#80s Finch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writeforfandoms · 10 months

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Listening In 2

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Soap has to work undercover at a restaurant to get info on a target, and meets a waitress he enjoys flustering. He immediately decides he wants to share her with Ghost. Four part mini series, porn then feelings.

Part two: in which Ghost gets hands-on.

This probably has Vegas vibes because I started writing it while I was in Vegas. Oops.

Warnings: swearing, waitress gets a little creeped on (not by Ghost or Soap), manhandling, Simon is pushy, praise kink, dirty talk, check ins, biting, fingering, piv sex, unexpected tenderness, bit of aftercare. This is 80% filth.

Word count: 4.6k

The mark was being uncooperative. He’d shown up to the bar multiple times, but they still hadn’t gotten the info they needed.

Not that Johnny seemed to mind - he’d taken to bartending like a duck to water. Bloody showoff. Simon snorted softly behind his balaclava as he watched Johnny entertain a few people with some bottles.

Simon’s gaze wandered from Johnny to the pretty little waitress. She was busy working, smile firmly in place. She really was pretty. And Johnny had been right - she made the prettiest noises.

Simon was tempted to find out what noises he could get her to make.

Instead he simply watched and waited to see if their mark would come in.

And he did. Half an hour later, their mark walked in and went to a table, a business associate following. It was just bad luck that the table was their waitress’s.

“Soap,” he murmured into comms, “mark is at table 42. Watch yourself.”

“Copy,” Soap murmured back.

Ghost saw the moment Soap realized the full situation - their waitress stopped at the table to take orders, and Soap tensed. But he stayed on mission and didn’t interfere, staying behind the bar where he needed to be.

Ghost was already working on audio for that table, working quickly.

And it turned out to be a good thing he did, too, even as his lips curled in disdain at what he was hearing.

“...one of my favorite places,” their mark was saying to his companion, smarmy grin clear in his voice. “The wait staff here are always… attentive.”

“I certainly hope so.” The companion’s gaze lingered on their waitress. “The uniforms certainly are a good color.”

Both men laughed at that. “You know,” the mark said, leaning in and lowering his voice just a little. Not that he needed to - the place was busy tonight, Ghost doubted anyone else could overhear them. “If one catches your eye…”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” the companion said, clapping his shoulder. “I know my business. Wouldn’t get you in trouble over a pretty little thing.” He winked, and both men laughed again. Ghost set his teeth, watching and listening.

Facial recognition came back with a match on the companion, and Ghost spared a moment to look it over. Riley Finch. Been accused of human trafficking on more than one occasion, but no solid evidence had ever been collected to put him away.

Ghost’s lips pulled in a sneer. Human trafficking, huh? Ghost had half a mind to see how Riley Finch liked being taken against his will and dumped somewhere. Preferably in a dark cell to never see the light of day again.

The next hour dragged. The two men talked business, obliquely enough that Ghost didn’t get anything actionable, just interesting. Things to follow up on.

And then Riley watched the pretty waitress go, tapping the table a couple times. “That one’s not one of your favorites, is she?”

“Nah,” the mark said, leaning back. “Too uptight for me.”

“Good.”

The mark laughed, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t get me in trouble,” he said, standing. “I’m goin’ up to the bar.”

Riley nodded, grinning. “I’ll see you later.”

The two men separated - the mark went up to the bar, where Soap had a good handle on things. Riley, however, managed to follow the waitress up to a computer station and stood there chatting with her. Ghost swore softly - he had video there but no audio.

But whatever Riley said had the waitress shrinking in on herself a little, smile nowhere to be seen, shoulders hunched. Ghost watched as she printed out a receipt and tucked it in a little black folder, shaking her head at Riley. She made her escape as fast as she could without being too obvious.

Ghost debated for a moment, watching Riley loiter. It was possible he’d give up on whatever it was he wanted.

Then again, it was possible he wouldn’t. He did have a history of being a creepy bastard.

Making his decision, Ghost quickly checked the schedule for the employees. He had half an hour. Plenty of time.

–

You pulled your coat on, glancing around as you left. You’d had creeps approach you before, you’d dealt with handsy customers and entitled men.

But something about the man earlier set you on edge, made you paranoid. It was enough to make you regret that you had to walk home alone. Even if it was only midnight.

Pulling your coat tighter around yourself and wishing you had more than pepper spray in your purse, you slipped out the back.

And nearly shrieked when you spotted a person leaning against the wall of the alleyway, clad head to toe in black, huge and hulking.

He called your name, voice rough. It was enough to have you pausing, at least. “I’m a friend of Johnny,” he said, hands out and open at his sides. Trying to be non-threatening. “He asked me to walk you home.”

You raised one eyebrow at him, shifting your weight uncertainly. “Didn’t say anything to me.”

“Said he saw that guy harassing you, wanted to make sure you’re fine.” He shifted off the wall so you could see him better, although he didn’t move towards you.

“Oh.” You warmed, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “Um. Okay.” But you still slipped one hand in your purse, clutching your pepper spray. Not that you hoped to use it, but still. Never hurt to be careful. A few steps brought you closer to the giant man, and you frowned when you saw he was wearing a full on balaclava.

Weird, but, well… you’d seen weirder here.

“Just… don’t try anything funny.” You narrowed your eyes a little up at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice was dry as dust and startled you into laughter.

He fell into step next to you as you exited the alleyway. Your fingers tightened around your pepper spray but you didn’t pull it out, instead settling for a quick (paranoid) look around before you started towards your apartment.

“What’s your name?” you asked, glancing briefly up at him before you went back to scanning your surroundings.

“Simon.”

“Simon,” you repeated, noticing the odd twitch of his shoulders. “I hope this isn’t putting you too far out of your way.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The words were gruff but not unkind.

You merged with the crowd of party-goers, not paying them any mind. At least until Simon grabbed your purse strap, pulling you firmly behind him. Well. Okay then. Your heart beat faster at that, but it wasn’t because you were scared. Or even intimidated.

So you maybe kind of had a thing for big guys tossing you around a bit. Maybe. At least hypothetically - you’d never had a chance to test it out. But based on the thrumming beneath your skin, you were thinking hell yes you had a thing for this.

He stepped to the side, keeping closer to the buildings, and you took a couple quick steps to catch up to him.

The silence was almost uncomfortable between the two of you. He didn’t seem inclined to chat, and you weren’t sure where to even start. You didn’t know him, had no idea what to even try talking about. It didn’t quite hit your anxiety, but it did make you feel awkward and more shy than normal.

You stepped off the curb between buildings and felt his hand secure around your purse strap again. But this time he didn’t yank you behind him, just kept his grip on you as you navigated through the crowd going the opposite direction.

“Doing okay back there?” you couldn’t help but ask, glancing back at him, caught between amusement and worry. The crowds could be a lot, as well you knew. You’d had a lot of trouble adapting at first.

He grunted, releasing you again once the rowdy partiers were gone. So you just kept walking.

At least you tried to, until suddenly you were being yanked in between two buildings, a firm hand around your wrist. You drew in a startled breath, eyes blowing wide, as another hand secured over the lower half of your face.

“Hush, just me,” Simon whispered, placing his bulk between you and the street. “Stay quiet.”

You pushed at his hand, alarmed, and he shot you a look before releasing you. Lifting his hand to the front of his balaclava, he mimed holding a finger to his lips for silence.

Heart hammering (and not just because of the scare of being yanked around), you leaned very carefully to look around him. And then swallowed hard.

The guy who’d near-threatened you at work was walking slowly down the street. From the opposite direction. He hadn’t followed you - he’d anticipated your route home and gotten ahead of you. You must have made a noise because Simon’s hand clamped back over your mouth, pulling you back to where you couldn’t see anything.

And where you couldn’t be seen.

Hard eyes glittered down at you, and you blinked rapidly, trying to will away scared tears. He huffed, near inaudible, and his gaze softened. A little bit. Releasing you again, he pointed firmly at you and then, yet again, made the sign for silence. You nodded shakily, twisting your fingers together.

Moments passed in complete silence but for your racing heart, much too long to be counted. You barely dared to shift your weight, let alone try to look out at the street again.

Moving slowly, Simon crowded you back, step by step, until your back hit the brick wall, catching at your clothes. You stared up at him, eyes wide, staying silent though your lips had parted. He stopped with barely any space between you, one foot between yours, hand catching your jaw. You couldn’t help the little shiver that went down your spine at the way he towered over you, easily eclipsing the rest of the world.

“Stay close,” was all he said before he stepped back, releasing you. Almost dizzy, you followed, stumbling a little on your first step. By the time you two left the alleyway, you felt steadier.

The remainder of the walk was silent, with you sticking close to Simon and occasionally giving directions.

You paused outside your building, glancing up at the big man, unsure what to do now. You were probably safe here.

But that “probably” caught in your head, left you feeling uncertain.

“Want me to walk you to your door?” The offer was quiet, yanking your gaze back to him.

You bit your lip and then nodded slowly. “If it’s no trouble?”

He huffed quietly and nodded for you to go first. You got into the elevator with a certain sense of deja vu, especially when he settled right next to you. Not across the elevator car, like any normal person. Nope, right next to you.

And you didn’t move away, didn’t tell him to move. Just stood with his warmth inches away the entire ride up to your floor.

“That one’s mine,” you said as you stepped off the elevator, pointing to your door.

Simon nodded and continued to follow you. So you unlocked the door and pushed it open, looking back to ask him if he wanted to come in.

Big hands landed on your hips, guiding you inside before turning you quickly. Your back hit the door and those hands landed on either side of your head as Simon loomed over you, caging you in.

“You like this,” he rumbled, low and dark. “Don’t you? Saw you earlier. Like it when someone throws you around? Holds you down?”

You swallowed, mind blank, heart racing. But not with fear.

“Asked you a question, dove.” He leaned in closer, one foot pushing between yours until you were quite thoroughly trapped between him and the door.

“I… maybe? I don’t… I’ve never…” You were pretty sure you were about to combust on the spot.

“Use your words, dove.”

You closed your eyes briefly, struggling, biting your lip. Your hands twisted into your skirt.

One big hand closed around both of your wrists, pulling your arms up over your head and holding you there. You gasped, eyes flying wide open again, to find his face right in front of yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, quiet and completely serious. “Tell me to back off, and I will.” He waited a beat, another. “But if you don’t say anything, I’m going to keep going until you say otherwise. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips.

“Verbal response, dove.” His fingers tightened ever so slightly around your wrists.

“I understand.”

"Good girl." He hummed, holding you in place easily as he lowered his head to nose your skin through his balaclava. You couldn't hold back the shudder at those words, and he rumbled a low laugh. "Like that, hm? We'll add it to the list."

You squirmed a little, gasping when he lifted his knee to press his thigh between your legs.

"Need something, dove?" The smirk was clear in his voice. "Gotta ask for it."

("Easy, Simon," Johnny whispered in his ear, though the want was clear in his voice. "Take it easy on her, aye?")

You licked your lips, twisting your fingers just for something to do, some outlet for the low simmering in you. "Can I…?" You trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Go on." Simon gripped your hip with his free hand, thumb smoothing over your skin, and when had he managed to get under your shirt?

"Can I kiss you?" You closed your eyes, burning under your skin. Your heart was definitely too soft for this - you didn't want to fool around with someone unless you knew them a little better. And in this particular case, that meant you wanted to kiss Simon.

There was silence from the man in front of you for the longest moment of your life. Then a soft huff. His hand left your hip, and for a wild moment you thought he'd back off and leave.

But lips landed on yours, soft but unyielding. You gasped and he wasted no time, licking into your mouth and dominating the kiss. You made a soft noise and he pressed closer, thigh pressing between your legs and prompting another noise from you.

"Good fucking girl," he rasped, low and pleased. You blinked your eyes open a little hazily to see the balaclava falling back into place, his eyes nearly black now.

You twisted your wrists again, caught between the desire to ask him to let you go, and the urge to just… let him. It was kind of… nice. Maybe. Even just the thought had warmth gathering in your cheeks and elsewhere.

"You do like this." His grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling your hands further up until you were up on your tiptoes, held firm between him and the door. "Fuck, dove. Too tempting."

"Is that good or bad?" The question slipped out without your permission, and you nearly choked on your tongue. "I–sorry, I didn't mean–"

"It's a good thing." Simon tipped his head, watching you closely. "You have no idea how good you look, do you?"

You couldn't answer that, just swallowing hard. But you didn't struggle.

He hummed, thoughtful. "Bet you'll look even better in bed." He pulled away from you suddenly enough that you swayed, but his hands kept you steady. “Which door?”

“This one.” Still reeling a little, you walked into your bedroom. Frankly, you were amazed you stayed upright, between the desire pooling between your legs and the mortification trying valiantly to get a grip on your head. “I–Are you sure–”

Simon’s hands landed on your hips again from behind, pulling you back into his chest. “Am I sure I want this?” he murmured, low and raspy. “I’m very sure, dove. Been sure since I saw you.”

Heat flared and you squirmed a little, unsure what to do with your hands. (It’s not like you did this often. Or ever. Johnny had been the first time in a long time, and that was very different from this.)

“Want help getting rid of these?” Simon tugged at your shirt and skirt, clothed nose brushing against your cheek.

“I… maybe?” You hated how uncertain you sounded.

Simon must have heard it too because he slowed, hands rubbing small, warm circles into your hips. “You can always say no,” he rumbled. “Always. Right?”

“Right,” you breathed, somehow reassured. “Then… Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.” He hummed, fingers making quick work of the buttons on your shirt, though he left it hanging open for now. Your skirt puddled on the floor at your feet moments later. "Now, unless you tell me to stop, I'm gonna ravish that gorgeous neck, and I'm going to fuck you."

The sound you made was embarrassingly loud, and your eyes slammed closed in mortification. But Simon just groaned softly, his hands on your hips pulling your back tight to his front so you could feel his bulge.

"Too sweet, dove," he rumbled into your ear, pulling you into a slow grind back against him. "Gonna let me ruin you?"

You gasped as his fingers shoved your panties down, straying over the newly-bared skin. "Y-yes."

Your shirt hit the floor on the other side of the room, and a moment later your bra followed. Teeth nipped at the skin just behind your ear as those big, warm hands cupped your breasts.

"Let's see how loud you can be for me," he growled, breath warm on your ear, before he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder. Your yelp caught somewhere between pain and desire, and you didn't want to admit how much you enjoyed that.

Between his fingers toying with your nipples and his teeth leaving marks in your neck, it didn't take long for you to start whimpering, squirming against him and reaching one hand back behind you. You paused when your fingers touched the fabric of his balaclava, hesitating.

"Just don't pull it off," he grunted, lips barely parting from your skin. "But if you need something to hold on to…" His hands slid back down to your hips, guiding you forward. You sucked in a breath when he more or less gently pushed you forward until your knees bumped your bed. One big hand at the nape of your neck guided your head down until your hands hit the bed and fisted in the blankets, holding you upright. "Fuckin' perfect, dove."

You squirmed again, far too warm, aching for more. "Simon…"

"Easy, dove." His hand smoothed from the nape of your neck all the way down your back in one long stroke, easy and warm. "I got ya." His teeth set against the nape of your neck, making you shiver, even as one big finger pressed into you. Your high-pitched noise would have been embarrassing if you had the brain power to think. As it was, everything had narrowed down to the two of you and your bed.

And then he bit down on the knob of your spine and you whined, arching your back and pushing yourself back on his finger. The low sound he made vibrated against your skin.

"Fuck," you gasped, fingers curling tighter in the blankets, dropping your head. "Big fingers."

He chuckled, low and rumbling, nudging his nose against the mark undoubtedly blooming on your skin. "Better get used to it," he growled, sliding a second finger in.

You gasped, wiggling your hips. Even just two fingers was a bit of a stretch, but it felt good. He felt good. Even the pain seemed to heighten the pleasure, making you more aware. His fingers curled in you, pulling a high moan from your throat.

"Could listen to you all night," he breathed against the skin of your back. He nipped at one spot, sharp and stinging, followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue.

"Maybe not all night," you muttered and then squeaked at a harder thrust from his fingers.

"Still have the energy to mouth off, huh?" He sounded amused, free hand sliding around to your front and down. "See how long that lasts." He scissored his fingers in you, stretching you wider, before setting a relentless pace. You quickly lost what little coherence you had, hips moving with his fingers, jerking when he pressed against your clit. "Much better," he purred low against your skin.

Your elbows gave out, sending your face into the bed and muffling your whines. His fingers just felt too good, hitting all the right spots in you and filling you deliciously.

"One more, dove," he murmured, lips trailing up behind your ear. "You can take it."

He didn't give you time to object (not that you would have), sliding a third finger in you. You gasped and shivered hard, eyelashes fluttering, pushing your hips back onto his fingers. You were so close, whining softly.

"Good fucking girl," he growled, low and rasping just behind your ear.

You gasped as your orgasm washed over you, clenching down tight around his fingers. His fingers didn't slow in you until you were whining from overstimulation, trying to jerk your hips away. Then he pulled his fingers from you with a lewd noise.

"Still want more?" He asked, almost gentle. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

"Just… gimme a sec," you murmured, still panting. Your thighs felt a little quivery.

One big hand smoothed down your back. "Take your time," he murmured.

You calmed slowly, listening to him behind you. You could hear his buckle clink, then a rip of plastic.

"Better?" Simon asked softly, his hand coming back to the nape of your neck.

"Mmhm." You blinked slowly, warmth curling in your belly again.

"Move up." He tapped your thigh, gently guiding you up until you were on your hands and knees on the bed. His weight dipped the mattress behind you, his gaze an almost physical weight.

You breathed slowly, tipping your head to glance back at him. He hadn't undressed, just pushing his pants and boxers out of the way, condom already on.

"Ready?" He asked, hand squeezing your hip.

For a moment, just a moment, you wondered what the hell you were doing. You didn't do stuff like this. But, well, he'd already been so good with his fingers…

So you nodded, bracing yourself a little more firmly. "Ready."

"Atta girl." He leaned down, the brief press of a kiss to the top of your spine surprising you, before he shifted behind you. The tip of his cock notched into place, and you tried to focus on your breathing as he pushed into you, slow and steady. The angle let you feel all of him, and you couldn’t hold back your moan if you tried. His hips pressed into your ass and he stilled, giving you a few moments.

“Simon–” you started, only to gasp as he pulled back, just as slow and steady.

“Yes, dove?” He sounded smugly amused, hands firm on your hips.

“Fuck,” you hissed, trying to squirm and only succeeding in getting him to hold you tighter.

“Gettin’ there.” His hips hit your ass again, still moving slow. This was a unique kind of torture, letting you feel him and do nothing else.

“Simon, please,” you begged, trying to move your hips back against him.

“Easy, dove.” Lips landed on the back of your shoulder, surprisingly tender. And then he bit down and you yelped, the pain-pleasure making you clench around him. His groan vibrated against your skin, the best kind of feedback loop. “Too tempting. You want more?”

“Please.” You tipped your head to look back at him, not that you could see much - he’d pulled his mask up across his nose.

He hummed acknowledgement and sat up again, holding still for a moment, adjusting his grip on you. Then he slammed into you, hard and fast, and you shouted. He didn’t relent even a little, holding you exactly where he wanted as he pounded into you. You could do nothing but hold tight to the sheets, keening. You could feel him so deep, almost achingly so, constantly riding the edge of pleasure and too much.

He hissed out a curse and one of his hands moved, looping under you and across your chest to grab your opposite shoulder. You were about to ask what he was doing when he hauled you upright until you were leaning back into his chest, thighs spread wide over his. You choked on a gasp, one hand grabbing his forearm, your other reaching behind you for his hip. Based on the plush give under your fingers, you got his ass instead.

Not that he minded, judging from the way his hips thrust up into you.

“You’re gonna come just like this,” he growled in your ear, low and filthy, even as the hand on your hip slid lower and inwards until his fingers could press against your clit. His arm banded across your chest kept you from falling forward again with the force of his thrusts, and you tipped your head back against his shoulder.

“Please,” you gasped, fingers tightening around him, nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, low and rough, ducking his head enough to bite under your ear. It felt like he was everywhere - reaching so deep you half-thought he’d leave an imprint of himself behind, solid and hot against your back, fingers holding tight to your shoulder. He rubbed tight circles over your clit and you came with a high whine, shuddering against him.

“Atta girl,” he muttered with a low groan. “Fuck!” He bit down on your shoulder, his hips stuttering before pressing up into you and stilling.

You loosened your grip on him, blinking slowly as you calmed. “Sorry,” you murmured, stroking over the nail marks you’d left on his arm.

He chuckled, holding you steady still. “Don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Still.” You gently tugged his arm until he released you with an amused huff. But you lifted his arm to kiss the marks. His breathing hitched behind you.

“Well, if that’s how you apologize, won’t say no to that.” He was amused, his other hand patting your thigh.

You smiled and kissed his palm. You couldn’t resist. “Need me to move?”

“Nah. You’re good.” He freed his hand, tugging his mask back into place.

This was… actually kind of nice. Feeling him soften inside you. Hmm. Something to explore later, maybe.

Yeah. As if you’d ever have an opportunity like this again.

But you did move after a minute, very carefully moving off of him before flopping face-first onto the bed.

He huffed a laugh, patting your ass. “Don’t smother yourself,” was all he said before he stood, the bed shifting with his movement. You didn’t look, giving him a bit of privacy until you heard the bathroom door close. Then you tossed your clothes in the laundry bin and pulled on a sleep shirt.

He emerged looking like nothing had happened, clothes righted. You kind of regretted that - you wanted some evidence on him, like he’d left at least a dozen marks on you. But you squashed that desire down, smiling up at him.

“Thank you. For walking me home.” You paused. “And for all the rest.”

He huffed another laugh. “Any time, dove. Keep outta trouble.”

You locked the front door again after he was gone and then stood there for a moment, back to the door, thinking back over the events of the night. Wow. Just wow.

Not that you were objecting.

–

“Simon,” Johnny growled into his ear. “Ye right bastard.”

“Distracted?” Simon purred, very smug as he walked back to their apartment.

“I still have to close,” Johnny hissed. “Fuck. Fuck! Those sounds…”

“You were right.” Simon grinned under his balaclava. “She does make the sweetest sounds.”

#listening in #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #18+#minors begone #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish

444 notes · View notes

trickphotography2 · 7 months

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(Every Step You Take) I'll Be Watching You

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x female!reader (Evie)

Word count: 6.2k

Synopsis: Bob disliked Friday team nights at The Hard Deck but knows they're important to the squad. That is, he disliked them until Penny hires a new summer bartender who gently pushes him to try new things. But when he comes in to find the police asking for her, the last thing he expected was to find himself protecting Evie. Trigger warnings: stalking, attempted assault

Written for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober Playlist challenge.

Prompt: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Master List | Ao3

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

The Hard Deck slowly filled with the usual Friday afternoon crowd, the noise level increasing as Bob crushed peanut shells between his fingers. He’d never been one for the bar scene, but team cohesion was necessary, and this was where the Daggers had decided was home. He could put up with a regular night out if it meant better dynamics in the air.

“Who's ready for another round?” Fanboy asked, holding up his empty beer bottle. There was a handful of answers, and Bob quickly stood.

“I’ll get it,” he said, eyes darting to the bar. It was still early enough that it wasn’t swamped with patrons, the perfect time for him to make the run. He’d always had a hard time with crowds. Some of that had been trained out of him by the Navy, but he avoided them when he could. That was one of the things he loved about being up in the air - the knowledge that it was just him and the pilot, that he could focus on his job instead of navigating the world. It was easier to have set parameters and expectations to operate within. Once he climbed the ladder to the cockpit, his entire focus shifted to the mission, executing it to the best possible extent and getting back home.

A spot opened up at the bar as he neared, and Bob made a beeline for it, setting the empty bottles and glasses on the counter. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he glanced at the pretty bartender Penny had hired a few weeks ago. Evie slung a towel over her shoulder and used the back of her wrist to push her purple glasses up as she built a drink in a shaker tin. Her gaze drifted across the patrons, and the corner of her mouth tipped up when her eyes landed on Bob. He felt his lips curving in an answering smile.

“Another round?” Penny asked, stepping in front of him.

“What? Oh,” he said, eyes darting between the two women. Penny gave him a knowing look, her lips thinning as though trying to repress a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Evie? Lieutenant Floyd’s getting another round for his squad. Think you can help him out?”

“Yup, just need a minute,” Evie replied, grabbing the cocktail strainer and a clean glass. Her eyes darted over the beer bottles. “What were the drafts?”

“It was the, uh… IPA?”

“Do you remember which one?” Rose dusted his cheeks, and Evie shook her head. “Don’t worry about it - who was it for?”

“Payback and Hangman.”

“Finch and…?”

“Fitch and Seresin.” She nodded, placing the cocktail before a woman, and quickly entered the sale. Grabbing clean glasses, she pulled the drafts. She retrieved the bottles from the under-counter refrigerator, caps flying as she quickly opened them before returning the bottle opener to her back pocket.

“And what can I get for you, Bob?” she asked, setting the beers down in front of him and clearing away the empties.

“I’m fine with a Coke.” She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you tried a Roy Rogers before?”

“I don’t, I don’t drink.”

“It’s not alcohol - it’s grenadine and Coke. Just a little more flavor.”

“Oh, that… that might be okay.” She smiled softly, grabbing a shot glass and the bottle of grenadine, uprighting it to pour a small measure before filling the rest with soda.

“Try it first.” Her fingers held the glass in the middle, and he carefully lifted it from her hand, making sure not to touch. “Thoughts?”

“It’s not bad,” he replied, setting the glass down. Evie quickly grabbed it and set it on the container with dirty glasses. “I’ll have that, please.”

“You’re not just saying that since I suggested it, are you?” she pressed, filling a glass with ice and setting it in front of him.

“No, ma’am. It’s good.”

“Alright. Happy it’s the weekend?” Bob watched as she poured the red syrup into the glass while using the soda gun, lifting his gaze to see her watching him. He nodded. “Doing anything fun?”

“Not really. You?”

“Working. Studying. The usual.” He watched her pluck two cherries from the garnish tray and drop them into the drink.

“Oh. Well, uh, I hope you have some time to relax.” Evie’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Here’s hoping. Need a hand to get all of this to the crew?”

“Backup has arrived,” Hangman said, appearing at Bob’s elbow. He winked at Evie. “Much obliged, darlin’.”

“Of course.” Her gaze met Bob’s again. “Lemme know if you need anything else tonight.”

“I will. Thank you, Evie.” She nodded, turning her attention to the next patron.

“You’re welcome, Bob.”

Another Friday. Another Hard Deck night.

Bob arrived before the others and sat in his truck. A glance at his watch showed that they should be getting there soon, so he steeled himself to go in first. If he did that, he could make an excuse to leave earlier.

“Hey,” Evie greeted him, a rack of clean glassware in her hands as she backed out of the kitchen. He nodded, eyes darting down to the rack and wondering if it would be strange for him to offer to carry it. She set it on the counter before he could figure it out and ducked under the bar. “What can I get for you?”

“A Roy Rogers, please.” Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she fought a smile.

“Okay. What are your thoughts on trying something else?”

“Like what?”

“A cherry lime Ricky? Lime juice, cherry syrup, and soda water.”

“Sure.” He watched her retrieve a glass and two bottles. “What are you - ”

“So how was - ” She paused. “Sorry, you first.”

“I,” Bob cleared his throat. “I was gonna ask what you’re studying.”

“I’m working on a doctorate in Clinical Psychology. Just finished my first year.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Her gaze flitted up to meet his before focusing on building his drink. “Decided it was time for a change, so, yeah. New city, new career.”

“Where were you before this?”

“DC. I was a legislative policy analyst.” At his raised brows, she shrugged. “It sounds more impressive than it was. And it paid horribly. I bartended on the side, so at least there’s some continuity. Tell me what you think of this,” she said, setting the glass in front of him on a napkin.

“It’s good. Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I ask you a question?” When he nodded, she leaned on the bar and cocked her head. “What’s a wizzo? I heard someone call you that.”

“WSO - Weapon Systems Officer. I fly with Phoenix and handle the comms, datalinks, and targeting systems in our jet, among other things.”

“Sounds complicated.” Bob chuckled, ducking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, it is. I like it, though.”

“That’s important.”

“Is that why you’re doing psychology?”

“Yup. Wish I’d realized that while I was in undergrad instead of doing a whole career shift at 28.”

“That’d be… that sounds like it’s hard.”

“Gotta do the hard things sometimes to get to the long-term goal,” she sighed before looking over his shoulder. “The rest of your crew just got here.” Without warning, a hand came down on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Hey, can I get a Sam Adam’s on draft?” Rooster asked. With a nod, she retrieved a pint glass and flipped it in her hand, sending a sly smile to Bob, who ducked his head. Drinks in hand, the two men went to claim the pool table.

From there, Bob saw Evie tense as a man slid into his vacated stool. Her smile was fixed as she set a napkin in front of him and took his order, going to the far side of the bar to use the soda gun. Penny leaned closer as Evie whispered something, then turned to grab a bottle, eyes darting to the patron. After serving the man his drink, it looked like he was trying to talk to her, but she moved on to the next person. His eyes followed her as she worked the bar, trying to talk every time she neared to grab something, to which she nodded with a fixed smile.

Slowly, so slowly it almost seemed accidental to anyone who wasn’t paying attention, Bob watched as Penny took over the section the man was in as Evie swapped to the other side of the bar. When the man tried to request Evie’s help with a drink, Penny shrugged and crossed her arms, a tense smile on her mouth. Bob’s eyes flit to Evie, who looked like she was trying hard not to pay attention. After a few minutes, the man threw money on the bar, walked towards Evie, and said something before leaving. Penny was quickly at her side, and Evie shook her head. She turned as though feeling eyes on her and met Bob’s gaze. He frowned when she quickly looked away.

When he was ready to go, he made a point to close his tab with her. “Here you go,” she said, placing his card and receipts in front of him with a pen. Though she had other customers, Evie stood before him, retrieving a cloth from her pocket and cleaning her glasses. “What are your thoughts on frozen drinks?” she asked.

“I don’t mind ‘em.” Her smile grew as she nodded.

“I can bust out the blender next Friday and do a Virgin Piña Colada or whipped lemonade. Or a blushing Arnold Palmer if you want something simpler.”

“I’m sure whatever you make’ll be great, but you don’t have to go through the hassle for me.”

“It’s no hassle,” she shrugged, pushing back ingrained bartender dread of using a blender. Shoving the cloth into her pocket, she put her glasses back on and cocked an eyebrow.

“I look forward to it. Have a good night, Evie.”

“See you next week, Bob.” When their fingers accidentally brushed as she reached for the receipt, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his mouth.

The following Friday, Bob tried not to grin whenever he caught sight of the pink cocktail umbrella tucked behind Evie’s ear, matching the one in the Virgin Piña Colada she’d made him.

“He’s back,” Penny whispered as she passed behind Evie to restock the straws.

“Shit.”

“I’ll have Jimmy take care of him.” Evie nodded, keeping her head down as she crouched low to restock the beer case.

“I’m sorry about this, Penny,” Evie whispered and swallowed hard when the older woman squeezed her shoulder. The bar was too busy for this shit to be happening on a Saturday night. One of the ships had just come in, and The Hard Deck was already packed. It should have been an all-hands-on-deck night, and now she was trying to figure out how to avoid one of her sections. A part of her wondered if she should have called out and let Penny schedule one of the other summer bartenders, but the tips tonight would be too good to pass up. With the summer semester over for undergrads and her tutoring students gone for a couple of weeks, the extra cash would ensure she could pay her rent without dipping into her savings. It wasn’t like she was getting paid for the hours spent at the community mental health clinic where she interned.

But that didn’t make it easier to ignore Shaun, eyes boring into her as she circled the bar to get around him. Breaking down the beer boxes, Evie tucked them under her arm and turned to her boss. “Gonna make a trash run.”

“Make it quick,” Penny nodded. “Grab some whiskey and tequila on your way back, please.” With a nod, the younger woman grabbed the trash and ducked under the bar, weaving through the crowd to the back exit. A few of Penny’s aviators glanced up as she pressed her back against the door, and she gave them a tight smile and nod.

Music spilled out of the building, melding with the sound of waves crashing on the shore as she tossed the bags and boxes into the dumpster. She stopped and enjoyed the sight of moonlight bouncing off the ocean and the cool breeze ruffling the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. While she missed the hustle of DC, there was something to say about the laidback California lifestyle. Being removed from the constant job comparison was also lovely. If Evie never dealt with another Capitol Hill bro again, it would be too soon.

Mentally preparing to reenter the fray, she took a deep breath and stepped back inside, beelining towards the bathroom to wash her hands. But as she exited the stock room, juggling four bottles, she froze. “Hey, Eves.”

“Shaun.” The blonde smiled at her, leaning against the wall to block her exit.

“How have you been?”

“Busy. I need to get back to work, so if you’d excuse me.” When she tried to step around him, his hand landed on her hip, finger threading through her belt loop.

“C’mon babe, don’t be like that.”

“Move your hand,” she said through grit teeth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I was very clear when I told you it’s over. I will ask you nicely to leave before you’re kicked out.”

“Too late.” Standing behind Shaun was Penny’s boyfriend, Maverick, backed up by Jimmy. The two men looked annoyed, and anger flared in Mav’s eyes when he saw where Shaun’s hand was. “Now, you can leave through the front door, or I’d be more than happy to get some of my guys to throw you out. Decision’s yours.” Evie blushed, seeing they were drawing the attention of Penny’s aviators, who all frowned in her direction.

“I’ll see you around,” Shaun begrudgingly said, letting his fingers drag along the waist of her shorts. If her hands weren’t full of alcohol, she would have slapped him.

“No, you won’t,” Mav promised, forcefully steering the taller man towards the door. Jimmy followed after patting her shoulder. Evie forced a smile, happy that her coworker had her back, and drew in a deep breath, holding it for four beats and exhaling. Slowly, she forced herself into a quick round of box breathing to ground herself, her eyes closed. It was just like taking a beat between clients, she told herself before stepping back onto the floor and hustling to the bar.

“You alright?” Penny asked.

“Fine.”

“Wonder what that’s about,” Phoenix said, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she and Bob entered The Hard Deck. Penny glanced at them, forcing a tight smile as she spoke to the two police officers across the bar. Bob couldn’t help but look around for Evie. The squad had mentioned that something had happened over the weekend, and he wanted to check on her.

Evie stepped out of the stock room, flexing her hands. Bob wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that the corner of her mouth lifted when their eyes met. “Jimmy and I got the new kegs on, Penny. I’m going to…” she trailed off, catching sight of the officers. “Everything okay?”

“They actually need to talk to you. You can use my office.” Evie’s paled, making her red lipstick more vibrant. Bob felt a surge of protectiveness, and only Phoenix’s pointed look checked his instinct to move closer.

“O-oh, alright. This way.” When their eyes met again, Bob tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Everything alright?” Phoenix asked as Penny moved towards them.

“Did Pete say what time he was going to be here?” she asked instead.

“He shouldn’t be far behind us,” Bob replied, glancing towards the office. With a nod, she started to pull Phoenix’s beer.

“What about you, Bob?” He ordered a soda. While Phoenix went to secure the pool table, he stayed hunched over the bar, the pile of peanut shells growing on the napkin in front of him. When the office door finally opened, and the officers stepped out, he waited for Evie to emerge.

When she did, he felt his heart drop. Her usual composure was gone, eyes wide as they darted around the bar. Her red lips parted, blowing a breath as she swiped at her eyes, smearing her eyeliner and knocking her glasses askew. As she neared, he could see that she was shaking.

“Hey,” she said softly, forcing her voice steady as she stepped behind the bar.

“Are you okay?”

“F-fine,” she replied but jumped when Penny appeared beside her.

“You okay, sweetie?” the older woman asked, taking a few steps away from him. Evie rolled her lips together, tears appearing in her eyes. Her trembling became more pronounced, and when she caught Bob looking at her shaking hands, she balled them into fists.

“I’ll b-be okay.” Penny let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

“Take the night. I’ll call Chelsea to cover and give Pete the officer’s card so he can give a statement, too.”

“I’m so sorry, Penny,” Evie breathed.

“Don’t be. Go home and take care of yourself. We’ll figure this out. But send me a picture of him so I can make sure everyone’s on the lookout. I’ll trespass him if he shows up.” The two women embraced before Evie circled the bar, giving him a weak smile before going to retrieve her purse. Penny’s eyes landed on him, and she sighed. “Would you mind walking her out, Bob?”

“Of course,” he said, quickly pushing to his feet. When Evie returned, she’d swapped her glasses for sunglasses. Penny jerked her head, and Bob scrambled to follow. He quickly got in front of her and held the door open, brows furrowing at the brittle smile she gave him.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll, uh, walk you to your car?” The statement came out as a question, and she shook her head.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” Her breath hitched as her lips thinned, and she gave a curt nod. They didn’t speak as he followed her toward an old, beat-up blue car on the far corner of the parking lot. It apparently didn’t have automatic locks because her hands shook so badly that she scraped the paint twice while trying to fit the key into the lock before dropping the keys.

“Fuck,” she hissed. He was faster than her and plucked them off the ground.

“Evie - ”

“I’m fine.” When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and held out her hand for the keys. He watched as they shook, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll be fine.”

“Can I drive you home? I don’t think… I want to make sure you get there safely.” Her chin wobbled, and Bob’s hand flexed, trying to resist the urge to reach out to touch her.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please.” After a moment, she nodded, and he unlocked the car before circling around it and holding open the passenger’s side for her.

“The air conditioner doesn’t work,” Evie said once he’d adjusted the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Nodding, he rolled down his window as she did the same. “I didn’t have a car in DC and didn’t want to have a big car payment while I’m in grad school.”

“I had a car that smelled like fuel the entire time I was in flight school,” he shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. “Got it on the lemon lot on base.”

“Lemon lot?”

“Yeah. You can put your car and stuff up for sale there. They’ve got one here if you’re ever looking for a new car.”

“I don’t have base access.”

“I could take you.” She nodded, then gave him directions to her apartment. It was a quiet ride, the silence broken by the radio and wind, and he saw her wiping her eyes occasionally. They drove to one of the older parts of town and pulled into an apartment that was a bit dated from the outside. Evie seemed a bit embarrassed as she got out. “I’ll just order a car,” he said, handing her the keys.

“Do you want to come up while you wait?” she asked.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, taking his phone from his flight suit pocket. He saw a text from Phoenix asking where he’d gone but ignored it in favor of pulling up the rideshare app. “It’ll only be… forty minutes.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“Come on.” He followed her into the building, climbing a staircase to the second floor. “It’s a bit of a mess,” she apologized, pushing open the door to her studio apartment. He quickly removed his boots when she kicked off her sneakers and followed her down the narrow hallway into the main living area. A folding room divider separated her bed from the couch, and books covered the coffee table and a small desk tucked into the corner. The back wall was a large window covered with curtains, and he could see a small patio overlooking the pool. Her eyes were red-rimmed when she turned to face him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please.” She nodded, putting on her glasses before tossing her purse onto the bed and retreating to the small kitchen. Unsure of what to do, he followed, watching as she retrieved two glasses, glancing over at him as she reached into the refrigerator. She looked calmer now that she was in her own home, but he could tell she was anxious. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she sighed, handing him the water, eyes not meeting his own as she pushed her glasses up her nose. He recognized the nervous tick as one of his own.

“Does it have something to do with the guy who makes you uncomfortable at work?” Her wide eyes darted up to meet his, and he shrugged. “Mav asked us to be on the lookout for him, and I noticed that you avoid him.” She took a deep breath before sipping her water, her hands shaking again.

“Yeah. Shaun,” she said after a moment, dropping her gaze to the floor. “We went on a couple of dates, and he didn’t like that I told him I wasn’t interested. I must have mentioned working at the bar once, and he figured that bothering me there would make me give him another shot.”

“Was that why the police talked to you?” The trembling was back, and she quickly set her water on the counter before crossing her arms over her chest.

“H-have you ever heard of the Tarasoff Rule?” Frowning, he shook his head. “It’s a law that all mental health professionals have to follow. We have to warn and protect if we think a client is an active threat to someone. It’s…one of the few reasons we’d break confidentiality. And I guess… and Shaun said something to someone, and I - ” She gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the panicked sob that escaped. Without thinking, he quickly walked towards her and set his glass beside hers, pulling her into his chest. Evie hesitated a moment, pushing her glasses to the top of her head before her arms wrapped around him tightly. He could feel her tears dampening his flight suit, drowning the usual urge to keep physical distance.

“Honey, does he know where you live?” he asked softly, then swallowed hard when she nodded. Careful not to jostle her, he reached into his pocket and canceled the car. There was no way he was leaving her alone.

When her sobs dissolved into hiccups, Evie slowly pulled away, eyes downcast as she tried to clean the eyeliner and mascara from her face. “‘M sorry,” she mumbled, reaching to scrub her thumb on his chest. He saw a smear of red lipstick on the fabric and caught her hand.

“‘S fine. Is there anyone… do you have someone that can stay with you? Or somewhere you can go?” She shook her head, hand quickly shooting up to catch her glasses when they slid from her hair.

“I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.” Bob’s jaw ticked as he looked at the floor, thumb absentmindedly stroking her knuckles.

“Can I stay?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

It was awkward at first, only really knowing one another in the context of the bar. They sat on the couch, the television droning to break the silence. Evie had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt, makeup scrubbed off, and glasses perched on her nose. Bob had tied the top of his flight suit around his waist.

But then he noticed one of the books on her coffee table and chuckled. “Didn’t take you for a Tolkien fan.” Her gaze followed his, seeing the cover of The Silmarillion hidden under one of her textbooks on psychodynamic theory.

“I’m a Tolkien nerd,” she admitted. “I even have an Elvish tattoo.”

“You do?” Rather than answer, she turned her back to him and lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing her black bra band and the delicate script trailing along her spine. “What’s it say?”

“‘Deep roots are not reached by the frost.’ It’s from - ”

“The poem about Aragorn,” Bob finished. Evie dropped her shirt and turned to face him, an eyebrow cocked.

“You like Lord of the Rings?”

“The Hobbit’s my favorite book.” A smile curved her lips, and he felt a surge of pride that he’d put it there.

“So what did you think about them breaking it into three movies?” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. Evie laughed, and he grinned.

The conversation carried them for a while, and after she warmed up some leftover chicken and pasta, they put on the extended version of Lord of the Rings. They discussed how sad it was that Tom Bombadil was left out of the films and how Arwen’s role replaced Glorfindel. When she took their empty plates to the kitchen, Bob was pleasantly surprised when she sat closer to him on the couch.

It was edging close to 10:00PM when the movie ended, and they debated putting on The Two Towers before deciding against it. Instead, Evie put on some music, and they talked. She told him about growing up in Maryland and realizing that she wasn’t happy in a career writing reports and wanted to help people instead. She talked about her work at the community mental health center and how hard but rewarding it was. Bob told her about growing up on the ranch in Montana, spending days in the saddle and nights under the stars. He told her one of his favorite things about being on the carrier was seeing those stars again. Night flights were his favorite because even the glow of the instrument panel wasn’t enough to block them out.

When he stretched his arm across the back of the couch, his fingertips accidentally brushed her shoulder as she faced him. He didn’t want to pull away when she leaned into his touch.

Bob felt himself losing focus as they talked about their families and clenched his jaw to keep from yawning. Evie seemed to catch it, though. “Sorry, I forgot not everyone keeps bartending hours. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, reluctant to have the evening end. He hated why he was getting to spend so much time with her, but Bob wanted to savor every moment together. Phoenix teased him about his crush, and tonight only worsened it. Shaking her head, she stood and stretched, the hem of her shirt rising to reveal a thin strip of skin before falling again.

“I’ll get a pillow and blanket. And I’m sure I have a spare toothbrush somewhere.” He nodded, and they took turns in the bathroom while she spread a sheet over the couch for him and tossed a blanket at the end.

“Will it bother you if I, uh…” he motioned to his flight suit, a blush creeping up his throat.

“Oh, no. That’s, um…” Evie said, a pretty pink dusting her cheeks. Bob nodded and waited for her to turn off the floor lamp and duck behind the room divider before taking off his flight suit and folding it. He didn’t usually sleep in a shirt, but it felt like pushing to only wear his boxer briefs in her home. “Night, Bob.”

“Goodnight,” he called back, putting his glasses on the coffee table. Tucking one arm under his head, he stared at the ceiling until she turned off her bedside lamp. He could see the light of her cell phone for a while before it turned off.

And then she started crying. Soft little gasps that she was clearly trying to muffle in her pillow, just loud enough for him to hear. It broke his heart to lay there and listen to it until her breathing evened, and she drifted off to sleep.

Knocking woke him, and Bob was momentarily confused about where he was. He snatched his glasses from the coffee table as Evie turned on her bedside light. “Bob?” she said, voice rough with sleep and laced with apprehension.

“Stay there,” he ordered, flinging off the blanket and pushing to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder as he entered the hallway. Evie clutched her blanket to her chest, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“Babe, I can see your car out there. I know you’re home,” Shaun said, knocking louder.

“Call the cops,” Bob hissed. She nodded, grabbing her cell phone and quickly dialing 911.

“Evie!”

“You need to leave right now,” Bob shouted as he neared the door. The knocking stopped.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“The police are on their way.” He could hear Evie talking to dispatch. Glancing through the peephole, he saw the man pacing, hands buried in his hair. Bob stepped back when he turned and resumed pounding on the door.

“Who the fuck is in my girlfriend’s apartment?” There was movement behind him, and Bob turned to see Evie standing at the mouth of the hallway, cell phone tucked between her shoulder and ear with a baseball bat in hand.

“Please hurry,” she begged. Her wide eyes met his, and he motioned for her to give him the bat. The hallway wasn’t wide enough for him to get a good swing if Shaun made it through the door, but he could do some damage if necessary. Her voice retreated for a moment, and he heard the slide of a drawer before she was back, a small canister in hand. Bob recognized a can of pepper spray when he saw it and had to fight back the visceral reaction. He’d been sprayed with it during Officer Candidate School, then had to take down and fend off a potential threat.

“Careful with that,” he warned, not wanting to have to re-experience it. Evie nodded, eyes fixed on the door as the pounding continued.

“Evie, open the goddamn door!” Bob held out a hand to keep her from answering. They didn’t want to make Shaun angrier. If she didn’t answer, he might think he got the wrong place and go away.

There was a boom, and the door shuddered.

“Please, please, please tell them to hurry,” Evie pleaded. Bob wanted her behind a locked door, but the bathroom was closer to the entrance.

“Go on the balcony, honey,” he said softly. There wasn’t a lock, but at least she’d be further away. She shook her head, and they heard a second boom. He spun, lifting the bat when he heard the crack of the door frame splintering.

“EVIE!”

“Go!” Bob ordered. There was no way her neighbors weren’t hearing that, and he hoped that they were on the phone with the police as well. A large shard of wood hit the floor at the next hit, and he adjusted his grip.

In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren. Apparently, Shaun did as well because he paused. Creeping towards the door, Bob squinted to look out the peephole and saw the man leaning over the banister. Blue and white lights flooded the area, and he took off. Glancing over his shoulder, he met Evie’s gaze and held out a hand to stop her from coming inside. What felt like an hour later, but was probably just a few minutes, there was another knock.

“Police! Open up.” Leaning the bat against the wall, Bob quickly unlocked the door and let the officer in.

“They’re here,” Evie breathed, stepping inside. “Thank you.” The phone dangled from her hand for a moment before falling to the carpet, and Bob quickly crossed the apartment to tug her into his arms as she started to sob.

It took an hour for the officers to take their statements and to talk to the neighbors. While the doorframe was splintered and the door scuffed and dented, the lock still worked. Bob showed the officers out while Evie sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands, forcing herself to practice deep breathing. She couldn’t stop shaking but had managed to stop repeating, “I don’t know why this happened. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” They’d assured her that Shaun wouldn’t be getting out of jail for the weekend and walked her through getting a restraining order. She was thankful Bob was there because she couldn’t concentrate enough on their words to follow what they said.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching in front of her. “Honey?” He lightly touched her knee to get her attention. Her red-rimmed eyes met his. “Do you want to stay here or go to my place?”

“I’m so sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean for y-you to get involved.”

“Shhh,” he said softly, thumb lightly stroking her leg. “I’m glad I was here.”

“You’ve already done so much,” she rasped, shaking her head. “I can’t… I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“You would have hit him with the bat and then the pepper spray.” That pulled a tired, huffed laugh from her. “Let’s go to my place?”

The streets at 4:30AM were nearly empty, and they both felt the adrenaline crash as they walked into Bob’s condo. Their fingers entwined as he led her through the dark house, unwilling to burst the soft, tired bubble they’d found themself in by turning on a light. Wordlessly, he led her to his bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, dropping her quickly packed bag on his dresser. But Evie held tight when he tried to let go of her hand.

“Stay?” she breathed. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed and… I don’t really want to be alone.” Bob hesitated, watching the streetlights reflecting off her glasses, and nodded. Silently, he stripped off his flight suit and crawled into bed after closing the curtains. Evie lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Her hand slid under the covers to find him again. “Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything tonight. And I’ll completely understand if you never want to see me again after this. But I just wanted to let you know that I a-appreciate it. You.” He was silent for a moment.

“I want to see you again. You’re my favorite part of the week.” He heard her breath hitch and turned to see her looking at him.

“You're mine too.”

Later, he wouldn’t be sure who moved first. But he would remember vividly how soft her lips felt against his that first time, tentative at first and then her muffled gasp as his fingers traced the curve of her jaw. Her breasts pressed against his chest as they moved together, fingers hesitantly slipping under shirts and exploring unseen skin. “Honey,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not tonight. Not like this.”

“Not tonight,” she agreed. Her hand lifted, thumb tracing his lower lip before her gaze rose to meet his. “‘I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging.’”

“And it's very difficult to find anyone,” Bob finished the Tolkien quote, shifting his fingers under her shirt to trace the Elvish script that decorated her spine.

Evie lay awake long after he drifted off, replaying the night and everything that led up to it. She could already tell there were gaps in her memory. When her heart started to race, she forced herself to recite the 14 symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and the differential diagnoses of PTSD, acute stress disorder, and adjustment disorders.

She watched the sky grow lighter through a gap in the curtains. The mattress shifted as Bob moved. Quickly shutting her eyes, she feigned sleep as he curled around her, slotting his thighs behind hers and tossing his arm across her waist. He mumbled something in his sleep.

Her eyes grew heavier as she focused on the steady beat of his heart and his slow, deep breathing.

As she drifted off, Evie had one last conscious thought.

Safe.

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

Author's Note: Sting said this about the song

"I think it's a nasty little song, really rather evil. It's about jealousy and surveillance and ownership... I think the ambiguity is intrinsic in the song however you treat it because the words are so sadistic. On one level, it's a nice long song with the classic relative minor chords, and underneath there's this distasteful character talking about watching every move.

Tarasoff's Rule came about after a man murdered his ex-girlfriend after disclosing his intent to his therapist. You can read more about the case here. Duty to warn and protect is one of the few reasons a mental health clinician can break confidentiality, and only when there is a plan/intent to act; having thoughts with no plan/intent does not meet the threshold for breaking confidentiality. Confidentiality is taken very seriously in the mental health world.

This story came about due to one of my colleagues was alerted to a patient making homicidal threats against him. When I saw this challenge, I jumped on the song because the connection to the case and the way the song is catchy and sweet but sinister.

Evie's tattoo comes from this poem:

“All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.”

Thank you for reading!

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun rocktober #top gun maverick #Bob Top Gun #tw: stalking #protective! Bob

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