Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Robert Floyd took in a deep, deep breath, inhaling the salty Pacific air. He stood on his own amongst a practical swarm of people, all going this way and that, yelling orders and warnings up on the flight deck. He zoned out despite the chaos, letting the wave of noise wash over him as he basked in the cool sea air. Growing up in Montana meant he’d lived most of his life as far away from the ocean as just about possible, the amount of water now surrounding him something that had previously only existed in his wildest dreams. 

That is, until he joined the Navy. This was his fourth deployment on a carrier, much to his own chagrin. Hundreds of bodies all crammed into a tight space, living practically on top of each other was just about as far from Bob’s comfort zone as things could be. He did always enjoy getting to be around the sea, though. 

“Earth to Bob,” he felt a nudge on his arm and blinked back to reality. He glanced to his right to find Natasha hovering close. She had that little smirk on her face that she often did, an unwavering confidence that Bob had always admired, even when the top of her head only came up to his nose. She pulled her assuredness off gracefully though, unlike certain other pilots from their last mission.

Their last mission. A thrill ran through Bob at the thought. He missed their Top Gun crew, all gone their separate ways after that fated suicide run. They had all grown so close in the whirlwind of those few short weeks, only to be ripped apart once again and shipped out to parts unknown. The only saving grace was that he got to stay with Phoenix. It seemed higher ups had agreed they were a perfect fit, so where she went, her backseater would follow. So here they were, the only of their previous team to be assigned to the USS Ronald Reagan .

“Hey, you ready to head down?” Nat followed up after a pause with no response, tugging on the short sleeve of his uniform.

“Do we have to?” He replied sarcastically as he sniffed, adjusting his glasses.

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back a little before patting him on the back in sympathy. “Flight deck isn’t exactly a place to hang out right now, unless you prefer to wear hearing protection all day.”

“Maybe I do.”

“We can come up later when it’s all clear. But I need you down there with me to help fight off the wolves,” she glanced down as if she could see the lower decks through the runway floor, “I heard Wyndham is here.”

“Who?” 

“Oh god, you’ve never heard of him? Only just got out of flight training but his numbers are off the charts. Little shit won’t shut up about it either. Thinks he’s hot stuff.” Natasha gave a roll of her eyes before she pivoted to her right, slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder and heading towards the stairs.

“Sounds like someone we know,” Floyd rolled his own eyes and followed suit, hoisting his rucksack and stepping up to keep pace with her.

“Who? Hangman?” She made a face like she was comparing the two in her mind, scrunching up her nose as her eyebrows danced in a few different motions. She finally chuckled evilly, letting out a snort. “Yeah, I guess they are. God, I can’t even imagine the two of them in a room together. The ship might sink from the weight of their hubris.”

“Well I know at least one of them is insufferable,” Bob added for good measure, ducking under a doorway.

“Tell me about it,” Phoenix answered, only having to worry about stepping over the high doorframe, not having to duck herself.

They didn’t talk about their destination, rather falling into companionable silence as they navigated the tight halls of the ship. Bob had never been on this vessel before, but Natasha had, and he easily followed her lead to report in with the commanding officer.

Bob let his mind drift as they navigated the narrow passageways. Despite his best efforts, it landed on the man in question: Jake Seresin. No matter what he said out loud, Bob sort of maybe kind of missed him. But only just as much as he missed the rest of their little crew, okay? Even though every time Bob was around him for more than three seconds he had the urge to wipe the smug grin off his stupid face, Seresin had something about him that drew you in, that made you want his attention, to be a part of his orbit, to have that bright gaze and pearly white grin aimed at you.

Bob absolutely hated it.

He thought back to days at the Hard Deck, sipping on a ginger ale frantically to give himself something to do, to hold him back from marching up to the man and doing something to get him to stop talking for two damn minutes.

What that something was, Bob would never let his mind actually get there.

And now, just like every other time, Floyd shut those thoughts down quickly, opting to pull out his paperwork as they made it to the main office to check in with the higher ups.

“We’re glad to have you aboard,” Admiral Isaacs finished after all the necessary information had been relayed and paperwork signed, opting to shake both their hands in lieu of a salute. As he accepted the Admiral’s firm grip a part of Bob wondered if the warm welcome had anything to do with their recent act of heroics. Either way, he wasn’t about to complain.

“Hurry up and throw your stuff in your bunk,” Natasha encouraged the second they’d made it out of the office, “I wanna head over to the ready room and see for myself what all the fuss is about.”

“You just want to knock Wyndham down a few pegs, don’t you?” Bob chuckled as he dutifully followed behind, pressing his back against a wall for a few moments to let some crew members pass.

“What, and you don’t?” She glanced over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised.

“Not really my area,” He answered with a one armed shrug, though she’d already faced back to look where they were going.

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short, Bob. You took some pretty good cracks at Hangman back at Top Gun.”

“See you in the afterlife, Bagman,” the memory flashed through Floyd’s mind and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile. Phoenix had definitely taken a shine to him after that first comeback. His smile grew bigger as he cycled through small moments during training.

“No offense intended,” Hangman drawled.

“Yet, somehow,” Bob leaned past Phoenix to stare him straight in the eyes, “you always manage.”

No sooner had he chuckled quietly to himself at the thought when the sudden recollection of long fingers sliding down his shin almost stopped him dead in his tracks. He had been sitting on Rooster’s shoulders, the whole squad shouting his name in victory as he lofted the football above his head when Hangman had suddenly been right there in front of him, his chiseled face beaming up towards Bob as the golden hour sun illuminated his tanned skin, said fingers giving a squeeze as they made it to Floyd’s ankle.

“Bob let’s, go,” she held out the ‘o’ like a whining child and Bob blinked towards her only to realize he actually had stopped in his tracks, eyes glazing over and a blush coming to his cheeks, he was sure.

God damn it. Where had that come from?

He shook his head a fraction to clear his mind before he scurried along with a “sorry,” Natasha just smirking fondly at him.

“You’re that way,” she pointed down the corridor once they’d made it to the crew quarters, the roaring sound of the flight deck close above them much louder now. “I’ll see you in the ready room.”

“‘K,” Bob responded as he stepped through a doorway, turning for a moment to watch her hurry down the opposite hall. He took in a steadying breath and turned to find his own berthing assignment, pushing his glasses further up on his nose as he kept his head down.

He finally found the right door and pushed it open quietly so as not to disturb anyone inside. Bob learned long ago that when you had time to sleep on a carrier, you absolutely did not pass up the chance. 

When he peaked around the door though, he found no one else in the room. What he did find, however, was only two bunks.

“Wha-” he said out loud, glancing back towards the hallway as if there would be a crowd watching, as if this was a prank. But the hallway remained starkly empty.

He glanced back to the two stacked beds, forehead creasing as he knit his brows together. Two man state rooms were usually reserved for those above his rank. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard of one being assigned to a Lieutenant. 

The memory of the Admiral shaking his hand came back to mind. Huh. He opened and closed his hands into fists, glancing back towards the hall again, debating whether he should find the officer in charge of rooming assignments and asking if there had been a mix up.

But…he turned back to the two, solitary beds. It would be so quiet in here, just he and whoever would be rooming with him. He didn’t see any sort of personal memorabilia gracing either bunk, so he assumed the room was currently unoccupied.

Still, for the second time that day Bob resigned that he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth as he claimed the bottom bunk, sinking down to sit on the thin mattress and gazing around the tiny room.

Well, this is home , he thought, at least for the next few months.

He made quick work of sorting his things into his accompanying locker, taking just a moment to hang up his Montana flag under the top mattress. It cascaded down in front of his own bed, creating a bit of privacy in the small space.

He pushed his hands down his thighs, smoothing out his pants as he glanced around the sparse room. Nothing really left to do here, he supposed. And with his duties only set to begin the next day, he didn’t feel much like taking a nap yet. He supposed that left him with nothing to do but find Phoenix in the ready room, God help him.

With every new posting came the harrowing task of meeting the rest of his unit. Not all pilots were as cocky as Hangman, but Bob generally found them all much the same: too much confidence and not enough common sense. Then again, he supposed you did have to be just a little bit crazy to pilot a sixteen ton aircraft at nearly Mach two. 

With one last sigh and nothing else to do Bob braced himself as he maneuvered down the hall, the sound of jet engines barely muffled by the thick bulkhead above. He idly wondered how many pilots would actually be in the ready room, and how many were waiting in their planes up above, or, lucky for them, already in the air.

He probably could have guessed the scene he would find before he’d even walked through the open ready room door: half a dozen pilots lounging in the wide chairs, presumably already done with their 14:00 briefing for the day. There was one pilot standing in the aisle, as other young, sparkly eyed pilots swiveled in their chairs to look at him, seemingly hung up on his every word. Wyndham, he presumed.

Bob spotted Phoenix leaning against the back wall, a look on her face like she was three seconds from letting out a cackle, an expression that Floyd interpreted in his own mind as, “ aw, look at that little child. ”

He had to agree with her as he about-faced and plastered his back against the steel wall, pressing his shoulder into hers as they took in the scene before them.

“God we’re old,” she whispered and he nodded silently in agreement. The pilots currently filling up the room were practically babies , all doe-eyed and fresh out of training. Bob zeroed in on the pilot that was standing, rattling off some story about his own prowess, wearing his flightsuit like the rest, the dark fabric a stark contrast to Bob and Natasha’s service khakis. Floyd tilted his head back and observed the man…boy? He looked like he was barely even twenty with his hair slicked back, somehow even more blonde than Hangman’s, and his face completely smooth. Of course it was regulation to be clean shaven, but Bob wondered if the kid could even grow a beard.

“That’s amazing, Quarterback,” one of the pilot’s responded, with practical hearts in his eyes as he gazed at the standing pilot.

Quarterback? That was his callsign? Of fucking course. Bob had to summon all the willpower within him not to let out any noise, whether a groan or mocking laughter, he wasn’t sure.

All the other pilots chimed in their admiration, their young faces all practically beaming in hero worship. Suddenly Bob’s thirty years on this earth felt ancient. He sniffed once and stood a little taller, which finally seemed to get the attention of the man of the hour.

“And what do we have here?” Wyndham asked, causing the other pilots to swivel their gaze over to the pair. “Fresh meat?”

“You’re one to talk, Wyndham,” Natasha answered casually, pushing off the wall with a calm smile. “You graduated from high school, what, last week, is that it?”

“Ha-ha,” Wyndham drew out and Bob mused that he would look like a regular boyscout if there wasn’t something smarmy in his very aura. “I didn’t know they let pilots my grandparents age still fly,” his voice was whiny, pinched.

Yep, scratch that, this guy wasn’t a boyscout he was Draco fucking Malfoy.

“I was just thinking that we’re stooping real low if we’re letting actual children fly now,” Natasha shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Oh yeah, and I’m the golden child, if you hadn’t heard,” he corrected, leaning into her jab, which made Natasha’s lip curl. “Practically perfect scores all around. Didn’t see your name on the leader board at all, Phoenix.”

Chuckles from the aviators around him had Bob frowning and stepping up to Phoenix’s side for some back up.

“And who’s this, your brother?” Wyndham sneered, jutting his chin out as his eyes roamed over Bob’s figure, up and down. He reminded Floyd so much of Seresin in that moment. Although he wouldn’t really mind if Jake looked him up and down, a small part of his mind whispered.

Damn it, now was not the time.

“This is Bob, callsign Bob,” Natasha challenged, stepping closer into Wyndham’s space, “and he’s a goddamn hero, you jackass.”

“ Bob? Are you serious ?” Wyndham's eyes practically sparkled in amusement, which, touché. Still, Bob felt something tighten in his chest at the mockery. The other pilots laughed along with him, eyebrows raising and smirks all around. 

“Did you hear that, Avalanche?” Wyndham asked in a faux whisper, throwing his arm around a pilot who Bob could only assume was his wingman, “his callsign is Bob!”

The two giggled like the children they were, with Avalanche pounding on Quarterback’s chest for dramatic effect. “Are you…” Wyndham had to stop to breathe through his laughter, “are you really that boring?”

“You know that’s the same thought I had,” a drawling voice came suddenly from behind Bob and he absolutely forgot how to breathe in that moment.

“Can I help you?” Wyndham’s expression was suddenly serious, his smile fading to a frown as he sized up whoever was behind Bob.

Although, Bob knew exactly who it was.

“Trust me, what Bobby lacks in originality, he sure makes up for in skill,” a heavy arm suddenly settled over Bob’s shoulders and drew him to the side, towards a warm torso.

Bob took in a shallow breath, then another, his mind currently short-circuiting, before he turned his head just far enough to see the interloper’s face right next to his. A face he knew well: Jake Seresin.

And, what? What the hell was he doing here? Bob hadn’t heard a peep that anyone else from their last mission would be stationed on this ship, only him and Phoenix.

“They didn’t tell me you’d be here,” Wyndham all but whined, taking a step back as his body sagged like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

“I’m everywhere, baby,” Jake responded with a wink and another squeeze to Bob’s shoulder which made a shiver run inexplicably down Floyd’s spine.

“Wait, who is this?” One of the young pilot’s piped up from the back of the group and Phoenix and Bob groaned in unison.

“Don’t-” Phoenix began in warning.

“Who am I?” Hangman responded, finally removing his hand from Bob’s shoulder only to press it against his chest in a offense.

“I’m-”

“This is Hangman,” Wyndham beat him to it with a snarl, “soon to be a relic of the Navy. I seem to have beaten your high scores, old man.”

“Aw, did you? That’s sweet. And you beat my two air-to-air kills record?”

“Your what?” Another pilot interjected from the back as they all moved their adoring gazes from Quarterback to Hangman, their awestruck mouths agape.

“Wait, you’re the Hangman? From the recent Top Gun mission? That must mean that you’re Phoenix.”

“Nice to finally get some courtesy around here,” she replied dryly, “Bob is my backseater. Best there is.”

Bob was sure he was blushing under the praise. He shifted his weight and cursed himself a little when his bare elbow touched the exposed skin of Seresin’s bicep.

“Well I thought I’d check in, but I’ll leave you kids to your little stories, I’ve got actual work to do,” Jake explained as he reached out a hand to pat Phoenix on the shoulder. She responded with a tiny smile, exemplifying just how much their relationship had grown in the pressure of that suicide mission. 

“See you around, newbie,” Jake winked at Wyndham, before taking a moment to look at Bob, slap him on the back, and spin on a heel towards the door.

“What the hell was that?” Avalanche looked completely taken aback, staring at the empty space that Seresin had left in his wake.

“Looks like you’ve met your match, Wyndham,” Natasha sneered, turning in a wide circle as she passed by the young aviator to grin in his face, only to turn around and hook her arm through Bob’s. 

“We’ll see you around,” she said over her shoulder, pulling Bob with her and out into the hall.

Well, Bob thought, this was certainly going to be an interesting month.

Chapter Text

“Did you know he would be here?” Bob hissed at Natasha the second they’d made it to another hallway, keeping his head conspiratorially low.

“What? I- no. No!” She kept her gaze suspiciously forward.

“You knew? ‘Tasha, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, you two don’t exactly get along, and I know how anxious you get about new postings. I thought you might dread it even more if you knew that Hangman would be here. How did you put it? He’s ‘insufferable’?”

Bob could still feel the handprint from where Jake had smacked him on the back right between his shoulder blades. How the man could go from praising Bob and throwing an arm around his shoulder just like he would Coyote, to walking back out of the room without so much as a “nice to see you, Bob,” confounded the WSO to no end.

“Well, apparently nobody is worse than Wyndham,” he didn’t keep pressing. Despite his shock, he appreciated her looking out for him.

“Gah, right?” Her eyes were bright as she finally looked towards him again and grabbed his arm in emphasis, “I ran into him a few times when I was back in Arizona. I didn’t think I’d ever have a real life nemesis, but here we are, stuck on board with a young and pretentious Bryce Harper himself.”

“Who’s that?”

“Sports, Robert. Baseball,” she said in a way she had many times before, always exasperated by his lack of knowledge in the world of professional athletes.

“I was thinking Draco Malfoy,” he countered.

“Oh…oh is he the….hhmm, the…”

“Movies, ‘Tasha. It’s-”

“Harry Potter!” She yelled, the sound echoing down the hall before she slammed a hand over her mouth, abashed. Someone chuckled in the distance.

“Shh!” Bob tried to keep his own laughter silent, nudging her in the shoulder so she squished against the wall. 

“Well is it?” She whispered, cheeks rosy pink in contained mirth as she barely held back her own laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, you win this round,” he pulled an imaginary wallet out of his back pocket and mimed grabbing some cash before slapping a hand flat on Phoenix’s outheld palm in payment.

“Thank you,” she twirled back to face front, tilting her chin up in triumph. “Now, do you want a little tour? Ship’s not very different from the Washington , but it’s a whole decade newer. Twenty-first century!”

“Probably christened the same year as Wyndham,” Bob said under his breath which had Phoenix guffawing down the hall.

They walked through the ship with Natasha in the lead, ducking under doors and pipes, stepping out of the way of passing groups or officers, and taking note of specific areas that Phoenix pointed out like medbay, the workout rooms, and most importantly, the mess.

“You wanna go grab something?” She nodded towards the open door, the almost comfortingly familiar smell of cafeteria food wafting towards them.

“Yeah, I think I wanna change into my flight suit first. Won’t stick out so much in there,” Bob eyed the filled tables; there was always a crowd in the mess.

“Okay, suit yourself. I’m gonna go in, but come grab me and we’ll go get our food together.” She gave him a smile and a two fingered salute from her eyebrow before disappearing inside.

Bob took the long way back to his quarters, taking the extra time to try to get his thoughts in order. Why had Hangman’s sudden appearance shaken him to this extent? Why should he care so much that Jake was here? The man frustrated him to no end - always swooping in, hogging everyone’s attention no matter who he had to trample on to get it. He was stuck-up, self-centered, and generally an asshole. Bob let out a sharp sigh. He was sure Jake would be thrilled beyond belief at how much headspace he was currently occupying in Floyd’s mind. 

God, even imaginary Jake was obnoxious.

And yet, somehow, Hangman always managed to redeem himself. To find that tiny moment to do something extremely kind, or to show up in the nick of time like a fucking superhero just when everyone needed him most. Maybe that’s why Bob’s mind kept coming back to him, again and again and ag-

Nope, he told himself, stop right there.

Bob pushed open the door to his rack in frustration, ready for just one moment of peace and quiet, when he looked up and stopped short at what he saw:

Hanging on the top bunk of his two man stateroom was a Texas flag. 

He felt the blood drain from his face. Oh no, this could not be happening. Who else did he know that happened to be from Texas and was very proud of that fact; who showed up within the last hour, and wouldn’t have been here the first time Bob inspected his room?

He was dreaming right? 

He took off his glasses to squeeze the corners of his eyes between his thumb and forefinger, light blooming in the darkness behind his eyelids as he pressed down hard, before he wiggled the silver frames back on his face and looked up.

The Texas Star still loomed ominously.

Well, fuck.

The red, white and blue symbol hanging over the bed was almost twice as big as Bob’s own, now obscured, State flag, tucked up under the already existing curtain rod and billowing down to encroach on the lower bunk. “NTANA” Bob’s own emblem read underneath it.

And if that didn’t just sum up who owned that flag, Bob didn’t know what else would.

Things can’t get any worse, can they, he thought as he just stared at the conjoined beds, exceedingly glad that his roommate was nowhere to be seen. Taking advantage of that, Bob undressed and pulled on his flight suit as quickly as possible before taking a big, long whiff of air and holding his breath. This might be his last moment of peace for a good long while.

He booked it out of there before the Texan who must not be named showed up, setting off at a fast clip towards the mess. Would nowhere be safe for him on this ship? He was suddenly glad he was about to have almost no free time to himself. Less time to think, less time to worry, less time to focus on certain stuck-up pilots who definitely already had all the attention they needed, thank you.

Exhibit A: Bob walked into the mess only to be greeted with the sight of Hangman parked at a table with a group crowded around him, all but piled on the metal surface to lean in close and listen to the tale of how Jake had broken protocol, defied orders, and saved the day.

Floyd rolled his eyes. Despite the enthusiasm of the audience, he was comforted to note that the handful of aviators he spotted in the group seemed closer to his own age than of the kids he’d glimpsed earlier. 

Small mercies.

Natasha was clear across the room in a huddle with other crew members, most likely officer’s she’d met the last time she was stationed on this ship. He caught her eye and tilted his head towards the serving line and she bowed out of her conversation only a moment later to come join him.

“You missed Hangman’s grand entrance,” her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she held out her tray to receive a spoonful of green beans. “He ripped off his sunglasses and everything like he was in a god damn movie. How long was he roaming the halls with them on?” She looked back over her shoulder to observe the crowd still lounging around him and shook her head in disbelief, though there was a tiny smile pulling at her lips.

“Well, I found out what he was doing before wandering the halls,” Bob stared down at his food.

“Oh god, what did he do?”

“Apparently he’s my one and only roommate.”

“He’s what? ” She spluttered a little too loudly and Bob winced as nearby sailors turned their heads and perked up their ears to hear the latest scuttlebutt.

“I got back to my room and there was a Texas flag dangling over the top bunk,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, you got a two-man? How on earth did you pull that off?” She pouted, “I’m at a four-top.”

“You’re missing the point, ‘Tasha,” he said, maybe even a little frantically, “I’m gonna be stuck in there with Jake.”

“Fine, you’re right, I’m sorry Bob,” she gave him a pat on the shoulder, “but you’ll hardly see each other in there. Or at least you’ll be unconscious for most of it.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself…” 

“Or maybe you’ll actually learn to be friends?” She gave him the most obvious fake grin, “stranger things have happened.”

Bob didn’t answer, instead he very slowly looked over his shoulder, finally risking a glance back at Jake.

Blue eyes met green as their gazes locked across the room and Floyd let out the tiniest gasp. Did Jake somehow know they were talking about him? It’s like the man had a sixth sense. A few years ago, or maybe even before he’d had the confidence boost of their last mission, Bob might have whipped back around, ducked his head, and walked right out of there, food forgotten in a mad dash to get out of the spotlight. As it was he held his ground, staring back at the blonde who was munching on a spoonful of meatloaf, his eyes bright in challenge as he leered back at the WSO. 

Ugh, Bob finally rolled his eyes for the second time in the past ten minutes and gave up, not looking back again to see Hangman’s reaction at his staring contest victory. Instead he followed Natasha to sit at a table near the wall. He was about to ask about her own roommates when someone sat uncomfortably close to him on the bench.

“Hey can you-”

“Hey Bobby boy, did ya miss me?”

Hangman. Of course. Because why would Bob have ever expected anyone else?

“Your groupies already get tired of you?” Natasha jabbed, not even waiting to swallow as she chomped on her veggies.

“How many autographs d’you think I signed?” Jake leaned an elbow on the table, cupping his chin in his hand and winked at her.

“Ugh, Bob is right, you are insufferable.”

“Uh!” Jake threw his other hand to his chest, though he didn’t sit up from his lean, “you called me what, Robert?”

“You heard her,” Bob just sipped his unsweet tea.

“And when you say insufferable, that just means you lo-”

“Well isn’t this a sweet family reunion,” a whiny voice came from the end of the table and the three comrades all turned in unison to find the culprit.

“Is this the table reserved for the elderly?” Wyndham continued, with Avalanche and a few of the other pilots lingering behind him.

“If that’s your only joke, Quarterback, you’re never gonna win stand-up night,” Phoenix answered boredly, pointing her fork in his direction, bits of potato flying towards him.

He gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he searched for a retort and Jake let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back in a distracting way that exposed his long neck, which Bob most definitely did not notice.

“Already on Phoenix’s bad side? Word of advice, my man, you’re gonna have to fight fire with fire. She doesn’t go down easy.” Jake reached forward as if to boop her on the nose, one finger extended, before she aggressively slapped his hand away.

“So cute,” Jake wrinkled his nose at her and she snarled back.

“Fuck you, Hangman.”

“Yeah, fuck you, Hangman,” Bob agreed, lifting his glass in the air in solidarity. 

“Oh, well, if you really want to, Bobby,” Jake swiveled all his focus towards Bob, eyelids half closed as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down, his face getting closer and closer to Bob’s as he leaned towards him on the bench.

Oh shit. Bob could feel his heart beating in his chest even as he leaned away, though that only seemed to spur Jake on.

“What are you gay or something?” Quarterback gasped. He seemed to have recovered from his lack of witty retort and slid his way onto the seat opposite of Hangman, which Phoenix answered with her worst stink eye.

Bob could feel himself freeze, even as he leaned away from Jake and Natasha’s eyes snapped to him immediately. His sexuality was something he very carefully did not discuss with the group at large. In fact, Phoenix was really the only one who knew. And Rooster, he supposed, though he really only suspected after Bob got hit on by another guy at the Hard Deck and didn’t exactly say “no.”

Bob had grown in himself so much over the years, after a childhood spent so ashamed of who he was; everyone telling him he was a freak, and sick in the head, and not right…now he knew that wasn’t true. But that didn’t mean he was ready to open himself up to those comments, especially in the Navy, even with DADT a decade behind them, and especially stuck in the middle of the ocean with no escape in sight. He couldn’t imagine what fresh hell Hangman and Quarterback would unleash on him if he gave them so much as a shrug.

“And what if I am?” Jake suddenly cut in, sitting back up to his full height. Bob glanced over to find that  Hangman's expression was as laid back as ever, but something in his eyes was now alert, sharp, as he glanced between Phoenix and Bob, before rounding a lazy stare at Quarterback.

Bob had been so ready to defend himself - or, more accurately, ill prepared to do just that - he hadn’t even considered Wyndham could be talking about either of them. And why did Jake seem so calm about all of this?

“Besides, why would I wanna keep all of this…” Hangman gestured towards his chest, puffing it out, “to only one group, if you know what I mean?” He clicked twice with the corner of his mouth, this time turning his leer on Quarterback.

Oh. Oh. 

“Oh, great, just what we need,” Quarterback’s lip curled, “a couple of-”

“Watch it, kid,” Jake was all of a sudden serious, his eyes flashing for a split second before that sluggish smile returned to his face, “you’re gettin’ dangerously close to a harassment violation.” 

“Like you’ve never had one of those before,” Avalanche added from Quarterback’s side, though his eyes were still wide, waiting for something to go down.

“Never have,” Jake flashed his incandescent teeth and sat back, proud of himself.

“Wait, you haven’t?” Natasha finally joined the conversation again, the deep crease in her forehead finally starting to smooth out as Jake steered the conversation back to less dangerous water.

“What can I say? The people love me.” Seresin then leaned to his left and draped an arm around Bob, letting his wrist flop against Floyd’s clavicle, tanned fingers hanging down to whisper against the other Lieutenant's chest. 

Bob clenched his teeth as hard as he could to avoid a full-body flinch. Why was Jake so touchy all of a sudden? Come to think of it, he was always touchy, but never with Bob . He couldn’t decide if he wanted it to end immediately or last forever. 

Gah, this beautiful blonde man was so confounding.

Still, he realized he’d already been distracted from his outright panic a moment ago, and leaned ever so slightly, infinitesimally, mind you, back towards the pilot.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Natasha smiled too sweetly and leaned forward, this time to boop Jake on the nose, which she actually accomplished. Of course Seresin didn’t seem perturbed, pursing his lips in a kiss as her hand retracted, though he didn't make contact, and she responded with a fake gag.

“Glad we got this little chat out of the way,” Jake slapped his palms on the table and braced them down as he stood, stepping out of the mess hall bench. “I’m gonna go get my beauty rest so I can kick all your asses in drills tomorrow. You behave yourself young man,” he made a 'v' with two fingers, pointing them from his own eyes towards Quarterback, which had all the other young pilots tittering in laughter as Wyndham's face went beet red.

Seresin saluted them with the free hand not carrying his tray and Bob let his shoulders relax a little, not turning to watch him go.

“See you at home, roomie,” Jake’s voice was suddenly right in Floyd’s ear, hot breath ghosting across his neck, before the lieutenant gave him the quickest peck on the cheek, which had Wyndham all but flailing back in disgust across the table.

“Wait, w- what?” Bob felt his own cheeks go hot and knew he was probably flushed from head to toe. How did Hangman know who he was rooming with? Did he know Bob was from Montana? He didn’t know the pilot even cared that much to take notice. He spun to ask Jake to explain himself, but the pilot was already halfway across the room.

He turned back to see what Natasha thought about all of this and caught Wyndham's absolutely petulant expression on the way. He slowly moved his eyes from Quarterback to Phoenix, who was just barely holding in her laughter, both lips pressed together so tight they were almost white.

“Ready to go?” Bob asked, ignoring the both of them, and taking one last fortifying swig of his tea.

“Sure taught you a lesson, huh?” She thankfully didn't say anything further about Jake, instead directing her attention to Wyndham as she picked up her own tray reaching out to ruffle the kid’s hair as she passed behind him, which had him downright fuming.

“I’m still better than him,” he spluttered, but even Avalanche looked a little unsure.

Phoenix barked out a loud laugh, bracing a free hand on her knee so she could come down to his eye level, "this isn't high school anymore, kid. If you really wanna be the best, you can't just shout the loudest, you're gonna have to prove it."

Bob picked up his own tray and swung up to join Natasha as she sauntered off, channeling Hangman's energy herself, as she left the stuck-up pilot grumbling to his friends in her wake.

The WSO instantly recalled the past few minutes in his mind as he dutifully dropped off his tray in the cleanup line, Phoenix on his heels. Had Jake really just defended him? In a roundabout way, Bob supposed. But still, he’d berated Wyndham in a way nobody had ever seemed to before.

Huh.

Maybe…maybe Jake had more good moments than Bob realized?

He thought ahead on the trip to his room, about opening the door to that giant Texas flag and no doubt Jake's shit eating grin.

Nah. 

Chapter Text

Bob took his sweet time making his way back to his bunk, wandering up and down a few decks as he tried to memorize the layout. Natasha was right, however, the ship wasn’t much different from other carriers he’d crewed before. Feeling like he could pretty confidently make his way around after a much shorter time than he’d hoped for, he didn’t have much else to do but return to his room.

It’s just Jake, he told himself, you can just act civil and ignore him as much as possible, just like normal. 

A small part of his brain whispered that maybe it didn’t want to ignore Jake like normal. 

He tamped that thought down as soon as it drew breath. 

Floyd finally worked up the nerves to enter their shared room, steeling himself for the absolute onslaught he was probably about to receive. He turned down the handle, pushing the heavy door inwards, and braced himself for the full on Seresin treatment.

Only he was alone. Jake’s belongings had been moved, so obviously he’d come back here like he’d promised earlier, but now there was no sign of him.

Bob deflated a little, his posture sagging, with more adrenaline running out of him than he’d anticipated. God, how did Jake get under his skin like this?

He suddenly felt exponentially tired. If every day of bunking with Jake was going to be like this, he was going to have to find some way to cope. Venting to Phoenix, he supposed, or maybe just a shit ton of coffee. Probably still wouldn’t be enough. 

Bob pulled off his glasses and wiped a hand down his face, setting his frames down next to his pillow as he always did. He went through his normal nightly routine to get ready for bed, on edge for a sudden interruption all the while, but even as the minutes wore on, there was no sign of Hangman.

The sneaking feeling that he was being lulled into a false sense of security and that Jake was about to jump out and announce he’d been punked wouldn’t leave Bob’s mind, but as he climbed into his bunk and pulled up his blanket, the man still hadn’t appeared. 

Bob started to drift off almost immediately, a skill he’d learned long ago. He and all his comrades had adapted to sleep any time, any where. Just as unconsciousness was about to take him, the door opened.

It was Seresin, he could tell from the outlined silhouette, but he uncharacteristically left the lights off for Bob. Floyd had just assumed that Hangman would need to draw attention to himself at literally all times possible, but instead he snuck around the room in an effort to keep the noise down to let Bob sleep. 

Bob was oddly touched, and more than that, relieved. He had certainly not been ready for a one on one conversation with Hangman tonight, much less now that he was all drowsy. Maybe the man did have a couple caring bones in his body. 

Hangman had a towel draped over his shoulders, obviously just back from the gym; his khaki uniform hanging open and unbuttoned on his lean frame. Bob couldn’t help but squint an eye open to take in the sight, focus wandering to where the sweat pooling at Jake’s clavicle just above his ribbed tanktop glistened in the light radiating from the hall. 

Something slammed against the ground all of a sudden and Bob’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t realized how very close to sleep he had been, even with one eye open, but now he was wide awake. 

“Sorry Bobby,” Jake whispered softly, bending to retrieve whatever had fallen from his top bunk and Bob could see the outline of the man’s blonde head bent close to his own. 

With his sleepy mind he had the horrible urge to touch; to reach out and run his fingers through those lovely locks. Would Jake’s hair be soft? Or maybe crinkly with product holding it in place.

“Sorry,” Jake whispered again as his face rose, still kneeling. “G’night,” he said even more quietly, reaching to pat a hand on Bob’s shoulder before standing and hoisting himself into his own bunk. 

Ok, so that had just happened. Since when was Jake this nice, this normal? If Bob wasn’t back to being seconds away from sleep he’s sure he’d lie there for an hour, breaking down every little detail of that interaction. Somehow the touch hadn’t startled him. It was nice, Jake mumbling lowly near his ear, his long fingers patting Bob’s shoulder. 

Hmmm, nice. 

Bob drifted off to sleep. 

…

Bob’s alarm rang shrilly in his ears and he barely resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room. He heard Hangman growl out a distasteful groan above him, followed by the quick shuffle of sheets which told Bob he’d rolled over in frustration. 

The WSO smirked a little to himself. Of all people he’d assumed would be a morning person, Jake was definitely on the list. Now though, as he stood from his bunk and risked a glance at Seresin, the man had his face buried in his pillow, one side propped up higher by a hand to block out any potential light. 

Beauty rest indeed. 

Floyd spent his morning in relative peace, hitting the gym before making his way to the showers. Upon returning to his bunk, Jake was once again MIA, and Bob wondered if all his earlier fears were unfounded, if they really weren’t going to be seeing much of each other after all. 

The second he stepped into the mess, though, he changed his mind.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jake’s attitude about the early hour apparently changed as soon as he was fully conscious, and his blinding grin this early in the morning was the last thing Bob wanted to see.

“Coffee,” Floyd answered by way of greeting and Hangman just sniggered at him, stepping out of the way to let Bob proceed. 

He added his typical cream, no sugar, to the dark liquid, taking a sip before joining the food line and finally started to feel like a person again. Time to see how many cups he was going to need to make it through a full day stuck with Seresin in the middle of the ocean. Plus a few thousand other crew members. And Wyndham, he almost forgot about Wyndham. Oh god, as if Jake wasn’t already enough.

By the time his tray was full Bob realized he had a conundrum on his hands. He could either go and make new friends, sit with some crew mates he’d never met or…he looked over to see Jake sitting relatively by himself, somehow not already making a spectacle at breakfast. Or he could sit with someone he already knew. 

Ah, fuck it. 

“Robert Floyd, coming to sit with little old me?” Jake’s eyes were practically glowing in mischief as Bob approached and took a seat in the chair opposite. “Aw, roomie, I knew you loved me.”

“I tolerate you,” Bob responded mildly even as a strange flutter ran through his chest. 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” 

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to fall asleep to these dulcet tones every night?”

“Thanks for not waking me up,” Bob mumbled quietly, looking down at his oatmeal.

Jake seemed taken aback at the sudden change in subject paired with the honest words. The corners of his eyes softened for a moment, his grin falling away at the edges.

“Don’t mention it,” his smile was soft before he chomped on a spoonful of cereal.

“Well, would you look at this,” Natasha materialized behind Bob, pitch steadily rising throughout her exclamation, “are you guys best friends now?”

“We braided each other’s hair all night,” Seresin’s grin was back to shit-eating intensity and Bob could only let out a put-upon sigh in response. 

“Hangman snores.”

“Hey, you take that back, I do not,” Jake snagged a piece of bacon from Bob’s plate as recompense. Bob held a hand at the ready to smack any more fingers that crossed the border of his tray. 

Natasha didn’t say anything, but her eyes darted between them as she slowly sat down, barely looking at her food to instead focus solely on their banter.

“What?” Bob asked when he noticed her stare, hand still hovering. Jake used the distraction to grab another piece, cackling in glee.

“Nothin’” Phoenix smirked like she was barely holding in a laugh or some other remark. 

“I’m so ready for drills today,” Hangman interrupted before she could share her thoughts with the class, and for once Bob was glad he was taking the spotlight. 

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Natasha finally dug into her own food.

“By Wyndham? Not a chance in hell.”

“No, by us, dumbass,” she threw a sugar packet in Hangman’s direction. 

“Still think you can beat me, Phoenix? Didn’t seem to work out all that well last time.”

“I seem to recall all three of us doing pushups on the tarmac,” she didn’t seem phased, just sipped at her black coffee.

“Oh, I remember. Can’t believe you could both keep up. Bob keeps his muscles well hidden from the rest of us, don’t ya?”

Floyd could feel heat rising on his cheeks, stretching all the way up to his forehead. He was sure he was beet red, either because Hangman had actually noticed his physique, or from the memory of doing push ups right next to the man, Jake’s bare arm brushing up against him every so often as the sun started to set. 

“Well whatever happens,” Phoenix leaned in closer, her voice low and conspiratory, “one of us has to top the chart today, I can’t stand that little twerp’s bragging.”

“Mission accepted,” Hangman drummed a little rhythm on the table with his hands.

The trio finished their meal and headed out to the ready room for their 07:00 briefing, some of the older aviators Bob had noticed in the caf the day before joining their squad meeting, thank God.

Soon they were all donning their hearing protection and heading up to the flight deck. Bob boarded his own aircraft with Natasha and then it was their turn to sit and wait for launch. 

It was always exhilarating, taking off on a carrier. Instead of the gradual build up to speed that a runway offered, they were literally careened off the bow of the ship, zero to one sixty-five in two seconds flat. 

It was so good to be back in the air. Bob found he could forget his worries when he was flying, even if it was under stressful circumstances. But there was nothing like the concentration of being in the air that focused him down to the present moment. 

While they waited they had a chance to watch the other pilots, listen to the radio chatter. Jake was strangely quiet. Bob had expected him to start babbling the second everyone else could hear, but apparently that honor fell to Quarterback now. The kid would not shut up, to the point that Bob and Phoenix were giggling in their seats, it was too much.

Unfortunately, however, Wyndham was good. Very good. Bob could begrudgingly see how he’d topped all the charts in flight training. 

When all was said and done nobody could beat Quarterback’s scores for the day, Hangman included, and Bob could only imagine the confrontation that would occur the second they all made it back to the ready room. 

“What were you saying about beating me this morning?” Bob’s prediction proved correct as Quarterback was already moving in for the kill the second their squad made it back from the flight deck. 

“Just letting you get warmed up, kid,” Jake seemed to take it in stride with an easy smile, which surprised Bob. He thought Jake’s pride and competitive nature would win over, have him snapping back at Wyndham by now, but the jabs seemed to roll off his back like water off the hull. 

“Next maneuver training is in three days. Hope that’s enough time for you to recover, Hangman,” Quarterback challenged and Bob would really love to swat the kid in his pretentious little face. “Shall we make a little wager, or are you afraid you can’t beat me again?”

“What’re the stakes?” Jake stepped right up into Wyndham’s personal space, bringing himself up to full height. Ah, there was the Jake Bob knew. 

“Loser takes cleaning duty from the other for a week.”

“You’re on,” Hangman barely let the younger aviator finish before he was sealing the deal. 

For once in his life Bob actually hoped Hangman would win, which, when did that happen? He glanced between the two blondes, still staring each other down and shook his head at himself minutely. The things this little punk was driving him to do, like root for Seresin of all things. 

After the bet had been made and sealed with a handshake, they all went their separate ways, moving into the aforementioned cleaning duties, as well as their normal rounds for the day, checking in with CO’s, memorizing tasks and new maneuvers, and sneaking in a meal when they could. 

Bob didn’t see Jake again until that night. He dragged his tired body into their shared room, noticing that Seresin was already lounging on the top bunk, a book in his hand. 

“Didn’t know you could read,” came out of his mouth before he thought much of it, and Bob almost blanched at his own remark. Since when did he start jabbing at Hangman first?

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Bob,” Jake looked up from his page with sparkling eyes at Floyd, full of something that made Bob realize he was gearing up for more.  

“Didn’t know that-“

Bob’s retort died on his tongue as a knock sounded at the door. He shot a quick look at Seresin who just had his eyebrows drawn, also unaware of who it could be.

Bob took a moment to straighten up his uniform just in case and yanked the heavy door open.

“I’ve been reassigned.”

“What?” All Bob could do was stare at Natasha planted outside his room, hands crossed over her chest. 

“They’re sending me on tour.”

“But you’re already on-“

“No, I mean…they’re sending me out to help with recruiting.”

“What?” Jake exclaimed from behind Bob and slammed his book shut. 

“Apparently they’re trying to recruit more women and they thought…they want me to be a representative.”

“Just because you’re a woman?” Jake had made his way off his bunk and across the room to crowd into the doorway next to Bob, planting one hand above the door so he could lean in, his shoulder brushing up against Floyd’s.

“Being in close quarters with a bunch of men isn’t exactly what I’d call enticing…”

“What’s not enticing about this?” Jake gestured between himself and Bob and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“What about…am I coming with you?” Bob’s voice came out quieter than he meant for it to. 

Natasha’s eyes darted around for a moment, from the floor to Bob and back as she chewed on her lip.

“No, apparently…no.”

It had felt almost like a joke up until that very moment, when the realization that she wasn’t kidding and this was really happening started to sink in. What the hell was he supposed to do without Phoenix? Something like panic started to work its way up from Bob’s toes, making rapid progress towards his heart, his lungs. 

“Then who am I assigned to?” He got out shakily.

Phoenix bit her lip harder and this time her eyes jumped from Bob to Jake for a long moment.

Then back to Bob. 

“No.”

“Wait.”

“No.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chapter Text

It’d been two days since Natasha packed up and left, right after hooking an arm around Bob’s neck, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and giving him one last squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Bob, I’ll try to be back soon.”

She had stepped behind Bob to give Jake similar treatment, though their embrace was brief, Seresin slapping her twice on the back like she was just one of the guys. She punched him in the arm as she pulled away, murmuring something low that Bob could not hear, but as Hangman’s eyes flicked from Phoenix to him and back, that stupid smirk pulling at his lips, Bob knew it was something along the lines of, “hurt my Bob and I’ll kill you.”

Two days since Natasha shipped out, two days of waiting for the next flight drill, two days of icy treatment from Jake. Bob had expected him to either talk nonstop about how easy the whole thing was going to be, how he could fly any plane, with a backseater or not, or, to grumble the whole time about how he was fine on his own and didn’t need to trundle someone else along with him on every flight.

He’d ended up doing neither, instead remaining eerily quiet for the next forty-eight hours, which made Bob’s nerves prickle all the more.

He had hardly seen his roommate since Natasha left. Apparently even Hangman was giving him the cold shoulder now, stewing at the injustice of it all, no doubt,  and Bob felt more alone than ever, even surrounded by hundreds of fellow crewmen.

Finally the day came for their next flight drill. Bob followed Jake up onto the flight deck, up the ladder and into their jet without so much as a word. Not a “we’ve got this,” “let’s kick Wyndham’s ass,” or even “don’t screw this up, Bobby.”

“Hangman-“ Bob finally built up the courage to speak up as they sat in the cockpit, waiting for launch.

“Shut it, Floyd, I don’t want to be here any more than you do,” Jake cut him off from the pilot’s seat. 

“That’s not fair, maybe we can make it work.”

“Yeah well, the sooner Phoenix is back, the sooner I can be back on my own.”

“It’s not like I picked this either,” Bob felt a swell of indignation roll up his throat, “let’s just get it done.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jake scoffed as the engines roared, “it can’t be that difficult.”

It was a complete fucking disaster. 

Jake didn’t listen to a word Bob said, breaking right and left without any sort of warning, and by the end of the drill the migraine throbbing behind the WSO’s left eye from all the unexpected g-force was just about bad enough to take him out. 

“What the hell was that?” Bob snarled the second he crossed the threshold of the ready room, the pain arching across his brow enough to fuel his anger and damper any reluctance he’d normally have for confrontation.

“Oh, you’re asking me that? I shouldn’t have to tell you how to do your job, Bob,” Hangman pushed right back, rounding on the lieutenant and sticking his pointer finger harshly into the dip of Bob’s shoulder. 

“You didn’t listen to a word I said, Seresin,” Bob slapped his wrist away, “yo-“

“Maybe because I already know what I’m doing,” Jake cut him off and stepped further into Bob’s space until they were practically nose to nose. Floyd’s utterly ridiculous subconscious obviously picked that moment to notice they were the exact same height, “I don’t need you to tell m-“

“Apparently you don’t know what you’re doing at all, or you’d know that I’m in charge of the damn laser, Hangman, you-“

“Tired of your baby on board already?” Wyndham’s tinny voice asked and that was the last straw. In a split second they were both snapping their faces towards the second lieutenant, chests still only inches apart. 

“Shut the fuck up, Wyndham,”
“Can it, Quarterback.”

They spoke in unison. Quarterback just lifted a blonde brow, unimpressed.

“What’d you call him?” Jake shifted to face the younger pilot, shoulder bumping into Bob’s chest as if they were allies now, squabble forgotten. He had the energy of a tiger about to pounce, shoulders raised tensely, chin tilted down with intent. 

“Baby on board. You know, BOB?” Avalanche snickered from one of the nearby chairs, swiveling around in obvious glee. 

“Yeah, real fucking original,” Seresin snapped and Bob suddenly had no idea what to do. His head was still throbbing with his heartbeat and somehow his anger with Jake had been replaced by an overwhelming apprehension that something was about to go down. 

“Hangman,” he tried, quietly, hand hovering just shy of touching Jake’s back. 

“Mom’s only been gone a day and you two are already fighting?” Quarterback’s eyes all but sparkled as he sauntered closer to Jake. 

“Don’t,” Bob warned shortly, hand still floating in the air. 

“Or is she more like your girlfriend? How does that work? Do you two share or-

Jake’s hand was fisted in the front of Quarterback’s flight suit and hauling him forward so fast, Bob’s hazy brain barely had time to process the words.

“Jake!” He finally snapped into action, wrapping an arm around the blonde pilot and pressing a palm to his stomach, the other pushing at a shoulder as he tried to place himself between the two and move Seresin back. 

Jake dragged Wyndham even closer for a moment, all but bearing his teeth in the kid's face before shoving him backwards. Quarterback righted himself quickly, grinning all the while as he faked dusting himself off and Bob was left semi-wrapped around Hangman, fingers still splayed out over his abs. 

“I suppose you two get to share my cleaning duty for a week,” the little shit crossed his arms over his chest and grinned, as if now was the time to bring up the bet. If Jake lunged again Bob might actually let him deck the kid this time. 

“Changing to a two-seater wasn’t part of the deal,” Jake seethed, abs trembling distractingly as he obviously tried to keep himself in check. Bob idly wondered if he should move his hands. 

“Should’ve read the fine print, Hangman. You lost,” he eyed Jake up and down just like he had to Bob a few days ago, “again.”

“Yeah okay,” Jake worked his jaw and grinned down at the floor with a huff, though the smile sent a chill down Bob’s spine, it was anything but friendly. “Fuck this and fuck you, Wyndham.”

Seresin broke free of Bob’s grasp without looking back at him, storming out of the ready room at the same fast clip as when he had entered, leaving Floyd to hover there, all eyes on him.

“Enjoy latrine duty, backseater,” Quarterback wiggled his fingers in mockery of a wave.

Bob stood his ground even as shame rolled down his shoulders. This kid sure had something coming for him.

“Making enemies isn’t a great move,” he walked slowly towards Wyndham despite the way his hands shook from the attention of all the other pilots watching, “especially if you ever want to make it to Top Gun.”

Quarterback’s smile faltered a little at that, eyes scanning Bob’s face as if looking for a lie. 

“They couldn’t care less about your opinion of me, all that matters is my scores, which as you can see, are unbeaten.”

A weird, serene feeling of calm suddenly washed over Bob. Maybe the realization that this kid really was that green, that he wasn’t actually much of a threat at all, and still had so much to learn. Whatever it was a smirk pulled at his own face as he adjusted his glasses, eyes assessing the kid in front of him, and said “you keep telling yourself that,” before walking away.

His hands still shook and he had to let out a long breath as soon as he was out of eyesight, but the falter in Quarterback’s smile and the actual worry behind his eyes was so worth it. 

…

Bob’s hands were still shaking when he made it back to his berth, the pain behind his eye at an all time high, like a knife had been wedged into the socket. 

He opened the door to see Jake sitting on the bottom bunk, Bob’s bunk, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded together. He sat up from where his forehead was bent low as the door opened. 

“You can either get in your own bunk or scoot over because I’m going to pass out now,” Bob announced before the other man could speak, hoping to waylay whatever accusations Hangman was about to hurl his way. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake murmured and that stopped Bob in his tracks. 

“What,” he answered flatly, pressing a thumb to the nerve behind his eye. Hangman? Apologizing?

“I…was a jackass,” Jake looked down at his hands.

“You’re always a jackass,” Bob retorted, too tired to pull any punches.

Hangman snapped his gaze back to Bob, mouth opening as if to fight back, before he snapped it closed with an audible click. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered again, eyes resting somewhere around Bob’s shins.

Something in the defeated hang of his shoulders, of how he was still sitting instead of posturing or trying to make himself look big, in Bob’s bed no less, had all the lingering anger draining out of the WSO at once.

“It’s just us now, I guess we should be civil,” Bob slowly made his way forward, Jake’s green eyes following him all the while, before he plopped down next to the other pilot on the bed, legs not quite touching. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Seresin smirked and nudged his shoulder against Bob’s in a move that had Floyd’s pulse skyrocketing for no reason. He groaned as the throbbing at his temples intensified. 

“Wha- are you okay?” Hangman actually looked concerned as he turned his torso to look at Bob, forehead wrinkling in a weirdly attractive way as he assessed for injury.

“All your stupid maneuvers really did a number on me,” Bob reached up a hand to brace over his brow, thumb and fingers digging into both temples. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered again, his knee now barely touching Bob’s.

“Just…please can we work together?” Somehow it was easier to ask when his eyes were covered. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jake conceded quietly, and he was gonna have to cut out that low, rumbling tone before Bob could admit it was doing things to him.

That thought flew right out of his brain though, as more fingers joined his own at his temples.

His lips parted before he could stop himself but thankfully no sound came out. Jake’s long fingers worked around his own, massaging just under Bob’s scalp so skillfully that Floyd let his own hand drop away.

“Wha-uh-“ he breathed out, eyes fluttering closed without his permission. 

“Got a headache?” Jake asked, as if he shouldn’t have maybe cleared that up before putting his magic fingers to Bob’s temples.

“Migraine,” was all Bob could get out as he dug his thumb back into the corner of his eye.

“My sister gets ‘em,” Jake hummed, turning even more so his knees were pressed firmly into Bob’s thigh and  stroking his thumbs solidly across the lieutenant’s brow bones. This time Bob did let out a tiny moan. 

“Is that why you’re so-“

Cool breath suddenly blew right in the center of his forehead and Bob thought he might pass out from the utter relief. 

“You should sleep,” Jake said, as if that wasn’t what Bob had come in here to do in the first place, before pressing his thumb solidly into the space between Floyd’s eyebrows and dragging it up towards the crest of his brow. 

Bob let out another shaky breath. How in the hell did Seresin know to do all of this? All that really mattered was it felt incredible. Bob’s breathing started to calm as he let Jake continue with his ministrations, eyes closed, as if it would break the moment, this quiet truce, if he opened them. 

“Why’d you get mad when he brought up baby on board?” The sudden realization hit Bob as his mind drifted. 

Jake didn’t respond, choosing instead to switch his fingers back to Bob’s temples.

Floyd finally opened his eyes to find Hangman biting his own cheeks, eyes determinedly fixed on Bob’s forehead. 

“Only I get to call you that,” he finally mumbled.

Bob couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled out of him. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, maybe ever, Hangman looked sheepish.

“I’m sorry, are you jealous, Hangman?” Bob was smiling now, could feel his cheeks pushing against Jake’s fingers.

“No, I…I guess it is just the two of us left and…and I’m sorry I was a jackass,” his eyes flicked down to Floyd’s, using his own words, “you’re right, we need to stick together. Work together.” 

Bob studied him for a moment and Jake’s fingers stilled on his face. They sat like that, on the bunk, eyes locked, Jake’s fingertips buried in the short hair at Bob’s temples. Shit, Bob had to get out of here before his pain-addled mind made his hands do something stupid. 

“Okay,” he finally agreed and Seresin’s eyes flicked down to his lips at the word.

Bob could feel his own lips parting again.

“Okay, time for the baby to go to bed,” Jake suddenly yanked his hands away, though he placed one on Bob’s chest, pushing him back towards the bed with a genuine smile. 

“Sure, mom,” Bob said after a huff, shaking himself out of his reverie. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and smiled back. It felt nice, this teasing with Hangman without any bite to it. 

“I’ll wake you in thirty, we’ve got latrine duty, young grasshopper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bob waved him off. 

He could tell when Jake turned off the lights behind his closed eyelids and let out a sigh of relief, even as his head still dully ached. 

Maybe they really could do this. 

Chapter Text

“Could you be more of a nerd?”

Bob closed his eyes in a long blink, trying to recover from his startle as Seresin slid (more like slithered) into the chair beside the weapons specialist. He pushed his chin out as if he hadn’t just jumped in surprise and gave Jake his best side-eyed glare. 

“This is top tier cinema, I’ll have you know,” Bob challenged with a tip of his nose back towards the projector screen. It was late, already dark out on the main deck as he and a few other crew mates sat in the lowered lights of the ready room. Bob had been settled in for the weekly movie night for some time now, flipping between the reports in his lap, and they still weren’t even halfway through The Two Towers. 

“Seventeen combined Oscars,” Floyd continued, leaning his head back into the leather cushion.

“Nerd,” Jake reiterated in a faux whisper, bending in far too close to Bob’s ear. He threw up a hand like he was swatting a fly in retaliation, index finger making contact with Seresin’s nose before the blonde snapped his head back with a snort.

They were two weeks into their decision to band together and working with Hangman really was just as difficult as Bob initially suspected. Even after their little heart to heart, or whatever you could actually call Seresin stroking his stupidly long fingers all over Floyd’s face, it seemed that for every two steps forward he took with the pilot, there was always one step back. Still, at this point he could safely say he was used to his copilot and roomate. 

What a terrifying concept. 

“We’re getting pretty good, huh?” Seresin asked apropos of nothing, though it felt very much like he was a mind reader and Bob could sense eyes on the side of his face without even looking.

“If by that you mean you still don’t know how to do your job and give me verbal warning, then sure, Hangman.”

“Oh come on, what’s a measly 4 G’s? You can’t get a migraine every time we brake.”

“Correct, if you give me a warning, you-“

“Sshhh!” Someone warned a few seats over. 

Jake grinned outright as he glanced over their fellow airmen before leaning back towards Floyd. “Somebody’s in trouble,” he drew out every vowel obnoxiously. 

“Are you ever, like, normal?” Bob sank lower in his chair.

“Never about you, Bobert.”

“Jesus,” Bob pressed his glasses like they were a part of his face.

“You gonna go see Middle Earth next week?” Jake asked after a glorious moment of silence.

“What do you mean?” Bob lowered his hand to shoot Seresin a confused look. 

The pilot just nodded his own chin towards the movie, “you know, good ol’ New Zealand,” he said the name with the worst North Island accent imaginable. 

Bob tried to hold in a snort, biting the side of his cheek to hide his own smile. He scanned Jake’s face with both eyebrows raised. “Are you telling me you know where this was filmed?”

“At first light on the fifth day, at dawn, look to the East,” Jake suddenly quoted right along with Gandalf and Bob’s mouth fell completely open. 

“I’m a man of many talents,” Seresin basked in the moment before he tucked a graceful finger under Bob’s chin and pushed his mouth closed. 

“Holy-“ the WSO started before he lowered his tone quickly, glancing around and dislodging the finger as he unconsciously leaned closer to Hangman, “you can quote this movie- who’s the nerd now, you idiot?”

“I never professed otherwise,” Jake had the gall to look innocent, leaning his chin on his own fist. 

“Yeah, right. What about the, I don’t know, thousand times you made fun of me at Top Gun?”

“It’s just so easy to get you all riled up,” Hangman flashed his celebrity-white teeth, lips pulling to one side.

Bob’s stomach did a little flip for absolutely no reason. 

“We’re not even going to New Zealand,” Bob quickly changed the subject, focusing his gaze resolutely on the screen. 

“We’re taking shore leave in Perth.”

“Which is on the entire other side of Australia.”

“Damn, and I was gonna visit Hobbiton.”

“Who even are you,” Bob couldn’t contain his own grin this time as he glanced at Jake, their eyes locking in the low light. The blonde had a that signature grin on his face but something in his eyes looked soft, crow’s feet blooming in an annoyingly handsome way that had Bob swallowing down a sudden rippling sensation at the base of his throat. 

“What are your plans for leave?” Jake asked quietly, as if they were actual friends who had actual, normal conversations. Then again, Bob had spent more consecutive time with Hangman in the last two weeks than he could remember spending with any single person in his adult life, save for Phoenix. 

“I don’t know, I’m on watch the first two days,” Bob braced his own elbow on the arm of his chair, close enough to feel the emanating warmth of Jake’s skin.

Hangman let out a low whistle. “Damn, they really got you, huh?” 

“We haven’t even been here a month, seemed fitting to get stuck on assignment before I get to go ashore.”

“What a rough life you live.”

“You didn’t get any assignments?” Bob snapped his gaze back towards Jake incredulously.

“Will you two shut up?” Another sailor grumbled behind them.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jake asked after a beat, leaning somehow closer and whispering in the inch of space between them. 

Bob felt the breath catch in his throat. The utter lack of innuendo in Seresin’s voice shocked him into stillness. Jake genuinely sounded like he was enjoying Bob’s company. Despite their forced proximity in sharing a room and a cockpit, their conversations were usually reserved for arguing or teasing, so this…this was new territory. 

Part of Bob wanted to say yes, to leave like two scolded school children, giggling as they absconded down the hall. The other part of him wondered how many times Hangman had asked that question in his life and if anyone ever had the willpower against those green, green eyes to say no. 

Excitement suddenly bubbled in his chest at the thought of being the first. 

“Nope. I’m staying right here at least until Aragorn opens the doors.”

If Bob was expecting a negative reaction, Seresin’s smile just got bigger.

“Oh are you? Childhood crush, huh? Is it the long hair or all that sweat that gets you going?”

Bob could feel the blush spreading across his cheeks, suddenly immediately grateful that the lights were off. Trust Hangman to turn the tables no matter the scenario. 

“Oh my god, get out of here,” Bob tried to cover his embarrassment with movement, grabbing Jake’s arm with both hands and giving him a shove towards the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” the pilot raised his hands in surrender, “I’ll leave you to your ogling in peace.”

“Shut up!” Bob yelled at the same time as another pilot.

“I’m going!” Jake shouted with all out glee in his voice before he ducked through the doorframe to make his exit.

Bob sat back in his chair, reeling. Curse that man for constantly sending his blood pressure into the atmosphere. 

Try as he might to enjoy the rest of the movie or focus on his reports, every small touch and lean and gesture from the night kept playing in his mind over and over and over again.

…

Life on the Reagan was much the same as ever in the next week, filled with planning potential missions and memorizing new flight plans, maintenance duties and runway walkdowns, debriefs and cat naps, and reports, reports, reports.

Still, the air seemed lighter with shore leave on the metaphorical and literal horizon. The crew collectively had a new bounce in their step as land drew ever closer, ready for a respite after the weeks and months with only a few hours of sleep each night. Bob idly wondered if he should spend his two day shore leave in a hotel, passed out in a huge bed so he could finally get some actual rest.

As before he saw Jake intermittently, for far too long and far too little simultaneously. They were together for what seemed like every waking moment on some days, and then others it would be close to twenty hours before they would stumble back to their bunks, barely grunting at each other in greeting before hitting the hay. 

Things between them had reached a serene sort of calm, which if Bob had been told back at Top Gun that Jake’s presence would one day be grounding for him, he might’ve pulled the ejection seat right then and there.

But he was, grounding, all things considered. Sure he still got too cocky, and yes he did still constantly try to show off to the other pilots as Quarterback simmered in the corner. Wyndham had definitely been knocked down a few pegs in the weeks since Bob had met him. He still fought for attention though, trying his best to look like the biggest fish in the pond.

“Haven’t you fucking learned anything, Wyndham, you can’t get that fucking close!” Holiday, a pilot who’s demeanor could often be described as anything but festive, snapped at him two days before leave as their squad flooded back into the ready room. She turned on a heel to glare down at him, his forehead only reaching her nose. 

“Please,” he scoffed, “I know what I’m doing, so maybe you should just stay out of m-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” she growled, leaning menacingly closer before his mouth was audibly snapping closed. 

“That’s what I thought,” she turned on a heel and was out the door before Avalanche or anyone else could defend their hero.

This time, Bob and Jake really did go giggling down the hall. 

Finally, port day arrived, and from breakfast onward, the excitement in the air was almost palpable. Of course much of the crew was still busy with preparations, manning docking stations and calling out on radios nonstop. Bob and Jake were both fortunate enough to be out on the top deck as civilization drew within reach.

“I’ll make sure not to steal all the girls while you’re stuck on duty, Bobby boy,” Jake clicked his tongue and gave Bob a good natured punch on the shoulder as he hoisted his overnight bag higher on his back. Just as he’d bragged before, Seresin had somehow wiggled his way out of any responsibilities while on leave, and he certainly hadn’t offered to stay and help with Bob.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bob rolled his eyes in a way that Jake now probably knew was teasing, but something twisted in his chest all the same at the thought. What he and Jake had going on…well, it certainly wasn’t flirting (was it?), but it was friendly and bantery and nice, and the thought of Jake running away as fast as he could just so he could hit it up with all the local girls was…disappointing. 

“Text me when you’re a free man again?” Jake’s eyes were bright as he asked. Damn him, this was why all the girls helplessly loved him, he always had a hook waiting after a sinker. 

“Wouldn’t you be so lucky,” Bob drawled back, weeks of sarcasm between the two of them making it easy to respond in kind. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jake wiggled his eyebrows before slapping Bob on the back, hard, and then he was gone. Floyd had only to let out a long sigh as he watched Jake retreat towards the gangway in his service khaki’s, looking like the hero of some patriotic war movie.

And just like that Bob was alone. Well, note alone, there were still hundreds of sailors onboard with him, just none he knew very well. For now he was left only to fulfill his watch duties and wonder what the others were getting up to on land. 

No one in particular. 

…

“Hi honey, did you miss me?” Hangman’s gleaming smile greeted Bob the second he stepped off the gangway. Jake was lounging around the dock like it was his domain, legs crossed lazily, hands in his pockets as if posing for some magazine photoshoot. 

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of work I got done with you out of the picture,” Bob mocked, though he wasn’t sure if his attempt to hide his smile was successful. 

“Can’t take your eyes off me, normally, huh?” 

“And just like that I’m going back to the ship.”

“Ah, come on, Bob, then how are you ever gonna see the bookshop I scoped out just for you?”

“You- wait what?”

“We don’t got all day, Bob, we’re on the clock, let’s go!” Jake finally stood from his lean and clapped his hands like a high school PE coach. Bob had practically no choice but to give in.

It wasn’t far to their destination as Bob dutifully followed behind Jake, who made a beeline towards the store, like he’d memorized the best path to get there. As soon as the shop was in site Bob slowed his pace, lips parting just slightly as he took in the view.

“This is…a fantasy bookshop,” he said slowly, glancing over to Jake.

“Yes,” Jake answered as if it should be obvious, “you’re like, the king of all fantasy nerds, aren’t you?”

“But…you don’t like fantasy.”

“I’m more of a modern thriller kind of guy, okay, sue me,” Jake threw his hands up in faux shame. 

“No I mean…” Bob didn’t know what he wanted to say. His face and hands suddenly felt hot. Jake had…thought about him? During his leave? When he could’ve been surrounded by girls, he took the time to find this shop, with books he didn’t even care about, just for Bob?

“Thank you,” he looked Jake straight in the eye.

Something serious came over Hangman’s expression for a split second and they both just stared, blue locked on green. 

Why did it feel like his heart skipped a beat?

“Well, hurry up and get in there, we don’t have all day to browse Sanderson, we’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Another beat gone haywire. 

“I don’t get to decide what I’m doing with my own shore leave?” Bob willed his pulse to resume its usual rhythm, coughing just once as if to kickstart it back to normalcy 

“I’ve had two whole days to scope this place out, Bobby, you gotta stick with me if you’re gonna have any fun,” Jake looked his typical, superior, teasing self, but something in his eyes still looked different. Almost…unsure. If that were even possible.

Bob let the silence linger for a moment, wondering what Hangman would do with no response. Maybe he’d give up or get bored and resume what little time they had left of their leave on his own.

But he just stood by and waited, blonde hair backlit by the morning sun. 

One more stutter of Bob’s heart. 

“Fine, but you’re buying me lunch and dinner if I must be in your presence on vacation.”

As if it was a hardship at this point.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jake grinned outright in response, moving to brush his shoulder by Bob’s before heading into the store.

Bob wasn’t sure his heart’s rhythm would be the same again. 

Chapter Text

As predicted, Bob’s normal sinus rhythm was thrown completely out of whack for the rest of the day. He took his time looking through the bookshop and Jake seemed content to wait, sticking his chin over Bob’s shoulder every two minutes and throwing out some comment about how every fantasy book cover looked the same or how “this is exactly like Twilight, right?” To which Bob would swiftly elbow him in the ribs and duck his head to hide his own smile.

“I think I might wait until tomorrow if I decide to buy anything, I don’t want to have to carry it around all day,” Bob finally decided, eyes lingering on the last book of a trilogy he had been meaning to get for a while.

“Whatever you say, Bobby,” Jake smiled his blinding smile and shiver rolled its way down Bob’s torso. “On to the next?”

“Next? Hangman it’s 10:30, I think it’s a little too early for day drinking.”

“First, it’s never too early for day drinking, and second, oh ye of little faith. I told you I scoped this whole place out for you. Would I ever steer you wrong?”

“Absolutely,” Bob narrowed his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest, “all the time. At Mach 2.”

“You’re so cute when you’re sarcastic,” Jake booped him on the bridge of his glasses and Bob could feel his face heating in immediate reaction.

“Not to worry, baby on board, I’ve already gotten my debauchery out of the way. At least until tonight,” Jake smoldered under his eyebrows and Bob’s stomach dropped. 

“I don’t want to know what or who you’ve been getting up to in your spare time, Hangman, but I can certainly find something to do on my own if you want to go back to-”

“Bob, I’m kidding,” Jake rumbled, suddenly earnest, a tiny, quiet smile pulling at his lips.

“Oh-” Bob deflated, heart still beating its annoyingly fast pace.

“But you’re right, the ladies do love me,” Jake slapped him on the back and Bob rewarded him with a long groan.

“We’re gonna have to skedaddle if we want to make it to our next stop, though,” Jake kept his big hand on Bob’s back this time, gently adding pressure to steer him out the door.

“Do I even want to know what that might be?”

“Stop numero dos: Art Gallery of Western Australia.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say art gallery?”

“Again with the surprise, Bob! Don’t forget, Texas is home to some incredible museums,” Jake’s hand was still resting right between his shoulder blades.

“Okay, okay,” Bob relented, holding his hands in the air in surrender. “You sure you’re not going to get bored after 5 minutes and complain about it the entire time?”

Jake mimed zipping his lips together and throwing away the key, holding his own hands up the same way as Bob. “I can be a good boy,” Jake threw in a leer for good measure which had Bob rolling his eyes.

“If you say so.”

Jake pointed out a few landmarks as they crossed the city, the lighthouse and the war memorial, and Bob really was going to have to re-evaluate everything he thought about the pilot. A year ago he never could have guessed that something so mundane as the Perth Mint would be worth noticing to Seresin, but he seemed glad to share everything he’d learned about the city since disembarking.

They called a taxi after realizing the museum was further than anticipated, standing together on the curb as they waited, arms brushing together occasionally. Bob realized how relaxed he felt, standing under the warm sun, a cool breeze against his face as Jake held up his phone to check the rideshare app, forearm bumping up against Bob’s. The absurd idea that this could be a normal occurrence for them crossed his mind and his throat suddenly felt tight. Is that something Jake would ever want? To hang out like this, as friends?

As more?

Their taxi arriving cut off that train of thought and Bob was extremely glad for the distraction. Soon they were stepping out at the gallery and heading through the security line as Jake presented their tickets to the docent.

“You really planned all of this in advance?” Bob didn’t know why he was still shocked at this point. 

“I had two whole days by myself, what else was I gonna do?”

“I just thought that…” Bob trailed off. He suddenly felt awful for assuming Hangman would spend the whole 48 hours hooking up with girls or showing off at the bar. Clearly he had more layers than Bob had ever imagined.

The gallery gave Bob more time to observe the pilot, who for maybe once in his life was quiet for more than an hour, seemingly content to take in the artwork, hands behind his back, lips sealed together as promised. He would drift away on his own, only to circle back around to Bob every so often, pointing out a favorite piece or a detail he found interesting.

It felt…almost like a date. Bob’s heart abandoned its rhythm all together. Surely though…surely Jake couldn’t, wouldn’t see it like that.

Bob glanced over to the other pilot whose green irises were locked onto a description plaque, speedily moving back and forth as he read. As if sensing Bob’s gaze he flicked his eyes towards the WSO before he went back to his study.

No, there was no way that Jake saw this as anything resembling a date. If anything he was just showing off like he always did, learning all the facts and getting the schedule together before Bob could, just so he could boast about his own foresight. 

But he wasn’t boasting now. What could that possibly mean? Bob almost growled in frustration. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone for once and enjoy the day?

You know what? He was going to do just that, damn it. He was going to enjoy today, with Jake, God help him.

Bob’s chest somehow felt lighter after his decision, his heart slowly working its way back into normalcy. The lieutenants enjoyed the rest of the museum before grabbing lunch in the cafe. They strolled back through a visiting interactive 4D exhibit, letting the added sounds and specifically crafted scents wash over them. Before long it was already getting late and Hangman steered them towards the gift shop. He kept the same running commentary from the morning, picking up little knick knacks to show Bob.

“What do you mean you don’t want to spend twelve thousand dollars on this replica piece, Robert?” He held aloft the portrait of a woman, trying to duplicate her expression as he held it close to his face.

“Well it looks like I’ve already got the same piece to look at all the time,” Bob chuckled as he glanced between the two before he realized what he’d said.

“Bobby, you can’t say things like that to me in public,” Hangman joked with a hand to his chest even as an actual blush made its way across his cheeks. Bob couldn’t remember ever seeing it before, didn’t know it even existed.

“Oh, no, I-”

“Ah, ah. No takesies backsies,” Hangman laid the print back down before scurrying away.

They finally left the museum just as the sun started to set. Hangman dutifully followed Bob back towards the harbor, arriving at the dock just as a glorious sunset fanned out across the horizon, casting a warm, pink glow across the waves.

“Wow,” Bob couldn’t help but breathe out as he leaned against a pylon.

“Reminds me of home,” Jake murmured beside him.

“Big Sky Country,” Bob agreed with a nod.

“You ever been to Texas?” Jake asked as they both continued to stare ahead.

“No, never really had reason to.”

“Guess you do now,” Jake replied softly after a beat.

Welp, there went Bob’s heart rate again.

“Are you inviting me to Texas?” Bob risked, glancing over to the pilot who had his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Sure, why not. Everybody’s gotta visit at least once. You can have a sleepover with my sister and paint each other’s nails.”

“Good, she can tell me all of your embarrassing childhood stories.”

“Oh shit, on second thought, baby on board, you two better stay on opposite sides of the house.”

The fact that Jake still hadn’t rescinded his offer stuck out like a billboard across Bob’s brain.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while as the sky moved from orange and pink to a hazy blue.

“Now I know this was your big day, Robert, but I did think we could hit up the bar for a bit.”

Ah, there it was. Still, it seemed like Jake was giving him an out, so Bob decided to take pity.

“Fine, I guess you did contain yourself all day.”

“Are you saying I was a good boy?” Jake stepped closer with a sparkle in his eye and Bob could feel the heat of him. Bob’s gaze drifted down his handsome face, resting on his lips for a split second before he stopped himself.

“Maybe,” Bob didn’t know what came over him, but he held his ground.

“And that means I get a treat?” Jake almost whispered, his voice a low rasp that Bob could almost feel.

“I suppose it does,” Bob felt like he was floating outside his own body.

Jake’s eyes met his, a challenge behind them, but even further back there was something like wonder.

“Hell yeah, I knew I’d rope you into the bar eventually,” Hangman’s smirk grew somehow larger before he was reaching forward, running his long fingers down Bob’s arm, grabbing his wrist and pulling.

“Jake!” Bob yelled in protest even as the pilot swiveled around and dragged the WSO right along with him, presumably towards his favorite two day haunt. Bob didn’t think he had it in him anymore not to follow.

When they arrived the locals seemed to already know Jake, because of course they did. “Wanna grab us a booth?” Jake had to lean in close so Bob could hear him over the noise. The place was packed, at least a third full of sailors wearing their dress khakis, rules and responsibilities all but forgotten on land.

Bob could only nod and make his way towards the back, eyes peeled for an empty seat. He stood there in the middle of the room for a while, no luck to be had.

“Let’s grab that one,” Jake’s voice was suddenly right behind him, the heat of the pilot’s breath rushing right past Bob’s ear.

“That one’s already taken,” Bob retorted as he glanced from the semi-circle booth to the pilot behind him, one drink in each of his hands.

“So we’ll ask them to scoot over,” Jake encouraged, gaze never leaving the table. There were two girls sitting there already and Bob rolled his eyes. Of course that’s where Jake wanted to sit.

“Mind if we squeeze in here with you, ladies?” Jake asked in his best good ol’ southern boy voice and Bob could swear he saw the moment both women instantly fell in love with him.

“Oh, sure, why not,” one of them said, flipping her thick blonde hair over one shoulder as she scooted towards her friend, making room, “it’s a packed house tonight.”

“After you, baby on board,” Jake indicated towards the booth with his chin while his hands were occupied.

Bob automatically filed into the booth, making sure not to show his surprise that Jake was letting him sit closer to the girls.

“Where are you from, boys?” The second woman asked, cupping her chin in one hand as she rested an elbow on the tabletop, freckles running across every piece of skin Bob could see.

“Just a little place called Texas,” Jake announced as he slid Bob a drink. He eyed it suspiciously and glanced at Seresin who just mouthed “ginger ale” in his direction, eyes on the girls. Damn it, how did Jake know his order? Had he been paying attention at The Hard Deck this whole time?

“Texas!” Both girls exclaimed, excited, “I’ve heard so much about it,” the blonde added.

“Not so different from here,” Jake sounded like he was in his element, smooth as ever as he took a sip of beer, “hot as hell, snakes everywhere…feels like home.”

Both girls giggled, eyes transfixed on Hangman.

“Bob here is from Montana, so you could say we’re both cowboys.”

The night continued on much the same, with Jake making friends with practically anyone and everyone, flirting his way through half of the girls in the establishment. A sinking feeling started to worm its way up Bob’s chest. This whole day Jake had his whole attention focused on the WSO, and now seeing it pointed elsewhere made him wonder if he was just like one of those girls, at the center of Seresin’s whole world in an instant and forgotten in the next. The whiplash was enough to drive Bob to drink. 

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but he decided that indulging tonight might actually calm his nerves. It wasn’t that he never drank, he just preferred not to. Mostly because he was a bit of a lightweight, he could admit himself. Probably for lack of practice but still, sticking with ginger ale usually suited him just fine.

Before long Bob was a couple of drinks in and he felt…good. Loose. He took another sip of whatever Jake had palmed off to him, something sweet and smooth, and leaned back into the booth. Seresin was still chatting up a storm as another girl had joined their table, so Bob let the sound just wash over him, trying to keep up. He was far too distracted though, with how Jake had his arm draped across the back of the booth. Every time Bob leaned forward to take a sip and moved his head back, the short hair at his nape would brush against Jake’s wrist.

Even worse, Jake liked to talk with his hands. Bob could feel the tendon moving in Jake’s arm as he gestured with his fingers, wrist planted against the leather of the booth like it was tethered there, his thumb or pinky finger occasionally brushing Bob’s skin.

It was almost addicting. Bob was already feeling hazy from the alcohol and the soft movements had lulled him into something like a trance, his entire focus narrowing down to Jake sitting beside him, Jake’s arm close behind him, Jake’s fingers on his neck.

Oh. Jake’s fingers were on his neck. Not an accident this time, or at least it didn’t seem that way. Jake had his thumb pressed oh so lightly to the skin right under Bob’s crisp hairline, skimming it around in slow circles, only to remove it. Bob swallowed hard only for the finger to return, idly running left and right across Bob’s neck.

He risked a glance at Seresin, who seemed completely focused on a story from one of the girls, almost unaware of what he was doing. Bob could feel goosebumps erupting on the back of his neck and sweeping down his shoulders. He leaned forward quickly and drained the rest of his glass until he was sucking up only air through his straw.

“Ready to go home, baby?” Somehow Baby on Board had morphed into just Baby halfway through the night and Bob’s tipsy brain couldn’t say he minded.

Bob just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I’ve gotta get this one home, it was nice meetin’ y’all,” the accent was still dripping even as Jake hooked a hand under Bob’s shoulder to help him stand from the booth.

And woah. Woah. Bob was more drunk than he’d thought. Standing and walking somehow seemed much more difficult than normal. The room looked darker than it probably should, every reflection of light far too bright.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” Jake said again and Bob thought he might spontaneously combust.

The cool night air was a balm on Bob’s hot skin as Seresin all but hauled him outside, arm still hooked tight under Bob’s own.

“Gonna take you to your hotel now, Bob,” Jake said more quietly than he’d been speaking in the bar, now that they were away from the crowd.

“Hotel?” Bob asked, trying to focus on Seresin’s attractive face.

“You did book yourself a hotel, right?”

Ah, fuck. Bob knew he’d forgotten something.

“Uuuhh…”

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, and here I thought you were a boy scout, always prepared.”

“I got a little distracted today,” Bob did his best not to slur his speech.

“I told you you couldn’t take your eyes off of me,” Jake grinned and Bob resisted the urge to run a finger across the pilot’s crows feet like he wanted.

“Well,” Seresin continued, letting out a dramatic sigh, “I guess that means we’re stuck being roommates.”

“Or you could just-”

“No, no. You’re my baby on board now. Gotta make sure you get tucked all the way into bed,” he was so close now, hands on both shoulders as he all but held Bob upright. Bob had the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“I’m gonna call an Uber,” Jake left one hand on Bob’s shoulder, sliding it across to reach the other as he pulled up his phone. Bob drifted for a while even as he stood, too caught up in all the sensations around him - the cool air and his warm skin and Jake’s strong grip and the floaty, swimming feeling of being a little too far on the other side of tipsy.

Jake finally crowded him into the car, shutting his door before rounding the vehicle and jumping in on the other side. They made it to the hotel, which was far nicer than anything Bob would have picked out for himself, and as soon as he exited their ride Jake’s hands were back on him. They stayed that way the whole time Seresin led him to the room; down the hall, on the elevator, as he keyed the door open.

“Home sweet home,” Jake announced because he was annoying and cute like that as the door swung open to his suite.

“You have a couch in here?” For some reason that’s what Bob’s brain got stuck on as he gaped at the enormity of the room.

“Which I guess I’ll be sleeping on tonight.”

“Aw no, I can take the couch,” Bob’s own accent was coming out now, he noticed. Wait, how long ago had that happened?

“No, no, you can have the bed, baby,” Jake steered his shoulders towards the king size mattress, perfectly made up by housekeeping.

“We could always share,” Bob suggested before his brain could catch up with his mouth and it took everything in him not to suck in a breath and take it back.

“Why Bobby, are you asking little old me into your bed?”

Bob decided doubling down like Jake would was the best course of action. He swallowed and stared back at Seresin, “you heard me.”

Jake didn’t say anything for once, just stood there with his mouth slightly open as if he had something on the tip of his tongue, but instead his eyes just roamed all over Bob’s face, searching for something.

Bob swallowed again, swaying slightly on his feet.

“Not gonna turn down that mattress tonight. If you wake up in my arms, I can’t say I blame you,” Jake had the audacity to wink as he took a step forward.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Bob replied even as his head was still swimming. He used sitting down on the bed as an excuse to retreat.

“Never say never, baby.”

Chapter Text

Bob squinted his eyes open, taking in the hazy form of closed curtains, a soft light barely peeking through their cream edges in a quiet blue glow. He had been awake for a while. Or had he? The state between wakefulness and sleep seemed to blur for minutes or hours before landing him here. He was lying on his side, face gently pressed into one of the fluffiest pillows in recent memory, with what he only assumed were absurdly high thread-count sheets pulled all the way up to his chin. 

Everything seemed so still, serene, the crackle of the ceiling air vent gently releasing a calming stream of conditioned air that blew steadily across his cheek. He sighed and let his eyes drift back closed. He could stay like this for ages, in the still pre-dawn light, floating in that space between dreams and reality all by himself.

Only…he wasn’t by himself. Somehow the thought just occurred to him. He was-

Memories from the previous night slammed into his brain almost violently, flashbacks from the bar, and the girls at their table, and Jake’s fingers on his neck, and how many drinks did he have?

He shifted, aiming to look over his shoulder, although he never quite made it there. Even just turning his head the slightest amount caused his stomach to swoop and churn. God, he felt dizzy. He let out a tiny groan almost involuntarily, squeezing his eyes shut and burying them in the pillow.

“Shh, too early,” a voice grumbled behind him, though Bob didn’t hear it so much as feel it. Hangman’s breath was a warm brush against the back of his neck, causing the short hairs there to stand on end and goosebumps to break out down his back. 

“What’d you do to me,” Bob mumbled into his pillow after a long moment of silence, eyes still squeezed shut, the rest of his muscles too on edge to try to move. 

“Nothin’, I was a perfect gentleman,” more breath ghosting across the collar of Bob’s undershirt as he felt Jake moving around behind him. They weren’t touching, as far as Bob could tell, but somehow the tantalizing closeness made things all the worse.

“Can’t believe I…” he trailed off as a wave of nausea rolled up his throat.

“Shh, it’s still sleeping time,” Jake’s voice was closer now, if that were even possible, and Bob could feel him digging his nose into the soft pillow right at Bob’s nape. A shiver ran down his spine. He was about to retort or make a noise or something to ask Jake why the hell he had to be so close (even if he actually didn’t mind that much at all) but suddenly an arm was draping itself over his side as Hangman burrowed into him.

This time did let out a noise, though it was far closer to a squeak than the sound of protest he figured he should make. Before he could get out any actual words Jake seemed to completely relax behind him, the constant puffs of his breath evening out as he fell back into sleep.

Bob lay pinned under Jake’s arm for a while, stock still, debating, which took longer than he’d meant for it to with the whole trying not to throw up part of this insane scenario. On the one hand this was ludicrous and he should just throw Jake off, get up and go take a shower or something sensible.

On the other hand…Jake was warm. And the bed was soft. And it was barely light outside. And they were on shore leave. And this felt really, really good. And.

He drifted back asleep before he could make a decision. 

…

Buzz, buzz.

“Nngh,” was the approximate noise that escaped Bob’s lips.

Buzz, buzz. 

“Nrowmg,” came Jake's similar protest, his hand sliding across Bob’s chest as the man rolled to his back.

Buzz, buzz.

Buzz, buzz.

Damn it, what was that racket? Bob groaned again and finally pried an eye open to catch the culprit.

It was now bright and sunny in their shared hotel room and Bob’s head didn’t feel quite like it was going to explode anymore. The air conditioner was still blowing steadily and he couldn’t hear any noises out in the hotel corridor.

Buzz, buzz.

His phone was sitting on the table next to the bed, the screen illuminating as another text came through. Bob let sighed a long sigh and swung an arm over to land on his phone, bringing it towards his spectacle-less face so he could read it up close. Who the hell could be texting hi-

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit,” he rolled onto his back fast, instantly regretting it as his head spun and his shoulder rammed into Jake’s.

“Nah, what?” Seresin rubbed one eye with a fist, not moving from his sprawl.

“We have to get back.”

That got Jake to open his eyes. He squinted over at Bob, his face so much closer than it ever had been. He looked sleepy and soft, the gold specks in his green eyes catching in the sunlight. All Bob would have to do is roll on his side, lean in-

“What’d’ya mean we have to-“

Buuuuuzz, buuuuuzz, buuuuuzz.

Hangman’s phone started to ring from its perch on the opposite table. He eyed Bob as if he was psychic before rolling over to grab the device. For some reason it was only then that Bob realized Jake was shirtless, with the long expanse of his broad shoulders and strong back on display as he turned at the waist. Bob swallowed hard.

“Seresin,” Jake answered, voice at attention and Bob’s eyes widened, waiting.

“Yes, sir…yes, sir. Right away, sir,” Jake had become so lax at Top Gun, it was downright strange to hear him speaking that way, his face serious as if he really was standing at attention and not half naked in bed with Bob.

Because that was a thing that was happening. 

“We have to go,” Jake announced, swinging out his legs and throwing off the covers to stand.

“You think?” Bob just blinked up at him. He was only clad in boxer briefs, the tight black fabric hugging his sculpted thighs, contrasting with his perfectly tanned skin. Bob was suddenly thankful he wasn’t wearing his glasses, wasn’t sure how his body might react to seeing all of that in full focus.  

“Bobby, stop ogling me, we gotta go,” he clapped his hands together like a football coach. 

“I wasn’t-“ Bob could feel the blush running down his cheeks and decided rolling over was the best course of action. He groped around for his glasses on the nightstand, popped them on and started getting ready.

It was surreal, dressing in a hotel with Hangman. They’d done it loads of times now, in locker rooms and in their own berth on the ship, but somehow it felt so much more…scandalous, standing on either side of a single bed, in a hotel, after a night out…

“Ugh my head is killing me,” he finally said, if nothing else than to break the silence save for the rustle of fabric as they pulled on their uniforms. 

“I bet it is, baby, you had quite a few last night.”

And there it was. Baby. Not just Baby on Board. Part of Bob had wondered if he’d dreamt the endearment, something like wishful thinking manifesting in his unconscious. Come to think of it, he normally would have guessed that Jake would laugh in his face after such a night, giggling at the consequences of Bob’s actions. But he just sounded sympathetic and sincere. 

“Jake, do you-“ Bob started before he had even formed much thought in his head.

Buzz, buzz.

Jake glanced at his phone before locking eyes with Bob, their green depths still soft and apologetic. “Sorry Bobby, we gotta go.” 

…

“Sir, with all due respect-“ Jake started before he was cut off.

Bob felt like dying. Either because his hangover was about to do him in, or because it seemed like a better alternative to this scenario.

He and Jake were standing at attention in the XO’s office aboard the Reagan, the bright, fluorescent light beating down on Bob’s poor eyes as Commander Morrison gave them the closest thing to a dressing down Bob had received in his whole career. Why it was coming now was unbeknownst to him. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Lieutenant. You are two of our top aviators and we need you for this next mission. Straight from the top, we’re leaving the harbor immediately.” Even as he said it Bob could feel the giant engines churning the high tide, slowly moving them away from shore and back out into open water. 

Jake opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before snapping it closed, for once following protocol. 

“But from what I’ve heard from Rodriguez, you two are in no way fit to fly together. Floyd, I’m reassigning you.”

“What?” Bob couldn’t believe he was the first to break regs and speak. But reassigned twice in two months?

“You two have had a month of drills and still reports say you’ve been squabbling in the ready room for every debrief. I have no confidence that you can perform at the highest level we need for this mission if you can’t maintain decorum among your fellow aviators.”

Bob could practically hear Jake swallow next to him.

Morrison sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers before eyeing Jake, and then Bob.

“I won’t lie, I would prefer to choose a team with more experience under their flight wings. We’re in a tough spot, and we are going to need at least one two-man.”

He analyzed them both again, biting the side of his cheek, which just made it look more like he was snarling.

“I’m going to give you 48 hours. We’ll get to the target in 60. You have until then to get your act together, or I’m pulling Floyd to a new backseat.”

Jake stood up a little straighter in his periphery and it was Bob’s turn to swallow. 

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Bob answered. 

“We won’t fail you, sir,” Jake promised and Bob couldn’t tell if he felt like kissing him or smacking him. 

“Good,” Morrison glanced between them one last time before giving a curt nod, seemingly satisfied with their attitude. “Dismissed.”

Chapter Text

Bob filed down the p-way after Jake as they made a hasty exit. He focused on the khaki fabric right between Seresin’s shoulder blades, praying to God it would center him enough that he wouldn’t lose his lunch three feet from Morrison’s office. 

Jake slowed down his fast clip just a little and Bob came abreast of him. He wondered if the pilot was tapping the breaks just for him. It was such a small thing, but oddly considerate for Hangman. Then again, Bob had learned by now not to underestimate Jake’s powers of observation, nor his willingness to actually be thoughtful.

He just chose not to be, half the time. Again Floyd’s mind wandered. Why was he so nice to some and not others? Jake sure put up a front in front of a crowd, but he seemed fiercely loyal to those he loved, to his family.

What did that make Bob?

Seresin broke the stark silence as they turned a corner, “We should-“ 

“Nah, uh-uh,” the WSO waved a hand vaguely in the air as his stomach churned. He ran his palm along the wall as he walked, a meagre support.

“I need coffee. Right now,” he grumbled, “and maybe a tranquilizer.” 

“That bad, huh? No wonder you never drank at the Hard Deck,” Jake reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his aviators. He held them aloft for Bob to take with no further commentary. 

Bob eyed him suspiciously, old habits and all, but his discomfort in the bright corridor was enough for him to grab them and put them on, the frames clacking against his own glasses. 

“Should’ve pulled that look yesterday, Bobby, would’a had all the ladies following you home.”

“Who says they weren’t already?”

“Pretty sure the only one following you home was me.”

Bob almost choked on his own spit. He hoped the following gulp wasn’t audible. 

“Do you think you’ll be up to drills in a few hours?” 

Bob blinked over at the other man, grateful for the change in topic. He groaned at the reminder, running a hand down his face. 

“I guess I’ll have to be,” he mumbled, watching Jake set an alarm on his watch for their next call time.

“We can do this, Bob.”

That had him locking eyes with Jake, his gaze resolute and serious.

“Yeah,” Bob found himself nodding back just as seriously. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”

Jake nodded a single nod, the smallest smile pulling the corner of his lips.

“As long as you don’t fuck it up,” Bob couldn’t resist.

“As long as you don’t throw up,” Jake huffed a laugh as he followed Bob into the commissary. 

“How much ibuprofen do you think is in this establishment?” Floyd all but slumped against the counter. 

“Probably enough for your liver to make a run for it.”

“Good.”

…

After the max dose of painkillers and deciding he most certainly could not actually down a coffee, Bob may or may not have shot back pepto bismol straight from the bottle before heading back to their berth to suit up. 

Hangman was being quiet again, which seemed to happen more and more now that Bob knew him better. He really was a chatter box around people he didn’t know well, but it seemed he was happy to let the silence linger in the presence of his roommate. Bob speculated that their precarious position with upper command may also have something to do with it.

As much of a hot shot as Seresin was, and as much as he had a penchant for skirting the line of following orders, he seemed to be taking this very seriously. Maybe because his reputation was on the line, or maybe because he’d finally been called out. Either way, Jake seemed very committed to giving it their best shot.

The two lieutenants pulled on their flight suits in silence, almost the same as dressing together in the hotel that morning. God, was it the same day? Waking up in Jake’s arms felt like ages ago.

Just the thought of it had a shiver running down Bob’s spine, the touch memory of Jake’s big hand raking up his chest, pulling on the fabric of his shirt as the man rolled over felt almost as real as in the moment.

They hadn’t brought up their…snuggling…cuddling?...spooning…at all. Half of Bob wanted to poke at it, to see if it had affected Jake as much as it affected him, if Hangman would feel differently about his clingy octopus hands now that he was totally conscious, or if he’d embrace it fully as he often did…if he’d ever do it again.

Not that they could. Or would. Or should. They were on carrier for Christ’s sake. Even if Jake was affable to such an idea, in their two man Floyd could only imagine some sort of hell breaking loose, and someone like Rodriguez, or, God forbid, Wyndham breaking into their room to find them snuggled together.

Okay, it would be sort of comical. Maybe they could pull it off as a prank? Bob snorted quietly at the mental image.

“What’s so funny?”

“Noth- I was, uh, just thinking about finally handing it to Wyndham.”

“Oh, Bobby, we are so gonna teach that kid a lesson,” Jake’s smirk was absolutely lethal.

“I think maybe our top priority is supposed to be learning our own lesson?”

“Two birds, one stone.”

“Only you would find a way to rope someone else into your improvement plan.”

“Kid has it coming, is all I’m saying.”

“Sure hope he does…” Bob trailed off as he placed his glasses back on his face. He picked up Jake’s aviators, hesitating, before holding them out for the other man to take.

“Thanks, Jake.”

“Hey, that rhymes,” Jake made no move to take the glasses.

Bob just stood there, shades aloft, unsure of what to do next.

“You can keep ‘em for now,” even as he said it Jake pinched one of the metal arms, moving to hold the sunglasses in both hands. “Looks like you still need ‘em,” he suggested and without further ado he was sliding the frames back on Bob’s face, careful not to hit the clear lenses of his glasses, every single one of his fingers resting at the hairline at Bob’s temples.

It was all Bob could do not to let that same shiver roll down his spine, not to shoot a hand out and grab Jake by the front of the shirt, not to pull the man closer than the eight inches currently between their lips and tell him what he really needed.

“There’s no way I’m walking into the ready room like this,” is what he said instead, though it came out far too close to a whisper.

“Looking like a badass?” Jake all but whispered back, his damn fingers staying right where they were, grip changing just slightly against Bob’s short hair.

“Did you just compliment me?”

Jake shifted his weight, his eyes flicking down to Bob’s lips for a whole second, before searching for Bob’s blue irises behind 2 layers of glass.

“I give you compliments all the time, Bobby,” the inches between them went down to seven.

“But somehow they always end up being about you, too.”

Jake’s eyes twinkled, and he leaned ever closer. “I don’t think so, baby.”

Bob couldn’t help his short gasp at the nickname. Did Jake know how it made his stomach swoop, made his heart beat faster?

“You keep calling me that.”

Bob watched as Jake swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 

“You don’t like it?” Jake’s gaze was almost too much, bright and smoldering, and absolutely focused on Bob. That swoop in his stomach became a pooling heat.

“I-”

Beepbeepbeepbeep

The alarm on Jake’s watch seemed exponentially loud in the quiet of their state room.

“Shit,” Jake swore, smacking the button to get it to stop. He glanced back up at Bob and then back down to the watch. “We- we’re gonna be late.” 

The reluctance in Jake’s voice matched Bob’s own feelings. Fuck, it felt like they were almost- 

Jake shot him an apologetic look, as he let his hands fall to Bob’s shoulders, giving them one quick squeeze, before he grabbed the door handle to head out.

Bob stood there for probably a beat too long, his mind a whirl.

But there was no time to dwell, they had work to do. 

…

The next two days of drills went surprisingly well. Jake seemed to finally be getting with the program that there was someone else on board with him, calling signals and commands like he should, which was an utter relief, especially with Bob’s constitution as it was on that first day.

Command seemed to be happy, as much as Command can be happy. Rodriguez tells them they’re doing better, which is as much as they can ask. Morrison stands at the back of the room in their last debriefing before mission assignments. He looks perturbed the whole time, but gives Bob a decided nod when the WSO looks in his direction for too long.

The flight pair comes out of the debriefing feeling more and more confident, shoulders bumping as they walk together in unison. As much as he misses Phoenix, Bob thinks he could get used to flying with Hangman, if they can work together like this. It’s nice, spending so much time with Jake, now that Bob knows this side of him. It’s almost soothing, hearing the man’s voice in his ear throughout their flight and pre-flight, his barely there southern drawl somehow so relaxing now, after months of steering clear of it at Top Gun.

Before they know it their time is up, 59 hours have come and gone since their meeting in the XO’s office, all the paperwork has been signed, and they are cleared to fly the mission. There’s little fanfare to it, they’re informed of their orders as normal. Bob didn’t really expect anything different, but he’s sure at least a “good job” wouldn’t have gone amiss. But then again, this is the Navy.

So here they are, sitting in the cockpit up on the flight deck, going through their pre-flight routine with the technicians. Further up the runway, Quarterback is seated in his own plane. He is running point on this mission, much to Hangman and Bob’s consternation. Despite his unofficial  negative popularity score with the rest of the pilots (the ones over twenty five, that is), his flight scores held from that first day Bob arrived on the ship. Every day the chart was topped with “Wyndham. Wyndham. Wyndham.” And so, here the little shit was, Eagle 1 for his first ever mission.

“I’ll show you boys how it should be done,” he was babbling, already done with his pre-flight and with nothing left to do but gloat. God, it was going to be a long day.

“No showing off for this one, Quarterback,” Jake was back in serious mode now that they were t-minus 30 minutes from takeoff, addressing Wyndham only by his call sign since boarding. “We get in, confirm target, release missiles, and then get the hell out.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Hangman.”

Bob could see Jake’s shoulder rising as he laughed silently in the front seat.

“Pretty sure it’s exactly your first rodeo,” he leaned hard into his Texas drawl and Bob found himself smirking.

They could hear Wyndham take one breath, then two as he decided what to say over the comms, before he launched into a mission briefing as if they didn’t all already know their orders forwards and backwards.

After what felt like an eternity of high nerves, anticipation and Quarterback’s rambling, they finally received the signal. Take off.

Bob watched as Quarterback’s plane was launched off the carrier in the blink of an eye, gaining altitude quickly as he moved to circle the ship, waiting for his wingman.

The g-force hit Bob immediately as they received similar treatment after hooking into the Reagan’s launch platform, sailing off the end perfectly as Seresin guided them. And then they were in the air, soaring into the gray, misty sky, and off towards their target.

All seemed to go well and they made it to their mark in no time. Speed was essential in this mission - get in and get out. That’s why upper command wanted the best of the best. They needed to be precise, but more importantly, quick. 

“Coming up on target,” Quarterback announced.

“Ready,” Bob confirmed, his guiding laser poised to lock on.

“Target confirmed.”

“Three, two, one-”

A chime signaled as Bob’s laser locked on target, and he voiced his, “locked on,” even as Jake was already pulling the trigger.

“Missiles away,” Wyndham confirmed. Jake answered his “affirmative, away,” with a “banking left…now” before he pulled back hard.

They followed Wyndham easily, executing their turn efficiently and quickly just as Command expected. Bob felt something release in his chest as they hurdled back towards the ship.

“Good work, Quarterback,” Jake offered and Bob was a bit surprised at the praise. Points to Jake for being magnanimous. 

“As if anyone expected different. I told you I can rodeo.”

Bob watched again as Jake’s shoulders shifted, this time in a sigh.

An alarm chirped in the cockpit.

“Quarterback, you’re too close, maintain distance,” Seresin’s voice was all business over the comms.

“I know what I’m doing, Hangman, are you afraid you can’t keep up?” 

“You’re too close to us, Quarterback,” Jake persisted as another alarm chirped, its calls coming faster.

“We’re coming up on our next turn,” Bob added from the backseat.

“Ready to execute,” Quarterback confirmed, unaffected by Hangman’s requests. He continued, “Five, four..”

“Wyndham, God damn it.”

“Three, two…”

“Quarterback, you’re too close!”

“One…”

Jake pulled hard and turned, just as their flight plan instructed. Just as ordered. Just as he should.

Wyndham did not.

“Fuck!” Bob heard Jake scream as a terrible screeching noise echoed through the cockpit, metal and shrapnel flying everywhere. They both watched, almost in slow motion, as the winglet was ripped off their right wing, taking one of the flaps with it. Before they could even react the wing was buckling in the middle, bending up skyward as they began to fall, rapidly, in a tailspin.

“Eject, eject, Bob, eject!” Was all Bob could hear through the roar of it all, Jake’s voice barely breaking through the cacophony. From there on out Bob couldn’t remember much of what happened. He was completely working from muscle memory, reaching for the ejection handle, pulling it with all his might, and bracing for the rush and pull of leaving the plane and the parachute deploying.

Only there was no pull. Only a rush.

Oh God, where was his parachute?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bob felt himself panicking, strapped into his seat and hurtling towards the ocean at incredible speed.

PHWOOM.

Bob was suddenly yanked back as his parachute deployed, thank God in heaven above. But something was wrong, he was moving too fast. He wasn’t plummeting anymore, but his instincts and training told him this wasn’t the right speed.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t see, couldn’t believe what was happening as the drag from his parachute did all it could to stop his descent, but before long he was hitting the icy waters below.

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt. The impact and the sudden cold. He moved to release himself from his harness and let out a scream at the pain in his arm. He couldn’t seem to control his breathing, trying to gulp in air and keep his head above the waves. He felt himself panicking, heard Jake calling, “Bobby!” somewhere in the distance. Jake. All he had to do was get to Jake. But he was in so much pain, and he was so tired, and then everything went black.

Chapter Text

Bob blinked. Or at least, he tried to. He could feel his eyes moving behind his eyelids, but couldn’t quite seem to get them to cooperate. Why was it so difficult to open his eyes?

He swallowed, thought about moving his head, but sleep was pulling at him with all its might. He was just so tired.

He tried to blink again, the rest of his senses coming back to him slowly. His whole body ached as if he’d been hit by a train. Why did everything hurt?

Screaming. Shrapnel. Plummeting. A hard yank backwards. Smashing into the waves.

Memories came hurtling back as if they were a freight train, the panic and terror of those moments freezing his whole body in place. Oh God, what had happened? I must be in med bay, he thought, suddenly aware of the steady beeping of a heart monitor somewhere nearby. Is Jake okay?

That thought alone, the need to know, was enough for him to finally open his eyes. He quickly shut them again, squeezing tight against the sudden onslaught of light, the harsh white walls surrounding him.

“Bob?” 

The WSO slowly turned his head at the soft voice, willing his eyes to focus as he realized someone was sitting at his bedside.

“Oh my God, you’re awake.”

It was Phoenix.

“‘Tasha?” Bob croaked through his sore throat, sure he was hallucinating, but too relieved to care. His closest friend was somehow here. Fuck, how long had he been out?

“You’ve been asleep for two days,” Natasha knew him far too well. She reached out to lay a gentle hand on his forearm. “What do you need? Water?”

“What is…where…” he couldn’t find the words. 

“Jake is fine,” Phoenix answered and Bob let himself relax in relief.

She just answered with a soft smile, holding out a water cup with a straw for him to drink.

“How are you…” he trailed off before taking a miraculous sip of water.

“I was already on my way back. They…command requested that I return for the mission. But we got held up. We were at our last base and then the timetable moved up and- I’m so sorry, Bob.”

“‘S not your fault,” Bob mumbled, angling his chin down towards Nat’s hand on his arm. She squeezed a little tighter.

“You’re pretty hurt, Bob. You hit the water hard. You broke your ulna and fractured your wrist. You’ve got three cracked ribs, a hairline fracture on your orbital, and a few broken fingers - it took them ages to get all the water out of your lungs.” Natasha’s face was drawn in sympathy, her eyebrows pulling together as she explained. “I guess someone’s looking out for you though. You didn’t need any hardware and they got everything done in sick bay. They were…well, there was concern about keeping you stable if you had to be evac-ed out.”

“Jake?” Bob asked quietly.

“Like I said, he’s fine,” she patted his arm as her face smoothed back to a smile, “leave it to Hangman to survive a crash like that without a scratch on his pretty face.”

“Figures,” he took another sip of water. Thank goodness Jake was okay. He remembered the pilot calling to him, of trying to swim towards the sound of his voice, and then nothing. He wondered where Jake was right now.

Why he wasn’t here.

“He…Jake kept you above water for two hours.”

“What?” Bob snapped his focus back to Natasha who seemed to be assessing every tiny reaction. Now that he was fully conscious he could feel his arm throbbing against the blue cast that resided there, could feel his ribs twinge even as he moved his neck.

“You were only halfway back and the ‘copters can’t cover that much ground very fast, even though they mobilized the second they realized through the comms…”

She swallowed, eyes defocusing for a moment as they both sat still, the plethora of chirps from miscellaneous machines the only noise.

“Anyway, Seresin said you were unconscious when he found you, which is probably how you inhaled so much water. He kept your head above the waves until the rescue team found you.”

Bob didn’t even know what to say. How do you respond to something like that? Jake. Jake Seresin, whom two months ago Bob would have called one of the most stuck up, prideful, uncaring people he knew, had sat there in the freezing cold, treading water in the middle of the Pacific ocean for two hours to keep Bob’s broken, unconscious body afloat.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Bob,” Phoenix added, even as Floyd stared into the middle distance in contemplation.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he answered her after a beat.

She gave him another smile and another squeeze, rubbing her thumb up and down his arm. 

“You need to get some rest, I’ll see if the doc can push some more morphine,” she stood from her seat, hand never leaving his arm. “I’ve gotta let Jake know you were awake, he’ll be so mad.”

“Mad?” Bob furrowed his brow even as ‘Tasha looked amused.

“Oh yeah. He was waiting for you to wake up, but…I think he was in here for a solid thirty hours before I all but forced Holiday to drag him away. I hope he finally got some sleep, he…he didn’t want to leave.”

Bob glanced up to Natasha who had an indecipherable expression on her face. Something assessing and wistful and knowing. 

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant?” Doctor Henderson interrupted, rounding Floyd’s bed with a clipboard in his hands.

“Like I flew into a wall,” Bob tried to laugh but it just made his ribs ache.

“I bet. You’re lucky to be alive, son.”

“So Phoenix told me.”

“You’ve got your pilot to thank for that, I think. How’s your pain?”

“It-”

“He’s ready for another dose, doc,” Natasha spoke for him, her standard grin returning to her face.

Henderson glanced between them for only a moment before nodding his head, “Women tend to know best in my experience. Sound good to you, LT?”

“Yes, sir,” Bob answered weakly. Damn, now that he wasn’t entirely focused on Phoenix, he could feel practically every bone in his body screaming.

“This should help, but it’ll probably put you to sleep.”

“Get some rest, Bob,” Phoenix gave him one last shoulder squeeze before Henderson tapped a button by his IV drip. Bob could feel himself nodding his head even as the morphine entered his system. He felt warm all over, a sort of rush as his pain started to dissipate, and then he drifted off to sleep.

…

It was night the next time he awoke, or so he surmised. The lights in med bay had been turned off with only a desk lamp illuminating the area around Bob, joined by the LED displays on various machines.

He came-to slowly, just as before, groggy from sleep and the painkillers. He felt better than he had last, coming to full alertness more quickly, which he hoped was probably a good sign. He squinted his eyes open and realized that someone was once again at his bedside.

This time, it was Jake.

Instead of speaking up Bob took his time in observing the pilot. He looked tired, with circles under his eyes, but he seemed to be unhurt, just as Phoenix had professed, no scratches or bruises to be found.

He was currently reading, holding a book in one hand and his phone in the other, using the dull glow from his screen to cast enough light to see the words. He was slightly stooped over, as if in effort to make even that small amount of light smaller, to let Bob sleep.

Bob knew at that moment he was in love with Jake.

An ache settled in his chest, right in his sternum, at the absolutely overwhelming feeling of affection that swept over him. No matter what had happened in the past he knew with absolute clarity that Jake would always look out for him - would find ways to make him laugh, to annoy him at all times and be so endearing despite it all, and would most likely, from what he’d gathered so far, spoil Bob to absolutely no end.

“What’re you reading?” Bob asked as an absolute calm washed over him. 

Jake snapped his head up so fast Floyd could hear his neck crack.

“Bobby!” He exclaimed, standing and depositing his book down in the chair all in one motion, phone and everything else forgotten. His hands gripped the metal rails of Bob’s infirmary bed, ringing them with pent up energy.

“Hey,” Bob murmured, turning his head fully towards the blonde.

“Phoenix said you’d been awake, I’m sorry that I-”

“Jake.”

Seresin swallowed as Bob stopped him, placing his hand in the space between both of Jake's, their skin just brushing.

“‘Tasha told me,” Bob mumbled.

“Okay, I don’t know what you heard, but Holiday did not have to barricade me in the-”

“Jake.”

He looked nervous, gaze looking repeatedly down towards the white sheets instead of making eye contact, hands still flexing around the guardrail.

“She told me about the rescue…about you keeping me above water.”

“Well, I…” Jake didn’t seem to know what to say, and that. That right there was so different from how things would have been at Top Gun. Jake would have babbled to no end about how he had saved the day.

“I couldn’t…you couldn’t. You were going to…I had to keep you alive, Bobby.”

Finally his green eyes met Bob’s and the WSO could see so much emotion behind them. Had it always been there and he’d just failed to see it? Could he interpret it now that he actually knew the “real” Jake?

“Thank you,” Bob let his pinky finger push up against Jake’s hand. The pilot stopped fidgeting at once.

“I couldn’t let you go, Bob,” Jake whispered. He pushed his hand closer, a few fingers overlapping Bob’s even as he moved his other hand and braced it on the mattress near Floyd’s head. He leaned down, hovering close, eyes sparkling with the pinpoint lights illuminating the room.

“What book are you reading?” Bob didn’t break eye contact.

Jake’s brow furrowed at the non-sequitur, glancing to the side as if to check before he answered.

“The new Sanderson edition.”

Bob felt a sure smile pull at his lips.

“I didn’t think you liked fantasy.”

He felt his eyes lock with Jake’s once again as realization seemed to dawn for both of them.

“I don’t, I…got it for you.”

Jake matched his smile.

“Thought so.”

Before Bob could even think he was lifting his unbroken arm, grabbing the lapel of Jake’s khakis, pulling the other man down, and crashing their lips together.

Chapter Text

“Bobby,” Jake whispered as he pulled back the smallest bit, nose brushing up against Bob’s, a delicious glide of skin against skin in the absence of his glasses.

Bob let his eyes flutter open. Jake’s were still closed, his long lashes fanned out against his tan cheeks, handsome face so perfect and chiseled in the dim light it might as well be made out of marble.

“I liked the other one better,” Bob whispered back and Jake’s green eyes met his.

“The other…oh, ‘baby?’” His crows feet crinkled in that attractive way.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Bob slowly smirked as he leaned back in.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Jake murmured, just the hint of teeth against Bob’s lips, and what a thing, really, that Bob didn’t die in a giant fireball only to spontaneously combust in med bay. 

Jake brought a hand up to cup Bob’s chin, feather light as if not to hurt him. Bob could fully attest that he couldn’t care less about his injuries right now, whether it was the morphine or the adrenaline taking away his pain, as butterflies danced through his stomach all the same.

Finally, Jake pulled away again, only to rest his forehead against Bob’s. Then again maybe he had died in that crash and this was the afterlife. Apparently he had made good on his promise to see Jake there in the end.

“How are you feeling?” Jake asked as he left a kiss on Bob’s forehead, his cheek, before finally leaning back.

“I uh-” Bob had to gather himself, blink a few times to shake out of his shock and pleasure, “Feelin’ like a million bucks.”

“How high are you right now?”

“Way above decision altitude.”

“So you won’t remember this enough to regret it in the morning…”

“Jake,” Bob lowered his head to view the pilot from under his brow. If the lights had been brighter Bob might’ve sworn he could see Jake blushing, that rosy glow making its appearance for the second time in only a few days.

“Just checkin’,” Jake scoffed, evasive, his eyes lowered to the ground even as he grinned that giant grin, “I wouldn’t be surprised if-”

“I think I might be in love with you.”

Jake froze at Bob’s admission, looking like somehow more of a deer in headlights than Bob felt. 

Shit. Had he just said that out loud?

Ah, fuck it, now was a good time to be brave.

“I know, I’m just as shocked as you are,” he sent Jake the tiniest smile.

Bob was used to the quieter side of Jake by now, but the absolute gobsmacked silence was new.

“Did I finally find a way to leave you speechless, Hangman?” Bob teased as Jake still leaned against the bedrails.

“And…and by that you mean you love me like everybody loves me, right?” If anybody else had heard that sentence, they would have missed the fear underneath the bravado.

“Not a chance,” Bob thought this must be what Jake felt like all the time as he smirked, grabbed Jake by the collar with his good hand, and pulled him right back in.

…

“What happened with Wyndham?” Bob asked a while later, after Jake had somehow wedged himself between Bob and the bedrail so he could get closer, their shoulders overlapping as they sat squished together.

“I don’t know,” Jake grumbled, sliding his thumb across the back of Bob’s hand as they rested against each other. They weren’t quite holding hands, still mindful that anyone might walk in at any moment, and their proximity alone might be enough to get the Admiral to raise an eyebrow.

“Scuttlebutt says he could be down in the brig, or on house arrest. Or he could just be too scared to show his face in the ready room and the higher ups are protecting him. They’ve been very hush-hush about the whole thing.”

“Pretty sure ‘Tasha would ruin him if she ever saw him.”

“Yeah?” Jake snapped his head to the side, “well she’s gonna have to get in line. I could kill that little shit.”

“Did he-”

“Oh, he was fine. Limped back on board on his own. Wish I could’ve been there to hear whatever sob story he told Morrison after coming back without his wingman.”

“You think they’ll reassign him…or us?”

“I hope they court-martial him,” Jake growled, more angry than Bob could ever remember seeing him, “but watch, he’ll get a slap on the wrist because they can’t lose his numbers.”

“Either way he won’t be around us any more. Good riddance, Draco.”

“Oh my God, that’s what I’ve been thinking this whole time!”

“You really are a closet nerd,” Bob giggled, nudging Jake’s foot from under the blankets.

“Had to study to impress this guy I’m in love with.”

Bob felt like someone had grabbed his heart and given it a jerk. 

“Oh, yeah? How’s Sanderson going?” He opted to remain calm despite the frantic beating of his heart.

“I have no idea what I’m reading.”

They both dissolved in giggles after that. Such a throw away comment was apparently enough to do them both in, and they laughed and laughed, letting out days worth of tension and stress and fear.

“Where do we go from here?” Bob finally ventured, almost timid after the minutes of laughter.

“Well, we do have a room to ourselves…”

“Jake!” Bob would smack him if he could move his good arm from where it was pinned under Seresin’s.

“You’re saying you don’t think we should take advantage of-”

“Jake, half of my bones are broken.”

“I think we can find a way.”

“Oh my Gooood,” it was Bob’s turn to blush as he covered his face in one hand. Jake just giggled beside him, the whole bed shaking with the effort.

The lights snapped on in the next moment and both of them let out various noises of disgust.

“What do we have here,” Natasha’s cheerful tone echoed around sick bay as she rounded into view.

“Hey, ‘Tash,” Bob waved as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“We’re having a roomie snuggle, Trace, don’t ruin the vibe.”

“Is that what’s going on here?” She crossed her arms over her chest and popped one hip to the side, examining them both.

Bob just shrugged with one arm, as if it would do any good. Natasha, as always, could see straight through him.

“Oh, God, I don’t want to know any details,” she groaned, even as she moved to sit at the end of the bed.

“Can’t make any promises, Phoenix,” Jake poked her with the toe of his boot.

“I already warned you once, and you get a pass for that rescue stunt you pulled, but do not hurt my Bob, Bagman,” she punched his boot for good measure.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake answered with his most southern drawl, but somehow seemed earnest.

They spent the early hours of the morning like that, chatting about what Bob had missed the days he was out, or how he got the best of the best from the mess for being in sick bay. Doctor Henderson finally joined them around 05:30. He was apparently a master of facial expressions, because nothing on his face indicated his surprise at three airmen packed onto one bed.

“I think it’s time you might be able to return to your berth, Lieutenant,” he finally announced after making Jake and Natasha vacate the mattress so he could run some tests. “I trust your pilot can help you navigate without the use of your arm?”

Bob glanced between the two pilots for a moment. Shit. He hadn’t even thought about this. Who was he going to fly with now?

Apparently they both had the same exact thought as neither answered before Phoenix finally elbowed Hangman in the ribs.

“Yes, sir, I’ll take good care of him, sir.”

If Bob wasn’t on pain meds he could have sworn that Dr. Henderson smirked just a little.

“Very well. Since you share a berth, I’d recommend you take a look at the discharge instructions as well. Lieutenant, please come back immediately if you have any complications.”

“Thank you, Doctor Henderson.”

And with that Bob was free to leave. 

He took his time, walking slowly, even though his legs were perfectly fine. Still, after nearly four days in sickbay, and his body screaming at him with every sway of his plaster-encased arm, even walking to his room was exhausting.

“Halfway there, Bob,” Phoenix announced from where she was hovering behind them, as if ready to catch Bob if he fell, even with Jake all but glued to his side.

“Just think, once we get there, you can-”

Whatever Jake was about to say flew out an open hatch and into the deep blue sea because as they rounded a corner, all three of them spotted a familiar face.

Wyndham.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion.

All the blood drained from Wyndham’s face, his skin sheet white as he glanced around to find an escape. He wasn’t alone, Commander Morrison was walking beside him, along with a few other sailors Bob didn’t know.

Jake left Bob’s side in the blink of an eye, invading Wyndham’s space so fast Bob wondered if the drugs were impairing his mental processing.

Without any further ado Hangman marched up to Quarterback, squared up the solid four inches he had on the kid, and let fly the most perfect right hook Bob had ever seen.

Wyndham let out a noise similar to a squeal, crumpling down to the deck as his hands flew to his face.

Everyone seemed to gasp, the sailors accompanying them staring at Jake with wide eyes. Bob and Phoenix waited, tense, for whatever retaliation Commander Morrison might give Seresin.

Instead, he just stood there, staring down at the young blonde pilot. His gaze flicked up once towards Jake before it moved back down to where Quarterback was sprawled.

“On your feet, sailor,” he ordered, no sympathy to be found. Bob could feel his mouth literally hanging open.

Quarterback slowly made his way to his feet, hand against the wall for support as he rubbed his jaw and glared at Hangman.

“See you in the afterlife, Quarterback,” Jake quipped and it took everything in Bob not to let out a cackle.

“You-” Wyndham started, looking to the Commander, “he-”

“Let’s go, Lieutenant,” was all Morrison had to say.

Bob and Phoenix made space as the small crew continued their way down the p-way, finally rounding a corner and moving out of sight.

“Holy shit, Hangman, I could kiss you,” Phoenix announced the second they were gone.

“I’ll leave that honor to Bob,” Jake smirked and met Bob’s eyes.

“Ew, gross, I’m only letting that slide because that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But I wish you would’ve let me do it.”

“Maybe you can take a short cut and ambush him just to do it again,” Jake grinned an evil grin.

“I think I’m ready to sit down first,” Bob announced, though he was really about ready to get to the kissing Jake part of this scenario.

“Sorry, Bob, let’s get you to your bunk,” Phoenix took his arm.

“Most epic thing I’ve ever seen…”

Chapter Text

The first thing Bob did when he got back to his berth was pass out. It felt a bit anticlimactic, given that Jake had just admitted, not a scant few hours ago, that he was in love with him. But damn if Bob wasn’t exhausted just by the walk from sickbay alone.

A mix of memories flooded his dreams, details from the past few months of him and Jake; Jake’s arms around him in the icy waves, Jake’s hot breath on the back of his neck, snuggled up in bed, Jake’s fingers whispering against the short hair at his nape. Jake himself was frustratingly elusive in these dreams, just barely too far away from Bob’s touch or vision.

Bob finally drifted all the way to consciousness, rubbing the crust from the corners of his eyes. He still didn’t feel fully rested and idly wondered how long it would take until he was back to normal. Until he could fly again. 

That thought had him freezing in bed, staring up at the blurry view of Jake’s mattress above him. Flying again. Who was he going to fly with now that Phoenix was back? A hollow pit grew in his stomach, which just made him all the more aware of how intensely hungry he suddenly felt. How long had it been since he’d eaten anything? 

His stomach growled as if on cue, which finally gave him the motivation to roll over on his good arm and hoist himself up. He tried to ignore the overall sensation that he had been run over by a bulldozer. Moving his limbs was like an out of body experience. How long had he slept? Time sometimes felt like a foreign concept on a carrier anyway, hardly any windows to help indicate where the sun was in the sky, but Bob truly didn’t know if it had been hours or minutes or days.

He adjusted his arm in the sling Doctor Henderson had given him, slid his glasses on, and slowly trudged his way out the door and towards the mess. He had no idea which shift was working right now, but he could still grab some Midrats if dinner was already over. His stomach growled again.

The smell of coffee and bacon soon filled his nostrils as he approached the closest dining hall, shuffling down the corridor as if the hash browns had him on a lure.

“Bob!” He turned his head at the sound of his name, only to find Natasha and Jake sitting at a nearby table, both bounding up from where they had been hunched over their respective cups of coffee.

“Bob, come over here and sit down before you fall down,” Nat was by his side and ushering him towards the table by the time Bob could blink a few slow blinks. Jake was just hovering, straddling the long bench of the mess table, hands slightly out from his body as if he didn’t know what to do or where to be.

“How long was I out?” Bob mumbled as Natasha guided him over to Jake’s side of the table.

“Only a couple hours, it’s barely after 08:00,” Jake supplied, one hovering hand moving to the small of Bob’s back as Natasha’s smaller fingers guided his shoulders. He sat down next to Jake, leaving a respectable amount of distance between them, even if he really wanted to plaster himself against Seresin’s side.

“No wonder I still feel like a squashed mosquito.”

“Don’t move, I’m getting you a tray,” Tasha was off towards the food line before Bob could murmur his thanks.

“How’re you doing?” Hangman asked lowly after a few minutes, his hand slowly gliding up from the small of Bob’s back to rest between his shoulder blades. Bob had almost forgotten it was there, it felt so natural.

“Did you not hear the mosquito thing?”

A tiny smile pulled at Jake’s lips and the twinkle in his eyes was so fond it made Bob’s chest tighten.

“But you're my little mosquito,” his thumb swept a slow arch along Bob’s back.

“Your little mosquito?” Natasha returned with a tray packed high, extra bacon on the side, and Bob couldn’t decide who he really loved more for a moment. “I don’t think I even want to know what that means. Who wants to be a mosquito?”

“Means I get to squash him any time?” 

“Ew, what?” Natasha wrinkled her nose.

“Means he can suck-”

“Jake!” Bob kicked him under the table as Phoenix slammed her hands over her ears and bowed her head to the tabletop.

“Oh God, Seresin, I said I don’t want to know!” She moaned into the laminate. Bob just shook his head with a huff and tried not to inhale a whole piece of bacon.

“You’re just in time, Bob, we’ve got news about Wyndham.” Natasha finally lifted her face and wrapped both hands around her coffee mug.

“What, already?” Bob asked around a scoop of eggs.

“I’ve got friends in administration now,” she smirked.

“Just tell him, Phoenix,” Jake had his own coffee mug propped up in one hand.

“Okay,” she looked around for a moment before leaning forward, a similar position to when Bob first walked in. “Word is that he is getting a court-martial.” 

“Are you kidding? I didn’t think they’d actually do it.”

“He’s being shipped back Stateside to await trial.”

“Trial?” Bob locked eyes with Natasha. “So they’re not just slapping him with a Summary?”

“Oh no, it’s going further up the chain than that.”

“Wow,” Bob sat back to process, staring at his food as images from their plane spiraling and hurling towards the water replayed in his head.

“You okay, Bobby?” Jake’s voice cut through his stupor.

“Yeah, I- I guess I just never thought something like this would ever happen. Feels…I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel. Just trying to figure out how to move forward.”

“We’re here for you Bob,” Natasha smiled at him and it loosened something in his stomach.

“Well, that’s…” he stopped, staring down at his breakfast again. Did he really want to have this conversation right now? He glanced up at Tasha and Jake who were waiting expectantly. Ah, fuck.

“That’s part of it, of moving forward, I don’t- I mean, who do you think I’ll be flying with?”

They were both quiet, brows scrunching as they exchanged glances, as if the thought hadn’t yet occurred to them either.

“Oh, well, obviously you should-”

“You should fly with Phoenix,” Jake declared, matter of fact.

They were all quiet for another beat, Bob staring back down at his bacon like it might hold the keys to the universe.

“You don’t think we-”

“It’ll be just like old times,” Jake insisted. Bob took a second to search his face. He was smiling that small smile still, unwavering, and seemed completely sincere. Bob realized he knew Jake enough by now to be able to tell if he was lying or not. 

“If you’re sure you-” On the one hand it would be nice to get back to his routine, back into his rhythm with Natasha. On the other, it felt almost like losing Jake, in a small way.

“Don’t worry, baby on board, you’ll still hear me over the comms when I smoke you both,” Jake smirked, taking a sip of coffee. Somehow though, it made Bob feel better, as if Hangman could read his mind, and reassure him in an oh so Jake way that he’d still be there.

“Whatever you say,” Bob rolled his eyes despite his smile, tapping his toe against Seresin’s. Jake tapped right back. Natasha was smiling quietly to herself, glancing between them over her mug.

“‘Tash?” Bob asked after her thoughts on the matter. 

She took a sip of coffee, eyes lingering on Jake for just a moment before she once again locked eyes with her backseater. 

“Just like old times.” 

…

Bob was allowed to convalesce for at least the remainder of the week, so after devouring his breakfast and feeling much lighter after their unanimous decision, he went back to his bunk to hibernate. The rest of the day felt much the same, in and out of consciousness, sometimes with intense dreams, other times for what felt like the blink of an eye before he was lucid again.

It only took about a day and a half before he’d slept and lounged and rested enough that he was about ready to crawl out of his skin. With a lack of duties and nothing better to do, he proceeded to follow Nat and Jake around the corridors like a lost puppy.

As often as Jake liked to flirt with the rules, and with his fellow crewman for that matter, he was doing a remarkable job at keeping his hands to himself and maintaining his distance with Bob all day. Enough that it left Bob to wonder. Everything back in sickbay had happened, right? He had kissed Jake. And Jake had kissed him. And Bob had admitted…

That hadn’t been a dream, had it?

Bob was suddenly unsure, what with how his dreams had been recently and how many drugs had been pumped through his veins. He tagged after Phoenix and tried to recall details from that morning, moments that he couldn’t have just made up. He had the urge to ask Jake but didn’t even know where to begin. What if it really had just been a figment of Bob’s imagination? He could only imagine Hangman’s face if he tried to broach the question. “Hey, uh, remember that one time you said you were in love with me? No? Oh, no worries, I’ll just go throw myself overboard now.”

Fuck.

By dinnertime that pit was back in his stomach and while Nat and Jake were once again whisked away to more duties, Bob slowly made his way back to his bunk, stewing in his own worry. He stopped by the commissary, then the library, not really looking for anything other than a distraction.

He finally made it to his two-top, pushing open the door and flipping on a desk light. He sighed as he observed his bed, and Jake’s, Seresin’s gigantic Texas flag still cascading down over his own. Lying atop the mattress above that flag was the newest Sanderson book.

And that. That had to be proof. Right? There’s no way Jake would have that book unless-

A warm palm rested at the base of his neck, long fingers wrapping around to massage the skin, rubbing small circles at the base of his skull. “Hey,” Jake whispered oh so close to his ear, and Bob near on let out a whimper.

“Alone at last,” Bob could tell Jake was smiling without even looking at him. A big hand closed over his hip, firm and secure, as Seresin hooked his chin over Bob’s other shoulder, tilting his head so he could get a look at Bob.

“Hey, you ok?” Something on his face must have keyed Jake into his recent distress, as Seresin was standing back up and sliding around to stand in front of Bob, his hand dragging across Bob’s jumpsuit as he did.

“Yeah, no, I uh-” Bob felt warm all over, every pinpoint of contact between them practically buzzing; Jake’s feet bracketing one of his, Jake’s hand pressed tight against his hip, Jake’s fingers coming up to tenderly cup his chin so their eyes could meet.

“What’s wrong?”

Bob swallowed, sure he should give an answer, but he was caught off guard by the green of Jake’s eyes in the low light of their room, the yellow hue of the sole lamp casting a golden glow into their depths.

Jake was searching his face with those lovely eyes, dancing back and forth before they dipped down to Bob’s lips, his fingers still a whisper against Bob’s chin.

Bob followed suit, eyes darting down to Jake’s mouth, his kissable mouth that was right there. Just like their shared bed in Perth. Jake’s hand tightened on his hip and Bob let out a tiny gasp, their eyes meeting once again.

“I thought-” 

Jake’s eyes were smoldering now, but he waited, expectant.

“I thought I’d dreamed that morning in sickbay.”

Jake continued to search his eyes, not laughing like Bob half expected, not retorting or anything of the sort. Instead a slow, slow smile pulled at his lips as those green eyes grew darker and before Bob knew it he was moving, slowly backing up as Jake moved forward, until his back gingerly hit the bulkhead.

“You think I’m dreamy?” Jake whispered into Bob’s mouth, their lips so very close to touching.

“Jake,” Bob breathed, desperate.

“You didn’t dream it, baby.”

Jake's lips pressed oh so gently to his own.

Bob melted into him, the worry and stress and strain of the past week flooding out of him and Jake crowded him against the wall, the fingers still cupping his jaw moving to cradle Bob’s head gently, his other big hand spreading out behind Bob’s back. Bob felt something hot pooling in his stomach at how protective, how encompassing it felt.

Bob reciprocated by hooking his good arm over Jake’s shoulder, moving him impossibly closer as Seresin’s hips pinned him in place.

“Jake,” Bob moaned as their kisses became more heated, and Jake took the opportunity to lick into his mouth, their tongues dancing together. Jake’s hips ground into Bob’s and he let out another moan, that molten sensation pulsing through him. He ran his hand up Jake’s shoulder, his neck, and cupped the back of his head, short nails scratching his scalp and messing up the product there like Bob had thought about so long ago.

Jake growled at the motion, surging forward to capture Bob’s mouth once again.

“Ah, fuck,” Bob gasped as Jake pressed into his sling too hard, a sharp pain shooting up to his elbow, his shoulder.

“Fuck, sorry, baby,” Jake pulled back immediately, hand moving back to rest against Bob’s hip as the other hovered shy of Bob’s arm.

“It’s okay,” Bob caught his breath as the pain started to dissipate. “I’m sorry that I’m- that I can’t-”

“Sshh,” Jake soothed, almost delicately as he pressed his forehead to Bob’s. “It’s okay, Bobby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you want to-”

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled before craning his neck to press a kiss to Bob’s brow. Bob thought he might pass out then and there for the sheer tenderness of the gesture.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Jake kissed the tip of his nose and Bob’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“Yeah,” Bob breathed out, running his good hand down Jake’s arm.

“Is this-” Jake started, and Bob glanced back up to his face. Now it was Jake’s turn to suddenly look unsure, an expression Bob had rarely seen on the cocksure pilot.

“This is…you do want to do this, right?” He glanced down between them.

“Jake,” Bob tilted his head down to catch Seresin’s eyes.

Green met blue.

“I want this. I want you. A lot.”

Jake grinned his huge Jake grin, surging forward to capture Bob’s lips again.

“Me too. A lot.”

Chapter Text

Robert Floyd took in a deep, deep breath, inhaling the cool, southern morning air. He let out a long sigh, fingers tightening on a warm mug of coffee set atop the porch railing, the steam slowly rising past his eyeline. The sun was still an orange glow as it rose over the rolling hill country, its beams catching the dew settled like a blanket over the fields and causing the whole ground to sparkle. 

Bob sighed again, watching his breath condensate in the air, more content than he could remember being in a very long time.

“Good mornin’,” Jake’s voice came from behind him, a half whisper, and Bob just smiled to himself, sipping his coffee. Soon Jake was snaking his arms around Bob, pulling him back from the railing the slightest bit as he hooked his chin over the backseater’s shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Bobby,” this time he did whisper, running his nose slowly along Bob’s cheek and Bob wondered if spontaneously combusting from happiness was actually possible.

“Morning,” Bob slowly turned, letting his eyes linger on the horizon for a moment longer before matching his gaze with Jake’s. “I see you’re finally up, sleepy head.” He couldn’t resist booping Jake on the nose.

“Robert, it’s seven-thirty in the morning.”

“Yes, and your mom and I have already got bread proofing.”

“Ugh, I knew it was a mistake to bring you here,” Jake groaned even though he was smiling. He backed Bob up the tiniest bit to lean against the porch railing of his parent’s Texas ranch. 

“You’re just jealous that they like me more than you,” Bob smirked, smoothing his arms up Jake’s chest to loop them around his neck.

“A likely story,” Jake’s eyes sparkled like the morning dew as he leaned down to capture Bob’s lips in a kiss.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jake was back to whispering as he pulled away, his eyes suddenly serious.

“Me too, babe,” Bob relaxed even more against the fence, bringing Jake with him.

“Merry Christmas, Jake,” he whispered back, cupping Jake’s cheek in one hand, sweeping a tender thumb under his eye. Jake looked almost wistful for a moment before his face morphed into a smile, long fingers wrapping around Bob’s arm before he actually giggled, springing forward to envelope Bob in a hug, spinning him around in a circle.

“I love you,” he finally declared, all out grinning now, as he finally let Bob back to his own feet.

“I love you too, Jake Seresin,” Bob couldn’t help grinning right back.

“Boys!” Jake’s mom called from the house, “come get some eggnog so we can open presents!”

They just smiled at each other for another moment, giddy, before Jake reached out to take Bob’s hand, threading their fingers, as they walked back into the house to be with their family.

Together.