing some work - I checked with Dr. Shearer, and you’re more effaced than your last appointment with her, but still two centimeters dilated,” the on-call doctor told you as she removed her gloves.  

“Do I have to stay here?” you asked. 

“Your water didn’t break, so we’re not going to admit you now.” You grinned as Jake sighed. “That’s good news?” the woman asked, confusion evident in her tone.

“Amazing news.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Usually, moms want to get admitted, especially when they’re at their due date.” 

“Nope, we want this one to wait at least two more days until her daddy gets home. This is the only time we want a Seresin to be running late.” Jake laughed at that.

“Agreed, darlin’. Make sure our daughter knows that.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re leaving,” you assured him before ending the call. The doc nodded to the phone.

“Your husband’s out of state?” 

“On deployment,” you sighed. Her look of amusement faded as she nodded. 

“I’ll get the paperwork done to get you out of here. But if your contractions become more regular - every 3-5 minutes for at least an hour, make sure to come back in. If you’re unsure, I want you to call and talk to one of the providers.”

Javy was at your side the moment the door opened, helping you to sit up. “So? Is it baby time?”

“Not yet.”

The group chat had blown up while you were at the hospital. You sent a quick message saying that you were heading home before putting your phone on silent. After making sure you were settled in and didn’t need anything, you sent Javy back to work. 

With Jake back on duty as well, you had nothing to distract you. So, rather than sit at home and anxiously time what you accepted to be contractions, you rummaged through the work bag you’d shoved in the back of the closet and grabbed your purse before heading out. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you drove along the outskirts of the base before pulling into a small parking lot. Backing Jake’s truck in was a pain in the ass, but you managed before putting on your aviation earmuffs and gingerly getting out of the cab. Holding onto the door handle, you blew out a breath, rubbing your stomach as it tightened with a contraction. Even with ear protection, you heard the rumble of an engine and looked up to see a jet speeding toward you down the flightline, another not far behind. With just a glance, you noted the darker grey color and nose cone shape, identifying it as an F-35C. As it neared, you watched the first jet’s front tire leave the ground before smoothly lifting. The landing gear folded into place, the radar-absorbent skin of its underbelly smooth as the plane passed overhead, its speed ruffling your hair. Its twin followed moments later, and you turned in time to catch the design etched on the tail.

Looks like the Rough Raiders were also flying today. 

The duo pointed their noses up and started an unrestricted climb as the contraction eased, and you rubbed your stomach. “Don’t tell Daddy, but I like the Lightnings better than the Super Hornet,” you said. “They just look sleeker.” As if to assure you of her secrecy, Sloane wiggled against your hand. Chuckling, you shut the car door and circled to the back of the truck to pull down the tailgate. It was a pain in the ass to get in on the best of days, and this certainly wasn’t one of those. But after some finagling and forcefully pushing away the thought that you probably looked like a beached whale, you managed to get up. After running your fingers along the Baby on Board sticker that Bob had placed on the back window months ago, you leaned against the cab. Putting on your sunglasses, you settled in to watch the following duo line up at the far end of the flightline. 

“We’re watching Newton’s Third Law in action, Sloane-girl,” you sighed. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It’s the fundamental law of understanding flight.” Your belly pressed against the back window when you turned to track the jets’ rapid climb, eyes fixated on the afterburner. Watched as the wings were enveloped by condensation, created by the change in pressure and temperature as air was forced over them. Folding your arms on the top of the truck, you murmured, “Thrust is equal to the exit mass flow rate times the exit velocity minus the free stream mass flow rate times the free stream velocity.” The equation flowed over your tongue, sweet as sugar, and your fingers itched for your notebook. 

Most of the time, you were too busy to watch the planes you worked near. Sure, you could pause a few minutes to watch as they taxiied past, or shade your eyes to watch as they shot by. But actually taking the time just to enjoy? Not very often. It made you think of the air shows you went to with your dad. Of how you’d one day imagined working on those engines before deciding against going into the Air Force. How those dreams had shifted to figuring out how to improve the propulsion systems.

Your hand migrated to your stomach again, swaying subtly as you remembered how it had felt to sign the paper, switching your major from Engineering to English. How right it had felt in that moment, taking a proactive step to protect yourself against something so determined to hurt you, even as a small part of you railed against it. Hated that the guys in your program would see it as confirmation of your inability to cut it rather than you making the conscious decision to turn away from a lifelong dream. 

For the first time, you understood your parents' shock, worry, and sadness about making such a big change without discussing it with them. At that time, you saw yourself as striking out as an adult and making an independent decision about your life. But now, with your own daughter, you understand where your parents were coming from. You hadn’t needed their permission, of course, but maybe they could have talked you out of making the rash decision. Of throwing away your lifelong dream out of what you now recognize as fear. 

Tears pricked your eyes, and you blinked them away. For a split second, you thought about calling your parents to apologize for everything you put them through, but calling so soon after getting out of the hospital would freak them out. So, instead, you took out your phone and filmed the next set of jets taking off. 

Your granddaughter loves the planes. I'm pretty sure there will be some airshows in the future.

Your parents quickly sent back their answers.

Your dad’ll love that.

Can’t wait to take my girls to one. 

It wasn’t wholly unexpected when Javy showed up at the house after work, an overnight bag in hand. While you weren’t thrilled to wear clothes around the house, having him around wasn’t a hardship. It was nice to have someone else decide what to have for dinner (ordering pizza), and get up to get you a glass of water when heaving yourself off the couch seemed too difficult. And he let you pick what to watch on TV.

At least, it wasn’t a hardship until you noticed him texting every half an hour.

When you asked him about it, he stared at you before shoving his phone under his leg. It wasn’t until you got up to pee - ignoring Javy jumping to his feet in a movement that you weren’t at all jealous of while leveraging yourself up - that you caught sight of his screen. Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tell your worry-wart boyfriend that I’m fine and to stop bugging you for updates.”

Javy choked on air and cackled, “You text him.”

“We both know he won’t believe me.” 

“Well, you did refuse to get out of the tub earlier.”

“Excuse me,” you snapped, holding up a finger before pointing it at your stomach. “The baby is in the same place she was then. So who was right about not being in labor? That’s right - the one with a vagina said baby will be exiting.”

“The doc said you were in labor. Just not… You know…” he made a vague gesture with his hands that made you raise your eyebrow. Color tinged his cheeks as he sighed, “The whole vagina exiting kind.” 

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you rolled your eyes. Holding your hand out for his phone, you danced in place a bit, the urge to pee warring with the need to reassure your husband. As soon as you hit send on the text, you tossed the phone back and waddled to the bathroom. “Oh, come on,” Javy groaned, and you hustled to keep from wetting yourself with laughing.

If you don’t stop checking in on me with your boyfriend, you’ll never get another video from me again.

The text had ended with a kissing emoji. A response was waiting on your phone when you made it back to the couch.

It’s not nice to traumatize our daughter’s godfather. Who's gonna watch her for us when it’s time for another video? 

Laughing, you almost told him about the photos awaiting him - teasing him with something to hold him off while you recovered from childbirth - but held onto the secret. Instead, you snapped a picture of your barely visible feet kicked up on the coffee table, your bump dominating the frame.

I’m fine - a few contractions here and there, but nothing consistent. Sloane and I had a long talk this afternoon, so hopefully she'll listen and stay put.

And you had. Sitting in the back of Jake’s truck, you had a silent conversation with your daughter, pausing every time a jet flew overhead. You’d reminded her that in less than 48 hours, her daddy would be home. Begged her to stay nice and safe where she was. Promised that you wouldn’t even mind her using your ribs as her personal kicking bag as long as she waited. 

A picture flashed on your phone, and you opened it to see a stack of luggage. You’re not the only one with their bags packed and ready to go, darling. Make sure Sloane knows that her daddy’ll buy her whatever she wants as long as she waits for me to get there. 

Convincing Javy that you didn’t need him to call in sick the next day was an exercise in patience. While you appreciated his concern, you wanted to be alone in the house for a bit. It had taken all of your strength and practice in customer service not to point to the garage door and shove him through it when he stalled in the kitchen the next morning.

The minute you heard the Jeep back out of the driveway, you tore off your shirt and shorts, hating the feeling of the material on your skin. It didn’t help that you felt hot, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. Grasping the kitchen counter, you swayed, trying to will away the contraction that hit, wishing the back pain would loosen its grip on you. 

“Sloane, your father will be home in 27 hours. We are not doing this right now, young lady,” you hissed. 

When the contraction loosened its grip, you forced yourself to go about your day. There was a checklist on your phone of things to do before Jake got home and you went to the hospital, so you focused on those. If you had to pause and breathe through a contraction, that was your business. They still weren’t regular enough to raise an alarm, and your research said that you were okay unless you had difficulty walking or talking through them. So you kept up a conversation with Sloane when they hit, almost begging your daughter to hold on. 

Around three, you retreated to the bathroom. You sprinkled Epsom salt into the tepid bath, hoping that the lavender scent would help you relax. With your glass of water sitting on the rim of the tub and hair piled on top of your head, you pictured Jake sitting beside you, chin resting on his arm, as his fingers trailed through the water before drawing circles on your stomach. You imagined running your hand through his hair, watching his green eyes dart to meet yours when your stomach tightened under his touch. How his head would lift so he could track the time on his watch, counting the seconds as your fingers curled around his forearm. 

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. You wanted Jake so badly. And, while the six months apart were difficult, the last day without him was the worst. In less than 19 hours, you would be waiting for him on the flightline. He would be home and safe in your arms. 

“Come on, Sloane,” you said. “Just a little bit longer.”

“This has to be the weirdest place I’ve ever had dinner,” Javy sighed, propping his foot against the tub rim. You didn’t bother opening your eyes. 

“Feel free to go back to the living room.”

“Not until you get out of the tub.”

“Might as well grab a sleeping bag, then,” you huffed, lifting your hand out of the water to adjust the strap of your bikini. The top was too small, your breasts nearly spilling out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d only put the bathing suit on when it was clear that Javy wasn’t going to leave you to yourself when he came over with another overnight bag. And, as much as you wanted to be alone, the scent of jet fuel coming off his flightsuit was oddly relaxing as he ate his warmed-up pizza from the night before. 

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta be a prune by now. Maybe it’s time to - ”

“If you say call the doctor, I’m gonna hang up on you, Jacob Michael Seresin.” Javy snickered, and you cracked one eye open to glare at him. “Don’t think I won’t kick you out of here, too.”

“Your wife’s grumpy when she’s in labor, Hangman.” Dipping your hand back into the water, you flicked droplets at him as Jake chuckled. 

“I’d like to see you be a ray of sunshine when you have a tiny human preparing to make her appearance and making your back ache like a motherfucker.” 

“You know what would help with the back pain? Seeing the doc - ” Irritated, you hit the button to end the call, cutting Jake off. Unsurprisingly, he called back immediately. When you stared at the screen, Javy reached over and answered, putting it on speaker again. Jake huffed your name.

“My contractions aren’t consistent enough to call the doctor. And I can still talk through them. I’m fine.”

“Darlin’,” he sighed. “Promise me you’re not just toughing it out until I get there.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say you could neither confirm nor deny, but you knew that you would be tugged out of the tub and marched to the hospital if you let that slip. “I promise,” you said, mentally crossing your fingers. 

That didn’t keep you from frantically searching the internet when you finally got out of the tub and saw blood dotting the liner of your bathing suit bottoms. 

You kept the bloody show to yourself, curling up in bed and trying to think calming thoughts as you hugged your pregnancy pillow.

Just a few more hours, and then Jake would be home. 

Gripping the bathroom sink, you swayed back and forth, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. You’d been up throughout the night, waddling to the bathroom and trying to breathe through the contractions that started and stopped. Around two in the morning, you almost caved and called triage to see if you needed to come in before the time between contractions lengthened again.

Nerves had kept you awake for the next few hours, and you finally dozed off before hearing your alarm go off at 6:30AM. 

Waking up felt like Christmas morning as a kid - the anticipation propelling you out of bed and into the shower. The warm water felt like heaven on your back, and you braced yourself on the wall, recalling how Jake had massaged your tight muscles after the flight to Japan. In just over three hours, he could do it again. 

Javy and Jake had hammered out the details of how the morning would go as you soaked in the tub. The air wing was scheduled to arrive around 10:00AM, with the families invited to come around 8:00AM. While you were more than willing to drive yourself, the men in your life were adamant that you take it easy. So, instead, Javy would drive you to the base in the truck and catch a ride with one of the other Daggers after work to pick up his Jeep. “I’ll officially be off baby watch,” Javy had said, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

So, as sleep-deprived as you were, you didn’t mind getting up early to get ready. Sure, the contractions made it so you had to pause while doing your hair and makeup to focus on your breathing. And yeah, the burgundy dress you’d bought offline wasn’t the most comfortable on your belly, but it hopefully wouldn’t be on for too long. After grabbing Jake’s brown leather jacket from the back of the closet, you forced yourself to examine your appearance in the mirror. Your lipstick almost perfectly matched the color of your dress, and your cheeks flushed with excitement. 

In just a few hours, your husband would be home. 

Homecoming morning was always hectic. Between making sure that everything was packed, grabbing breakfast, shoving bags into the travel pod, and wrapping up last-minute tasks, it was controlled chaos. There would be one last briefing - a reminder of the flight pattern and where each pilot would be in the flyby - before being dismissed to the flightline. The fixed-wing aircraft would launch before the carrier neared San Diego, making the hour flight back to Lemoore. The choppers would launch closer to shore, returning to North Island before the carrier docked in San Diego. Across the state, military families would be welcoming their sailors and aviators home. 

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other soon,” Mav said, shaking Jake’s hand as they stood below deck, watching the F-18s being loaded onto the elevators to be brought topside. 

“Coming up to Lemoore?” Jake asked. The tight-lipped smile the senior aviator gave him made him suppress a groan. “My wife’s not gonna be happy, is she?” 

Chuckling, Mav clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it right now. We’ll talk soon.” 

“It wasn’t the worst, being deployed with you,” Rooster said, offering his hand. 

“High praise, Rooster. Better watch it, or people might think we’re friends.” A smirk tugged at the other man's mouth as they shook. 

“I told Nat I’ll be up your way in a few weeks. I’d like to drop by and meet your daughter, if you’re okay with it.”

“Sure.” Jake was shocked when he was pulled into a back-slapping hug. “Get home safe, Hangman. Tell your wife I said hi.”

And, as he sat in his jet, waiting for his turn to launch, Jake ran his finger along the pictures he’d stuck on the panel: one from your wedding, and Sloane’s sonogram. Soon - but not soon enough - he’d be home. 

The line to get on base was ridiculous, but Javy navigated the traffic easily while you impatiently sat in the passenger’s seat, rubbing your stomach and breathing through contractions. Sloane wiggled and turned, feeling your excitement and sharing her own. You pointedly ignored Javy’s nervous glances. 

Families were directed to the Bounty Hunter’s hangar to await their loved ones, and you felt a moment’s regret at not making a sign or something to welcome your husband home when you saw the posterboards that many people carried. Women swayed babies on their hips, and kids chased one another, and you even saw a photographer or two waiting to document the homecoming for their clients. 

But, rather than join them, you followed Javy to the Sidewinder’s hangar. Or, at least, you tried. You were constantly stopped by people you knew - maintenance crew members that you placed orders for, aviators who knew Jake, and civilian contractors you worked with. A smile was fixed to your lips as they exclaimed at you still being pregnant, tears stinging your eyes when they said how relieved they were that Jake was coming home in time. Javy hovered by your side until you waved him off to go to his 9:00AM briefing, promising to take it easy and put in the group chat if you needed anything before Jake landed. 

Your coworkers escorted you to the Vigilante’s hangar to get a bottle of water when you mentioned being thirsty. At some point, you knew that you needed to get back to the Bounty Hunter’s hangar, but it was nice to catch up with your friends. And it was a good distraction from the pain radiating from your back to your stomach, which you tried to ignore. 

“I heard you were here, Mrs. Seresin - it’s good to see you,” Admiral Tritz, Jake’s boss, said as he stepped into the break room. You set the water bottle on the counter and took the man’s outstretched hand. It had been a while since you’d seen him, but anytime you’d been in the hangar for work, he’d made it a point to check on you.

“Good to see you again, Admiral.” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded to your stomach.

“I have to say - between his promotion to Lieutenant Commander and your little one being late, Hangman’s in for a good year.”

“As long as there’s no PCS in the cards for us, I’d agree,” you smiled, breath catching as another contraction hit. Tritz’s eyes narrowed, and his head cocked.

“Are you alright?” Unable to force the word from your lips, you nodded, fingers curling around the counter rim. And then you felt it.

A popping sensation low in your belly, and the trickle of fluid down your thighs. 

It wasn’t a dramatic gush, like you’d seen in too many movies. Instead, you seriously questioned if you’d just pissed yourself in front of your husband’s boss. “Oh fuck,” you groaned.

“Oh fuck, indeed,” Admiral Tritz agreed. 

The California coast sprawled beneath the wings of the jet, but Jake’s eyes kept darting to the HUD, watching the miles to the base tick down. He knew that, like himself, the other pilots were leaning heavier on the throttle than necessary, the anticipation of getting home outweighing fuel rationing. This far out, they were still flying in the looser formation, not worrying about how they looked. Once they got closer to Lemoore, he’d call for a tighter formation, leading everyone home. 

Already, he was imagining the scene. The smooth landing on his home flightline. Quickly doing his post-flight checks. Joining the huddle behind the jets to retrieve the rose he’d shelled out $10 to one of the guys for - his buddy doing the flower pick up so that the returning aviators would have something to give their loved ones. Forcing himself to walk across the tarmac instead of running to you. Finally, having you in his arms again. Kissing you. 

“Hangman, Fritz. Lemoore Tower.”

“Roger, Tower.”

“Roger, Tower,” Jake repeated.

“Relay new orders. Fritz to lead flyover. Hangman to land without flyby.”

“Leading flyover,” Fritz echoed. Jake’s brow furrowed, his hand tightening on the throttle. 

“Say again,” he said.

“Fritz to lead flyover. Hangman to land without flyby,” the air traffic controller repeated. His eyes flitted to the gauges, worried he’d missed a warning that he was having mechanical issues but saw none.

“What’s the reason for the change in orders?” he asked. 

“Hangman to land without flyby.” 

“Wilco.” ATC went quiet at his agreement to comply with the new orders, and Jake glanced over to his left to see Fritz looking at him. 

“You got any hot gauges?” the other pilot asked. 

“None.” After a moment, he announced, “Climbing.” Pulling back on the stick, he rose above the other pilots, allowing Fritz to drift into the lead spot. Once settled into the back of the pack, safely away from the jetwash, he glanced at his watch. The squad was already running late, a few mechanical issues delaying the launches. At this rate, it would be closer to 10:30AM when they approached Lemoore. 

But if he didn’t have to do the flyby, he would be on the ground within 45 minutes. 

“You’re not pushing, are you?” Javy demanded, head whipping to look at you as he stopped at a light. Ignoring him, you gripped the ‘oh shit’ bar and let your head fall back against the headrest as another contraction hit. 

As soon as your water broke, Admiral Tritz helped you to sit in one of the chairs while sending your coworkers to put in an EMS report to have them sterilize the room. Another was sent to check how far away Jake was, while you quickly messaged Javy to let him know what was happening. The sound of boots slapping the ground heralded the arrival of the Daggers, and Javy and Bob helped you get to the truck, hands hovering anytime you had to stop to breathe. Nat went to pick up your hospital bag from the house, while Reuben hung back to update Jake when he landed. You’d dashed off a quick text to your parents to let them know what was happening. As the date had neared, you’d all agreed that they would wait to come out until you were out of the hospital if Jake made it home. After assuring them that you wanted to stick to that plan, especially with your husband only a few hours away, you handed your phone to Javy to manage it. “You should probably text his family and let him know,” you added as an afterthought.  

Triage was a blur, but you were sent to Labor and Delivery after confirming your water had broken, and you were already 6 centimeters dilated. “Where’s Jake?” you asked Javy as they rolled you into your room.

“He’s still in the air. Should be here soon.”

Thankfully, Nat arrived in time with your bag and helped you change into the dressing gown a coworker had recommended. “Payback texted - Tritz went to the Tower and had them relay to Jake that he’s to land immediately.”

“Did they tell him why?” you asked, looking away as the nurse placed an IV in your hand. 

“I don’t think so. Probably safer - don’t want him testing the speed limits of the aircraft.” That pulled a wry smile out of you, a welcome distraction from the numb feeling in your hand when the cold fluids started. 

His tires hit the tarmac, and Jake let out a sigh of relief. He was home. Glancing up while taxiing, he saw the other jets lining up to land. As much as he would have liked to show off for you, at least he would be the first one to finish his post-flight checks. But as he maneuvered to the hangar and started to power down the engine, he noticed two people sprinting toward him.

The minute the engines stopped spinning, before the blocks were put around his tires, the canopy was going up. “What happened? Jake demanded, glancing down at Bob and Payback’s anxious expressions.

“Get out. I’ll do your checks while Bob gets you to the hospital,” Payback ordered. 

“Hospital?” Panic nearly choked him, but Bob gave him a reassuring smile.

“No baby yet. Phoenix and Coyote are with her.” His scramble down the ladder was less than graceful, nearly ending with him landing on his ass, but Jake managed to get down safely while tugging at one of his pockets to get his phone. They - along with smart watches - were forbidden on the flightline, but he powered it on anyway. While texts rolled in from his mother and sister, there were none from you. Payback took no time, climbing into the jet to double-check things while Bob grabbed Jake’s elbow and hurried him toward his waiting car. The buckles on his g-suit clanked as he ran, helmet still in place. 

“Hangman!” 

The voice pulled him up short, and he turned to see Admiral Tritz grinning at him. “Sir.”

“Told you the first is usually late. We’ll talk about your paternity leave in a few days. Congratulations, son.”

A nervous grin tugged at his mouth, and Jake threw possibly the sloppiest salute of his career. But it didn’t matter as he put his head down and followed Bob’s jog to the parking lot. After tossing his helmet into the backseat, he called; you answered on the second ring.

“Darlin’?” 

“Jake,” you sobbed.

“Hey, Mama. You okay?” 

“I need you.” 

“I know, baby. I’m on my way.” 

“Get here. Please.” 

“I’m comin’, darlin’ - I’ll be there soon.” He kept up the reassurances, barely aware of what he was saying as he struggled to strip off his g-suit while Bob wove through traffic. Thankfully, the gates to get off base weren’t nearly as backed up as those getting on. Jake couldn’t help but think about how he was retracing the route that had started this - from picking you up on base when you fainted, to driving you to the ED to get checked out, and finding out that you were pregnant. 

But this time, rather than dropping you off and moving the truck, he was being dropped off at the hospital by Bob and rushing through the doors. With his phone pressed to his ear, listening to you breathe, he spotted Nat waiting for him in the lobby. Jake was grateful that she didn’t take the time to hug him; instead, she only motioned for him to follow. The call dropped in the elevator, which took too long, stopping at almost every floor. “She’s good, Hangman,” Nat assured him, noticing his uncharacteristic fidgeting. 

It took everything in him to keep from running in the halls. Understanding his urgency, Nat lengthened her stride to match his. And then her hand wrapped around his elbow, tugging him to a stop outside a door that he’d already started walking past. “Good luck, Jake,” she said, squeezing gently before tapping on the door and pushing it open. A curtain blocked his view, but he quickly pushed it aside to see the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Your head was lowered, one hand braced on the bed as you swayed. Your hair was piled on your head, tendrils falling and sticking to your face. Javy grinned from where he stood next to you, a hand between your shoulders and the other holding yours tightly. When you let out a moan, both men’s attention snapped back to you. Frozen in the doorway, the sound forced Jake to move, circling to take the spot at your free side. When his hand slid onto your lower back, your head lifted to meet his gaze. “Hey, darlin’.” 

Tears pricked your eyes as you bit your lip to keep from sobbing. Leaning heavily into your husband, you took his hand, nails digging into his skin. Finally, when the contraction ended, you fell into Jake’s arms. Ignoring the monitor wrapped around your belly, you snuggled as close to him as possible as his lips pressed to the top of your head. “You made it,” you breathed before bursting into tears. 

“I made it,” he echoed, hand curling around the back of your neck. Jake peppered kisses across your face until he captured your mouth, crushing you to him. “I’ve gotcha, darlin’. It’s alright, sweetheart.”  

Javy snuck out, leaving the two of you alone. At least until the nurses came back in to check on you and found you clinging to your husband as he helped you sway through another contraction.

Later, he crouched in front of you to maintain eye contact, murmuring his love as you got the epidural. Held your hand through the worst of the shakes while brushing the hair from your face, and called for medication to help with the nausea. Made sure you had whatever you needed. 

And finally, when your little girl made her long-awaited arrival, he was right beside you, blinking back tears as he watched Sloane being placed on your chest. Carefully cut her cord when Dr. Shearer offered before quickly returning to his spot on the bed. His eyes followed Sloane’s every movement as she was cleaned and weighed, unwilling to rely on the bracelets on both of your wrists and her ankle to keep track of her. 

Much later, after you moved into a recovery room and the wave of text messages congratulating you both had tapered off after you’d sent pictures of your perfect little girl, Jake sat in the uncomfortable chair next to you with his shirt off. You struggled to keep your eyes open, watching your husband’s awestruck expression as he studied Sloane’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger. “Hey,” you murmured. Immediately, his gaze swung to you, sitting up in the chair slightly. 

“Yeah? You need something, Mama?” Smiling tiredly, you shook your head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Carefully, he stood and walked closer. Sloane looked so tiny in her father’s arms, and he cautiously adjusted her before leaning down to kiss you. “Close those pretty eyes and relax, sleepy girl. Daddy’s got it.” 

Tears sprang to your eyes as you reached up to cup Jake’s cheek, your thumb tracing his jaw as he smiled softly down at you. “Babe?” 

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s a little early, but… I think we may need to revisit our contract.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as Jake grinned.

“Weren’t you the one who said we should focus on one life-changing event before doing that?” 

“I changed my mind.”

“You wanna renegotiate three months before our dating anniversary?” Biting your lower lip to keep from grinning, you nodded. “What terms are you offering?” 

Shaking your head, you traced his mouth with your thumb. “Mostly updates. We didn’t change the language to be husband and wife.” Nodding, he leaned closer to kiss you, but you pulled away at the last minute. “And I want to have McDonald's for our anniversary tradition. Dating and marriage.” 

His laugh was warm against your face before he kissed you. “You'd better offer something amazing in return to get that,” he chuckled. 

“You’re holding her.” 

Grinning, Jake looked down at his daughter and shook his head. “Sloane-girl, I love you so much. But your mama’s gonna have to offer more than you to get out of letting me spoil her rotten for one of our anniversaries.”

“If you’re implying another kid while my vagina is still recovering from pushing your daughter out - ” Jake choked on a laugh and shook his head. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. But I’m just sayin’... I could be open to it if the conditions are right.” 

“Name your terms, Seresin.”

“I’ll have to think of them, Seresin.” Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head. 

“You’ve got three months.” 

“Definitely have more than that,” he countered. “If it doesn’t make the contract this year, we’ll have the next. And then the one after that. And after that. And - ”

You cut him off with a kiss, shifting over when he sat beside you. The move jostled Sloane, who let out a dissatisfied whimper. Instantly, both of your attentions were on her, and Jake gently rocked her while settling in next to you. His arm went around your shoulders, gently encouraging you closer as you checked on her. 

And, while it wasn’t the homecoming either of you had pictured after his first big deployment, neither you nor Jake would have traded it for the world. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: She's finally here! And Jake made it home! I had struggled since starting to plot this story if it was gonna happen. I wanted this fic to be a more realistic approach to what military families go through, so initially I was going to have him watch the delivery while he was deployed. Then I thought about Mav pulling some strings with the higher ups to get him home when Darlin' went into labor the day before homecoming. But the other night I had a dream about this scenario and it fit - just a smidge of an Admiral putting his thumb on the scale to get Jake home quicker by missing a flyby rather than the entire carrier scrambling to launch one ship.

This fic isn't over - there's still at least one more chapter left. I hope this didn't disappoint after the (too long) buildup! We finally hit D-Day, i.e., delivery day (originally, I snuck the word 'delivery' into every chapter... that quickly trailed off).

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