#robert bob floyd x female oc

[randalsgrave]

Sweetness and Light: Part Seven

Got nothing to say, other than schoolwork is the biggest time-suck in existence. Oh, and hold onto your butts - after this part things are going to get REAL interesting REAL fast. This is a long time in the making and I'm so excited for the stuff that comes after it ;)

Bob takes a gamble.

BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl

Word count: 5.2K

WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men)

***

“What are your thoughts on aquariums?”

It’s Wednesday, and the question comes on the way to the schoolhouse at seven in the morning. At first, it’s innocent and innocuous, enough for Katie to reply and not give much thought to it. 

That all changes when Bob asks his follow-up question. 

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

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

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

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

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

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

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

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

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

Only it’s not, not by a long shot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopefully. 

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty. 

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

If only things were easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did things really change that drastically between them last weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

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

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

How wonderful it is when she smiles, Bob thinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m down. Let’s do it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surely there has to be a way to tell her. 

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

So why does the thought persist?

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

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

Now or never, Bob. Now or never. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Risk calculation: successful. Very successful. 

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

Bob blinks. “Hm?”

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Or shock. Especially shock. 

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

Color her fucking surprised. 

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

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

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

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

Katie has never had anybody do that for her before. 

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

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

This man. Good god. 

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

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

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

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

And Bob? Bob laughs the entire way out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait - is there anyone in the hall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause - a long one. “...Really?”

Katie nods. “Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

@thestagsheadsblog @everything-i-love-in-life @docdetective @luckyladycreator2

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob my beloved #top gun #movies #bob top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #female oc #robert bob floyd x female oc

[thestagsheadsblog]

Seeing You Again (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader, Childhood Friends

Word Count: 4.4K

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Read on AO3

Notes: 18+ NSFW. Can be read alone or as part of work. Sorry for the loooong delay on this finale!

You weaved through the throngs of people waiting pierside at North Island as thousands of sailors and airmen disembarked the newly returned carrier. You were warned that the spectacle could take hours, and while you were never a fan of crowds, you had to admit you were charmed by the images of families reunited after a loved one had been away at sea. Parents greeting daughters, fathers meeting their infant children for the first time, spouses reuniting with little concern for who may be watching. It was impossible to be unaffected by the infectious joy of long-awaited reunions. 

By the same token you felt like an intruder. You had asked Bob to be there, not the other way around, and now you were wondering whether you overstepped his boundaries. Surely, he wouldn't consider you on the same level as family and leave it to Bob to be too polite to tell you that your offer was a bit much. You looked down nervously at your phone where you had shared your location to make it easier for him to find you in the crowd. It might've been too forward but there was no turning back now.  

You were standing on the balls of your feet trying to see over the heads and shoulders of the families around you when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning around, any doubts you may have had about Bob wanting you to be there were swept aside when he gathered you up in a tight hug, lifting you clear off your feet. Your gasp of surprise was quickly replaced by laugher as he spun you around once, nearly tripping over his own duffle bag. When he set you down you could hardly formulate a greeting before his lips where on yours in a heated, albeit brief, kiss. 

"God, I missed you," he exhaled with another smile, his hands still cupping the sides of your face. 

You felt your cheeks get warm in a way that had nothing to do with the San Diego sunshine. "I've missed you too," you admitted, your eyes drinking in his features, noticing the freckles on his cheeks and the slight sunburn at the tip of his nose where the visor of his flight helmet must end.  

He grew shy under your gaze and leaned his forehead against your own.

"Thanks for your letters," he murmured closely, enveloping you both in a bubble or privacy and drowning out the buzz of reuniting families. "I mean it. You should have seen me pushing people out of the way at mail call."

You laughed lightly. "I always saved yours for when I was off work and had time to enjoy them. Had to hide them so Emily wouldn't go snooping for them while I was out of the house." Your eyes closed as Bob's thumbs kept brushing the skin below your ears. 

"I was so happy when you said you'd be here. I haven't had anyone pierside since my first deployment. It's nice to know there's someone waiting for you."

Your arms tightened around his shoulders in response, but your illusion of privacy was ruptured when Bob's fellow officers spotted him in the crowd with you. 

"Heeeeey Bobby!"

Your eyes popped open, and Bob looked up with a quiet sigh and a smirk.

"Here we go..."

You suppressed your laughter as you were surrounded by a group of aviators materializing from the crowd, some you knew from hanging out with Bob at the Navy bars and some you had never met. The few you had met greeted you by name with knowing looks that made your blush from earlier come creeping back. 

"Well, if it isn't the pen pal," the green-eyed Lieutenant with the shit eating grin took in the sight of you and Bob, newly reunited. "You sure kept Bobert here entertained at sea. The way he ran at mail call. Must've been some interesting letters."

"Or pictures," his friend replied, earning a cackle from Jake. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, preparing for further humiliation, when Bob replied with the lightning-fast reflex of a seasoned Naval officer.

"I already get enough nudes in the mail from your mom, Seresin."

Your mouth dropped open at Bob's unexpected retort, along with the mouths of half the officers present before everyone joined in a barrage of laughter at Jake's expense.

"Hey, fuck you Bob," he replied with a little impressed smirk at Bob's rudeness.  

Bob gave you a sideways look of apology for everyone's behavior, including his own. <i>It's just the Navy</i> his eyes said, even though you knew he was a bit proud to have put Jake in his place so quickly. 

"Hey Bob," one of the other Lieutenants cut in with the obvious intent of poking the bear, "a few of us are going to The Hard Deck if you and your friend want to join. Unless you have something else going on?"

You opened your mouth to protest the offer when Bob spoke. "Sure, we'll meet you there," Bob agreed immediately, to the dismay of his scheming shipmates. "Just have to drop my bag off at the car."

With that, Bob took his duffle and your arm and ushered you through the crowd in a quick escape from the other officers.

"The Hard Deck, really?" you laughed as Bob dragged you along. "It's going to be a zoo, with the carrier just in."

"Oh, don't worry. I have no intention of going there," he smiled down at you reassuringly. "It's just easier to get them off my back if I say I'll be there. Otherwise, they'd be asking where we're going and what we'll be doing...it would be a whole thing."

When you were free of the thickest part of the crowd, he took your hand in his as you lead him toward your parked car. 

"Besides, I've been stuck on a ship with them for months," he said. "They'll live without me for an evening."

"Good," you replied, "because I wasn't planning on sharing you."

It was time for Bob to blush as you approached your car and he threw his duffle into the trunk. Inside the car you both gave an involuntary sigh of relief, as you both finally had some semblance of privacy. For Bob, it must have been especially cathartic after months at sea on a floating city. You reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, looking down at your entwined fingers. 

"Where to?" you asked.

"I have a place to stay on base until I fly home to see my parents, but..."

"Not feeling the base housing right now?" you smiled, understanding. 

"I just want some normalcy," he admitted with a long exhale, "and a shower...a real shower with hot water. I want the stink of the carrier off me."

You laughed and nodded, not fully knowing what a carrier smells like, but imagining that thousands of people and aircraft on a ship for endless months can't be particularly pleasant. 

"We can drop your stuff off at my place, you can take a shower and then figure out what to do from there," you offered.

"Sounds good to me," Bob replied. 

"Okay," you said, suddenly a bit nervous, shifting your car into gear. 

On the drive to your apartment, whenever your right hand wasn't needed on the wheel or the gearstick, it slipped back into Bob's hand. You could hardly believe he was back, just beside you. The prospect of his physicality made you both excited and anxious in equal measures. As much as you wanted to jump his bones as soon as he entered your apartment, you had to remind yourself that he was just back from a long deployment, and that you should let him get settled in to being back on shore. He was probably exhausted and more interested in sleeping than...well, other things. You could be patient.

At your apartment, Bob deposited his duffle beside the couch where your sister had caught you making out all those months ago while you went looking for a clean towel in the linen closet.

"Where's Emily?" Bob asked conversationally.

"At a music festival up in NorCal for the weekend," you replied as you returned with a towel. "She won't be back until Monday night."

You handed Bob the towel as he smiled his thanks and took in the meaning of your words - you'd have the apartment to yourselves for the weekend. No one to barge in at inopportune moments.

"Bathroom's all yours," you said. "Take as long as you like. Use all the hot water."

"Thanks," Bob said with a soft lingering look before retreating to the bathroom. 

When the door closed you released a breath you hadn't known you were holding. For months you had been thinking of this moment - having Bob in your home with no possibilities of distractions or interruptions - and now you were sweating it. As soon as he was out of that shower there would be no more hiding. You no longer had the excuse of time or distance or uncertain feelings or pesky sisters. If Bob made the move, you knew you'd be putty in his hands. 

Unsure of what to do with yourself while Bob showered (other than visualize Bob in the shower which was very very distracting), you undertook some unnecessary panic tidying of your living room before darting to your bedroom to make certain everything was in order there. Not that it mattered, you had no idea if he was going to be staying the night, you chided yourself. Of course, he will. He's your boyfriend and he has been gone for months. He'll want to. Unless he'd rather have time to settle back into what you had before he left. It'd be awkward otherwise, right? He won't even see this room or maybe you'll both be naked in here within the hour.

You felt a quiver in your belly and your heartrate picked up. You couldn't stay in there staring at your bed like a mad woman. 

You scampered back to the living room and nearly collided with Bob. Shirtless Bob with damp hair and a towel around his waist. Bob wearing only a towel, standing in your living room. 

"Sorry!" you said, backing off and giving him room. "Didn't know you'd be out already"

"Oh, um, yeah," Bob blushed a pinkness that spread all the way down to his bare chest. "I just wanted the grime off."

You could smell your own shampoo in the hair that fell in damp wisps against his forehead. Before you could stop yourself, you let your eyes wander from his hair to the droplet of water under his chin that threatened to fall on to his naked chest. Your sightline fell further to his navel and the dusting of blonde hair that trailed below it and disappeared beneath his towel.

You hadn't seen Bob without a shirt on since he was a child, back when he was scrawny like a twig. The years and puberty had blessed him with a wiry, fit physique that had been well hidden beneath both his uniform and civilian clothes. With nothing but a towel for Bob to hide behind you found yourself thanking your lucky stars for testosterone and the US Navy.

Your mouth was suddenly very dry. 

"I, uh, forgot my bag out here," Bob's words snapped you back to reality, your eyes wide in panic at having been caught ogling his body.

"Oh, shit sorry," you apologized again as you realized you were standing between Bob and his duffle. He seemed amused or maybe even charmed at your near incapacitation in the presence of his not quite nakedness. You stepped out of the way so he could access the bag beside your feet.  

Bob bent to reach for his bag and your eyes followed the reach of his long fingers and up along the vein of his hand that extended the length of his forearm. Without fully knowing how, you realized your hand was now softly wrapped around that forearm, stalling Bob from reaching his bag.

He slowly stood upright as your hand travelled up to just above his elbow, watching in interest as his skin broke out in goosebumps where your fingers touched. Your eyes drifted up to Bob's and an apology died in your throat as he leaned forward to kiss your upturned face. 

The kiss was more hesitant than the one you had shared pierside despite being in the privacy of your home. Your eyes closed as you felt Bob's lips travel lightly over yours and along the line of your jaw. Your hands finished their journey up Bob's arms and settled on his shoulders as his own cupped your face like before. Hesitation gave way to impatience when you lightly nipped Bob's lower lip, which was all the encouragement he needed to open his mouth to yours. 

Sighing against your lips, Bob took a step closer, hands firmly along your jaw as his tongue explored your own. Your fingertips traced the muscles of his shoulders when your own contented sigh was cut short by the feel of damp terrycloth dropping on your bare feet. 

You and Bob both froze mid-kiss, your breath warm on each other's cheeks. A moment later Bob pulled away a fraction, his eyes locked with your own. You wouldn't dare look down while he was watching you.

"I should get that," he breathed, more a question than a statement. 

As he began to slowly bend you stopped him again with a hand to his chest. Mustering all the bravery you had, you let your eyes drop slowly from Bob's face and trail down his uncovered body. You audibly swallowed as you admired him, wanting to touch every surface you were currently raking over with your eyes. Your breath was coming quick with arousal and there was more than enough visual evidence to prove Bob was feeling just as affected by your proximity as you were his. 

"I really don't-" you managed with a husky voice before having to swallow your words once again.

"You really don't, what?" Bob asked, a rasp in own voice.

"I really don't want you to put your clothes back on," you admitted, eyes trailing back up Bob's body to meet his own gaze dead on.

Bob blinked before pulling you flush against him, his lips once again locked on yours. All pretense of politeness vanished as your frenzied kiss was matched by wandering hands; yours exploring the planes of Bob's body as his tangled in your hair and in the fabric of your shirt on your lower back. 

Your hand snaked its way between your bodies, finding the object of your earlier admiration. A heated moan erupted from Bob as you lightly stroked him. "Holy shit," he whispered, eyes slammed shut in fierce concentration as you continued your exploration. There was something intensely hot about having Bob in your living room without a stitch on while you remained fully clothed, milking whatever noises you could get out of him. It was well worth the months long wait; you mused in that moment. 

When your grip tightened a fraction, Bob cursed and stilled you with a hand to your wrist. "I...wait," he managed to choke out, causing you both to momentarily break out into a fit of nervous laughter at Bob's obvious dilemma. He pressed his forehead to yours as he sobered. "It's been a while. I don't want this to be over before we have even started."

You smiled up at him and allowed your hand to retreat. "Sorry, got a bit carried away," you murmured, 

Bob released a contented sigh and looked you up and down. "Besides, it's a bit unfair," he mused. 

You quirked a brow at him, inviting him to elaborate.

"I have nothing on, and you're still dressed," he teased with a playful grin.

You bit your lip, grabbed his hand, and finally dragged him to your bedroom. Inside, Bob helped you remove your own clothes with desperate shaking hands. He sucked a mark onto your neck as you both worked to push your underwear off. Before you knew it you were just as naked as Bob and he took a moment to step back to admire what stood before him.

His eyes took you in hungrily, a half-smile of wonderment on his face as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Wow," he breathed. "You're perfect."

You blushed even redder than you already were, his eyes still roaming your body.

"Better than Jake Seresin's mom?" you joked lightly. 

Bob huffed with amusement. "Well, I don't have my glasses on, so..."

You gasped in mock outrage and gave a solid push to Bob's chest, knocking him back on to the bed. Grabbing your arm, Bob pulled you down onto the mattress with him, rolled over on top of you and quickly smothered both of your laughter with another kiss. Even though you had never been naked with him before, being with Bob in this way felt like the most natural thing in the world. There was none of the apprehension or insecurity that you typically felt with a new partner. Even when Bob trailed kisses down your body and settled his face between your legs you felt no need to hide yourself. 

"This okay?" he asked, peering up at you.

You answered Bob with a quick nod and parted your legs just a bit further to allow him to settle between them. You sucked in a sharp breath when Bob delved in, clearly feeling no inhibitions on his end either. You briefly wondered where the hell he had learned <i>this</i> but your thoughts soon turned to goo between your ears as you surrendered to the liquid heat of Bob's mouth.

Your thighs began to tremble with building release, but Bob made no sign of letting up. "Good?" he managed to murmur around his work, blue eyes glancing up to check in.

"Yes," you groaned. "Did they not feed you on that boat?"

He huffed in amusement against your core, earning a whine from deep in your throat. "Better than anything they served in the wardroom," he mumbled before doing something with the tip of his tongue that sent you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed and your hand tangled in Bob's still damp hair, earning a grunt from the mouth that worked you through your climax. When you were nothing more than an overstimulated and panting mess, Bob crawled back up your body to inspect the results of his labor. 

You blew the hair off your face as you took in the self-satisfied smirk that Bob wiped with the back of his hand. You playfully batted his face away before he grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist.

"You're full of surprises," you sighed with a satisfied grin.

Humble as always, Bob just shrugged. "Maybe it is better that we hooked up now rather than back in the day when I didn't know what the hell I was doing." 

You brushed the damp, dangling curls aware from his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have minded," you smiled, imagining yourself and a younger, clumsy Bob exploring your bodies together. 

"What else you got?" you asked coyly. 

Bob's face settled into a determined frown as he inspected your surroundings. You watched as he reached for one of your thicker pillows, letting him maneuver it under your hips. Ever the strategist, he placed your legs exactly where he wanted them while you happily complied. He looked at you like a man half-drunk, eyes heavy lidded and hungry. 

"Well?" you teased, inviting his next move.

Bob snapped out of his daze for a quick moment of responsibility. 

"Are you, uh, on the pill?"

Why that frank but polite question had your blush returning you couldn't say but you assured him you were. 

All preliminaries out of the way, Bob stretched himself on top of you. You found yourself marvelling again at how much bigger he was just as you had the night you reunited at the Hard Deck. He kissed you as he braced weight on his arms, careful not to crush you. 

"Ready?" he asked. You answered by reaching down between your bodies and guiding him through to that last step. 

You sighed as he sunk in, his own groan muffled into your neck. It was now your turn to ask, "good?"

His gentle huff of laughter ticked your clavicle. "Almost too good," he confessed, and your heart clenched a bit seeing how hard he needed to concentrate to control himself. You gave him a moment to collect, your hands skimming down his back as a shudder ran through his shoulders.

When he was ready, he began to move slowly, but deeply and with purpose. You whimpered, adjusting to all of him and briefly wondered how many women must have underestimated him before finding themselves in this position. 

He expertly hit some spot far back, nearly too far, just brushing your physical limit. You bit your lip and dug your nails into the muscles of his shoulder wavering between asking for more and telling him to pull back. Ultimately, the unrelenting-almost-nearly-too-much had you digging your heals into the dimples on his lower back and your toes curling. 

He certainly knew his anatomy, you thought in a moment of clarity, or maybe his geometry...whatever the case he was a man who could strike a target. You almost cracked a joke relating to how proficient he must be at his job but any quip you might have made died in your throat as a moan ripped through you. 

"Don't stop," you gasped, "keep going." Where most men would take that as a cue to go faster or harder, Bob could follow a direct order and kept on with his steady, unyielding pace. 

Your orgasm began as a quick twitch in your lower belly, piqued by Bob's movement deep inside you. Your thighs were soon trembling and your hips bucking up against his. Your back arched and from your mouth tore the most animalistic noise you had ever heard yourself emit. It quickly bubbled into something euphoric and somewhere far away you heard yourself laughing.

Coming down from your high you felt Bob's thrusts becoming sloppy and urgent; his careful and consistent rhythm ruined by the wet warmth brought on by your climax. In his own state of ecstasy, he gasped and cursed against your temple stuttering to a halt, his sweat slick chest heaving against your own.

It took you both a long moment to recover, your labored breathing filling the quiet room.

Bob was the first to move, raising himself up on his elbows just high enough to see your face. You kept your eyes closed but you could almost hear him smile.

"Do you always laugh when you come?"

You scrunched your eyes closed even further, running a hand over your face. "No, that's something new," you admitted. "Hope it didn't ruin the mood."

You felt him shake his head. "No, I kind of liked it."

You cracked your eyes open to see Bob staring down at you in a blissful state. His own eyes were still half-hooded, and his already damp hair was now clinging to his forehead from perspiration. His breathing had settled but he looked well spent. 

You pulled him down into a lazy, hot kiss, enjoying the pleasant feel of his full weight on your body. 

Eventually he settled just beside you. With the sexual tension sated for the moment, you enjoyed each other's calm familiarity. 

"I wanted to ask you something and you can say no if it's too soon," Bob said after a while, his voice deep and a bit vulnerable. 

Your sex-dampened mind suddenly whirled with activity, your sister's voice ringing he'll probably propose immediately after he-

"What's that?" you asked, trying to sound composed.

Bob propped himself on his elbow, looking sheepish in a way that had nothing to do with his current nakedness. He scratched the back of his neck as he mulled over his words; a nervous tick he had had since he was a child.   

"I was wondering if - and only if you want to - if you maybe wanted to come with me when I go to see my parents?"

The exhaled the breath you hadn't know you were even holding, relieved but strangely also a tiny bit disappointed Emily's prediction of a post-coital proposal wasn't correct.

"I...I know it's not your home anymore and you probably haven't been back since you left, but I thought maybe you'd like seeing the neighborhood again, and of course I'd like you to be there and this is only if you can take the time away from work-"

"Yes," you interrupted his nervous rambling, taking his hand in yours. "Yes, of course! I'd love that."

A genuine smile of giddy excitement spread across Bob's face. "Really?"

"Yes!" you assured him again, this time with a kiss. "As long as you are okay with both of our families conspiring behind our backs once they find out we are together together."

Bob shook his head with amusement. "I'm fine with that. It means my mom will let you stay in my room."

"Are the Star Wars posters still on the wall?" you giggled.

"You know it," he winked. "Can't set the mood without them."

After another draw out kiss you got up to use the bathroom and grabbing your phone from the living room. You checked the screen and saw a notification from your sister containing only eggplants and question marks. You sighed and placed it face down on your nightstand as Bob returned from his own trip to the bathroom, now wearing only his boxers and his own phone in hand.

He too sighed when he settled onto the bed beside you and looked at his notifications. 

"Well, the penny dropped, and they all know we aren't coming to the Hard Deck," Bob lamented. 

"Oh?" you leaned over and peered at his phone as Bob scrolled past the dozens of messages of mock concern and overt speculation.

"Are you going to respond?" 

Bob leaned over you to place his phone face down next to yours before lowering his face to kiss your neck.

"Nah," he murmured against your ear. "Let them wonder." 

Tag List:

@tipsykeen

@user428379isswag

@matterdontminduntildone

@stiles24

@idkeithersstuff

@torus-flatass

@analliedumpling

@straightforwardly

@dilfsandtherapy

@earth-to-lottie

@roosterschanelslut

@airedale17

@milesrooster

@feireads

@luckyladycreator2

@ivyvlair

@turningtoclown

@lass-that-is-gone

@iangiemae

@playswithsquirrellls

#top gun fanfic #top gun #bob top gun #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x female oc #bob floyd #bobfucks #lewis pullman

[roosterbruiser]

If you're still taking requests, how about a beach day with Bob and the squad finds out he has a matching tattoo with his partner

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐩

𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

There's a reason that Bob usually wears a shirt on beach days. Even if everyone else on the squadron likes to tease that it's because he's not as toned as they are--which simply is not true--no one really knows why that is.

Until you accompany your boyfriend to the beach one hot and wet afternoon, a wicker picnic basket tucked under your arm and straw hat flopped on your head.

You're happy to be at the beach--you and Bob had agreed to take advantage of the nice weather in San Diego more than you had in the past, so when the squadron deemed that afternoon as a beach afternoon, the two of you had been all in.

"Floyd," Hangman greets, waving the two of you over to the parade of sweaty bodies in the sand. Hangman cheekily tips his cowboy hat at you. "Eventual Floyd," he greets with a wink.

Bob's blushing--a good sort of blush, one that makes his heart pulse with adoration. Yes, you will be a Floyd--eventually. And he's glad that everyone around knows it.

And you're all grins, tipping your straw hat at Hangman and gesturing to the picnic basket.

"I brought strawberry muffins," you tell him, which causes a chain-reaction of hollering from the group as everyone abandons their previous activities to gather around your picnic basket.

Bob just watches you for a moment, slipping his sunglasses on, smiling softly as his toes dig into the sand. You're grinning that pretty grin of yours, happily giving away all the strawberry muffins you made this morning so dutifully. You're such a giver--and so, so kind--and that's something he loves about you. Even right now, you're offering everyone bottles of water and extra tubes of sunscreen. You just can't seem to help yourself.

And you're just happy to be there--you really do love the squadron and reckon you've found somewhat of a family in their company. So after everyone's given you very wet hugs and thanked you profusely for the muffins and refreshments, they're begging you and Bob to join them for another game of Dog Fight Football.

"Shirts and skins," Coyote says, looking between you and Bob with a smile. "Who's who?"

"Good question," Payback adds with a playful eye roll.

"You can both be skins if you want," Fanboy finishes, bumping you with his elbow. "Don't think anyone here would complain."

Phoenix strikes him in the back of the head with a grumble before Bob can.

You're blushing, laughing.

Bob's shrugging his shirt off before you can even think about it--even if Coyote's only teasing the two of you, Bob never wants you to feel uncomfortable.

"Bob, man," Rooster calls with a smirk. "You've got a tattoo?"

It tickles you that the rest of the squadron has seemingly never seen him shirtless--because if they had, they would have seen it already. It's hard to miss: it's about the size of the middle of your palm, inked on his skin in black. It's a stamp of a honeybee, drawn in a classic illustrative style that Bob found himself drawn to the year he got it.

"Uh huh," Bob says, shyly raking his hand through his hair and resisting the urge to put his shirt back on. He feels like he's going to burn alive not even under the sun but under the gaze of his entire squadron as they come to get a better look at him. "So, football?"

"Uh-uh," Phoenix tuts, letting her sunglasses fall down on her nose as she looks closer at the tattoo. "Is that a honeybee?"

Bob nods, pretending like the red in his cheeks is from the sun and not from their prodding.

You know Bob well--arguably, you know Bob better than anyone else in the world. So as you stand beside the emptying picnic basket and watch him shrink underneath everyone's gaze, wringing his shirt in his hands nervously, stuttering out responses and trying to steer everyone away from him--you know you need to do something.

So you take your cover-up off, which you know will give everyone a view of the matching stamp on your outer shoulder. You move over to the group, holding a tube of sunscreen in your hand, pushing your sunglasses up your nose.

"Hey, Nix," you call, smiling when she turns to you with her eyebrows raised. "Can you get my tattoo? It's sensitive to the sun. Don't want it to fade."

That's got everyone's attention, much to Bob's immediate relief. You've always been much better at receiving attention than him. You're less shy by nature, which is something he's always admired about you, and you don't get so stuffy beneath everyone's gaze.

"You have one, too?!" Rooster asks, coming to take a closer look at your arm as you smile, pretending to be coy.

"Uh-oh," Payback sing-songs. "That's a flower, isn't it?"

It clicks for the group just before you give a proud nod, confirming that you and Bob indeed have matching tattoos. And they're thinking about chiding you, the lot of them cooing mockingly and pinching your sides. But you're too prideful for that, just tilting your chin towards the sky and smiling your pretty smile, giving all of them the same energy.

"I'm his petal," you say, intentionally inducing a grimace on their faces, "and he's my honeybee."

"And suddenly, I want to play football again," Hangman snorts, promptly nodding before turning back to the sand.

What you're saying is the truth; you do call each other petal and honeybee. But it's always been something the two of you have kept under wraps, indulging in the sweetness of it but all too aware of just how sickly-romantic it is.

Phoenix is rubbing suntan lotion on you through her remaining giggles and the rest of the squadron is starting to filter back over to the sand to pick back up where they left off, crumbling their muffin wrappers and tossing them into the trash bag.

Bob falls more and more in love with you every single day--he is just a man after all. How could he not when you're the most perfect person he's ever met? You outdo yourself everyday--outdoing the previous days sweetness, selflessness, kindness, wit, beauty. And right now is no exception; you're chatting with Phoenix about her date, something she mentioned last weekend off-handedly but something that you'd remembered to ask about because that's just how you are. You're so happy, gasping and oohing and awing along with her words, practically glowing under the sun.

Whenever Phoenix finishes and you glance over at Bob, your eyes partially hidden by sunglasses, your smile is as sweet as those muffins everyone loves. Bob can't help himself--he cups your cheeks, tipping your hat back just slightly, thumbing your cheeks gently.

"Too much?" You ask, searching his wanton face as your smile falters. "Didn't mean to give our pet-names out like that, but I could tell you weren't comfortable and--!"

"--You better get ready," Bob interrupts, smiling softly as your face softens and your brows come together.

You carefully stroke his tattoo before letting your hands rest on his shoulders, his skin warm beneath your palms.

"For what?" You ask, giggling when he pulls you against him and presses his lips to yours sweetly.

"To become a Floyd," he mumbles against your lips with a grin. "Sooner rather than later, petal."

here is my tag list!!

#it is bob #bob floyd is the best friend in the world #bobfucks #bob you have my whole heart i love you #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #bob top gun #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd #bob fluff #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd angst #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd x you #robert floyd fic #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x y/n #robert floyd fanfiction #bob x reader #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #Robert floyd imagine

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 8 - Salt and The Sea

📜Everyone has been on a Bob kick lately (I think), so this is coming right when it should! Let's see how Grace and Bob feel about all this. Shall we? 👀

‼️ - +18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Original Female Character (s), Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Bob Floyd x Original Female Character (This is all in their perspective), Angst, mentions of bullying, hurt, overheard fights, preventing a panic attack, frustration, and Grace being sad and done with Bullshit. 

#4.6k

Part 7 | Masterlist | Part 9

Present Day

Sixteen hours.

That's how long Bob's carefully guarded, carefully constructed walls took to crumble after all these years.

There was an inkling the night before as he settled into his tent, a feeling that knocked once or twice from the inside of his chest. It wasn't there when he woke up this morning or during the trek here to the falls.

But the second Grace raced up behind him, everyone watching Veronica climb out of the water, that feeling returned. It seemed no longer content to sit around and wait for Bob to figure out why it had. 

Grace grasped his hand, pulling herself to hide behind his body so she could stifle her giggles into the back of his shoulder. Bob couldn't help the few snorts that shook through his body either. However, he pitied Javy, watching as he tried to console his girlfriend, who was stomping her foot like a three-year-old child over the fact that her makeup had been ruined.

The both of them couldn't say it wasn't an unwelcome sight. They knew what you had done, catching you hooking something onto the loop of Veronica's jeans, knowing it was damn well meant for Jake. Though the pair knew better than to act on it, they imagined themselves holding up a fist to the air, like in the Breakfast Club, silently praising the act of Karma on your behalf.

Maybe even quietly counting tallies next to your name in Bob's traveller's journal.

You needed a win. A big win against one of those two. They weren't going to say shit about it. They only wished, deep down, they could have helped.

But when Bradley took you by the arm, leading you way, another knock, this time harder, thumped in his chest. Another followed it. And another, until that feeling morphed into what Bob could only describe as a white-hot pain, burning every nerve in the pit of his stomach.

Bob knew what was about to happen.

While there hadn't been much to discuss, Bradley had pulled all the guys together after you went to bed last night to discuss his proposal. Standing in that circle, Bob realized it had been more of a pep talk than anything else.

Everyone already had a predetermined role—some part to play in helping Nat get to the right spot. Bob and Grace merely had to act surprised, with the rest of the group save Jake, you, and Rueben, when they eventually emerged from the bush, a shiny new ring hopefully on her finger.

It was a horrible plan, he had thought then. He knew—more so than most—that involving Jake and you in such an event would only result in disaster. He even had said as much to Grace when he turned in for the night, climbing into their shared tent.

Grace merely highlighted Nat's inconsiderate behaviour regarding your feelings, turning her back to him as she settled into her sleeping bag. The action was so absolute, so final, they said nothing else about it the rest of the night.

But laying awake, staring at Grace's back, Bob couldn't help but think about it. Grace was right. With all the shit Jake and you threw at each other since the moment you two met, Nat would have to be completely stupid not to realize just how fucked up it was not to tell you Jake would be coming on this trip.

It wasn't the first time Grace brought it up, either. Bob knew how his girlfriend felt about Nat, you, the entire group, their inability to stand up for you, and their failure to separate themselves from Nat.

He'd be lying if he hadn't felt the same at one point or another.

But Bob knew why everyone didn't, why he didn't, and why, even to some extent, Jake didn't either, even if he was more verbal about it than anyone else.

From behind the scenes, everyone tried to protect you and themselves from a fallout with Natasha. Not the fallout itself but the aftermath. At that point, he had rolled on his back, trying to figure it all out from the safety and privacy of his tent.

But who was he kidding? There was nothing to figure out.

Nat's scandal was an anvil, and her history and behaviour were hanging over every person in the group by a single thread. Even in the years since it happened, since they had all left school and Grace and Cora joined the group, it still had everyone in a chokehold.

And you were oblivious to it all.

Bob wasn't sure when it happened, but it became an unspoken agreement to protect you from that truth. So they were burying it to keep the peace—at least, everyone but Bradley. Bob couldn't say what was happening inside his friend's head, nor would he ask him.

But nobody would go out of their way to upset the group's 'supposed' hierarchy—not when real friendships and relationships, whether made with Nat's influence or not, were at stake.

You had to deal with the brunt of it, and Bob would regret it every day for the rest of his life.

No kind words or assurances could help the cluster of nerves swimming in Bob's stomach when Grace hooked her arm through his. Leading him to a section of the pond free from tourists, she wanted to avoid the temper tantrum Javy and Rueben, to an extent, would have to deal with. Seeing fish in the water earlier and knowing Bob would get a kick out of trying to identify them, she welcomed the distraction.

But as the pair searched through their books to match the first fish they saw, the first shout vibrated through the air, and Bob felt like he was going to hurl.

There was no mistaking it for what it was. Nat was, for lack of a better word, shitting on you and Jake. It was loud. It was scary. And no matter where anyone went, it was impossible to block out the noise.

They stood there, staring down at the words and diagrams in their books, no longer interested in the fish, scared any movement or action would have them on a chopping block. Though her eyes blurred, Grace was sure there were no more fish to look at anyway, for they, too, would have felt the noise vibrate against the water and would have been scared away.

At least they felt like they were able to.

When it finally fell silent, Grace nervously reached for Bob's hand. She led them away from the water through a tiny gap in the bush, deep into the forest. She didn't dare stop, walking blindly for minutes until she saw a little nook encased by a massive tree.

Its branches hung low, as did those of the surrounding trees. Each covered the space in a vibrant green shade, offering a safe place from the events leading up to this moment. A giant, thick tree root rested above the ground, and Grace pulled Bob down as she sat upon it.

Neither one spoke, nervous to say anything. Birds, the wind and bugs filled this space instead. It could have been hours, though Grace started to play with Bob's fingers only minutes later. He let her slide her fingertips over his skin and grasp around each finger until she smoothly threaded each together. Over and over, she did this, never once altering her pattern or rhythm.

Grace was trying to ground herself. And for Bob, it made everything that much worse.

It had been sixteen hours to the dot since that first knock in his chest. And while Bob had admitted last night and perhaps now that the trip, the excuses, the group dynamic, Nat's behaviour—was hopelessly warped—the truth was he had known for days, months, maybe even years.

He'd simply shoved it all deep down under lock and key, partly for selfish reasons. Sixteen hours was merely all the time it took for that lock to break and for everything to come rushing back to the surface. Because while the person he loved was hurting on behalf of someone else, it was too silent in this forest, even at this distance. 

It was the lack of you and Jake tearing each other apart.

"I think something happened to Jake and Maeve," Bob said in a rough voice, finally finding the courage to speak.

Grace's hands froze, not moving an inch. She lifted her head, eyebrows knitting together. Bob didn't meet her gaze, too nervous to look away from their joined hands.

"It's too quiet," he offered softly. "Especially after that."

Grace also dropped her eyes to their hands, biting the inside of her cheek hard. "She'd be tearing into him right now. Forget Nat. Maeve would clear out the whole damn park with a single shout."

Bob nodded absentmindedly, turning his hand to mock Grace's earlier pattern, a silent gesture to let her know he had been paying attention.

"Or she'd be running off to apologize to Nat, and Jake would be seeking us out, tail between his legs."

"Nat should be the one apologizing to her."

Grace's statement was so blunt and sharp that Bob feathered his jaw. And something in that quick movement made a thread in Grace's gentle heart snap.

She tore her hand from Bob's grip and shuffled away from him further down the log. She swallowed hard, refusing to turn back and look at him as she fiddled with a ring on her finger. When Bob went to follow, naturally reaching for her like it was second nature, she shuffled again.

"No," she mumbled lowly, shying away from his touch. Bob frowned, sliding closer once again, softly calling her name. But Grace only pushed herself up from the log, her fists balled and clenched tight. "No!"

She stomped forward a few steps, not wanting to leave the found safety of their little nook. Threading her fingers through her hair, she paced back and forth, trying to count her breath.

"Grace..."

She spun wildly, her eyes narrowing, her lips pressing into a thin line, and her jaw clenching. "Don't 'Grace' me," she gritted out behind her teeth.

Bob dropped his forehead into the palm of his hand, his elbow digging hard into his knee. "Don't..."

"Don't what, exactly?" she seethed. "Don't talk about 'it'?

Bob dug his nails into the denim of his jeans - enough to feel a pinch through the fabric on his thigh.

The laugh Grace let out was bitter, morphing into a harsh shout. "Come on, Bob! Cora and I might have been the last ones to join whatever fucked up friend group this is, but Nat couldn't give two shits about Maeve! And it's this unspoken thing nobody talks about. Why?!"

"Grace..."

"Don't!" she snapped, stomping her foot, making clumps of dirt fly out in all directions. "I don't care about some fucked up unspoken agreement! I care about Maeve! Don't tell me you don't, Robert?!"

Bob finally lifted his head, though he focused on the way they came, not once meeting his girlfriend's angry stare.

"Bob, so help me... If you say no..."

"You know I do!" he rushed out, shaking his head.

"Then why don't you fucking say something?!" she cried out. "Why doesn't anyone say something?! She's suffering, and nobody does anything!"

She didn't even know she was crying hot, angry tears until she felt one fall off her cheek, a slight cool breeze marking a path on her skin.

"I wanted to. I wanted to, so badly, the first time I noticed it. And you told me not to."

Bob did, and he always wondered if Grace resented him for it.

She sighed, wiping the tears from her face. She paced back and forth a little bit, trying to calm herself down. Because Bob didn't deserve her anger, it was unfair of her to even yell at him in the first place.

Instead, she walked up to the tree, pressing her forehead into the bark, once again trying to count her inhales and exhales.

"When Bradley told me about Nat when he was going to school, I thought she was just a phase. Whenever he called to talk to Dad, I just sat back and wondered. I wondered how long it would take and what the reason behind the break between those two would be."

Grace lifted her head, fixing her eyes on a ladybug climbing the trunk. "You could imagine my surprise when he brought her home for spring break."

She placed her hand on the wood, twisting back to look at her boyfriend. "I never told you this, but I didn't like her the second I met her."

Bob lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Why..?"

"Because she thought I was a threat. That I harboured a crush on Bradley, and I would steal him from her," she shrugged.

Bob's eyes shot up his skull. "... I mean, you two grew up together... did you... ever?"

Grace audibly gagged, adding a few choking noises for a dramatic effect. "He's like my brother, Bob. What the hell?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I had to ask."

Grace didn't address the remark when she continued, "She treated me horribly that entire week. She sweet-talked my dad and only was nice to me when he was around. Thank God he saw right through her. The second he left, he said that Carole, Bradley's mom, wouldn't have approved. I agreed."

With a narrowed forehead, Bob's mouth gaped open, bobbing like a fish. "Wait... then why did she..."

"Why did she suddenly start inviting me to stuff? It's cause I was dating you. I was no longer a threat. And she acted like she had never done what she did in the first place."

While Bob might have met Grace through work, he was surprised to learn she had grown up with Bradley. How she acted around Bradley, bore no resemblance to a long-lasting, familiar childhood friendship. However, the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense—her closed-off and quiet nature when she was around them.

That the first time they saw each other again, all Bradley could manage was a slight nod.

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

Grace only offered causally, "You'd be surprised at all the stuff that doesn't require your input. Sometimes you gotta leave people to do the lame shit they do and watch them fuck it up on their own." 

A ball formed in her throat. "But Maeve... when I met Maeve and saw what was happening, my heart broke. And she is the only exception to what I just said."

Bob knew what was coming next. Like a coward, he braced himself hard.

"You told me not to say anything when I first brought it up. But now? I can't keep doing it. Not after what she just did to them. Not after that."

"Grace... Don't..."

"Maeve is drowning, Bob! Drowning!" she shouted angrily, startling a nearby bird on a branch. "And I can't stand it any longer. We need to find her, grab her, and take her home. Take her away from all this. From Nat, from those two bitches... God, if they gaslight anything else, they could practically set the whole fucking forest on fire."

"You don't believe in swearing, Grace," he deadpanned.

"Maybe I do now!" she cried. "I feel guilty. Guilty Bob! Cause I bit my lip like a good girl when Nat just what? Uses her? Ignores her? Disregard her feelings? Like hell, why didn't she try harder to figure the fuck out why Jake and Meave are at each other's throats?! Or how those two bully the fuck out of her?"

"Maeve wouldn't tell us about Jake when we asked."

"And you don't find it strange she wouldn't?" she challenged him. "Out of everyone in the group, she didn't tell a soul. Why? Why didn't she? Why wouldn't she?!"

Grace's heart was hurting, and she knew Bob truly knew why. He had been around them longer than she had, so there must have been a reason he told her not to. There had to be.

"At first, I thought it was something everyone accepted, you know? That everyone was trying to figure out what had happened between her and Jake. I thought tensions were high because of that.

She blew out a shaky breath, Bob not once interrupting her.

"Maybe it was a fucking game they were playing with each other until they finally worked up the courage to admit they like each other enough to get into each other's pants. Cause whatever the cause, Maeve wouldn't be so goddamn hurt if she didn't care!"

Bob closed his eyes, a huff of a laugh escaping his mouth. 

"But last to join the group, right? You have to be quiet. Read the room. Get a sense of how to act and what you can say. Cause learning to fit in with new people, you have to pick up these things. The best way to get along with everyone else. Like how Maeve runs the second Jake walks into the room? How she avoids conversations about him if she can help it?"

Grace blew a raspberry out of pure frustration. "Jake was never the real issue, though. Everyone just made it out to be. Everyone should have noticed how Maeve bit her tongue as Nat walked over her opinions. How Nat derails conversations, not just where Maeve is concerned, but practically with everyone to make it about her."

Grace laughed, shaking her head. "She got the brunt of all of it, and we just... watched."

Grace finally approached Bob, standing before him, though he didn't lift his head from where it hung low on his shoulders. Had he chosen to look up, he would have noticed how the sun finally peeked through the leaves, beams of light breaking the shade, leaving Grace in their spotlight. 

"I meant, she invites us all on this trip so we can watch her get proposed to? And she doesn't bother to tell her that Jake is coming along, too? I mean... how selfish can she get?!"

"Grace, this isn't going to solve..."

"WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?!" she yelled, throwing her hands at the sky. "That ship left the fucking dock ages ago."

Bob's eyes fixed on a leaf stuck under a fallen branch at her words. Grace knew from that reaction alone that she had resonated with something within his kind, caring soul.

"I just... can't... I can't anymore, Bob. If I'm the first to take the leap and break up this group, then good fucking riddance. It needs to be done so we all can get some peace."

She slid to her knees in the dirt in front of him, her hands resting firmly on the sides of his thighs.

"How many years have Nat and Maeve known each other, and not once did Nat realize how hard her supposed best friend had been falling? How could she not recognize that, Bob? And how could she continue to force Jake and Maeve together when Maeve just wanted to escape?"

She reached forward to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet hers. While silent rage resonated within them, Bob knew it wasn't meant for him.

"Why did you tell me to be quiet that first time I brought this up? Why do you still tell me, too?"

Bob gulped, forcing his eyes away. Grace stroked her thumb under his eye, encouraging him on. "I don't know what happened, baby, but I don't think it will be all sunshine and rainbows when we return to the group. Not this time. Just tell me, please."

Bob blew out a shakey breath and shook his head. "Because I wanted you to stay."

"Stay?"

He had contemplated all the reasons, stacking them up brick by brick last night, refusing to acknowledge the leverage Natasha could have used against him. But Bob had damned himself with that one word.

Stay—He wanted Grace to stay. Because if he brought this up, if he told her, there was a chance she wouldn't—at least, there was a possibility.

He lifted his chin, staring into her eyes.

Nat's so-called leverage was kneeling in front of him, begging him to tell her the truth. Her eyes were desperate, so much so that Bob knew he was possibly damned if he did and undoubtedly damned if he did not. Grace had chosen her path, and he would steadfastly follow her wherever she decided to go. 

There was no ever questioning that.

Bob reached for her sides, pulling Grace close between his spread legs. She let him, hands landing softly on his biceps before they slid down to his forearms. Bob traded his grip on her jacket to hold her hands, only to trace the same pattern she had a few minutes before.

He braced himself and took several sharp breaths before asking, "Did anyone ever tell you about Natasha's so-called scandal? Back in school?"

Grace cocked an eyebrow. "Only what Maeve's told me. Bradley and I weren't on speaking terms, and he'd never tell Dad if she had one. Though, Maeve didn't even know the complete story."

She let Bob turn her hand over and trace the lines on the palm of her hand. "But she shut me down hard after that. Saying Nat worked to put it behind her and move on, so we all should, too."

Bob scoffed. "Always protecting her."

"Bob?"

Bob hesitated, his gaze flickering away from Grace's expectant eyes. He swallowed hard, the reluctance clear in his tight jaw. Then he closed his eyes, leaning over to whisper in her ear, his voice cautious but a whisper.

Grace's eyes widened, and a gasp slipped through her parted lips at his words. She could hardly breathe as he told her the story. And when he was finished, she tilted so far back on her heels in shock that she almost fell onto her butt.

"Bob! What the hell? After everything I just told you?!"

Bob still hadn't opened his eyes, his head hung low in shame.

"I would have never left you over that! Over complete and utter bullshit? Who do you think I'd believe more? Her or my boyfriend?"

"I didn't know. I didn't want to risk losing you."

"You listen here, Bob Floyd," Grace urged, grabbing his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her. "I'm in a relationship with you. I love you. I would have never believed her if she had done that to us."

He kissed the inside of Grace's wrist, a deep weight lifting off his chest.

"God, I want to throttle her."

"I think that's why everyone doesn't call her out. Cause they don't want it to happen to them. Or at least, deep down, I never did 'cause I didn't want Maeve or Bradley to be alone with..."

Grace nodded, letting Bob know he did not need to continue explaining.

"We should try to find her, Bob. Let her know we love her and that we'd follow her. I have no idea if anyone else would besides Mickey and Cora. Hell, I'd even offer to leave with her and get drunk on her Aunt's apple cider 'cause this whole damn trip was a bad idea."

Bob huffed a sad laugh. "It is apple picking season. I bet she'd love it if we went with her."

Grace snorted. "You just want free apples so I can make my apple crisp."

With the tension from before gone and the weight of Bob's chest finally disappearing with his confession, he joked comedically, "Ssshh, don't jinx it."

Grace rolled her eyes, letting the moment pass before offering quietly, "Where do you think she is? Maeve?"

Bob regarded her for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Considering the lack of voices, Maeve's probably tried to separate herself. Or she made a rash decision and decided to leave alone."

Grace gasped. "What about Jake?"

"Jake ... I bet 50 bucks Jake ran after her regardless."

Her face contorted into one of disgust. "What? Why? Can he not leave her alone for once in his life?"

Bob stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, before extending a hand to Grace. She took it without another word and allowed him to guide her up and off the tree. He revealed yet another truth as he helped her step over the massive root.

"Remember when I went with Bradley and Jake before Maeve hurt her wrist? Jake wanted to show us a fishing spot...?"

Grace winced. When Bob told her what happened, she instantly regretted not being out there with you. Hold up in her tent, she had been working on plans for a museum exhibit. Even if she had to do a little work, she could have at least done it in the company of a friend.

"I found out Bradley's been trying to coach Jake into mending things with Maeve. We might have been giving him some... advice."

Grace froze with her two feet atop the curved piece of wood.

"What!!?" she shrieked, making Bob wince. "Please tell me you weren't the one who encouraged him to keep up the prank thing. Bob, if you told him to scream 'there's a Bear..'."

"It wasn't me! Nor was it Bradley! We just told him to try to talk to her without anyone around. Cause things seem to go to shit when everyone else is there. He just needed to incite her to stay. Make her laugh. Talk to her like a human being!"

"Men," she scoffed, jumping down off the root. "Never go to a group of idiots to do a woman's job."

Bob froze, eyeing her carefully. "Are you calling me an idiot?"

Grace smiled, reaching up to stroke across his cheek. She kissed his lips with a quick peck and leaned back. "Hmm... my idiot, though."

She took several steps back towards the falls when she called out over her shoulder to a befuddled Bob. "You realize if we locked them in a room or trapped them in an elevator, with nobody else around, they'd probably figure it out?"

"How so?" he called back, finally following her.

"Jake obviously wants to fix it. Maeve runs. All you need to do is stop her from running. She'll give in if you provoke her enough, which Jake already does."

Bob paused, reflecting for a moment. "He doesn't think when it comes to her, does he?"

"Does she?"

When they emerged from the bush, Bob and Grace ran to the first person they saw, hoping at least someone saw either you or Jake. Nobody had. Not until a few minutes later did a couple mention seeing someone bearing your resemblance climbing the waterfall. They also mentioned seeing someone who looked like Nat go up, but she had already come back down.

Grace stared at them in horror. "I'll go get Mickey and Cora," she rushed out quickly, leaving Bob alone to start the trek up the rocky slope. As he did, a million thoughts crossed his mind.

Finding you and Jake tearing each other apart, hoping Mickey and Cora's skills weren't needed. Or the more stupidly optimistic thought - either of you was trying to find a few moments of peace.

As if.

Or perhaps it was none of those things. Maybe what awaited him above was something far worse than he could ever fathom.

But when he reached the top of the falls, neither you nor Jake were there, and Bob didn't spare the effort to take in the view. Instead, he searched the ground, kneeling when he spied several tracks in the mud.

Two sets, both inherently female, were marked along the river bank in the mud. Bob's eyes followed them until he saw a separate path of them walking back. Then he noticed another pair of tracks, the boot tread clearly belonging to a man. They followed one of the other tracks, veering quickly off into the bushes. They were noticeably disturbed, leaves and branches bent unnaturally, and the longer he followed the underbrush and mud, the more he understood what happened to the two of you.

Bob set off, knowing just exactly where he needed to go.

Can I just say I love Bob and Grace?

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[plentyoffandoms]

Main Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Maverick Masterlist ♡ Robert 'Bob' Floyd Masterlist ♡ Til I See You Again Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin's POV

I saw Bob and Phoenix get hit. They both ejected but I saw Phoenix land safely, while Bob was no where to be seen.

Then I heard Yale through my headpiece say that Bob was in enemy territory.

I didn't even stop to think. I had to get to him. It all became a blur. I felt myself get hit and then I was in the air.

I landed in the middle of a field, but I landed on my wrong. I somehow landed on my side and then there was a shooting pain up my arm.

"Fuck." I said through gritted teeth as I tried to move my arm. It is either broken or I sprained it pretty badly.

I had to get out of here. I am a sitting duck if I stay out here. But as I was trying to take off the parachute I knew I didn't have much time but I needed to get it off of me.

I heard the sound of someone running towards me from behind and they were coming up fast.

I reached down and grabbed the knife I have strapped to me, ready to strike if I need too.

"Jake." The person said as they were close to me.

"Bob? Shit you're alive. Oh thank God." I said as I looked up at him as I dropped my knife, never been so happy to see him in my life.

He held his hand out to me and I grasped it with my good hand. He pulled me up and I hissed as I was jolted.

"Let me help get that off of you." He picked up the discarded knife and cut off the parachute. He tried to be careful but it was painful.

"Come on. We have to take cover and continue moving." Bob said to me as he picked up the parachute and cut off a section of it.

I held my arm against my body and the two of us ran the same way he must of come, trying to find some type of coverage.

We knew which direction we needed to walk into to get back to safety, but it will be a very, very long walk.

~

The two of us walked as quietly as we could, stopping randomly whenever we heard a noise, but so far no one was following us.

"We shouldn't be too much longer. We just have to get over that hill and we should be safe." Bob said to me.

We have been walking for a few days now. Taking turns sleeping. One always keeping watch. We have very little food left and on the last of our water.

But Bob was taking it all in stride. He made my arm a sling out of the parachute and was making sure I didn't have anything in my way as we walked.

But it is nightfall once more and we didn't have a fire going, just like every other night. Didn't want to bring any unwanted attention.

"Why did you come back Jake?" He finally asked.

"Couldn't leave you hanging." Was all I said. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"You got your nickname for leaving people hanging. Why. Did. You. Come. Back." He asked again, with more force.

"You're my brother-in-law and even though I have been absolute jackass through your whole relationship with my sister, I know you are a good man and," I stopped because I thought I heard something. I waited a few moments and then it was silent once more.

"And you have a kid on the way."

"Yeah, your niece."

"I am sorry for calling her a mistake. I know I have to apologise to YN as well but the best I can do right now is apologise to you and hope you forgive me."

"I do." He said with no hesitation.

"I know finding out that we were together was a shock to you. We didn't plan to keep it a secret as long as we did. Then finding out she was pregnant the same day, yeah I get why you were angry."

"I threatened to kill you though Bob." Not my proudest moment.

"You did but I am still here. Rooster thought I was gonna run and leave YN, but I love her more than anything. The moment I met her she literally became my world."

"I know...I can see that and I am glad that she has you to look after her."

I fell asleep not long after our little heart-to-heart talk. Bob taking over the first watch.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd's POV

The two of us were in the final stretch. We weren't far from where we needed to be, but I knew Jake wasn't doing so good.

When we were coming down the hill, Jake fell and landed on his ankle weird and now I am helping walk the final leg.

He can barely put any pressure on it so the he is practically hopping and he was getting tired, so we had to stop for him to take a bit of a break.

But I could see the American Flag off in the distance and we were so damn close to safety I can almost taste it.

"Go on Bob. I am tired and I know you are. You can't keep carrying me." He said as we took what I am hoping is our finally rest.

"No Jake, you see that in the distance? That is home. That is safety. You will get proper medical attention, and we will get food and hopefully some water."

"I'm just so tired Bob."

"I know you are, but we have family and friends waiting for us. We need to see them. You need to see your sister. I need to see my wife."

"I can't."

"You can and you will Jake, even if I have to drag you there. Now stand up so we can go home."

I didn't really give him a choice in the matter. It felt like I did drag him in the rest of the way to safety.

When we got to the base, we had to identify ourselves of course and once they realised we were the missing men, they quickly took us in.

Jake was taken on a stretcher and I collapsed from just everything that has happened.

I don't remember much after that. I remember some blury faces and then it was all black.

~

I woke up to the sounds of some beeping and my eyes felt heavy and very sensitive from the light.

I was trying to find my glasses and I started to panic when I couldn't find them.

"On the table next to you. Right side." Came a familiar voice. I felt relief when my hands touched them and put them on my face.

I looked over to the person that spoke and say Jake in the bed next to mine.

"Where are we?" This didn't look like the same place.

"That place didn't have what they needed for the two of us, so we are in the closet hospital."

"Oh." Was my reply.

"We will probably be going home soon. From what I could understand from the Doctor was once you woke up and got the all clear, then we can go."

"Hope that is soon. I need, no we need to get home."

"I know. I have talked to Phoenix and she has been staying with YN. There has been a few close calls with some false labour."

"I can't miss the birth of my first child Jake."

"I know. I don't want you to miss it either."

Part 4 / Part 6 coming soon

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[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck. 

Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.

He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob. 

"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.

"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.

"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."

Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."

She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.

"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."

He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."

"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."

Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder. 

"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"

She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.

"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."

"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"

"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.

"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."

"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"

"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."

Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was. 

"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"

Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house. 

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

"Dr. Webber."

Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.

In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.

"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help. 

She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.

It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look. 

The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.

WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!

If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.

Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch. 

If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again. 

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."

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

"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."

But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale. 

"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison. 

It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.

With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"

"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet. 

"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."

Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?

But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.

"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."

"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"

Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.

"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now. 

"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."

Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"

"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself. 

She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches. 

"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.

"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"

"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.

"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."

"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."

Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.

"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.

Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head. 

"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot. 

Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"

"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?" 

"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"

"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"

"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"

"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"

"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."

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

Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for @ohtobeleah and her TGM Valentines Day Special.

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x female!reader imagine.

Happy Valentines Day! 💛✨

The song I chose is ‘Dandelions’ by Ruth B.

Warnings: this is racially and body type inclusive despite the moodpboard suggesting otherwise, your favorite flowers are now dandelions for the sake of this fic, this is only proofread by me :)

Bob Floyd had been your friend for years, best friend, really, and he was your favorite human being.

He was kind and gentle and oh so charming, which was one of the reasons why you couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

It had happened slowly and shortly after the first the first time you met, and the two of you became inseparable.

When Bob finished his bachelor’s degree he wanted to go on to Officer Candidate School in Pensacola and then train to become a pilot for the Navy.

You went to the same university because you didn’t want to be apart and you found a career that you could pursue while traveling a lot, should it be necessary.

It wasn’t that you planned to spend the rest of your life with Bob but if you were honest you couldn’t really think of your life without him.

While it might have been weird to others Bob and you always celebrated Valentines Day together, because you were the people who mattered most to you.

It had become a tradition that a nervous slightly pimple faced teenage Bob had brought to life, explaining that he wanted to celebrate your friendship.

Neither of you had ever really seriously dated someone else so you were always free to spend the day together.

Bob had graduated in December and planned to start OCS as soon as possible, which meant that he’d have to stay at Pensacola for at least twelve weeks.

That meant he’d be away from you for a while, and you already dreaded it.

When Bob picked you up for your annual Valentines Day date you did your best to look as pretty as possible, finding the perfect dress in Bob’s favorite color.

He brought you out in his truck that he had already loaded with everything necessary for the trip, not telling you where you were going.

Bob looked extraordinarily attractive, having put on a new shirt in your favorite color and having taking special care of his hair, combing it and trying to keep it from falling into messy locks over his forehead.

You were sure he had put on more cologne than usual when you hugged him and it immediately made you smile.

The drive to your unknown destination was short but despite listening to your favorite music Bob somehow seemed nervous, which also evoked the same feeling in you.

Bob had developed a habit of putting his hand on your thigh most of the drive, which always gave you comfort as well as a sense of happiness at his show of affection.

When Bob finally stopped the truck you were seemingly in the middle of the road, in a beautiful field that was blooming with your favorite flowers.

Bob sent you a giddy smile as he rushed outside to open your car door, another habit you had established throughout your friendship.

You were grateful for his kindness as he helped you climb down from your seat to stand next to him.

Bob gave you another grin before he turned to his truck bed, grabbing a basket as well as a backpack.

He held your hand as he pulled you through the field that was glowing with dandelions in different stages of bloom.

It was really beautiful, especially to be there with him.

When you stopped walking he put a blanket down for you to sit on, pulling you onto it to talk to you.

Until now you had shared a comfortable silence, because you knew he had something to share with you.

“I’m going to Pensacola in a few days. I just got the call from OCS,” he said softly and your heart fell, knowing that from then on he’d be busy beginning a new part of his life.

You weren’t entirely sure you were in it so you took a short breath, your entire body feeling as heavy as lead as you waited for him to continue.

His eyelids fluttered as he saw your reaction and he reached out to hold your hand.

“I don’t, I mean… I have never felt about anyone the way I do about you. I’ve heard of love that comes once in a lifetime. And I’m pretty sure that you’re that love of mine,” he went on to shock you to the core, and an amount of feelings you didn’t know you could feel rushed through your body.

While you were sad he was leaving a heat rushed through you at his confession, the relief of feeling the same but not feeling the strength to say it first as strong as the amount of oxytocin in your body.

You were speechless as you felt tears well up in your eyes and Bob smiled, reaching in his pocket to find a small box in it.

It was a beautiful light color and when he opened it you found a necklace with a delicate dandelion charm inside that made you actually shed one of the tears that were forming.

“I love you,” he said softly and you chuckled in disbelief, not quite knowing how to react.

“I…,” you choked on your own emotions but Bob chuckled, nodding lightly.

“I know you do,” he replied, his gentle smile all you needed in that moment.

Your fingers gripped his tighter and he mirrored your actions, giving you the security he knew you needed.

“I’d love to be with you, baby,” he added, and you couldn’t have nodded any faster.

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[topguncortez]

The Origin of Honeybee

pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader (OC: Bea Clark) word count: 3.5k warnings: angsty, smutty, language, teen pregnancy, religious trauma themes Bob & Bea Masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist

It was a fairy tale love story. The two high school sweethearts who were never seen apart. But, it had started before that fateful day in junior year when Bob found the bravery to ask you out officially. He knew you were going to be his from the first day you walked into his father’s 5th grade classroom. You had started the school year late, beginning in October. Your mom had taken over for a teacher who decided to quit during the school year. Mr. Floyd had introduced you to his class, and Bob couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

You were mesmerizing, your eyes hidden behind a pair of blue glasses, your hair in pigtails which you had fought your mom on saying that they made you seem too little kiddish, and the most noticeable, a bright pink cast on your right arm. You had taken the only open seat, right next to Bob, by his father’s desk. You two didn’t say anything, paying attention to the math lesson his dad was teaching. It wasn’t until you went to lunch, you sat at the only empty table, opening your purple lunch box and pulling out the PB&J your dad had packed. Bob walked over to you, you looked up at him,

“Can I sit with you?” He asked shyly and you nodded. He sat across from you, opening his Superman lunch box. The two of you sat in silence for a couple moments, eating your home lunches until Bob spoke up. 

“I’m Bobby,” Bob introduced himself softly.

“Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bea,” You said.

“What happened to your arm?” He asked.

“Fell off a four wheeler at my grandma’s house,” You said wiggling your fingers, “They had to put a metal rod in,”

“Are you serious?” Bob asked, his blue eyes wide. 

“So serious,” You said with a smile. The two of you didn’t separate for the rest of the day, getting to know one another. At the end of the day, Bob walked over to you, he didn’t say anything but held up a black magic marker. You nodded and held out your casted arm, and in very scribbly handwriting Bob wrote his name.

— — — 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 — — — 

It was from that point on, the two of you were inseparable. No one ever saw Bob without Bea, and vice versa. They had moved on from playdates after school, to begging parents and older siblings to take them to the roller rink, to sneaking sips of alcohol at Bob’s older brother Ben’s legendary bon fires. You were lucky to have someone by your side to battle that awkward first of high school, where everyone was starting to change, but they never seemed to change. The only change was that Bob’s father had died your freshman year. You sat by his side the whole time during the funeral, holding his hand and occasionally wiping a tear from his face. 

“Have you been asked to homecoming?” Ben asked you, as he sat on the couch in the Floyd family basement. 

You shrugged, you were shy, no one had noticed you outside of your friends. You had gotten braces over the summer, and were constantly checking the wires on your teeth in the screen of your phone. You had also started the joyous life of being a woman. Puberty had hit both you and Bob. You guys had now started to move into that awkward phase of life, where you were trying to figure out what was happening and if you found someone else attractive or if it was just the newly released hormones.

“Well since it’s your first homecoming, I’ll take you. . . and Bob.” Ben said and glared at his younger brother who was setting up his model train set. 

Bob was thankful that Ben had asked you to go with both of them. It made it easier for him to suppress his feelings a little longer. The only person who he confided in about how he felt was Ben. Bob wasn’t jealous of your relationship with his brother, your and Ben’s relationship was brother-sister. You constantly butt heads but would make up with a joke or buying the other food. Ben had purposely ditched the two of you at Homecoming to dance with Megan Stevens, making you and Bob have to not only talk to each other alone, but dance with each other too.

Freshman year fall faded into the summer, and the boys were busy working on the ranch. You hardly saw the two of them unless you were helping their mother Elizabeth cook dinner, or they needed your help with something. While Bob was sweating in the sun every day, you tried out for the cheer team and made it. You had fallen in love with the varsity quarterback, Logan Brooks, and had decided to join the cheer team. You got your braces off and had figured out a good hair care routine. Your new found confidence was radiant, and the boys could see it.

Much to Bob’s dismay, you had started to slip away from him, spending more time with your new cheer friends and boyfriend. Bob had fought his shyness and stood next to his older brother in the front row of the stands during every football game. Ben knew that Bob didn’t care much about the team, but was there to watch your bright smile as you cheered along the side lines. 

“I don’t even understand football,” Bob said.

“It's easy,” Ben said, explaining the game to him, but Bob absent mindedly nodded along, his eyes looking at you cheering in front of him. 

“If you don’t ask Bea to prom this year, I’m gonna ask her,” Ben said, snapping Bob out of his daze.

“What? Why would you do that? And what makes you think she won’t go with Logan?” Bob said.

“Cause Logan’s eyes aren’t staring at Bea’s ass right now,” Ben said and pointed towards the quarterback, who’s eyes were looking at another girl. 

Bob grimaced and frowned. He saw the way you smiled and hugged Logan’s sweaty frame as he walked off the field after winning. Bob also saw the way Logan was looking at another girl from the other team, as you talked to him about how good he did during the game.

— — — 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 — — — 

“I don’t even know what I did wrong?” You cried, rubbing your nose with a crumbled up Kleenex. Ben was standing in the doorway to his and Bob’s room, as you sat on Bob’s bed. Some sad song was playing on the record player and Bob was handing you more Kleenex. 

Logan had started to be secretive and distant. He was constantly on his phone, hiding it from you. The nicknames and PDA had stopped, and so did most of the daily conversations between the two of you. It wasn’t until you went to deliver him some cookies for his birthday that you had spotted the white BMW in the driveway. He opened the door, shirtless and light bruises covered his abs and collar bone. He didn’t even have to say anything, but you knew. Logan had called out to you as you threw the cookie dish at his car and flipped him off walking away.

“We should go egg his house,” Ben said, “Or go all Carrie Underwood with a Louisville slugger,”

“Ben,” Bob said and shook his head no, “He’s an idiot, honeybee.” The nickname that Elizabeth had given her years ago fell so easily from Bob’s lips, “He didn’t even realize how lucky he was to have you,” You looked up at Bob, those E/C that he had fallen in love with wet with tears. He sat next to you on your bed, his arm thrown around you, while Sam sat in your beanbag chair, “You want to watch a movie?”

“Tommy Boy?” You asked, it was your favorite movie, you could almost quote it word for word.

“Well, thank you both for the invite but I gotta go pick up Olivia for our date,” Ben said, winking at his younger brother. Ben came and kissed your forehead, “It’ll all be okay, Bea. But if you wake up and see my face on the front page for egging or slashing a hole in all four tires, it was for a good cause,”

You laughed at the boy and Bob said goodbye to his brother. You two settled in, watching the movie. At some point in time you had both fallen asleep, but when you woke up, Bob’s arms were wrapped around your waist and your head was on his chest. It was then that you realized that you were falling in love with your best friend.

— — — 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 — — — 

There was an obvious shift between the two of you. Everyone could see it, Bob’s siblings, Ben, your parents, Bob’s mom. It was just a matter of time until you two could see it. You both felt the love you had for each other, but both were too stubborn and scared to act on it. It wasn’t until you brought home another boy that Bob knew his window of opportunity was closing. So while you were walking around, pacing the basement floor ranting about whatever his name was, Bob stood up.

“Bea, he doesn’t deserve you. None of them do,” Bob said, “Does he even know your favorite flower? Or what color do you prefer of your favorite flower?”

“No but-“

“It’s orange roses,” Bob said, “You said you hate the cliche white and red, that you prefer orange but will settle for yellow. You fell in love with them when your grandma accidentally planted an orange rose bush when she got sick with dementia. She tried to dig them up, but your grandpa told her that they were unique and beautiful just like she was. You said that was the moment you believed in true love.”

You looked at Bob, his honey brown eyes staring into yours. Your body moved quicker than your brain, and you grabbed his face, connecting your lips together. He grabbed your hips, pulling you into him as you both melted into the kiss. It was like time stopped, and fireworks exploded behind you.

“Ah!” Ben yelled, opening the basement door, “Mom! It’s happening!” He smiled and ran over to go get his mom, leaving the two teens who now had deep red blushes across their cheeks.

— — — 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 — — — 

You and Bob seemed to be even closer than ever before. Like always, where anyone saw Bob, you were surely to follow. When they told their friends that they had finally started dating, everyone let out a sigh in relief followed by a “finally”. It seemed as though you and Bob were the only ones who were oblivious to the love that you both had for each other. 

Prom was supposed to be the most important night of a young girl's life, but you were absolutely terrified. You had been hyper fixating on your dress and thinking of all the things that can go wrong when you put it on. Your mother did your hair, deciding to curl it and leave it down. Your dress was black, you went for simple (partially because it was what you could afford). Bob was just as nervous as you as he sat on your couch, your dad staring him down. He held onto the plastic box with your corsage with all his might. He was sure that he was sweating through the rental tux. The moment he heard your mother come down the stairs and he stood up, his blue eyes going wide. 

“My god, honeybee,” Bob sighed out and your father glared at him. Bob walked from the couch over to the bottom of the stairs and held his hand out for you. You smiled and took his hand, “You’re gorgeous.” 

“Thank you,” You said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “You clean up nicely.” 

“Oh, Bea, be nice to that boy,” Your mom said, “Get close for pictures!” 

You probably took a thousand pictures in front of your fireplace. Your face was hurting from smiling so much. Bob had spent all morning cleaning his truck so you didn’t get your dress dirty. He helped you get into the old Ford, making sure that no part of the dress would get stuck in the door. Your mom smiled fondly at the two of you as you drove off. 

“They’re going to get married someday,” Your dad muttered and looked at his wife, “He looks at her the way I look at you.” 

“I know,” Your mom said and kissed her husband. 

You and Bob danced until your feet hurt and he ended up carrying you in his arms back to his truck at the end of the night. There was too much excitement in the air to just go home and go to sleep, so instead, Bob drove you out to the old Oak tree in the middle of his family’s ranch. The night was clear and you could see all of the stars from where you laid in the back of his truck. He put a blanket down so you wouldn’t dirty your dress and you would be somewhat comfortable. 

Though stargazing only lasted so long, and soon enough you were in a heated make out session in the back of Bob’s truck. His hands were grazing all over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your hands tugged on his long locks, his curls curling a bit under his ears. You loved his longer hair, you thought it made him look perfectly older. 

“Bob,” You moaned as he kissed your neck. 

“Yeah?” He asked, grinding his hips into yours. 

“Make me yours,” You said barely above a whisper. Bob pulled away from you and looked at you. 

“Are-are you sure?” He asked, caressing your cheek, “We don’t have to do anything just cause it’s prom night. Hell, that’s such a dumb-” You cut him off by kissing him. 

“Bobby,” You said, holding his jaw with your hand, “Make me yours.” 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, honeybee,” Bob said, his voice a bit raspy as he leaned back in and kissed you. You guys fell into a frenzy of roaming hands and kisses, stripping each other of your clothes. You guys looked at each other, having to see each other naked and being intimate for the first time. You laid under Bob, eyes roaming all over his body, “You are even more perfect than I imagined,”

“You imagined me?” You smirked and Bob blushed.

“Once or twice,” He said and leaned in to kiss you, “Do you want to do this?” He asked you again, his blue eyes full of love.

“Make me yours, Bobby.”

— — — 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 🌼🐝 — — — 

You had been sicker than a dog for nearly three weeks. Bob was starting to worry when you missed yet another day of school, but you were just too weak to even climb out of bed. He had gathered your homework and planned on stopping by to give it to you after school. But the frantic text from you had him rushing into the parking lot and speeding to get to you. 

You were sitting on the couch in tears when he arrived, your mother and father sitting across from you. Bob felt like he just walked into the middle of an intervention, the air was thick with tension. He called out for you, but you shook your head and your father stood up from his chair. 

“Robert Floyd,” Your father’s voice was gruff and all Bob could do was nod, “You got my little girl pregnant?” Bob’s head snapped to you and you seemed to be crying harder than before. 

“I’m so sorry,” You cried and Bob looked back at your dad and nodded. Your mom let out a gasp and left the room quickly, not being able to look at you any longer. 

Your father ran a hand down his face and then put his hands on his hips. His eyes looked at you, “Get out of my house, Beatrice.” 

“Daddy,” You stood up from the couch.

“Wait, Mr. Clark-” 

“You disobeyed the bible!” Your father’s voice was loud and rattled you to your core. Bob watched as you began shaking like a leaf in the wind, “I will not have a sinner and a bastard child under my roof! Look what you did to your mother!” Your dad pointed to the direction your mother went crying, “Gather your things, and get out of my house.” 

Your father stormed out of the room, leaving you and Bob alone. Bob quickly rushed to your side and wrapped you up in his arms. You held onto him tightly, afraid he might disappear on you. Sobs racked your body as Bob tried to shush your tears. 

“Shh, honeybee, breathe,” Bob said, rubbing your back. He couldn’t help the tears welling up in his eyes at the sound of your cries. He wasn’t 100% sure what was going on other than the fact that you were possibly pregnant and your parents had just kicked you out. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You said and Bob pulled back from you. He gently held your face in his hands and wiped your tears away with his thumb, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Bobby, you have to believe-” 

“I’m not blaming you for anything,” Bob shook his head, “Is what your dad said true? You’re pregnant?” 

You nodded and sniffled, “I haven’t been feeling good for weeks, and I missed my period. I drove to Davis to the drug store and got a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, quit apologizing, alright,” Bob said and kissed your forehead, “We’re gonna get through this, together. I’m not leaving you.” 

“What about the Navy? Bob, you have been dreaming of that since you were a kid.” One of  the first things Bob had told you back in the fifth grade, while you dangling upside down from the monkey bars was that he wanted to join the Navy. His dad had been in for a couple years to pay off his student debt, and he loved it. Bob had grown up watching air shows in Virginia beach during the Fourth of July. 

“I’ll figure it out. Whatever you want,” Bob said, and took both your hands in his, “You and this baby are my future, okay,” You nodded and bit your lip as brand new tears threatened to spill. 

“I have no place to go,” You cried and Bob shook his head. 

“Yes you do,” He said, “What do you need? I’ll go get it.” You rattled off a couple items that you can think of off the top of your head and Bob ran up to your room and packed you a bag. Your parents were hiding in the kitchen, far away from you and Bob. They must’ve really been ashamed of you if they couldn’t even say anything as Bob guided you out to his truck. 

The ride to the Floyd ranch was painfully silent. You looked out the window the whole time, resting your hand on your stomach. Bob would steal glances over at you every once in a while. You had stopped crying which was a plus, but your cheeks and nose were still red. When you pulled up in front of the old farmhouse, Bob jogged around to your side of the truck and helped you out. He held your hand the whole time as you walked into the house, the smell of dinner hitting both of your noses. You both could hear Elizabeth Floyd yelling at her younger kids, and the squeals of children running around. 

“Allison Floyd, if you don’t stop messing with your sister!” Elizabeth’s voice was firm as you and Bob walked into the kitchen. She took one look at you and knew what was going on. Call it a mother’s intuition. 

“She needs a place to stay. . . for a while,” Bob said and Elizabeth nodded. 

“You can take Benny’s room down in the basement,” Elizabeth said. You nodded and took your bag from Bob’s hands and made your way down to the familiar room that the eldest Floyd child once inhabited. When you were out of ear shot, Elizabeth looked at her son, “Her parents found out?” 

“Yeah,” Bob said, placing his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, “Kicked her out. I didn’t even know until I got there”

“And what are you gonna do? You gonna step up?” 

Bob nodded, “Of course. That’s my baby. I’m not gonna leave her high and dry. I’ll do whatever she wants to do.” 

“You better not, Robert Floyd. I raised you better than that. Now,” Elizabeth said and walked over to the pantry. Bob watched her a bit confused until she walked out with a sleeve of saltine crackers and a ginger ale, “Go give these to her. Poor girl looks like she hasn’t kept anything down in days.” 

Bob nodded again and took the items from his mom’s hands, “How did you know?”  

Elizabeth sighed, “Cause I had that same look on my face when we told your grandparents I was pregnant with Ben. Now go on, no time for questions.” 

“Thank you,” Bob said and went downstairs to find you.

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[randalsgrave]

Sweetness and Light: Part 5

Well hot damn, it's been long enough - and speaking of 'long enough' this part totaled out at 22 pages. Told y'all it's only gonna get longer from here on out.

Week two and week three go by, each with its high - and low - points.

BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl

Word count: 8.1K

WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); mentions of toxic family behavior

Recommended Soundtrack: Go! - Public Service Broadcasting; Kick the Tragedy - Drop Nineteens; Crank - Catherine Wheel

***

Week 2. PT does, indeed, suck on Monday. 

Everhardt decides that his class’s first PT session of the week is going to involve endurance conditioning at the base track - a lot of it. 

When he utters the dreaded words “caboose runs,” Katie groans (as do probably 5 other people, but that’s beside the point). As if it wasn’t bad enough that she and Bob kicked their asses hiking on Saturday, now she’s got 20 minutes of staggered sprints on shit legs to worry about. 

“It had to be caboose runs,” Katie mutters under her breath as she falls in line behind Fanboy and trots off for the next 20 minutes of hell. 

At least she’s not alone in her misery. Bob says nothing as he slips into line behind her. He does, however, pass her a grin of pained solidarity as he sprints his way up to the front of the train when his turn comes. 

It’s a grin she returns when it’s her turn to bolt to the front. 

It’s also a grin that Fanboy catches notice of, and one that he finds himself asking questions about when the run ends 20 minutes later. 

“Am I missing something here?” he wheezes to Katie when they’re all clustered on the side of the track, taking a much-needed water break. 

Katie, propped up beside Bob against a row of bleachers, shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe if you’d tagged along with us instead of spending all morning in bed on Saturday, you’d be in the loop.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How was the hike, anyway?” 

“Long,” Bob winces. “And steep.”

“Hm. Explains the faces of agony.” 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Katie mutters with a snort, which Bob underscores with a nod and chuckle of agreement. 

Fanboy says nothing else beyond that - at least, not while Bob is within earshot. When everyone starts making their way to center field for calisthenics and Bob follows along with the others, Fanboy pulls Katie aside, leans in close. “So uh, like I was saying earlier… Am I missing something here?” 

There’s no missing the sly, knowing glimmer in his eyes when he speaks. Oh Christ Fanboy, what are you insinuating?

She plays dumb. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says airily. 

“Hell you don’t,” Fanboy retorts with a roll of his eyes and a smirk. “I saw you guys vibing together. Being all smiley and shit. Y’all got real friendly with each other on Saturday, didn’t you?” 

“If by ‘got real friendly’ you mean ‘hiked up the side of a mountain and OD-ed on pancakes and hashbrowns shortly thereafter,’ then yeah, we got real friendly.”

“Cute, cute. There gonna be a second date?”

“Oh my god Fanboy-”

“Ooh, that sounds like a yes-”

“Fuck off,” Katie giggles as she gives Fanboy a small shove. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with me and Bob. We’re just friends.”

“Five bucks says that changes in a couple weeks.”

“You ready to lose that bet?”

Fanboy shrugs. “I dunno, I’m feeling pretty good about this one.” The waggling of his eyebrows earns him an exasperated groan. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous.” Despite the nature of the words she just spoke, Katie can’t help the grin that splits across her face. “C’mon, before Everhardt bitches at us.” 

He laughs, but says nothing more as he jogs off to join the others for the rest of PT - and thank god he does, otherwise he would definitely have words to say about the disgruntled scowl curling across Katie’s lips. Making bets about her love life… As if she even has one. She and Bob are friends and nothing more. 

At least, that’s what she tells herself. What she’s currently hell-bent on telling herself. 

She steals a glance at Bob, then at Fanboy - and the scowl deepens. Bastard, she thinks. 

This is going to be a long 3 months. 

***

Instruction picks up right where it left off on Friday, with two-man hops and simulated bombing runs and death by classroom lecture. The first half of the day sees Fanboy and Halfpint paired with Airbud, a single-seater pilot, and their hop goes as well as it’s expected to. 

Where it all goes to shit is during the second half of the day, when Katie finds herself paired with Melendez. 

Melendez isn’t a team player; she made that much clear during the first week. Of course, nobody really realizes it until one person or the other is paired up with her for flight ops. Nobody knows which is worse: the fact that she’s maliciously cocky in and out of the cockpit, or that she peppers her shit-talking with musings of being a TOPGUN instructor. She’s not making friends with anyone here - and it seems like everyone else is happy to keep it that way.

So why Katie finds herself jogging after her on the tarmac and calling out to her is completely beyond comprehension.

“Melendez!” she yells over the whistling roar of their jet engines. 

She doesn’t hear her. Either that, or she ignores her. It doesn’t matter to Katie. She jogs after Melendez, reaches a hand out to touch her shoulder.

And damn-near gets decked with a fistful of equipment. 

“What?” Melendez snaps. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Whoa, hey-” Katie’s hands are up instantly, and she takes a step back, opens up the space between them. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea… “I just wanna talk, that’s all.”

“Yeah? About what?” 

Katie closes her eyes, sucks in a deep breath. She’s gonna have to make this quick. 

“Look - things got off on the wrong foot last week. I was hoping maybe we could reset and try again.”

“‘Reset and try again’?”

Melendez is mocking her, or getting ready to do it, at least. Fuck, Katie knew this was a bad idea. 

She stands tall, gives a single, curt nod. “Yeah.” This conversation may be going south faster than she would’ve hoped, but she’s not about to tuck tail. 

Laughter bursts from Melendez's mouth, a loud, raucous guffaw of… Disbelief? Amusement? Katie’s not sure - but the laughter all the same can’t be a good sign, not when she’s trying to extend an olive branch. 

It starts with a smile, a malicious one.  “Look, blanquita, I dunno what you’re on right now, but let’s get somethin’ straight. We’re not friends; we’re competition - and even if we weren’t competin’ there’s no fuckin’ way I’d wanna be friends with you.” 

Her response doesn’t really shock Katie. At least, the first part of it doesn’t. 

It’s the second part that throws her. 

“You little white girls are all the same,” Melendez says, voice laced with poison. “You try to be friends with everyone so no one calls you out for being trash. Make me look like the bad guy for callin’ you out on your shit.”

“I don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up, yes you do. Grow up, blanquita. Stop tryin’ to be everyone’s friend and do your fuckin’ job, if you even can. They can’t help you if you suck.” 

And with that, Melendez pivots on one heel, and continues her march to her jet. She spares no second glance at Katie, who stands stock-still for a moment, blinking and staring at the spot she previously occupied. 

She didn’t think it was going to go that bad, but… yikes. That was pretty fucking bad. 

And the worst part of it? Maybe Melendez has a point. 

It’s a thought that plagues Katie as she climbs into the cockpit of her F-18, and takes off for an exercise that sees Melendez push her around and leave her feeling like shit about her flying. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she does suck and is trying to distract from it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told Katie that she doesn’t measure up and that she’s only lying to herself. 

You know you’re not cut out for this. Why do you insist on embarrassing yourself?

No. No, no, no. Fuck that. 

Whether or not Melendez is right, it doesn’t matter. Katie can’t let that get to her. She’s worked far too hard and for far too long to be derailed by some little Brooklynite trying to pick a fight with her. 

Melendez wants competition? Fine then. Competition is what she’ll get. 

She’s gonna wish she hadn’t, though. 

***

The next day is much better - Katie’s relegated to an observer position while two other teams are sent up in the air. The two teams in question? Bojack and Wolverine, and Bones, Bob, and his front-seater Rapture. 

Now, everyone at TOPGUN knows as well as the next person that each pilot and NFO has their own distinct magic, that little bit of something that sets them above and apart from their peers in the aviation community. Katie’s knack for quick absorption is unparalleled. Fanboy and Halfpint are fast, efficient, precise. Hell, even Melendez has her magic; her doggedness and tenacity in the air make her one hell of a pilot. 

And then there’s Bob. 

Bob is a goddamn crack shot. His rate of accuracy is so near-perfect that it’s almost a little frightening to watch him and his front-seater rain destruction down below them. Of course, Rapture is plenty accurate and deadly on his own - but with Bob? Their targets don’t stand a chance. Rapture’s WSO is sharp and laser-focused and on the money every damn time, a deadeye of epic proportions. 

Katie can’t help but smile as she listens in on the radio chatter in the ready room and hears Bob and his front-seater slam-dunk the exercise. They’ve got their targets zeroed and smoldering within minutes, a far cry better than most of the others in class. 

Certainly a far cry better than her and Melendez yesterday. It stings, just the tiniest bit, but she tries not to let it bother her. Besides, why should it bother her that someone who’s clearly meant to be here just killed their bombing run? 

This boy is gonna be the one to blow them all out of the water. Katie just knows it. 

“Jesus - remind me never to cross you,” she murmurs to Bob after debrief. “You were like fuckin’ Annie Oakley out there.”

Bob’s mouth screws up in a small grin. “Yeah, well, Annie Oakley appreciates that. It’s nice when your peers tell you how lethal you are.”

“Oh, you. Still wanna grab Chipotle with me, Fanboy, and Halfpint?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Bob matches his pace with Katie’s, sets his garrison cap upon his golden-brown head. “I’ve been dreaming of a double-protein bowl since Fanboy brought it up this morning.”

“You earned it, that’s for sure.”

He smiles again, wider and happier, and it sends a flutter through Katie’s chest. “I aim to please.”

And he certainly does. Bob Floyd is an incredibly gifted aviator. There’s no doubt that he will take top spot in their class. No doubt at all. 

And, quite frankly, Katie thinks, it couldn’t happen to a better person. 

***

“Do you drink coffee?”

It’s barely past 0630 on Wednesday, and Katie is already receiving texts - and from Bob, no less. 

At first she’s confused. She’s in the Navy; of course she drinks coffee. Caffeinated beverages are practically her lifeblood. 

Her brow furrows as she picks up her phone to respond. “Yeah? Lol. Why do you ask?”

A bare 10 seconds pass before a response is shooting into her inbox. “I’m brewing some in my room,” the text reads. “Happy to make you a cup if you’d like one.” 

Hm. An impromptu coffee date with Bob Floyd. Even if it is ridiculously early in the morning, Katie has to admit, that sounds quite nice. 

“Sure, I’ll swing by. What’s your room number?” 

“224. Just a heads up, I split the room with Rapture and he might be here when you come down. Sorry for that btw.”

“No worries. Be down in a minute.”

Thankfully, neither of them have to worry about Bob’s front-seater when she appears at his front door moments later. He’s stepping out as she’s coming in, heading off for breakfast in the lobby. 

Which leaves Katie quite alone with Bob in his room. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small ripple of excitement passes through as she steps into the hotel room and shuts the door behind her. 

Living spaces, no matter how temporary, have always been an interesting thing for Katie. They paint a picture of the person occupying it, shed light on the parts hidden by polite social interactions and facades. 

Bob’s living space is simultaneously everything Katie figured it would be and absolutely nothing like what she thought. Frank Herbert’s Dune rests on the coffee table in the living room area, but so too does a battered, oft-read copy of Robert Jordan’s The Eye of the World and Pathfinder’s Core Rulebook. A sticker-emblazoned gaming laptop with a pulsating rainbow-colored keyboard rests on the kitchen counter, but it’s streaming soft, soothing coffeehouse jazz. And the coffee that Bob offered earlier? He has a whole setup for it, complete with a hand-cranked coffee grinder, water boiling on the stove in a lodge-supplied tea kettle, and a small French press. Whatever images or preconceived notions Katie had about Bob’s living space have been all but obliterated at this point. 

It’s more than that, though. The contents of the hotel room prove that things are nowhere near as simplified as she would’ve thought. There are layers to Bob; that much has been apparent since the moment they first met. Still, Katie didn’t think she’d ever really get to see them. The fact that she’s now standing here, seeing these parts of him - hell, that he’s letting her see these parts of him… 

She might actually have butterflies in her stomach right now. 

Bob putters around the small kitchen space with his flight suit half-zipped and the sleeves tied tight around his waist, one hand gripping the coffee grinder while the other cranks the handle. His face holds an expression of calm, collected concentration, almost like an artist’s. It’s a creative process for him, Katie realizes. How very him. 

“Do you take anything in your coffee?”

Katie makes a noise of indifference as she seats herself at the countertop. “Not really. I kind of just drink it how it’s presented to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Why the double-check?”

“Well,” he replies as he dumps the freshly ground beans into the French press, “I ask because some people don’t like how I present coffee to them. I drink coffee black because it lets me taste the flavors and undertones better, but I know a lot of people who think drinking black coffee is like drinking charcoal, so…” 

“So give it to me black then.” When Bob makes a noise of protest, Katie rolls her eyes but smiles endearingly. “I’m a big girl, Bob. I can handle a little bitterness.” 

Bob only nods as he pours hot water into the press, then presses the grounds to the bottom with the plunger. When he pours the resulting liquid into a mug and slides it towards Katie, he does so with a look of nervous anticipation on his face, almost like her reaction determines how the rest of the morning - maybe even the day - plays out. 

Lucky for him, Katie’s reaction when she takes her first sip of coffee is a highly positive one. She’s no connoisseur; she can’t taste any flavors or notes or undertones, but she knows for damn sure that it’s a good cup of coffee. It’s smooth, warm and roasty, but not burnt. Clearly, Bob has good taste in the stuff. 

She smirks around the brim of her mug. “Well, it’s definitely not Maxwell House,” she says before taking another sip, a bigger one. 

“God, I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a special place in my heart for the cheap shit, but sometimes I want a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like dirt.”

“Well then,” Bob replies as he seats himself beside her, “I’m happy to give you that second cup.”

“I’m happy to have it with you.” 

She says it before her brain can catch up with her mouth. It’s hardly that loaded of a statement, and somewhere in the back of her head, Katie knows that - but it doesn’t stop her from blushing, and damn-near crimson at that. Where did that come from?

What’s funny, though, is that Bob is blushing too, and just as red as Katie, if not more. It makes her wonder what’s going through his head in that moment. 

He takes a long, drawn-out sip of coffee, likely to help steady his nerves. “Uh, you know… I do this every day. Brew up some coffee, sit down, take some time to relax before class…” He takes another steadying sip of coffee, and the mug trembles in his hand, just the tiniest bit. “It’d be nice to have some company. Y’know, whenever.” 

The words hang in the air, and Katie contemplates them. It’s not like Bob asked her to marry him, but she can tell that even asking for something as low-key as a shared coffee before class is out of his comfort zone. That he’s putting himself out there like this, that he’s doing it for her, no less… 

Katie would be lying if she said her heart didn’t flutter in her chest. 

A small smile graces her face. “Happy to come by whenever,” she finally replies. 

She’s never been so glad to have accepted an invitation. 

***

Thursday rolls around with another round of paired hops and simulated bombing runs. Katie’s up first this time, paired with Fanboy and Halfpint. She’s had time to get her head on straight after Tuesday’s less-than-stellar hop with Melendez - and now? Her head’s more than screwed on straight; it’s a steel trap, a loaded spring ready to explode and execute. She’s pissed at how Tuesday went, and she wants that feeling of competence back. 

She can feel Melendez’s eyes boring into her as she passes by the ready room, can feel her smirking and sneering at her. No doubt she’s thinking there’s going to be a repeat of Tuesday’s hop. Like hell. 

The run winds up being everything Katie expects it to be and hopes for - her, Fanboy, and Halfpint all working together seamlessly and efficiently, zeroing their targets and raining ultra-precise hellfire down on them, getting in and getting out with not a second wasted. It’s everything Tuesday should’ve been, and everything the rest of her time here at TOPGUN will be. 

Needless to say, Melendez is no longer smirking when they all come out of debrief an hour later. 

And that is enough to put a smile on Katie’s face.

***

It’s Friday night, and all Katie wants to do is have a beer. A Deschutes beer, specifically. Something that she knows the Hard Deck doesn’t have on tap - not that she’s really complaining. She’s not in much of a mood to “go out” tonight. 

She could, however, wrangle up a friend or two to occupy the covered patio out back. That has the makings of a good time tonight. 

All she needs to do is grab a six-pack. 

It’s multitasking at its finest as she grabs her wallet and taps out a quick text to Bob. “Any interest in drinking tonight?” she asks him casually. “I’m about to head over to the NEX to get some beer.” 

The reply comes back sooner than Katie thought it would. “Funny you mention that; I’m actually at the NEX right now. What do you want? I can grab it for you.”

Huh. Well how about that. 

“Do they have Deschutes there?”

“I’ll take a look. What’s your plan b if they don’t?”

“Uhhhhhh Kona beer? If they have Longboard or Hanalei then that’ll work.”

“On it. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back.”

“Sweet, sounds good.”

Well, that was easy enough. All Katie needs to do now is wrangle up some more company. 

She swaps over to her chat thread with Fanboy, begins to type. “Feel like drinking on the back patio tonight? Bob’s grabbing beer at the NEX; if you want anything I can text him and tell him to grab it for you.” 

She’s slipping an old red hooded flannel over her t-shirt when she gets a reply back from Fanboy - a picture, says the notification. When she opens the message, laughter bursts from her. Fanboy’s sent her a picture of himself jutting his thumb over his shoulder - and who happens to be standing behind him, holding up a six-pack of Shiner Bock and making a face for the camera? 

None other than Bob. 

“Wayyyyy ahead of u fam,” he replies in a second text. “Also Bob says they got deschutes here. They got fresh squeezed IPA and squeezy rider IPA.” 

“Ooooooooh definitely Squeezy Rider. Please and thank you.” 

“Bet. Grab us a spot downstairs? We’ll be back in 10.” 

“Will do.”

Without another word or text sent, Katie trots off for the elevator and makes her way downstairs, shuffling through the lobby to the back patio area, which is lit by the soft glow of brass torches. Coupled with several cushy seats in the area and the soft crash of the tide in the near distance, it provides just the right amount of relaxation and ambience for an easy Friday night in. 

She folds herself into one of the lounge chairs, starts up one of her quieter shoegaze playlists, smiling to herself. Yeah, this was definitely a good call for tonight. 

True to their word, Fanboy and Bob come waltzing through the door ten minutes later, each with beers in one hand and what looks like a bag of snacks in the other. For Fanboy, it’s Takis and mini pretzels. For Bob, it’s cool ranch flavored sunflower seeds and smoked mini sausages. Sure, it’s not the most inspired bunch of snacks - but food is food, and Katie is glad they at least had the thought to get some. 

“You’re a peach,” Katie beams when Bob comes over and hands off the coveted six-pack to her. “How much do I owe you?” 

Bob waves the question off and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, c’mon, lemme pay you back-”

“Sand Trap, seriously, it’s fine.” He grins at Katie as he takes the lounge seat opposite hers, all nice and easygoing and good-natured, but the glint in his eyes makes it clear that the issue is no longer up for discussion. 

Well. Bob might not have taken very well to growing up in the South, but he sure as hell has the ‘southern gentleman’ mannerisms down pat. Isn’t that nice. 

Still, Katie can’t help but grumble. “Fine, but I’m buying next time.” She settles back in her seat, twists off the top on beer number one. She doubts he’ll let her pay for whatever it is they buy next time, but damned if she’s not going to try. 

“Yeah,” Bob hums around his first bottle of Shiner Bock, “we’ll see about that.” 

“I’m sure we will.” Yep, she was right about that one. Not giving it up that easily. Not that it’s a bad thing. Katie likes a guy with a sense of chivalry. “Pass me some of those sausages.”

Bob obliges, holding out the open bag to her, and she grabs a handful and fastens one between her lips. It’s punchy, full of minced hatch chilis and spice, a nice counter to the languid citrus haze of her beer. Not bad for cheap snack food from the NEX. 

“These are good,” she murmurs after a bite of sausage and a swallow of beer. “I’m gonna have to start buying these.” A snicker bubbles out of her mouth after a second. “Maybe that’s how I’ll repay you, Bob - just buy you a giant bag of hatch chili sausages.”

“Sand Trap-”

“Oh, c’mon Bob, I gotta repay you somehow! Lemme be nice!” Katie laughs, giggles tremoring in her chest as she takes another swill of beer. “Lemme be your friend and repay the favor.”

“You’re a plenty good enough friend without having to buy me stuff.”

And so the banter circles, and circles, and circles again. Katie’s not going to lie, it’s tiresome - but she keeps it up all the same. After all, it’s nice seeing Bob relax, nice seeing him engage in the dumb antics and arguments most others get themselves into. 

It’s nice seeing him comfortable. 

Speaking of being comfortable…

“Hey Bob?”

“Mmm?”

“You can call me Katie.” She can feel Fanboy’s amused side-eye boring into her the second she says it, but she doesn’t give a damn. Bob’s been her friend long enough; he’s certainly earned the privilege. 

His blue eyes glimmer behind his glasses, and the corners of them crinkle in time with the grin that spreads across his face. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to - the look on his face says everything. 

“What about me? Can I call you Katie?”

“Loser - we literally established this the day we met!” 

“I know, but I wanted to get in on the moment! It was too cute to pass up!”

“You are the absolute worst,” Katie snickers before flicking a bottle cap in Fanboy’s direction. 

And there the three of them sit, drinking well into the wee hours of the night, snarking and poking fun at each other, vibing, laughing, living, basking. 

Few things truly are better than drinking with one’s fellow aviators. 

***

Week 3. Coffee with Bob in his hotel room at 0630 is a fairly daily occurrence now. Katie makes a note in her head that Monday morning to get her hands on some good coffee beans later in the day. It seems like the only proper ‘thank you’ for the man who’s been sharing his small supply of caffeine with her this past week. 

They’re sitting at his counter, scribbling their last little bits of homework before the day starts, sipping from their mugs while the usual coffeehouse jazz streams from his computer. Katie should be kicking herself for not having this done the night before, but she can’t be bothered to care too much. If anything, doing it now gives her a chance to cross-check things afterwards with Bob. 

Or so she says. 

“Y’know, it really is fascinating, what you can accomplish when you procrastinate,” Katie muses. 

“If stress and anxiety weren’t side effects of it, I’d do it more often.”

“Agreed. Although I’m not sure what you have to be stressed or anxious about. You’re easily the smartest guy in our class. If anything, I feel like this whole thing should be a slam dunk for you.”

Bob shrugs. “It’s only easy because I have my setup to worry about, nothing else. Point, shoot, done. You, on the other hand, have my ultimate respect because you do that AND fly at the same time.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at it, though. I’m doing my damnedest to prove my worth, but… I dunno.” Katie’s lips purse as she looks down at her work, scribbles in her final notes. “Honest truth? I dunno how I even wound up here. There are definitely way better pilots out there. They’d be more deserving of a spot here than me.” She’s stopped writing at this point, gaze downcast and jaw clenching tighter and tighter. God, how it pains her to admit that, but she knows it’s true. She’s been told that her whole life; it’s not like she can just wipe it from her mind, her entire existence. Hell, she heard it from Melendez last week. No amount of anger, hard work, or successful hops can erase that.

Why do you bother? You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough for them, Katherine Mae… They don’t know you like I do…

They don’t love you like I do.  

“Well, I think that’s a crock of shit,” Bob declares, voice cutting through the poison swirling in Katie’s head. “You’re a hell of a pilot, Sand Trap; someone clearly thought you deserve to be here. And I know that whoever sent you here, they’re not the only one thinking that.”

“Oh yeah? You one of those other people?” Katie mutters. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then…

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

Katie blinks, looks over at Bob, finds herself looking into his eyes, that endless stretch of cerulean. There’s an earnestness in them that makes her stomach clench and her breath hitch, just the tiniest bit. It’s not often that she hears serious reassurance like that. In fact, it’s rare, so rare that Katie finds herself at a bit of a loss for words. Or proper response. Or anything, really, because not only is it coming from a colleague of hers, it’s coming from him, from Bob, and how the fuck is she supposed to react to that, to someone like him actually giving a shit? 

She feels her face growing hot, burning red. She drops her head down, low enough so that he can’t see the embarrassment scorching across it. “Thanks,” she mumbles. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bob smile. “I’d fly with you any day of the week and twice on Sunday, Sand Trap.” 

Her whole body is burning now, and whether it’s with pride, pleasure, or shame, she’s not sure. Whatever the case may be, it’s a first for her.

She needs to speak. That’s what she needs to do. 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell Bob ‘thank you’, to say some sort of one-and-done pleasantry - but all she can think to say, in that exact moment, is…

“Thought I told you to call me Katie, Bob.” 

Though he seems momentarily taken aback by the answer (maybe he was anticipating her saying ‘thank you’ too), Bob chuckles, his cheeks tinted with the barest hint of red. 

“I’ll keep that in mind from now on, Katie.” 

This time, Katie doesn’t even try to hide her face when heat tears across her cheeks. Something about Bob using her first name the way that he does, so innocent and personal… It does something to her. What the hell’s happening to her?

She coughs, cobbles her things together and tosses them into her black backpack. “We don’t, um… have that much time left before class. I’m just - I’m - um, I’m gonna go-” It’s abrupt, out of nowhere, and certainly nowhere near the calm, cool, and easygoing responses she usually gives, and all she wants to do immediately after saying it is kick herself, because Jesus Christ, could she look like any more of a psychotic dweeb? 

Bob, poor thing, seems just as confused. “Okay… Um… Guess I’ll see you in class then.” 

Katie’s bolting out of the room and shutting the door behind her before ‘yep’ has even passed her lips. She doesn’t want to stick around long enough for him to see the internal meltdown she’s about to suffer. He definitely doesn’t need to see that. 

“Seriously, Katie?” she hisses to herself as she marches down the hallway to the elevators. “What the fuck was that? He used your first name - after you LITERALLY told him to! Could you have reacted any more weirdly to that?” 

Well, I don’t know - when was the last time you let yourself entertain ANY sort of male attention? Especially from someone that you, oh, I don’t know, MIGHT HAVE AN INTEREST IN?

Could she, though? Could she really? 

No, Katie decides - no, insists - in the elevator ride down to the lobby. She and Bob are friends, nothing more. That’s the way it will be - the way it has to be.

Anything more than that and she risks opening wounds and exposing truths that should never see the light of day.

She shakes her head with a quiet snarl, makes her way out of the lodge and off to her car.

She’s gonna have to have a long conversation with herself when she’s done with everything for the day - a very fucking long one. 

***

It’s Tuesday evening, a late one. Katie’s been staring at the same piece of instruction on aerial bombing maneuvers for the last half hour now and none of the information has absorbed into her brain. Whether it’s due to the late hours or the fact that it’s fairly complex material, it’s refusing to stick - and Katie is rapidly losing her patience with it. 

With a huff of exasperated resignation, she tosses the paper away with no concern about where it lands, and thumps back against her bed’s headboard. What use is there in trying to force memorization? At this point she’s been reading and rereading the same three sentences with no clue of what they’re saying. Better to just say ‘fuck it’ for the night and pick up where she left off tomorrow, when her brain - and patience - is refreshed. 

She lets her eyes slide shut with a sigh, thoughts tapering off into nothingness, welcoming the call of a peaceful night’s sleep…

Until the sound of her phone buzzing, rattling on the nightstand jars her awake again.

The phone continues to buzz on the nightstand, her sister’s name and number scrolling across the screen. Katie frowns. Naomi’s talkative, sure, but she’s not really the type to reach out with a phone call - not unless there’s something going on. What could be going on at close to 2230 on a Tuesday, Katie’s not sure, but she hopes it’s nothing too serious.

She rolls over, grabs the phone off the nightstand, accepts the call. “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

“Katherine.”

Katie’s stomach lurches and her blood runs cold. Her. Oh god, her. 

It’s a fight to maintain composure, to not fly into a seething, furious rage at the mere sound of her voice. Four years since she last saw her and Katie’s still licking the wounds from her last encounter with her. This bitch is the last person she wants to talk to. 

“Carrie.”

She makes a sound on the other end - a ‘tut’ of disdain, Katie realizes. Jesus - is she actually thinking of scolding her, of shaming her?”

“‘Carrie’? Is that any way to address the woman who gave birth to you? I-”

“You lost that ‘mom’ title a long time ago and you know it,” she hisses before immediately closing her eyes and clenching her jaw. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, she can’t be snapping like that. It’s how she pulls her into her bullshit; it’s how she’s always done it. Katie needs to calm down, and fast. 

She inhales through her nose, exhales forcefully, grips the phone tight in her hand, evens her breathing and pitch. “What do you want?”

“Well, I want to talk to you,” Carrie replies, as if the answer is obvious. “I just found out that my oldest daughter’s on the West Coast; why else would I be calling?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” No, of course not, Katie thinks. This is her mother; the only person she’s ever paid close attention to is herself. The feelings and boundaries of her kids don’t matter to her. They never have. 

“Why would you say something so horrible? What have I done to deserve that?”

Katie doesn’t even try to swallow her cackle of incredulity. “Are you serious? Do you want a list of all the shit you’ve done? I mean Jesus Carrie, you stole Naomi’s phone to get to me!”

“Let me remind you that I pay the bills in this family, and that includes the one for your sister’s phone. I may allow her to use it, but this is MY phone, understand?”

She’s pulling her into her bullshit already; Katie can feel it. Her immediate response should be to cut her off and end the conversation right here, just like she’s done countless times before - and yet, she can’t. It’s been a long week and it’s not even over yet. She’s tired, her guard is down, and after the last two minutes, her blood pressure is climbing and threatening to spill over. If anyone should know how pissed off and exhausted she is, it’s Carrie. 

“Do you hear yourself? What kind of fucked up ‘no privacy’ bullshit are you on?”

“Oh, don’t you lecture me, Katherine Mae. I do what I do to keep this family together. And if this is what I have to do to keep my other daughter from abandoning it like you did, then so be it.” 

Oh, that’s it. That’s fucking it. Katie’s not doing this anymore. 

“Well, you clearly haven’t changed, so I no longer feel compelled to keep this conversation going.” 

“Katherine, don’t you dare-”

“I’m done, Carrie. Give Naomi her phone back and don’t call me again.” 

Katie then disconnects the call before Carrie has the chance to protest, the action decisive, unwavering, final. She should’ve ended that call a long time ago, and she knows she’ll be kicking herself for it later, but she’s out of it now and that’s all that matters. That bitch isn’t getting to her anymore tonight; she won’t let her. 

But goddamn, did she come close to it. 

Worse still, Katie knows it probably won’t be the only time that it happens - that Carrie finds ways to pull her back into her lies and abuse. This is only the start. And though she might’ve had the strength to shut Carrie down this time, there’s no guarantee that she’ll have it for the next run-in with her. 

And that? That scares Katie. It scares the living shit out of her. 

She needs an escape. Now. Before the memories threaten to consume her. 

She slips in her Airpods, puts on Drop Nineteens’ Kick the Tragedy, cranks the volume to drown out the voices and nightmares swirling in her head, and pulls her knees tight to her chest, trembling. 

It’s a position she stays locked in for the rest of the night. 

***

“Does this instruction make any sense to you or am I just stupid?” 

Katie’s currently sitting at a corner table in the buffet area with Bob, surrounded by notebooks, scattered sheets of paper, and small stacks of flight manuals. The piece of instruction Katie’s currently focused on is the same one from the night before, but she’s reading and poring over it with a renewed sense of determination (and spite, if she’s being honest) - or, at least, she’s trying to. It’s still as dense and heavy as when she last read it and it’s still not willing to stick in her brain. 

She groans loudly when Bob glances over at the paper and shakes his head, thumps her head into her forearms. “I’m so fucked for this test on Friday,” she moans. “This is 65 percent of what we’re being tested on and I can’t” - thump - “fucking” - thump - “understand it.” 

“Maybe put it down then, focus on something else?” 

“I dunno. Maybe. My brain’s soup at this point.”

“Hm.” Bob drums his fingers contemplatively on the tabletop, seems to rack his brain for a solution. It isn’t until he glances down at the watch fastened around his wrist, though, that he comes up with something - and that ‘something’ involves him packing up all their study materials, rising to his feet, and gently pulling Katie to her feet by her elbow. 

At first, she’s confused. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping for the night. We’ve been at this for the last four hours and it’s almost 11.”

“So?”

“So, that would explain why you’re having a hard time absorbing material,” Bob explains. “You’re tired; your brain’s not gonna absorb much when you’re tired.”

He says it so calmly, so simply. Fuck, it is simple, and Katie knows it. But, somewhere in the back of her mind… she can’t bring herself to go along with it. She’s a fighter pilot. More importantly, she’s a 1% fighter pilot in arguably the most challenging course the Navy has to offer. She should be soaking this material up, not getting stuck on the particulars of two-man air-to-surface strikes, literally the simplest shit. What kind of pilot is she if she can’t even figure this out? A lousy one, that’s what-

“Katie.”

Bob’s voice seems to melt through the nagging in her head, rendering it to little more than a whisper. She blinks, slowly, drifts back into reality, her very tired, very sleep-deprived reality. 

Okay. Maybe he has a point. Exhaustion is definitely doing a number on her. 

But hell if she’s going to admit it out loud. 

Somewhat thankfully, Bob seems to pick up on that reluctance and speaks for her. “Here, I’ll walk you up.” He reaches a hand out, as if to touch her, but seems to think better of it after a second and pulls it back, choosing instead to nod in the direction of the elevators. “C’mon.” 

They’re quiet as he escorts Katie up to the third floor and down the corridors to her room. When they finally come to a stop at her door, the exhaustion has set in with a swiftness and intensity she hasn’t seen since she was in OCS. She wonders briefly how she ever managed to power through it.

Bob takes her key card, swipes it across the reader and opens the door for her. “Get some sleep,” he tells her, voice soft. “I’ll hit you up in the morning, ‘kay?”

Katie nods mutely, steps over the threshold, allows Bob to pull the door closed. The exhaustion is weighing on her so heavily now that she doesn’t even react when it thuds shut more loudly than she’s used to. 

Bob’s right - she really does need to sleep. 

She trudges into her bedroom, fingers fumbling as she sets an alarm for 0600, then tosses the phone on the nightstand and falls face-first into the bed. She’s asleep seconds after her head hits the pillow, but not before her thoughts give a final whirl ‘round the study material, her pride in being a pilot, and her soft-spoken, bespectacled WSO classmate - the one who will be there for her in the morning. 

And sure enough, he is, for when Katie wakes up the next day at 06, there’s a single-word text waiting for her in her messages:

“Coffee?”

***

Two days later, after an extended study session with Bob and Fanboy the night before, Katie walks out of the test on Friday with two errors shy of a perfect score. The ironic part? The errors were on material completely unrelated to what she’d been stressing over two days ago. 

When she tells Bob and Fanboy as much on their way back to the lodge, they each respond with a shake of their head and a quiet laugh. 

“See, smartypants?” Fanboy says. “Told ya you’d be fine. Gotta learn to trust yourself more.” 

“Yeah, I’m working on that. Celebratory beer at the Hard Deck later?” 

“Don’t have to convince me.” Fanboy looks over at Bob, raises a questioning, but friendly eyebrow at him. “You tagging along or are you laying low?” 

“I mean, I gotta take a nap and catch up on the sleep I lost last night,” Bob replies casually, “but, uh… I could be persuaded.” He looks directly at Katie when he says the last part, making it abundantly clear that if anyone’s going to persuade him, it’s going to be her. 

And goddamn, if that doesn’t set the butterflies afrenzy in her stomach.

���Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll let you know what’s going on.” Katie’s attempt at replying in equally casual fashion is damn-near a failure; the pitch of her voice squeaks higher with each word she speaks. She’s not sure why it’s happening, but speaking or replying to Bob these days seems to be doing a number on her nerves. “Honestly, I’m probably gonna take a nap too; I’m feeling kinda’ dead.” 

“How late did you guys stay up after I left?” Fanboy asks them quizzically. 

Katie shakes her head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.” She herself is running on five hours of sleep; nerves and stress made it difficult for her to rack out at her usual time, wiring her awake well into the wee hours of the morning. A nap is an absolute necessity at this point if she has any desire to socialize later. “Meet up in the lobby in a couple hours?”

Bob nods. “Works for me.” 

The three of them pile into Katie’s 4Runner and putter their way back to the lodge, Catherine Wheel thrumming from the speakers as the mid-afternoon sun brightens the world around them. Were it not for the fact that she wants to be horizontal for her nap, Katie would be damn tempted to put her seat back and catch up on sleep in the warmth of her car.  

Bob splits off from Fanboy and Katie in the parking lot, leaving the two of them to stroll into the lobby together and ride an elevator up to their respective floors. For the most part, it’s quiet, comfortably shared silence between two friends. It’s short-lived, however; just before the elevator dings to a stop at his floor, Fanboy leans in towards Katie, eyebrow quirked inquiringly, smugly. 

“So, not a whole lotta sleep between you two… Was that all code for something and I just completely missed it, or-”

“Fanboy, I swear to God-”

Fanboy only snickers before splitting off for his room on the second floor, leaving Katie alone and red-faced in the elevator. Jesus Christ - if he keeps making comments like that, she might actually have to kill him. 

“‘Code for something’...” Katie mutters when the elevator reaches the third floor and she stomps off to her room. “Fucking menace.” If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that Fanboy was actively trying to push her and Bob together. 

Whatever. She’s not going to dedicate anymore thought to it, no sir - especially when she’s tired and still coming down from the stress of their test earlier. 

She loosens her laces and kicks off her flight boots, falling into the mattress with her hair still bunned and flight suit still zipped, settling in for some sleep that practically blacks her out for the next few hours. 

Later, after a nice, long, well-deserved nap and some dedicated relaxation time, the three of them are clustered around a high-top table at the Hard Deck, a small bowl of salted peanuts in the middle, beers of various brands in hand as they muse about their first three weeks at TOPGUN. They decide that, for as hard and as break-neck fast as it’s been going, all in all, it hasn’t been a bad experience so far. They’re conditions befitting their jobs - and lord knows, it hasn’t been boring. 

“Kinda’ makes me worry, though,” Bob murmurs. “We’re only three weeks in and it’s already been a helluva challenge. What are the other ten gonna be like?” 

Fanboy snorts, takes a swill of his pilsner. “You’re not telling me you’re scared, are you?”

“Apprehensive is more like it.”

“Eh, same difference. Not like you need to be scared though. It’s obvious you’re top brain in the class. You’ll get through this shit just fine.” 

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Bob’s eyes dart over to Katie for the briefest moment, holding her gaze for an even briefer moment before returning to the bottle in his hand. “I’m just waiting to see where Everhardt takes us next, and, y’know, trying to prepare myself for it.” 

“Understandable.” 

“I mean, if the next ten weeks are anything like the last three, just assume he’s gonna try to run us into the ground and proceed from there,” Katie shrugs. “I’ve already resigned myself to getting my ass handed to me; you might as well do the same.”

“Says the girl who aced her test earlier,” Fanboy scoffs. 

“Almost aced her test earlier.”

“Oh whatever. You’re smart. You’ll be fine. Fuck, you’ll both be fine; you guys’ll probably take the top two spots.”

“Well, I’m certainly gonna try,” Bob murmurs with a bashful smile. “Can’t be helped if I get bested by this girl over here though.”

Fanboy shakes his head and sighs, but he does it with a smirk on his face. “This guy…”

“Nah, you’ll definitely best me, Bob; there’s no question about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replies. “May the best aviator win.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Katie raises her bottle. “While we’re at it, here’s to making it through air-to-surface.”

“And the first three weeks,” Fanboy chimes in as he raises his. 

Bob’s the last to raise his, and his accompanying sentiment really rounds the evening out. “Onward to the next and best.”

Clink. 

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Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

D-Day (Jake Seresin x Reader series)

After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child. (Jake x Reader, no y/n used)

First and Goal (Jake Seresin x Reader)

Hangman hosts a college football day for the Daggers, only to have Payback bring a history making Angel. (Hangman x female Reader fluff, no use of 'you')

Overtime (Jake Seresin x Reader, First and Goal pt. 2)

It was just supposed to be a football game. But then Hangman took Syla up on her invitation to watch the Blue Angels perform at the Miramar air show. A month after meeting and facing the last home show of her career, the history making Naval Aviator invited Hangman to visit her in Pensacola. She didn't actually expect him to accept. Payback definitely wasn't happy.

'tis the damn season (Jake Seresin x OC series)

After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture class, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

The Perfect Match (Jake Seresin x Reader one shot)

Every third week in March, fourth year medical students find out where they'll be going for their residency. A quick 2.2K word one-shot of Jake's girlfriend going through that process.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd

(Every Step You Take) I'll Be Watching You (Bob Floyd x Reader one shot)

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. (Bob x Reader [Evie], no physical description)

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Santa's North Island Delivery Service (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader one shot)

Stuck at work, Bradley is missing his daughter's first Christmas Eve. But when the squadron decides to turn the hanger into Santa's Workshop, the pilot is able to sneak away to spend a little time with his girls. (Inspired by a true story; Rooster x Reader Christmas fluff)

#Masterlist #Navigation

[roosterbruiser]

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 ☾☽ 𝐂𝐡. 𝐗𝐈𝐈

☾☽ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐚𝐲𝐞 "𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫" 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

☾☽ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: It’s been almost three years since the accident that took half of her, and Faye “Clover” Ledger seems fine, really. She loves her old house, she has a perpetually expanding vinyl collection, she’s got a job she likes on base, and she is only a short drive from the beach. She’s grounded--literally. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw feels like he’s been homesick his entire life. He’s always on the move;  jumping from one squadron to another, living one mission to the next. Somewhere in between losing both his parents and carving a successful career as a Naval aviator, he’s never found himself a home. When a call to serve on a high-priority mission with an elite squadron brings Rooster back to Miramar, he finds that home. Except it’s not a house that he finds--it’s the former backseater that observes and records the mission for the Official Navy Record. 

☾☽ 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾☽ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾☽ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟗𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗

The morning feels short. From the moment Rooster and I are awake we are helping each other: kissing each other’s closed lips and pulling the other out of bed, brushing out teeth at the same time but taking turns spitting into the basin. 

I dress myself in the dark, slipping into a cold pair of slacks and a cotton shirt that will hardly touch my skin--it’s supposed to be a scorcher today. And I leave Rooster in the bedroom, belting his pants, to start the coffee maker. It all feels very routine, very easy. 

He pours the coffee and I feed Stevie. The house was very dark, very quiet. 

In the foyer, as I am slipping into my block-heeled mules, Rooster leans against the doorway and watches me. His eyes are gleaming in the morning light, which is only just bright enough for us to see each other. His mouth is pink and clean and smooth. 

“What?” I whisper to him.

He exhales softly--his cotton tee ripples with his breath. He pulls his eyebrows together as he watches me, shaking his head just slightly. 

“I’m still sorry,” he says and his voice is not shy and quiet--it is clear and steady, “that I froze. That I didn’t know what to do.”

 He says this like I haven’t already forgiven every single bit of him--like we didn’t sleep in the same bed last night, like he didn’t wake me up by pressing kisses against my throat and slamming his hand down on my alarm. He says this like we did not shower together last night, holding each other under a stream of boiling water. He says this like he hasn’t already said it before. 

“Bob handled it,” I say, just as clear and steady, except I’m smiling just slightly. 

His eyes fall from mine to the middle of my chest. He stares there for a long moment, still just slightly shaking his head, his eyes untrained.

“You would’ve said something if it was me he was pounding into,” he says, pulling his arms to cross over his chest. 

I think of when Hangman brought up Goose--when they almost fought, when Hangman stalked out like a tomcat and had the audacity to wink at me. But I say nothing to Rooster. He is still staring at my chest, right where my heart is beating, when I cross the small space between us. Tenderly, I put my hands on his cheeks and hold him for a moment. I savor it--savor his warmth beneath me.  

“C’mon,” I whisper, smiling, “it’s take-your-girlfriend-to-work day. Can’t be late.” 

And then he brings his eyes to mine and a smile is dominating his face, eating his pretty pink mouth. I smooth my thumbs over his mustache and grow woozy just feeling it under the pads of my fingers. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” 

I bite my lip, nodding, pretending like my heart isn’t about to fall out of my body. 

“Maybe,” I say, still smiling, “unless you’ve had a change of heart--ow!”

He releases the skin of my hip from between his two fingers and now we’re both laughing, my mouth held open in mock-astoundment. He smooths his hand over my hip where he pinched even though he didn’t truly hurt me, would never, could never. 

My heart pulses because we have these things between us that are only ours. He pinches when I tease, I kiss his palms when he’s sweet, he smoothes the crease between my brows when I’m thinking too hard, and I take little pieces of his anger when his arms are full. Yes, these are only ours, him and mine. It makes my chest ache with want to be able to share these things with someone again, these small little actions that feel so minute and so gargantuan at the same time. 

“Kiss me, baby,” he says, crooning. 

And when we do kiss, he holds my body close to his, presses every one of my hills against every one of his valleys. I am throbbing entirely, tangling my hands in the ungelled parts of his hair, pouring every ounce of affection into his mouth and out of mine.

When he pulls back, still pressed tightly against me, he looks down at me with that silly loved-up expression that makes my knees weak. He pushes my hair behind my ears, kisses both of my temples. 

“Ohhh,” he sighs, still crooning just a little bit in that knucklehead way, “that feels good.”

It makes my chest tingle. Even in the darkness, even that early in the morning, he is so hauntingly beautiful. He was like a statue, standing tall and proud and broad, right here in my entryway. Something that could hold my coat at the end of a long day, but also something I want to see every time I come in and out of that door.

“That might’ve been a dealbreaker for me--hey!”

Then he’s all over me, pinching my hips and grabbing my arms and kissing my face. It’s good--just thoroughly, intrinsically good. We could stay right here and be good forever. 

The rising sun is lemon yellow, feeble and pale, against the cornflower-blue sky. It is a cloudless day and I sit in the middle of the bench on our first drive to work together, in the same car. 

And when we walk into the building together, our skin goosing under the fluorescents because of the frigid air conditioning, we have one more moment of aloneness before the building becomes crowded. I am holding the leather strap on my shoulder, biting a grin, and he has his hands on his hips. It is the moment right before I go left and he goes right. 

“See you in there,” I smile. 

He nods. I know he wants to kiss me again. 

“Looking forward to it,” he returns, pretending to be all sorts of casual, his jaw flexed, his eyes fixed on mine, “Lieutenant Ledger.” 

It is quiet when I walk into the lounge after lunch. The country radio station Hangman always tunes into is playing very lowly on the portable radio beside him, on the couch where he’s lounging. It’s playing so lowly that I can’t even make out what song is on, even as I set my bag down on one of the counters. The oscillating fan is on and whirring discreetly in the corner, sending sporadic wafts of cool air around the stuffy room. The sun is pouring in, golden as ever before, shimmering against the bleached tiles. 

My heels are the loudest sound in the room--maybe even the entire hallway.

Hangman glances up through his lashes at first--and I know it’s because he wants to make sure whoever just came in is worth turning his face for--then turns slightly on the couch to behold me unloading my bag. His face is still one of the most handsome ones I’ve ever seen--smooth and tan, but with just enough fine lines to make him seem real. His lip, though--his lip is swollen slightly and bruised the color of a pale plum. It’s scabbed over by now, just a line of red where his lip broke. 

Bob really got him good. It makes me want to hug Bob, look at his knuckles again. I’m still in mild disbelief that Bob even knew how to hold his fist, let alone the fact that he sprang into the action so suddenly and completely. Maggie would’ve bought him a beer for what he did to Hangman’s pretty mouth.  

“Clover,” Hangman nods and for once, his voice isn’t dripping with that melodramatic gallant tone. 

He sounds, at least I think, normal.

“Lieutenant,” I greet.

It’s the first time I’ve spoken to him since the bonfire, since he said what he said and did what he did. My voice sounds firm, but not unfriendly.

“No ‘Bagman’?” he asks softly before he sighs, “can’t tell if that’s better or worse.”

Everyone is calling him Bagman again--and they’re not being subtle about it. Politely, I give a single dry chuckle. Just one hah. Just one forceful exhale through my nose. He doesn’t turn away from me, even when I look back to the desk, setting my pens and highlighters beside my dictionary. 

His messages--I still haven’t responded to any of them. After the initial text, the one Rooster read with a sneer, only one more was sent. He didn’t try to call again and leave a voicemail, no, no. Just one more five-word message. 

Do you hate me now?

It was sent after Rooster and I had already showered and gone to bed, when we were already sleeping together, when I was praising a higher power for the hunk of man drooling into my naked neck and being lulled to sleep by his loud, heavy breathing. 

This is to say that it was sent late--too late for someone who has to be on base as early as he does. I imagine that maybe he laid awake and replayed the sequence in his head. Maybe he keeps having nightmares about it. Maybe he keeps thinking back to just one thing, one small part of it. Maybe the small part he incessantly thinks about is the blistering, inadvertent tears on my face when I staunched his wound. Maybe it’s my silence that he thinks about, the way I stared at him doe-eyed and slack-jawed as he mouthed off to me. Maybe, and I think this is the most likely scenario, he keeps finding himself awake thinking about the one moment we shared just before he did what he did; when he didn’t draw attention to me, when there was a secret between us, when he was just watching me and I was just watching him. 

Or maybe his ego is so inflated that he just can’t stand to be hated by anyone. This, though--this feels less likely.  

I know his shoulders are stiff now--I know he’s tense. I wish that I could just turn around and tell him to move on--that there are more important things to focus on other than the shitty things he said to me. It’s true, at least partly. When I think about what he said, or how he looked at me, it makes my throat tighten and alarm bells cry inside my skull. When I think about the pile of empty cans at his feet or the way he leaned forward to come close to me or the way he bit his words at me before I pressed cotton to his lips--it makes me want to draw into myself. 

I am still somehow embarrassed by what he did, what he said. 

“Everyone thinks Hangman’s the asshole,” Bob had told me during our lunch break, “so don’t fret.”

I was eating an apple then, sitting with him in the cafeteria at a table in the corner. We were sitting by ourselves, both of us propping our feet in empty chairs. I was strategically eating half of the apple in hopes he would grade me a granola bar.

I nodded. 

It was so like Bob to find that out, perusing conversations stealthily until he attained the general consensus. It was so like Bob to synthesize the information with his own free will and then relay it to me like it was his genuine job. 

“Doesn’t everyone always think he’s the asshole?” 

Bob, who was finishing his salad, pushed his glasses back up his nose as he eyed me. He chewed for a long moment, narrowing his eyes. Then he pointed his fork at me, swallowing hard. 

“Are you implying that my internal investigation is ineffective, Faye?” 

He’d been nothing short of perfect since the bonfire--validating me but not condescending me. Now he was back to calling me everything else besides Fee--which meant whatever pity he felt for me was dissipating. He was stepping down from his position as surrogate sibling, at least in one small way. He was back to teasing me, chiding with me. 

It made me heave a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.  

Even with my back turned, I know Hangman’s eyes haven’t left my form. I know he’s still watching me. And I can feel it, sense it, when he opens his mouth to say something to me--can feel that little intake of breath and the muscles in his face working to speak.

“Listen, I--!”

That’s when Rooster walks into the room, just as I turn to look at Hangman over my shoulder, at his bobbing Adam’s apple and sweat-spackled forehead. If Rooster heard anything Hangman said when he was walking into the room, he doesn’t show it. 

He’s smiling as soon as he sees me, but in a smaller way now than yesterday. I know the mission is weighing heavy on him, especially today when they are relentlessly running the fruitless simulation. His shoulders are pulled together tightly, just like Hangman’s, but his eyes are soft when he looks at me. 

“Hey, you,” I say softly, smiling, letting my hand rest on the table. 

His smile broadens a hair, just a hair. I think he is just about to reach out for me, just about to push my hair behind my ear or lay his hand over my own, when he suddenly realizes Hangman is in the room. 

I watch it--watch his eyes dart between Hangman and myself, watch the way his smile begins to falter. But then he’s looking at me again. 

“Hey yourself, Ledger,” he sighs, “who’s up?”

“Blue team,” Hangman says before I can, “Coyote, Phoenix, Bob.”

Rooster just nods, not breaking his eyes from mine. Still, I know, Hangman is looking at me, my back turned to him. It makes my throat burn.  

When Rooster is this close to me, I can see the sweat in his pretty hair from where his helmet was secured on his head. I can see how red his cheeks are, how bitten his lips seem. He’s stressed. No doubt about it. It makes me want to kiss his face all over, makes me want to serve him dinner in bed, makes me want to wrap my lips around him.

“Coffee?” Rooster asks. 

He’s close to me now, close enough that I can feel the naked skin of his arms against mine, close enough that my fingertips are tingling and my lungs are shivering and my knees are weakening. I want to touch him always--but especially when we are this close. 

“Yes,” I tell him, my voice thin, “please.”

“I take mine regular,” Hangman calls, smirking. 

Rooster pretends not to hear him, doesn’t even glance in Hangman’s direction. 

He winks at me, flirty and sweet, and lets our arms graze as he walks past me. He doesn’t have to ask me how I take my coffee, doesn’t have to ask how much I want. He throws one more glance at me before he enters the hallway again and I smile my prettiest smile. 

“What were you saying,” I immediately ask once Rooster’s form has disappeared, “before?” 

I don’t even turn around. I don’t know if I can look at him when he’s being sincere. So I make my hands busy with papers and pens and clips and sticky notes, pretend like I can’t feel the intensity of his gaze. 

“I know I’m a dick,” he says, “and I know I’m especially a dick when I drink too much, which I did.”

He sounds genuinely awkward for the first time, his smooth voice suddenly jagged as he navigates pauses and stammers. I still can’t get myself to turn around.

“I went…too far. I know I hurt your feelings,” he sighs. 

I nod. 

“Humiliated me,” I add and my tone is just as thin as before.

He inhales sharply and I think if I was watching him, he would be nodding, his eyes untrained as he stared down at the floor. 

“For what it’s worth,” he adds quietly, softly, “I am sorry.”

I am sorry. 

It almost knocks me off my feet. Hangman is the kind of guy no one has to know very long before they immediately understand that he isn’t a “sorry” kind of guy. It stuns me into complete silence. 

The silence between us swallows him and I let it, try to look busy still, try to look like I’m organizing my things and preparing my setup, preparing to listen to the comms, re-engaging after our lunch break. But I can’t get myself to move. 

“I take it you probably don’t like me very much now,” he adds.

I know then and there that he also isn’t someone who can sit in silence. He squirms in it--it makes him crazy. 

“I never said that,” I say quickly, finally turning so he can see my cheek.

Maybe I mean it, too. Maybe I just can’t help it. Maybe it’s because the man that danced with me at The Hard Deck, the one who was so cocky and sure of himself but still sweet with me, is still inside him somewhere. Maybe it’s because I knew even at the bonfire that he had drank too much--everyone did. Maybe it’s because I want to be punished for what I did and he was my unknowing, unlikely punisher. Or maybe he’s just too pretty to not like. 

He’s just looking at me, his face somehow both anguished and soft. His brows are pulled together and his lips are tightly pressed against another in a straight line. His forehead is lined with worry and so are the crinkled beside his eyes, but his gaze is soft now. 

Maybe he wants to say more. His jaw flexes, he inhales through his nose deeply, but then Rooster walks back into the room with two paper cups of coffee, beaming at me. 

“Thanks,” I say, taking the steaming cup into my palms. 

The heat burns intensely through the paper material--and in some ways, it brings me back to where I am right now: I am at work, in the lounge, and I have a job to complete.

Rooster is searching my face and just his eyes on me make me want to melt into the tiles. I want to lean forward and kiss him on his pretty mouth, on his perfect lips. But I just smile at him, biting my lip. Then I settle into the chair and pick up a pen. 

Hangman abruptly turns his portable radio off--a louder quietness fills the lounge. I can feel Rooster and him looking at each other, can hear the rustling of Hangman standing up and readjusting his uniform. Before I can even take the cap off my pen, before I can really blur them out and listen in on the comms, Rooster falls in place beside me with his cup of sugary coffee and Hangman falls into place a few seats away from me with his hands folded. 

The tension is palpable. Neither men are willing to speak first.

But I am at work--it would be silly for me to engage in whatever conversation is necessary between the pilots. 

“Could you turn the comm up?” Hangman asks.

His voice is still that same soft voice from before--the one that seems achingly normal.

Without looking between the two of them, I turn the dial on the radio and begin transcribing. Their eyes are burning holes into both sides of my face--both my cheeks are flushed and I can feel the blood spreading to my neck and chest. 

“Is it hot in here?” Hangman asks. 

I say nothing--wish the world would gobble me up. 

 ☾ ☽

There is a water spot on the drop ceiling, brown and big and ugly.  

I am sitting here in the waiting room of the closest hospital to base and I know that it is warm in here. I know that it is crowded with crying babies and crying mothers and whining children and bleeding men and pregnant teenagers. I know that the lights above me are bright white but feel like they’re neon. I know that the air conditioning isn’t working and that the staff is overworked and underpaid. I know that outside the sun is beginning to sink.  

But I can’t get myself to move--can’t adjust, can’t blink, can hardly breathe. And I can’t look away from the ugly, stupid water spot on the ceiling.

Vaguely, I’m aware that Hangman is on one side of me and Rooster is on the other. I know, I think I know, that they are both standing instead of sitting because they gave their seats to an elderly woman and a pregnant woman respectively. 

We listened to the bird strike--the three of us. We all listened to Bob and Phoenix burn in, listened to Maverick direct them to eject. Listened to their voices scream through the comms. 

“We’re going down, Phoenix! We’re going in! We’re going in!”

I don’t know how I did it, but I did not panic at first. I trailed behind Rooster and Hangman as they hurried to Hondo. I think my ears rang from the moment I heard the calls for ejection. And when Rooster and Hangman started for the parking lot, I was right behind them, my vision tunneling. 

Yes, yes, I was watching them in their flight suits and I could see the blue of the sky and feel the heat of the sun--but I was not really there, no. 

I was back up in our jet on that October day, in the endless blue sky, soaring above the snowy terrain of Somewhere, Europe. I was behind my sister, looking at her pink helmet with the scratches on the back. I was turning my cheek and spotting the third dagger. I was watching Maneater switch to guns. I was being pressed against my seat as we bustered. I was pressing the flare-deployment button and nothing was happening. I was listening to my sister call for help, listening to her scream mayday! Mayday! I was pulling my ejection handle, bursting into the sky in tandem with my twin. And then I was watching her die. That’s where I was--from start to finish, from top to bottom--that’s where I really was. Even when I was in the front seat of the Bronco, my hands folded in my lap, my eyes blinking at the road--I wasn’t there. 

I’m still not here. No, not really. 

When Maverick comes down the hallway, when Hangman and Rooster jump forward to speak to him, I don’t think I can move. They’re a million miles away on the other side of the waiting room and I am stuck here, in this stupid little chair, and the pregnant woman beside me is crying. 

Rooster keeps turning to look at me over his shoulder like I’m a toddler bound to wander off--or maybe that’s just how boyfriends are supposed to check in on their shell-shocked girlfriends. I don’t know. 

And very suddenly, all three of the men are looking at me, I can feel it. So I grip the sides of the chair, grip them until my knuckles are as white as rice, and pry myself out of the seated position. Even though I feel like I’m in the endless blue of an October sky, even though I feel like the plane is about to drop out from under me, I square my shoulders and walk in a straight and narrow line to the three of them. 

“Lieutenant Ledger,” Maverick says and his voice sounds so hollow and deep and if Bob is gone I think I will die, just fucking die, and I will wait to do it until I am out of the hospital so they won’t put me on a crash cart and pump my heart and give me oxygen, “they’re going to keep them overnight for observation, but they’re alright. Cuts and bruises.” 

So that’s when I nod solemnly and excuse myself to the restroom.

My vision is tunneling, but I don’t want to touch the walls. Bob’s face, Bob’s sweet and cute and familiar face, is all I can see as I stumble down, down the hallway and into the public restroom. It’s too bright and smelly and pink and ugly in here. It smells like bile and shit and bleach and antiseptic all at once. And it’s much, much quieter here. So quiet that I can faintly hear Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham! playing over the speakers.  

“Fuck,” I whisper and it really does sound like I am saying it from behind myself, like my body and soul have untethered.

Locking myself in a stall, I don’t even have time to fall to my knees or wipe the yellow piss off the toilet seat before my body is reacting to the porcelain toilet under me. 

The bile is acidic, burns me all the way from deep in my gut to my throat and to my mouth. The bile is somewhere between green and brown--coffee and apple and granola bar--and my belly is quivering inside my body. 

Fuck. What would I do if Bob died? My best friend on this empty fucking planet. The only boy in the class, the only boy in our degree interested in learning about Virginia Woolf. The boy who sang into my mouth, his breath hot and scented like UV Blue, at a fraternity party on a dirty rug in a dirty house. The boy whose hair I would cut in my little galley kitchen, who always wanted to listen to Aretha Franklin and Elton John. The boy who would pick me up at my apartment with an umbrella and walk me to my classes. The boy who loved my sister as much as I did. The boy who turned into a man somewhere between graduating college and living beneath the California sun. The man who asked my sister’s dates for their ID’s, who kept a folder on his phone especially for them. The man who hates dancing but will always dance with me when our song comes on. The man who memorized poetry and never showed it off, never became cocksure about it--just said it quietly in my ear. 

If he died today, if he burned in, he would die with a mangled fist because of me. His body would be stunted, perfectly branded by the one and only time he ever punched someone. And it was because of me.

Him, that boy, that man. 

The world would be mighty empty without him--my life would be hollow, echoey. 

And I’m crying now, crying as puke spews out of my nostrils and I have to cough so I don’t choke, but maybe I’m crying because I couldn’t guard him. My shield, the shield I thought was supposed to protect everyone else I love, was penetrable. I had more faith in the universe, in whatever being is controlling this life, before. I thought that I would get just one really, really bad thing that would happen and the rest of my life would be pulling the shards of it out of my skin. I thought if I loved someone hard enough, deep enough, then the shitty parts of it would reflect off me and onto them like a burning ray of sunshine. I thought my shitty thing would be their shitty thing. I thought, if nothing else, that the people I loved would be safe. So, so safe.  

When my heaving is dry, when my belly is empty, I straighten myself out. I wipe my face in the mirror, pushing the black mascara staining my undereyes off my skin with shaking fingers. My mouth tastes putrid--I know my breath smells too. So I swish soap in my mouth, ignoring the bitterness, and wash myself thoroughly with water. 

I leave the bathroom, one foot in front of the other, and pretend like I am okay. I’m fine. I just feel like I’m going to faint. Hangman is standing against an outdated poster wall and when he sees me, he nods in my direction. A nod that says come here. 

When I’m standing in front of him, he looks down at me, starting to survey my features, but I wipe under my nose and speak before he can say anything. 

“Can I see him?” 

His open mouth closes. He nods. The blue of his eyes deepens as he stares at the white tile below my feet. 

“C’mon,” he offers, “I’ll walk you.” 

I don’t need to ask where Rooster is. His best friend burned in, too. I know exactly where he is, where he should be. And I know why Hangman was waiting for me outside the bathroom. 

“You okay, kid?” 

Kid. He’s never called me this before. I almost have to strain to hear him over the ringing in my ears. 

“Fine,” I say, my throat still burning from the bile. 

“I know we aren’t the best of friends,” he starts and I look around us, at the blue-green curtains and the foggy glass windows and the pale people in dirty beds and the nurses with their tired eyes and I want to cry again, “but if you want to talk…”

He leaves the end of his sentence open, open for me to finish. 

Shaking my head, I look at the floor. Count my steps. One, two. Three, four. My feet fucking hurt. 

“I don’t,” I say. 

And now we are in front of Bob’s hospital room. Hangman lets his head fall when we stand in the threshold, not pushing his luck. He won’t go in. 

It’s a private room, one that is nice and spacious--too nice and too spacious for just one person with some cuts and bruises. Navy perks. It’s still terribly outdated and smells too much like body and antiseptic. There’s steel appliances and beeping machines and blinking screens and sterile sheets and trash cans and moving beds. But there’s a nice, big window beside Bob’s bed. He's watching the sunset from his spot in the middle of his big, big bed.

I come rushing back into my body and it feels like running full force at a brick wall and making it to the other side. The ringing in my ear subsides, the vision that is tunneled broadens until I can even see the view from his window. I can feel my body again, every single part and every single nerve, and it hurts so good. 

“Floyd,” I choke out, putting my hands on my hips. 

Bob snaps his head in my direction. His face looks perfect--unblemished with wounds, no matter how minuscule. Thank fucking God. 

“Faye,” he says and his voice sounds so relieved, so sad. 

Swallowing feels like such a task. Hangman is looking at my face and I’m growing pink. 

“You’re grounded,” I say, pointing at him and I don’t mean to but I’m choked up again, my eyes watery, “forever. For the rest of your life.” 

Softly, I hear Hangman chuckle quietly. Then Hangman nods one time, sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he mumbles and just before he spins on his heel and starts down the hallway, he glances at Bob, “don’t die on us, Floyd.”  

Bob is shrugging at me, smiling very small, very shyly. 

“You’re the boss,” he says to me, to Hangman. 

Hangman starts down the hallway by himself, his hands in fists by his side. And now I’m walking to him, putting my arms around him, being careful to navigate the IV in his arm, being careful with his body that suddenly feels very small and precious in my arms. 

Stay here. Stay here with me. Don’t move.

He still smells like he just took a shower, still smells like a clean infant. But he also smells like hand sanitizer and sweat and hospital laundry. His hospital shirt is thin and papery against my arms as I hug him to me, as I let my head fall onto his shoulder. 

“Scared me,” I choke, tears rolling down my face, “you asshole.” 

Even though he’s soft under me, I know that his face is becoming wet now, too. I know he was scared. I know that the breath was knocked out of his lungs when he launched out of the burning jet, I know his chest was heavy with the weight of the atmosphere. I know his belly dropped and he felt like he was soaring, falling. I know he thought of me, of Maggie. I know he was worried about Phoenix--I know he shot out first, flying high above the canyon and in those split seconds where he was alone, I know he was worried that he’d left her behind. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

Maybe he’s saying sorry because he scared me. Maybe he’s saying sorry because he knows that if he died, knows that if he was gone, that I would be thoroughly and completely alone here. 

“Are you okay?” 

I pull back and my nose is running and I can smell the remnants of vomit that came out of my nose but I hold his arms in mine and try to see his body, even if my vision is obscured with fat tears. His hair is messy and I think there’s a cut there, splitting the skin of his scalp, but it’s small and bandaged. His hands are a bit gnarled, I can tell from the amount of bandage on them, but other than that he looks okay. Perfectly okay. 

“I was scared,” he says quietly and that’s when I realize his glasses are bent and sitting lopsided on his pale face, “but I’m okay. I’m good.” 

Chewing my lip, I nod, just watching his sweet face. I told him I would see to it that he is okay. And for some reason, as I watch his eyes land on the spot of vomit on my shirt, I know that I don’t have that ability. I cannot see to anything, not here, not when I’m on the ground. Perpetually below everyone, everything. 

I want to tell him that if I lost him, I wouldn’t be able to move on. But what good would it do? What purpose would it serve? 

So I just hold his face in my hands; my best friend. My hero. I can feel myself frowning.  

“You two did everything right. Everything. You’re the best WSO.”

The earnestness surprises him. His blue eyes glaze with tears and I stroke his cheeks very softly, very sweetly. The fluorescents are burning my skin. 

“Now that you’re grounded I am,” he whispers. 

I can’t help the wet laugh that falls from my mouth. It hurts and it feels so, so good at the same time. Sweet Bob, his face between both my hands. 

“Okay, I’m gonna say it,” I warn him, widening my eyes. 

He nods a few times. 

“I love you, Bob,” I say, shrugging, “just can’t help myself.” 

“Who could?” He asks. 

 ☾ ☽

We meet between Phoenix and Bob’s rooms, in the empty vast hallway that connects them. I am slumped over by now, too tired to straighten my shoulders, my belly very empty and my eyes suddenly too dry. No more tears to cry, no more bile to heave. 

Rooster doesn’t look much better. His hair is falling, his mustache drooping under his frowning lips. His flight suit is unzipped halfway, black t-shirt clinging to his skin. He can’t get himself to perk up either.

“Hey,” I whisper to him, meeting in the middle, face angled towards him, “she okay?” 

His hands very softly find my elbows and he holds them solidly, looking down at me with his brow furrowed deeply. He’s holding himself steady, grounding himself with my weight. It makes me plant my feet more surely on the tile. His eyes are downcast to look at my parted lips, my pale cheeks. 

“She’s fine,” he says, his voice crackly and deep, “Bob?” 

I nod, coming a little bit closer to him, close enough for my folded hands to touch his canvas flightsuit. 

“Fine,” I whisper. 

The intercom over us is mumbling something, there is distant 80s music playing somewhere near the nurse’s station, babies are crying, machines are beeping. And in this quiet, but also not-so-quiet, hallway we just stand there. His hands over my elbows, the backs of my hands pressed against the flat plane of his belly. We are both looking down at the floor, down at our feet.

“I’ll drive you home,” he whispers to me. 

I nod, looking at the stuff on the toe of his laced-up boots. 

“You aren’t staying?” 

I make my voice flat when I say it--can’t possibly give him anymore grief today. He’s been through enough--too much even. I just want to lay him down on my bed and let him sleep. 

He pushes my knotted hair off my shoulders then lets his hands come to my waist. He grips me, holding me tighter but not closer. My eyes flutter shut. His hands feel like bathing in a pool of warm, soapy water. 

“Have to go back to base,” he whispers, “but I’ll come back late tonight. That okay?”

That okay? As if he couldn’t show up on any day, any time and I wouldn’t have a glass of sparkling wine waiting for him. Like there wouldn’t already be cookies in the oven.

“Whatever you want, Bradley,” I whisper and I really mean it--mean it with every piece of myself. 

Finally, he closes the distance between us. When he wraps his arms around me, really wraps his arms around me, everything else melts away like we’ve just stepped into the shower together. All the shit, all the awful. Every single bit of the day washes away.

If only we were together during the worst parts of each other’s lives. If only he was here when I was discharged from the hospital after the accident, when I was wheeled outside the automatic hospital doors without my twin sister and my parents cried in strange silence. If only I was there when his mother passed, holding his hand as he held hers. If only we had stood beside each other at the funerals--then maybe we wouldn’t have been so lost. Then maybe things wouldn’t hurt so wholly. 

But then I jolt, jolt myself back to reality. Because if something bad could happen to Bob, Bob who I’ve known for what feels like my entire life, then something bad could absolutely happen to Rooster, too. And then it wouldn’t matter how lost either of us ever got because it would be over. Then I would be the one alone, standing over the grave, the blank shots of the rifles ringing through the--

Without a single word, Rooster kisses my throat very tenderly. He kisses my four freckles, still doesn’t speak. But it is enough. It is enough right now to keep me here with him. 

Rooster doesn’t release me, his nose finding its way back in my hair. I don’t interrupt him, just stand here, gripping him, digging my nails into his flight suit. Stay here with me, baby.

“Lead the way,” I whisper finally, pretending like I hadn’t just imagined standing over his open grave, pretending like the smile on my lips is really authentic, really me, “tramp.” 

When we walk back through the waiting room, we both see Hangman at the same time. He is leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes on the floor as he incessantly rubs the scab on his lip. His hair is falling, too, but the most prevalent part of his being that Rooster and I seem to also both notice in tandem are the purple bags under his eyes. 

I think about his message late at night, think about how early he had been on base this morning. And now it’s night time and he is still here in this dingy waiting room. 

“Hangman,” Rooster says softly when we approach him, our hands joined. 

Hangman snaps to attention immediately, hands dropping to his sides, his lip red with irritation. 

He looks at Rooster with his bloodshot eyes widened just slightly--then flickers his eyes to mine. He looks small standing here by himself, like he is our forgotten child. And I wish I could help it, but my heart throbs because I suddenly want to take care of him, too. I want to run him a bath and let him stay in my bathroom for as long as he wants. I want to pour him a glass of wine and let him pick a movie. 

“They’re good?” 

He is looking between us again. I nod sharply. 

“Fine,” I whisper.

His shoulders drop, chest loosens. I wish that my fingers weren’t tingling, wish that my heart was not throbbing, wish my eyes weren’t so glossy right now. Rooster squeezes my hand and I squeeze his, too. I wish I could press my lips against his palm right now, right this moment. But Hangman is looking down at me very seriously, very gravely. 

“Can I walk out with you guys?” 

Then they’re both looking at me, both of them so exhausted, so stressed, so tight. I think about Bob calling me the boss, think about Rooster looking to me for every decision now. So I nod again, biting my lip. 

“Of course you can.” 

So we walk out together, the three of us. Our eyes are half-shut and our walks are stilted by tight joints and even tighter, more stressed muscles. The night is dark and wide and our cars are parked very far away. Fuck, my feet fucking hurt. 

“Hold on,” I mumble to them before we can even get ten feet from the hospital entrance. 

They both pause, looking back at me as I slip my shoes off and fall back onto the earth four inches shorter and a million pounds lighter. I have to smile at them, smile very small. Silently, Rooster reaches out and takes my shoes from me, holding them. It makes my throat tight--makes me think of the suitors that would hold Maggie’s shoes for her when she got tired of wearing them. Oh, Lord. 

“Do you want dinner, Hangman?” I ask. 

Rooster glances at me from the corner of his eye, mouth flat. I squeeze his hand again. It’s okay. It’s fine. And he seems to understand this--understand that I cannot help but forgive. I cannot help but move forward and take care of everyone. I have always had a soft spot for pilots. 

Hangman is pretending like he isn’t shocked. He’s blinking rapidly at the night around us, his hands in his pockets, his spine straightened. 

“That would be nice,” he says tightly, “thank you.”

Rooster drives me home silently, the headlights from Hangman’s purring Jaguar lighting our silhouettes. I am sitting in the middle of the bench, my head on Rooster’s shoulder. He drives with one hand, his legs spread, his arm draped over me and his free hand holding on tight to my arm. 

Going to California by Led Zeppelin is playing now. 

 It is peaceful in here, listening to the cars whizz past us, listening to the radio, feeling the night air leak in through the cracked windows. Life will not be peaceful for a long time after this. No, no. This feels like the last stop in a while. 

And when we pull onto Mulberry Street--the street with the house that I own, the street where my sister used to drive down all the time--he finally speaks. He clears his throat first and I look away from the eucalyptus trees and the purple sage and desert mariposas being illuminated by the Broncos headlights, look up at his serious face and his flexed jaw. He’s watching the road very seriously, his lips parted. 

“I love you,” he says and I hear it clear as day. 

It sounds like being called home when the streetlights turned on. It sounds like the dinner bell is ringing. It feels like my entire body is being dipped in nectar. It sounds perfectly correct. 

His grip on my arm tightens slightly, just enough for me to notice. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the road, doesn’t dare glance at me. He just keeps watching the street before us, keeps waiting for my breathing to even out. 

“I know,” I finally say because I do know, I really do. 

His face slacks, his grip lessens. 

We pull into my driveway as Hangman parks on the sidestreet. And then Rooster looks at me and the motion light above my garage blinks on. We are just sitting, our thighs pressed together, looking at each other in the warm July air. Here we are, at my house, and he is not going to come inside. 

I stroke his cheek, his skin like smooth leather beneath my cold fingers.

“Come back, okay?” 

He nods, mouth flat, eyebrows pulled together. He’s looking at my mouth. 

“Okay,” he whispers.

And we both know what I mean. We both know that I mean tonight--and every single night after. He knows I mean the mission, if he’s chosen. We both know that I mean always. Come back always, okay?

He presses his lips to mine and we kiss softly, tenderly, sweetly.

And then I’m squeezing his knee and climbing out of his car and closing the door and standing there with my leather bag and my heels in my hands and waiting for Hangman to approach me, his hands in his pockets. He falls in-step beside me and we both wave to Rooster, who is watching us with his throat tight. 

We silently watch the Bronco pull out and start down the street, darkness falling over us, Rooster just a dot of cyan in the dark. Crickets are chirping and somewhere distantly, cars roar on the highway and seagulls cry out fleetingly. If we strain and don’t breathe, don’t make a sound, maybe we can hear the tide coming in.

“Do you like prosecco?” I ask, turning to Hangman. 

The motion-sensor light blinks off. 

It’s almost eleven o’clock when I set our bowls in the sink, dirtied with spinach and white-wine and little pieces of spaghetti. I refill our glasses, taking a deep breath alone in my dark kitchen, my cheeks red and my eyes tired. And then I hold them in my hands, push through the kitchen door, and return to the living room. 

Hangman is sitting against the marmalade ottoman, his legs spread open as he twiddles with the fibers in one of the rugs he sits on. He takes the glass from me thankfully, holding it with two hands. 

I go back to the couch, where I lay against its plushness, my feet on the coffee table. The candles are lit and the curtains are drawn. There is a distinct sense that we are both just waiting for Rooster to come back to us, to come home. 

The Rolling Stones’ album Sticky Fingers is spinning. Wild Horses is playing.

We haven’t said much to each other. He sat at my kitchen table while I cooked and was polite when I served him. We ate in almost complete silence, too, and I don’t know if it’s because we are so tired or maybe because the day has been so long. Or maybe we don’t have anything to say to each other. 

It’s only been an hour since Rooster left us here together, only an hour and a half since we left the hospital as a trio. Not very long at all since we came into the living room after dinner. 

In place of words, Hangman has been looking around my house with shining eyes. It’s the same way other people look at my house when they see it for the first time. Filled with so much color, so much exuberance. It is so interesting to see how I live, the researcher who exclusively wears linen earth tones. My home is beautiful, I know this. I know this because it has been built with my hands, with my brain, with my love. It is everything I have ever wanted in a home. 

Finally, he speaks. 

“Your house is nice,” he says quietly. 

I nod, glancing at him on my floor. He’s looking down into his glass. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, “took a long time to get it here.” 

Another beat passes and he sucks in a breath, looking up at me with his tired eyes and his mouth a singular plane on his face. A shadow is beginning to appear on his face--stubble, a very dark blonde. 

“I like you, you know,” he says and it’s not hasty or reckless. He just says it. 

My eyes fall to my glass, too. Fuck. I say nothing. My throat is tight. 

“You’re a good person,” he continues, “like an actual good person--no bullshit.” 

Graceless lady / You know who I am / You know I can't let you / Slide through my hands 

  I take a long, long drink. The bubbles are making my nose tingle. Stevie is sitting on top of the stairs, blinking slowly at Hangman the same way she blinked at Bob. Well, you definitely aren’t Him. 

“Thanks,” I mutter. 

I wish he would stop talking now. My heart is in my throat. But there is also that need to keep him talking, to let him cry on my shoulder, to spill all of his feelings so I can sweep them into a dustpan and keep the floor spick and span. 

“When I say I like you…” he trails off and I let him, blinking at the sofa, measuring my breaths, “but you haven’t thrown me a second glance. I know you only have eyes for Bradshaw.” 

Fuck. Fuck. 

“You two deserve each other,” he says again, “he’s crazy about you.”

My throat aches with a dry laugh. He’s looking at me.

I can’t help it--it’s the prosecco, it’s the image of Bob in a hospital bed, it’s Rooster’s confession in my driveway, it’s the ghost of my sister in the room with us. 

“Why’d you do it?”

I finally turn and look at his face. I can’t stop looking at the spot where his lip is split. His mouth is ajar, his hair is messy. He’s blinking at me, incessantly rubbing his finger around the rim of his glass. He knows what I’m asking. I don’t have to spell it out for him, I don’t have to point at the elephant standing in the corner. He just knows.

“I just told you why,” he says softly, shrugging. His voice is almost a whisper, which is the first time I have heard him speak so quietly. 

He sounds kind when he speaks to me quietly--sounds real and grounded.

Except he’s talking like he just tugged on my pigtails at recess. He’s talking like he just cut in line in the cafeteria and stuck his tongue out at me. He’s talking like he’s a little boy and I’m a little girl and we still abide by the societal rules of the youth. Be mean to girls when you like them. Pick on them. It makes me a little bit sick to my stomach. 

I actually scoff out loud, loud enough to make him blink in surprise. 

“How elementary of you,” I say, taking another long drink. 

He shakes his head, his eyes falling down to the empty space beside me. Don’t fucking sit here. Don’t move. I feel like anything in the world could happen if he moved and sat beside me. We are two people who should not be alone in a room together--two people so exhaustively different, so on two opposite ends of different spectrums. This empty couch around me, this space beside me--it is not for him. 

He doesn't move.   

“Never said I was a complicated guy,” he responds. 

There’s another beat and I can’t stop thinking about the way his entire body softened when I pressed the cotton to his lips, when I was crying and couldn’t help myself, when I felt like I was on fire. 

“But you don’t hate me,” he says before continuing, “you don’t even dislike me.” 

I shake my head, furrowing my eyebrows just slightly. 

“No,” I confirm verbally, rolling my cheek to my shoulder to look at him again. 

He has turned so his entire body faces me. He is still leaning up against the ottoman, his legs splayed before him, his feet slightly obscured by the couch. His face is warm in the candlelight. 

“Why not?” 

Now I blink in surprise. Why not?

“Because then what’s the point?” I say and I mean it, I really do. 

What is my purpose here, on this earth that my sister is buried in, if not to love? What is the point of my own being, my own entire being, if not to forgive and push forward? Who am I if I am not taking care of anyone--of everyone? What is the reason for my existence if not to nurture? 

I can’t say any of this to him, though--this I am crucially, keenly aware of. 

“The point of what?” He presses. 

I gesture to the air around me. 

“Of this,” I chuckle humorlessly, “of anything.”

He slouches back against the ottoman further, his chest sinking. 

“See,” he quietly says, eyes falling to the rugs, “there it is. That goodness.”

I want to roll my eyes. I want my sister to be here beside me to lighten Hangman up. He is so wholly deflated, sitting here in my house with his belly full of my pasta, and I don’t know how to pump all that cocksure air back inside him. 

“I’m not that good of a person,” my voice quivers, “you know that. Everyone does now.”

Even I know that blow is low when I say it. My face is hot. He doesn’t seem fazed. 

“Having a high body count doesn’t make you--!”

He stops talking when he meets my eyes. I can’t help the expression that holds my features--my eyebrows sloped, my mouth pursed, eyes narrowed. It is a mom look--a look of disappointment, a look that says shhh. A look that is still, in its own way, nurturing. 

But as soon as he feels his face flatten, he inflates a bit. He sits up a little straighter, setting his glass on the ground beside him. 

“Okay then,” he says, “I’ll bite. What makes you not that good of a person?”

 I gape at him for a moment, chest flushed. Fucking pilots. 

“Lots of things.” 

My addiction. The booze. Not knowing I was pregnant for fourteen weeks. Not knowing who the father was. Being in rehab on mine and my sister’s 25th birthday. Wanting to die with her in the woods. Wanting to make my parents whatever parents are when they lose all their children. 

“Like?”

 He’s really pressing now. 

I scoff again. 

“Why do you wanna know?” 

My voice is that silly, unintentional bitter voice that I get when I’m upset.

He gestures to me with wide eyes. Oh, right. Because he likes me. It makes me soften, makes me pull my legs into myself.

With my eyes downcast, I pick lint off my pants and say, “What, you want me to talk you out of having a crush on me?”

I don’t look up, but I see his head when it nods one time, just one solid jerk. Fucking Christ. But I am not ready to give him all the parts of myself that I have given Rooster--not ready to let him know me like Bob does 

“Because I’m still messed up after what happened to me,” I say, “and I saw things that nobody else should have to see.” 

He’s staring at me and my throat is raw. I take another drink, my face so hot that it could make a cake bake. 

“Like what?” 

I snap up at that. His face is soft, plain. He isn’t challenging me. He’s inviting me in a strange, strange way. But no. No, no. These things I’ve seen--they will be mine until I die. Because no one needs to know. I will put her to bed, let her rest, in that small way. No one needs to know about the smell of her body or the way her eyes were wide open. It’s just for me--we were born together and her death will die when I do. 

“You really, really don’t want to know.” 

When I say this to him, my voice is thin and flat. 

“What if I do?” 

I have to bite down hard on my lip. He sounds like Maggie--challenging me in that quiet, intense way. 

“Trust me, Jake,” I say a little bit louder now, emptying my glass before I finish, “you don’t.”

Then I stand up and cross the living room, through the kitchen door, and open my fridge. I am shaking so badly that I almost let the cold bottle slip out of my grip and onto the floor. But I just pour myself another drink and come back into the living room with my glass and the bottle. 

He watches me set the bottle on the table, watches me return to my spot, chewing my lip. 

“That doesn’t help,” he says. 

His voice is calm. That doesn’t help him not like me? I could puke again. 

“Well, fuck me then,” I sigh, exasperated, throwing my hand up and looking at him. 

Then I realize what I’ve said. We both shift in our spots and I shake my head, that silly blush creeping up my chest again. 

“I don’t listen to music past 2016,” I start and I don’t even have to tell him that it’s because it was the last year I was able to listen to music with my sister--the last year she was alive, “and I want to get married and have kids and buy project houses. I don’t want to be in the Navy forever.”

His face is pulling together, lips pursing, eyes narrowing.

 “Maybe I just don’t know you very well, but I’m guessing those are the last things that you want, right?” I ask. 

He nods. 

“Well,” I sigh, smiling, “there you go. Crush averted.”

A quietness falls over us. I get up and flip the record, running my cold hands over my face before I sit back on the couch. He is more pulled into himself now, his legs criss-crossed. 

There is a strange energy in the air--somewhere between buzzing and limp. He’s looking at me still, fingering the carpet beneath his hands. 

“Faye,” he says, his voice profoundly big and loud in this living room. 

It’s the first time he’s ever called me by my name--my actual name, the one that was dissected from my sister’s.

Our eyes meet. 

“I never meant to make you cry,” he says and I know, can tell, that he means it. 

I can’t help but smile. He is such an asshole. He would be so, so perfect for someone like Maggie. He could make a different girl very happy, fill her up so nicely with his words and that face and his body. 

But even as I sit here in his sweet gaze, I am radically and indisputably in love with Bradley Bradshaw. There is not even the beginnings of a single doubt. It is intrinsic to me, the same as forgiveness and kindness is to me. 

“No one ever does.”

After one more moment, one where he rakes his hands through his hair and finishes off his glass and throws his legs out in front of him again, he grins at me. His inflating bit by bit.

“You wanna know what made me text you?”

No, no. Not really. Not at all. Because this is making me very dizzy. Because this is making me ache for my sister in a way that I usually don’t ache for her. I wish I could go give her a panicked phone call in the privacy of my backyard and beg her to come save me. Fuck, she would have a hay-day with this. Relentlessly teasing the two pilots pining after me. Me of all people. Fuck.

I don’t answer, so he just says it, before I can stop him. 

“It was when you came back to get your things,” he says and he still sounds soft but there’s an edge to his voice, “and I said another shitty thing to you--on top of the shitty things that made Bob of all people actually punch me in the face--and instead of shitting on me too--you took care of me. My lip--the cotton. I made you cry and you were still cleaning up my face.”

It makes me embarrassed when he explains it. It makes me embarrassed because I did not attack him the way Maggie would have--all teeth and torn flesh and sharp nails and decisive strikes. No, no. I froze--just like Rooster--and let Hangman say all the shitty things that he said and then I went back and took care of him. 

“You don’t think that makes me weak?”

The voice that says this hardly sounds like my own--so meek, so doubtful. 

He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I think it makes you better than the rest of us,” he says gently, “tougher, really.”

“Tougher?” I echo.  

He’s watching me bite my lip. He nods again.

“Yes,” he confirms, “tougher.” 

I’m biting my lip so hard that I taste metal. I wish Rooster would come home now, right now, and interrupt whatever energy is invading this room. Hangman is being too friendly, too sweet--it’s starting to scare me. Maybe he’s delirious. Maybe today has traumatized him more than we thought before.

He’s just looking at me now, smiling faintly, softly. He’s looking at me the way Rooster looks at me--his eyes just a touch too bright, his face a touch too open and pretty. I swallow hard. 

Moonlight Mile is playing now. 

It’s when I move my eyes from his, my chest starting to hurt, that he looks down at his glass again. He sighs very deeply, seems to be thinking about something very hard. I wish we weren’t alone--I wish someone else was seeing him like this so they would understand why I am so soft in some spots. 

“It’s also when I realized you were too good for me,” he says, a little louder now. 

My chest is burning, pulsing. Fuck. I can’t get myself to say anything else--no words will come to me. Not now, not when he is being so obscurely soft. 

“I think I should go,” he tells me. 

I nod, biting my lip. 

“Okay.” 

So we stand up and he looks tired as he ever has before, his lip plum-colored and still swollen. The rest of his face is so pretty that it’s actually mildly offensive. He takes his glass to the kitchen without me saying anything and I trail behind him and cork the bottle before putting it on my fridge. 

There’s that silence again. We don’t say anything as he washed the glass with his hand, don’t say anything while he dries it with a linen tea towel, don’t say anything when he turns to me with his face golden and rosy.

I am just living to be lying by your side / But I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road 

It isn’t until he’s on my front porch that we say anything to each other. I’m holding the door open with my foot, leaning against the doorway with my arms crossed. He is meandering down the steps, but pauses and turns to me. He looks very tired--his eyes are red. 

“Did I stand a chance?” He asks. 

How could I be anything but honest when he’s standing there looking like that?

“No,” I sigh, “you didn’t.”

This gives him some sort of solace. He nods, sucking his lip under his teeth. If his ego is wounded, he doesn’t say anything to me. He doesn’t let his expression run free with the good grief of the situation. 

“Right,” he says, nodding. 

“If you’re too tired,” I say because I have to, because I really have to, “you can sleep here. On the couch.”

He blinks at me a few times before roses paint his cheeks. He shakes his head determinedly. 

“No,” he tells me, “I might get the wrong idea.” 

He winks at me a final time before he finishes the trek to his car, which is parked dutifully on the street and glowing under the moonlight. 

Fucking Christ.

He waves from inside the car and I smile, raising my hand, too. It isn’t until he’s driving down the street that I finally close the door. 

☾☽ 𝐚/𝐧: I literally can't help myself, I love Hangman so much...such a complex character. and I really love writing dialogue for him!!!

☾☽ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

#rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x female reader #robert floyd x reader #rooster x reader #top gun #top gun cast #top gun bob #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun rooster #top gun x reader #original female character #dagger squad #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #faye x bradley #bradley x faye #faye clover ledger #rumours universe

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Love and War Masterlist

Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+. Pairings: Robert Floyd x female!nurse reader Disclaimer: This series is a cross over of ideas from TGM and Band of Brothers, a WW2 series based on the real life events of the 101st Airborne Division. All characters are original characters (except for Bob Floyd) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this.

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Character Moodboards and OC profiles

Part 1 - Camp Toccoa, Georgia - 1942

Part 2 - Upottery Airfield, England - 1944

Part 3 - Operation Market Garden, Netherlands - 1944

Part 4 - Mourmelon-le-grand and Paris , France - 1944

Part 5 - Ardennes Offensive, Bastogne - 1944

Part 6 - Hagenau and Germany 1945

Part 7 - Austria - 1945

Part 8 - Home, Alabama - 1947

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If you’d like to be tagged in this series or some of my other fics please fill in the taglist form provided.

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #ww2 au #top gun maverick #Bob floyd ww2 #101stairbornedivision #ww2 nurse #bob floyd x reader

[averagewriter-inthedark]

She’s Still Preoccupied With 1985 🎤 | Bob Floyd x Rockstar!reader Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x modern-day rockstar!reader (childhood best friends/romantic), dagger squad (platonic), Bob x female!oc (past romance), male!oc x reader (past romance), The 1985’s!BandOCs (platonic)

Content Warnings: major fluff, angst, profanity, canon divergence (Bob is born in 1985 in this, making him roughly 34 during TGM & 37 in the year 2022), pop culture references, second chance romance troupe, suggestive content and light smut + implied smut (MINORS DNI!!) inspired by the song ‘1985,’ by Bowling For Soup | Female!reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 17.2k

Premise: Join Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as he looks back on his fairytale love story with childhood best friend and real life rockstar, who’s set to perform one last time on the country’s most iconic stage, in her band’s final show of their farewell tour.

Note: so after I wrote ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’ with Maverick x 80sRockstar!reader, I had inspiration for someone from the dagger squad x modern-day rockstar!reader. I was going back and forth between Rooster and Phoenix, but this anon suggested Bob with a rekindled childhood best friend and I thought that was the bullseye. Once again feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave names to make it easier to write. I do not own any of the song or pop culture references, this is for fictional purposes. Let me know what you think! - Bee 🐝

Songs that are real life songs, but are used as ‘your’ songs in this imagine: ‘1985’ by Bowling For Soup, ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, ‘Some Nights,’ by Fun, ‘Pompeii’ by Bastille, ‘Payphone,’ by Maroon 5, ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ by Bats for Lashes & Beck, ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ & ‘Little Black Dress’ by One Direction.

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Lt. Robert Floyd had seen a lot in his 37 years of life. Growing up on the plains of Montana, there wasn’t much for him until it came time to leave for college. There, life seemed to pass by quicker than the night sky. He’d experienced the hype of a Navy vs Army football game, getting wasted to the point he hated alcohol. Endless nights of studying that paid off when he received not only his diploma but also the rank of Ensign in the U.S. Navy. Then there was that time he nearly married his college sweetheart only to end things weeks before the wedding because he realized his heart belonged to someone else. In his career Bob pulled Gs with his pilot against the speed of sound in an F-18 and most recently, dogfighting SAMs out of enemy territory.

But no words could describe what Bob felt as he stood on the floor of Madison Square Garden with the people he called his best friends, waiting for the appearance of his one true love on stage.

The love that was once thought to be impossible, until fate was like, “These souls belong together. Once the time is right, I will work my magic.”

17 years prior in 2005, Bob was certain he’d never get the chance to tell Y/n L/n he had loved her since they were fifteen years old after hearing her voice on the radio.

“That was Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Since U Been Gone,’ part of her Grammy nominated album Breakaway released last summer. Clarkson is the favorite to win the award for ‘Album of the Year’ at next year’s Grammys. Up next is a new group recently signed to Capitol Records….here is ‘1985’ by, funny enough, The 1985s”

Something about the name of the group and title of the song had an odd feeling swirl through the then college student. Driving the car he was in was his roomate Derek and their buddy Adrian along with Derek’s girlfriend Willow.

Nothing could’ve prepared Bob for the voice coming through the speakers, the lyrics bringing back the memory of when she showed him the paper with them written down in her semi-sloppy handwriting.

“Debbie just hit the wall, she never had it all.”

“One Prozac a day, husband’s a CPA.”

“Bob, you okay?” Adrian tapped him on the shoulder, “You look a little pale.”

“Her dreams went out the door when she turned twenty-four.”

“Only been with one man, what happened to her plan?”

“This has a good beat,” Willow bopped her head.

“She was gonna be an actress, she was gonna be a star.”

“She was gonna shake her ass on the hood of Whitesnake’s car.”

“My mom could definitely relate to that,” Derek joked, stopping at a red light. He too was enjoying the song. It gave that classic rock feel that the 80s music his parents listened to had. Nowadays Hip-Hop and Pop are becoming the main genres of music on the radio.

“Her yellow SUV is now the enemy.”

“Looks at her average life and nothin’,” *guitar riff* “has been,” *guitar riff* “alright.”

Bob, who’s eyes were wide and heart racing, breathed in awe, “No way.”

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna,”

“Way before Nirvana,”

“There was U2 and Blondie,”

“And music still on MTV.”

“Her two kids in high school,”

“They tell her that she’s uncool.”

“‘Cause she’s still preoccupied,”

Tears spring in Bob’s eyes, wiping them away before his friends could see when Y/n sang the final line of the chorus.

“With 19, 19…1985.”

That was how the future naval aviator discovered his childhood best friend had accomplished her dream. Breaking into the music industry. It’d been nearly four years since he’d seen Y/n, the two parting ways after her father took an accounting job in California, uprooting the teenager and her family from their home state of Montana.

They’d grown up on the same street, both their moms teaching at the elementary school. The two had pretty much gone through every grade together considering their school was small with few teachers. Every year they were in the same class, often sitting next to each other and spending time after school on the playground while their moms finished up for the day. Bob spent nearly every moment with Y/n as kids, becoming best friends when they were only five years old. But it wasn’t until the boy was twelve that he realized what a crush was….and boy did he have one on her.

Cherishing their friendship, poor Bob didn’t say anything about his surfacing feelings for his best friend. Even when the news of her moving was announced when they were 16, Bob remained quiet. It pained him to do so but he’d rather have her in his life than risk losing her if she didn’t feel the same.

In all the years Bob Floyd knew Y/n L/n, music was her life. It consumed her entire being with the young girl always humming a tune or singing along on the radio. When she was given a keyboard and guitar for Christmas, Y/n self-taught herself how to play until they could afford to put her in lessons. Then there were the notebooks.

At first it started as sticky notes with a verse or two, then it turned into loose pages of lyrics before finally the teenager wrote them all into notebooks. Anytime inspiration came to Y/n she was writing it down on whatever she could find. Napkins at a restaurant, receipts from her mother’s grocery run, hell even on her arm Y/n was writing lyrics so she wouldn’t forget. Sometimes she’d have the whole song complete before settling on a title, or a catchy title would come to mind but the lyrics would take time. Bob would always get annoyed when she’d steal his pen from out of his hand, but would let it go, understanding she had to write it down before she lost it.

At a football game he witnessed her unable to find a pen in time to write something on her arm before the lyric faded away. The teenager nearly sobbed right there in the middle of the stands, face in her hands as though to will herself to remember. “Are you okay,” Bob whispered, to which he received a sad groan.

“No….please don’t interrupt my thinking. I’m having a crisis, Robby.”

Y/n’s mom, who mentally still lived in the 80s, was the inspiration for her song ‘1985’, Y/n wrote at 15. Bob could still remember the day she raced up to their reserved lunch table, planting the paper in front of him, “Read this,” she was out of breath, but smiling nonetheless. Picking it up, Bob adjusted his glasses and let his eyes read over the words scribbled down that were separated into: intro, verse 1, chorus, verse 2, chorus, bridge, chorus, & outro.

“Wow,” he reads over the lyrics again, brows raised and feeling a connection to the song. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact it was likely titled ‘1985,’ which also happened to be the year they were born. “This is amazing, Y/n. Almost like….wait is this about your mom?” As her best friend growing up, Y/n’s mother was like a second mom to him….so Bob knew her obsession with the 80s and how she had plans to be an actress before she and her high school sweetheart, Y/n’s father, got married after college and had Y/n when they were 24. Then they had her siblings afterward and both changed their course of careers in order to raise them. The line that said ‘husband’s a CPA,’ is what really gave it away considering her father was an accountant. Debbie wasn’t her mother’s name, but even a rocket scientist could piece it together Debbie represented her.

Glancing up, he sees her guilty expression, offering a light shrug. “Is it that obvious?”

Bob never forgot that song. Even with all the ones Y/n showed him afterwards and when they lost touch two years after she moved, he never once forgot the song, ‘1985’.

It was a sad day when she told him the news. They were halfway through junior year, college applications around the corner and setting up for SATs/ACTs when she dropped the bomb, “My dad’s being transferred to California.”

The Coca-Cola he’d been drinking nearly went all over his steering wheel when he coughed, her words sending him into shock. “W-what-you’re moving?!”

“Next month,” she mumbled, head down to hide her face from his view. “My dad is there now looking at places for us. In the meantime Mom is dealing with the house while also applying to schools in the area my dad’s gonna be working.”

“Where?” Bob asks after a moment of silence, allowing him to fully process the news.

His best friend—who he was in love with—was leaving him.

Y/n sighed before replying with a sad chuckle, “Los Angeles. You know I would feel excited, seeing it was my plan to move to L.A after graduation, but I just can’t bring myself to.”

“Why?” Bob says softly with a frown, “This is your dream, Y/n. All you’ve wanted was to go there and audition for American Idol—or whatever that singing show is.” He was trying really hard to cheer her up, pushing down his heartbreak all the while. “This is your chance.”

“Yeah, but….” She glanced out the window, “what if it doesn’t work out? I don’t even know if I wanna go to college—which my mom still scolds me every time she gets the chance because she thinks I’m a fool to wanna pursue music. You know how it is,” Y/n gives Bob a knowing look, “she thinks of her life and wants me to go to school before selling my life away to a 9-5. I know she’s looking out for me, but God, let me make my own mistakes.” Her head leans on the window, “If it doesn't work out then that’s on me. But I’m not gonna give it up just because it seems out of reach. That’s what back up plans are for.”

Silence fills the car, the two letting their thoughts wonder. “Promise me something, Robby.”

“Anything,” he doesn’t hesitate.

“Promise me that even though I’m leaving, we’ll still be best friends. We’ll still write letters or talk on the phone…just don’t give up on me.”

Taking her hand in his, hoping she doesn’t feel the slight tremor as the words he so desperately wants to say are on the tip of his tongue, Bob gives her a look of love which she likely would believe is one of sincerity, “you’re my best friend, Y/n. I believe you will accomplish everything you set your mind to. When you make it big, I’ll be cheering you on every second and until then, we’ll talk every day if we have to,” he makes a face after thinking, “though maybe narrow it down to once a week so my mom doesn’t kill me for the phone bill.”

That makes Y/n laugh before reaching over the console to hug him. Arms go around his neck while his one arm awkwardly wraps around her side.

“I love you, Robby,” she tells him, sending his heart soaring. “You’re the only person I can count on in this whole damn world.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” ‘More than what you could possibly know.’ “I’ll always be here for you. Forever.”

He never thought he’d break that promise. But around the time of graduation things became so hectic in Bob’s life on top of the fact he was hurting. Hurting because he loved Y/n, and anytime they would talk on the phone or send letters he was reminded of the fact she was in California while he was stuck in Montana and they could never be together. Bob felt the only way he could save his heart and move on from that love was by cutting contact. It was his fault and he knew it when the letters eventually stopped coming and the phone stopped ringing every Friday. His mother could only relay an excuse to the girl so many times before Y/n eventually gave up. The last letter she sent him came two months after their last phone call, “So much for always being there, Robby. Have a good life, I hope it treats you well. -Y/n.”

He didn’t know what happened to her until two years later when ‘1985’ played for the first time on the radio for the whole world to hear. Tears lined his eyes, the man having to look out the window away from his friends. The flooding of emotion was overpowering, forming a sob in his throat.

She did it. She’s on the radio like she always dreamed.

“That was ‘1985’ the debut single of incoming rock band, The 1985s. Hits the nostalgia I gotta say—I feel we’re looking at some fresh new faces to the scene. Can’t wait to see what they have to offer in the future.”

The prediction of the radio host came true, when in 2006 the group released their debut album Established in 1985. Like their name, it referenced the year all members were born in which included frontwoman and occasional guitar player Y/n L/n, bassist Thomas Quinn, guitarist Farrah Cortez, drummer Xavier Hernandez, and keyboardist Pepper Renolds. All met at the University of California Los Angeles, and funny enough none were students in the music program. They were all in STEM/humanities with Y/n studying sociology with a minor in music, meeting the others when they formed a study group after they all had the same prerequisite classes their second semester.

It was at one of their meetups that Y/n couldn’t help but sing along to Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ and The Who’s ‘We Don’t Get Fooled Again,’ as they played on the little radio in the corner. “Damn Y/n,” Thomas looked amazed, “You got a voice, girl. How come you’re not studying music?”

“Same reason why you aren’t—don’t give me that look, Quinn, I saw that bass in your place when we were there last week.”

Next thing they knew Pepper mentioned she was a pianist who was progressing onto keyboard. Then Farrah said she played guitar and Xavier smirked, “all y’all need is a drummer and you can be a band….oh wait, have I ever told y’all I play drums?”

And thus, the 1985’s were born.

Months were dedicated to them building their sound and learning to be a band all while keeping up with their school work. Y/n was the brain behind all their songs, literally dropping the pile of notebooks onto the table one day saying, “I’ve got at least four albums worth of songs in these…maybe even more.” Working little by little they eventually got the tunes for several that they knew they’d want to release first if they managed to get discovered. MySpace was just starting out and Y/n took it upon herself to be bold, creating a profile for them. She listed her information since they didn’t have a band email set up. That would hopefully come in the future.

It was on MySpace that their lives changed forever.

Roughly after a year of working nonstop to create songs and develop their sound, the band uploaded a video onto the platform for ‘1985,’ in May of 2004. It almost looked like a music video, teaming up with students from the drama programs who were in need of doing their end of semester project. They had someone play Debbie, her husband, the two kids, and a group of extras. Even the yellow SUV Y/n’s mom drove was used as well as a poster of Duran Duran for the line in the second verse. The band would be in clips throughout the video, Y/n singing and playing the guitar. It took them the whole night spray painting a makeshift logo of ‘The 1985’s’ onto Xavier’s drum set.

When they first uploaded the video they were all like, “Even if no one sees it, this was still fun as hell to make.”

But little did they know it was going to be seen by many eyes…..including an executive of Capitol Records.

Y/n was just coming home from her shift at a local diner when she checked her email, dropping the water bottle in her hand and letting out an ear-piercing scream that woke her roommates.

“Y/n, my name is Martin Plaza and I’m a talent exec at Capitol Records. A member of my team came across your video on MySpace and we were impressed by your band and song, ‘1985’. We’d like to set up a meeting if you all are interested and please bring any demos you may have. Email me back as soon as possible or give me a call using the number listed below. Hope to hear from you soon. Regards, Martin Plaza.”

Y/n and the group could hardly contain their reaction at the meeting when Martin and a few members of Capitol Records were visibly pleased with what they were hearing. With so many songs they had recorded, they settled on bringing five, including ‘1985,’ and ‘Some Nights,’ which they were planning on uploading to MySpace next.

Martin and the team had excused themselves briefly before returning with the offer: a six year contract with Capitol Records releasing at least three albums during that period.

You can bet your ass they agreed. Signing their names before the sun could set on the horizon.

Champagne popped that night with Y/n crying against the receiver of her pink Motorola as she informed the news to her family. Her mother cried with her, her dad celebrating in the background while her siblings were like, “Don’t forget me when you become famous, sis.” What made her sad though after the call ended was when she went to dial Robby’s number, only to close the phone with a sigh. It’d been over a year since they last spoke, Y/n unsure where he even was or if he had a cell phone. The only number she knew was his home phone.

Curiosity and slight anger rising, Y/n dialed the number saved as his home landline, not surprised when his mother answered. “Y/n! Why hello, darling, I wasn’t expecting your call tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Floyd,” she sniffed, feeling tears prick in her eyes again. Y/n was not used to addressing the older woman by her last name. It felt awkward now to call her by her first. “I know he’s probably not going to come to the phone…but if Robby—Robert is there, could I…could I just speak with him please? It’s important.”

“Oh honey,” that was enough to indicate it wouldn’t happen. Y/n looked up to the sky, heart breaking in two at the fact her so called best friend, who she loved more than anything in the world, had completely discarded her. “Robert is uhh—he’s at the Naval Academy, sweetheart, I can give you his email or cell number—.”

“No-no-no,” Y/n interrupted, stunned by the news. “It’s fine. Uh, just never mind.”

“Honey—.”

“Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Floyd. Take care and thank you for your help.” Placing the phone in her pocket, Y/n allowed the tears to flow freely before moving back inside to where the party was. Only she could hardly enjoy it now. Instead she let her feet carry her over to the notebook placed on her backpack, removing a pen hastily from the pencil pouch and scribbling down the lyrics that were screaming in her head. The words that took over the paper went onto become their Grammy award winning singles, ‘Iris,’ and ‘Payphone.’ Iris became so popular it was used in several movies and tv shows after its release in 2006, earning the band the Grammy for ‘Record of the Year,’ to go along with their ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’ and ‘Album of the Year’, three MTV moonmen including ‘Video of the Year’ and the American Music Award for ‘Song of the Year.’ Payphone was just as successful, topping the Billboard Hot 100 for 20 consecutive weeks and winning just as many awards as Iris.

Anytime the songs played on the radio or wherever he was, Bob had to change the station or frown until it ended. Deep down, he could feel they were about him—hurting him even more at the realization Payphone was basically saying how Y/n loved him and was trying to move on. Just in the way Y/n sang combined with the lyrics telling a story, it was obvious he had broken her heart. And they weren’t even together. They were just best friends…..who were too stupid enough to not admit their feelings for each other.

His senior year of college Y/n and the group were starting to become big, all the members taking a break from college in order to build their careers as musicians. Often Bob would check in to see how Y/n was, tuning into award shows to watch them perform. Pride and awe filled him watching her sing, living her dream just as he believed she would. He hated that he broke his word to her, and it seemed to affect Y/n whenever she performed Iris and Payphone, putting every ounce of emotion into each lyric.

At 21 Bob had finally entered a relationship with a nice girl from the Naval Academy. The possibility of him reuniting with Y/n was long out of the picture and his friends were getting on him to finally break out of his shell. They had no idea of his connection to the rockstar, but they could tell anytime they were on the radio Bob’s demeanor changed. Abby, a sweet pre-law student at the Naval Academy, was his first serious commitment, the two bonding over similar interests and plans for the future. Hope rose at what it could hold.

Until she and their friends decided they wanted to go see The 1985’s concert.

It was 2007, they’d just graduated and were commissioned to the rank of Ensign’s waiting to be shipped off to their respective duty stations. And Bob was engaged…..but he hadn’t really proposed in the traditional way. It was more of Abby pointing out if they wanted to get stationed together then it was best for them to get married and he just agreed. But a big part of him was hesitant to go through with it.

The news of Abby and their friends' desire to go to the concert made his stomach drop and head spin. Still in Maryland, they had gotten tickets to the show in New York at Madison Square Garden which was only a couple hours away. Abby had went ahead and got them as a surprise for Bob, not telling him until the day before the show.

“You guys go,” Bob initially said, praying she couldn’t pick up on the anxiety in his voice. “I—uh—I’ve got some things to get done—.”

“What things?” She scoffed, shaking her head as she laid out the outfit she planned to wear. “School is over, you aren’t planning to see your family until next week, and you don’t leave for flight school till the end of summer. What could you possibly do tomorrow night, Bobby?” He mentally cringed at the nickname, unconsciously thinking of how Y/n would call him Robby.

This wasn’t a good idea and he knew it. Already he was starting to think of her again. More and more by the second. Feelings were resurfacing, and Bob was fighting them hard. If he saw her on stage it was only going to confirm what he already knew.

That Y/n owned his heart. And no one else would have it. Not even Abby.

In the end, Bob found himself on the floor of Madison Square Garden of all places, wondering just how the hell their friends managed to get the area. The band was touring for their debut album, selling out within seconds and what made it more historic were they managed to get The Garden in their first ever tour. Usually groups/artists had years before they played at the Garden, settling for smaller venues in New York, but the 1985’s had become sensations.

The entire time they waited for the band Bob’s hands were shaking, the man unable to contain his tremor with each minute. Abby asked at one point, but brushed it off as him being excited when he didn’t give her an answer.

He was a little excited….but mostly fucking terrified.

Especially because they were very close to the stage. Like if one of the members happened to walk close to where they were standing they’d be spotted.

Bob should’ve fucking knocked on wood.

When the band came out Madison Square Garden erupted, Y/n belting out the lyrics to their opening number, looking like an actual dream. Her look was more of a modern take on rock n roll but still looked classic. Black leather adorned her body with cutouts to showcase some skin, arms covered in ink from the various tattoos and hips rolling to the beat of the drums causing the crowd to go crazy.

Y/n really knew how to work the stage and make it her bitch.

Bob was mesmerized. Utterly speechless as his eyes glued to the woman he once called his best friend. All he could do was stand there and stare, while willing his heart to calm down by how fast it was beating.

It was to be a two hour show at the least, and Bob didn’t know if he wanted to leave as quickly as he could or wishing the show would last forever. Seeing Y/n up close and performing before a crowd made him feel things he didn’t know were possible. Her dazzling smile, dancing across the stage and playing the guitar was everything he could’ve dreamed for her.

He loved her. Bottom line, Bob loved Y/n like no other.

When their eyes connected 30 minutes before the concert ended, causing Y/n to drop the microphone and throw her off for the remainder of the concert, Bob knew he couldn’t marry Abby.

He wasn’t sure if Y/n recognized him at first, but the rockstar had approached the side he was standing at to interact with the crowd when her gaze landed on his. Eyes widening, Y/n literally dropped the microphone causing the impact to echo through the speakers. Bob’s cheeks went bright red, unable to look away in their 2-second staring contest until Y/n blinked rapidly and cursed.

“Shit,” he saw her mouth as soon as the microphone hit the platform, bending down quickly to pick it up. “Sorry about that guys,” she nervously laughed, eyes glancing at Bob as though to make sure they weren’t deceiving her. A sharp intake of breath indicated she realized it wasn’t a trick. Walking backwards until she was back to the middle of the stage where the band was, Y/n’s tone became flustered, “U-uh, we only got a couple songs left in the show. We’re gonna take a quick five minute break so just hang tight.”

Bob could see the looks of concern from her friends/bandmates as she ran off stage, the group following behind. His heart dropped, rubbing a hand over his face to calm down the anxiety in his veins.

“What the hell was that about?” Derek laughed, “It was like she saw a ghost or something.” Everyone besides Bob agreed, none seeing the way Abby was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

When the band returned for the final act Y/n did her best to not look at the section Bob was in. Unlike everyone else in attendance, the Navy officer could pick up on the fact she was more tense than at the start of the show. Her voice shook lightly when delivering the lyrics to ‘Iris’, although it was as though she was putting more emotion than ever into the song, bringing tears to Bob’s eyes. Y/n also appeared to hold back tears, quickly transitioning the song to their next to avoid breaking down.

‘1985’ was the last in their set, everyone in MSG jumping up and down to the chorus and screaming the lyrics. Y/n smiled the entire time, finally letting a tear slip when the concert came to an end. To everyone it may have looked like the rockstar was overwhelmed with emotion at the fact she just played Madison Square Garden before a sold out crowd. But for Robert Floyd, he knew those tears were because of him.

Especially when they connected eyes again, Y/n’s lip quivering before turning away to hide her face. When she walked off with the band Bob felt his heart go with her.

“You’re hiding something,” Abby said with a soft tone when they arrived back home late that night. It was nearly 3 in the morning, the concert having ended at 11.

Bob tilted his head back, eyes closing to block off the rest of the world, “Please, let’s not do this.” He just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

“You know, I always wondered why your knuckles would tighten around the steering wheel when their songs played on the radio, or why you look like you wanna cry anytime I sing ‘Iris’ at karaoke, why you can’t even look at me when I do,” she lists off, voice slightly rising. “Then there’s that box of letters you hide in the closet. And….and the photo album you won’t even let me look at. We’ve been together for a year, and you have not once told me you loved me.” By now Abby’s voice wavered, sniffing as she continued.

“I’ve been a fan of The 1985’s for close to a year now, but it wasn’t until tonight I actually read up on them. On Y/n…..” she saw how his body reacted, confirming her suspicion even more. “How she was living in L.A when they got discovered, but she grew up somewhere else…..She’s from Montana. The same town as you, Robert.”

“That’s just a coincidence—.”

“She went to the same high school as you!” Abby shouted, pushing off the wall she was leaning against. “You told me your town had less than four-thousand people—and only one high school. She would’ve gone there, Robert—in fact it said her mom was a teacher at the elementary school. The same one your mom taught at!”

By now Bob had enough, mouth tightening as he spoke calmly to his ‘fiancé’, “What do you want to know, Abby?”

“Who was she to you? Don’t fucking say shit like ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’—I saw her look at you,” tears pricked in her blue eyes. “How she looked like she’d been punched straight through the heart. She fucking dropped the microphone—and looked like she wanted to faint! Like you were a walking ghost. And you….you looked the same.” Pausing, she thought back to his face at the concert. There was no doubt Y/n and him had locked eyes, she heard him audibly react despite the noise.

“You looked like someone with deep regret. Someone who longed for a second chance. You looked like someone in love, Robert. Never have you looked at me that way.” Abby waited for him to respond, but Bob was unable to speak, expression unreadable causing her heart to break.

“Just please,” she breathed out, “tell me the truth, Bob. What was she to you?”

Silence filled the room, causing the tension to rise. It stayed that way until Bob finally sighed, face falling as he admitted what she already knew.

“She was everything. She is everything.”

When it came time to ship out two months later Bob was not the married man he expected to be. In all honesty, he was relieved. That night the argument had ended with Bob telling Abby he couldn’t marry her—he’d be hurting her even more if he followed through with it. Never could he love her the way he did Y/n and wouldn't put her through that. Going their separate ways was for the best. Even though he’d likely never be with Y/n, no one could compare to her.

Abby was angry as one could expect but part of her knew it was for the best. What good was it getting into a loveless marriage? She almost resented the rockstar, feeling like she could never enjoy the 1985’s anymore knowing the man she thought she spent the rest of her life with was hopelessly in love with his former best friend, who was the frontwoman of her favorite band. But then Abby took some time to think, and felt her heart break for Bob. She couldn’t imagine what it was like loving someone you couldn’t have.

Ending their engagement and agreeing to be friends, Bob told stories about growing up with Y/n—even bringing out the letters and photo album for her to see. It amazed the woman, flipping through the pages to see the singer when she was a child and teenager. It was almost funny to see how polar opposites the two best friends were, Y/n with her 80s band t-shirts and ripped jeans next to a Bob in his cowboy hat and flannels. As teenagers Y/n dabbled more in the grunge makeup. One photo made Abby laugh as it showed Bob with black eyeliner and glitter on his cheeks.

Coming across the end of the album was a half of a ‘Best Friends Forever’ necklace taped to the page. Abby frowned, “What happened between the two of you?”

This was a question he never thought he’d answer, thinking he’d go the rest of his life without anyone finding out his history with Y/n.

“After she moved we stayed in contact for about two years. We’d call every Friday—send letters from time to time ....” He paused, biting his lip as the frown took over. “But I stopped responding and answering.”

“Why?”

“It hurt too much,” he admitted, hating the way his heart clenched. “I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose what we had,” he looked to the ground, “but then it just became too overwhelming and I thought if we….if we drifted apart then I eventually could move on.”

Abby is silent, glancing at the picture of him and Y/n before looking back at the necklace, “Wanna hear something, Bob? Something you probably won’t believe, but I promise you it’s more likely than you think?” He looks up from the floor, brow raised slightly.

“What?”

“I think Y/n loves you.”

“Not in the way you think, Abby,” Bob deflects with a shake of the head. “And she definitely doesn’t anymore—she hates me no doubt.”

“No, listen to me,” she closes the album, setting it aside. “When did you two stop talking?”

“Around fall of 2003,” he tells her, look of regret in his visage, “in 2004 was the last time she phoned the house.”

Abby thinks back in her research of the band, shoulders dropping slightly, “That’s when they got signed to Capitol Records. ‘Payphone’ and ‘Iris’ came out last year, but Y/n said in an interview she wrote them the night they were signed—which had people confused because they’re sad songs that were written on a night that was supposed to be happy. Don’t you see?” She waves her hand at his now confused gaze, making her huff. “She probably had called your house hoping to tell you the news! Anyone who hears those songs knows it’s about heartbreak. And not the type of heartbreak you get by a friendship disintegrating, Bob. That’s the heartbreak when someone you love with your entire soul hurts you.”

“Abby please,” Bob pleads with her, water lining his eyes. Falling silent the woman leans away, solemn in her expression.

“All I’m saying is she loved you more than you think. And judging by her reaction to you tonight, I think I’m right when I say Y/n would give anything for you to talk to her again…..”

For years Bob thought about what Abby had told him that night they broke up. It kept him up at night especially when The 1985’s came up that day either in conversation or on the radio. There were times he was tempted to write a letter, but life would get crazy with the Navy and then in 2011 he was invited to Top Gun.

Devastated couldn’t even be the right word to describe how Bob felt when it was revealed Y/n had eloped with a Hollywood heartthrob. Not a fan of social media, Bob had just returned back to his squadron after graduating from Top Gun to turn on E! News where they were covering the story.

“Wedding bells are in store for rockstar Y/n L/n of The 1985s and actor Enrique Lorenzo from The Walking Dead. The two have been spotted throughout the year looking cozy at award shows and Lorenzo attending The 1985’s concerts in L.A and Atlanta. An inside source has gotten word the two applied for a marriage license two days ago and earlier this morning had a private ceremony with close friends and family in West Hollywood. Neither has confirmed if they have in fact tied the knot, but I would keep your eyes out. In the meantime, congratulations to the happy couple and we’re looking forward to seeing Y/n’s ring.”

It seemed like all the air had left Bob, turning off the tv in a flash but still pointing the remote as he stood stunned. Then his phone buzzed with messages.

“Honey, just checking in. Call me when you get home,” was from his mom, trying to avoid the obvious elephant and would rather discuss it over the phone.

“Have you heard the news?” Abby wrote. “I’m so sorry, Bob.” He actually appreciated that she wasn’t walking on eggshells. That she was upfront with him. Though it’d been over four years since their breakup, and Abby was now married with children, the two remained friends and often checked in with each other occasionally.

“It was bound to happen some time,” he replied before turning off his phone so he couldn’t receive any more messages.

The rest of the night he was pretty much a walking shell, then as the years went on Bob closed himself off. Hardly did he date, and when he did they only lasted a few months before the girls realized he was not ready for the commitment they were wanting. Some understood, others were more aggressive when spitting out their feelings. Never did he admit why he couldn’t love them the way they wanted. The only people who knew who his heart belonged to were Abby and his family.

2015 Bob was transferred to Lemoore when the news broke that Y/n and Enrique had divorced after nearly four years of marriage, however, they had been secretly separated for almost a year before it was finalized. Cursing mentally, Bob couldn’t help but feel a slight relief—which was completely fucked up knowing Y/n was going through a difficult time and here he was silently celebrating, as though he really had a chance now to make things right.

That should’ve been his sign to call her mother and ask for Y/n’s number, with the hope she’d give it to him. But then Bob felt it was too soon. Her divorce had just been finalized, he didn’t know the exact reason despite the former couple citing irreconcilable differences. Whatever it was, Bob wasn’t sure he wanted to know but at the same time couldn’t help but be curious.

He’d get his answer almost two years later in January of 2017 when he flew home to Montana to celebrate his birthday. It was his 32nd and his mother literally begged him to come home so they could all be together now that Bob’s sister had recently had twins and were there to visit. Wanting to meet his nieces, the WSO relented and booked a flight for the weekend after confirming his leave.

Suspicion filled him with the way his family was acting when he arrived. Almost like they were excited but nervous, which only confused the officer. He was in his service khakis, pulling his cap off when they got inside and removing his windbreaker before setting it on the coat rack.

That’s when he saw the black suitcase in the corner.

“Who’s is that?” He asked with a raised brow, noticing his mother slightly tense. It wasn’t a luggage he recognized as one of theirs, and it was as though it had just been placed there.

And his sister had already unpacked in her old room. So it wasn’t hers.

Blushing, his mother tried to find the right words, “Oh-um, It’s—.”

“It’s mine.”

32 years had gone by in Bob’s life and never did he think he’d experience anything close to cardiac arrest. But hearing Y/n’s voice, so close as though she was behind him, made him think he was about to die right then and there.

Then he turned around, slowly, heart beating so fast it was about to explode from his chest, and she was there. Standing at the end of the staircase in a beautiful black leather dress with matching knee high boots, her hair slicked back into a bun and minimal makeup showcasing her gorgeous face.

She was ethereal. Absolutely breathtaking.

The last time he saw her in person was when they were 22, before that was 16. Here she was a grown woman who’d been through a hell of a life. She looked beyond gorgeous, and Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

Only her gaze was not as warm as the emotions Bob was feeling. Honestly he felt like he could be six feet in the ground with how she was looking at him. Betrayal, heartbreak, anger, but underneath it there was love and hope.

“Hello, Robert.”

He didn’t even know how to react. All he could do was stand there, speechless with his mouth slightly agape. Eventually he just breathed out, “Y/n.”

Stoic, Y/n glanced at his mother, “Mrs. Floyd, could you please give us a moment.”

“Of course,” the older woman nodded, bidding her son a glance, “We’ll all be out on the porch.”

Nodding in thanks, Y/n waited until she and everyone in the house had moved outside before facing Bob again. Chills ran up his arms when she let her eyes trail over his figure, remaining emotionless.

An awkward silence passed, neither really knowing what to say. Bob was hesitant to break it, hoping she would but Y/n just continued to stare at him. Both unable to form the words.

Finally he tried to say, “y-you uhh, wow.” He swore he heard her scoff under her breath.

“Yeah, wow,” her tone broke his heart, but then again Bob couldn’t blame her. After all, he’s the reason they drifted apart. When he didn’t reply, instead glancing to the ground, she scoffed louder, “That’s all you can really say? ‘Wow’? After thirteen years, Robert, all you have to fucking say to me is ‘wow’? No, ‘I’m sorry,’ no ‘I can explain everything.’”

Anxiety rising, Bob sighed which only made her angrier. “Y/n, I-I—.”

She couldn’t stop herself, “Why?” The question haunted her for over a decade. “Why did you just throw me away like trash—a-after everything we’d been through? You owe me the reason why you broke your word to me and made me feel like shit. I have waited and waited for years, Robert, hoping you would call or send a letter but now I’ve had enough so you can’t run away from me now. So start talking.”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean for y-you to feel like that,” he tried to explain, but the words were not the best, causing her to explode.

“How else was it supposed to make me feel!?” She threw her hands out. “That’s how it came off as to me! ‘All always be here for you,’ my ass, Robert. You remember telling me that? It was only two years—two years of us doing so well with the distance—I was even planning on surprising you for fucking Christmas and then it was just gone in the blink of an eye,” snapping her fingers, Y/n emphasized her point. “No explanation, no warning. Nothing to tell me you didn’t want to be friends anymore, having your mom give me excuse after excuse why you wouldn't come to the phone.” She pauses to calm herself, her tone kept rising with each word.

Bob takes the moment to speak, “It’s…Y/n, you have to understand it was never my intention to hurt you,” when she made a sound of, ‘yeah right,’ he rushed out, “Please! I fucked up, I know I did and I’ve regretted every second of it since then—and as much as I wanted to reach out and apologize, explain to why it happened…I just felt so ashamed and then I heard you on the radio,” a sad smile comes to his lips, seeing her stiffen at the mention of her debut. “And when I heard your voice, I just thought that was it. You didn’t need me anymore and believed you would forget about me eventually.”

“Forget about you?” Her tone went soft, eyes glistening. “You were my best friend—since we were fucking five, Robert!” He flinched, shame filling his veins. “We did everything together, I shared everything with you. My music—some of which were inspired by the fucking things we did,” the confession had his eyes widened a bit, “You think I would just forget all of that? Thirteen years worth of friendship down the drain? Sorry, but I’m not like you—I wouldn’t just ditch the only person I trusted most in this world because I was starting to become something. Did your mom tell you I called?” She suddenly asked, not letting him answer before she was ranting again, “It was almost a year after you threw me to the winds. The night I fucking met with Capitol Records and got offered the opportunity of a lifetime….I wanted to share that with you. Despite the fact we hadn’t talked for almost a goddamn year, I desperately wanted to hear your voice and tell you I did it,” her voice cracked at the end, causing tears to prick in Bob’s eyes at the sight she was fighting back her own.

“That I did it,” Y/n held back the sob threatening to escape. “You were the only one who believed in me, and I couldn’t even share that with you. Because you didn’t want me in your life anymore—and you know what that’s okay. Friendships come and go, but you couldn’t even give me the fucking respect to tell me. And then you come to my show!” Now she was shouting, “Yeah I know that was you, don’t even try to deny it. It may have been four years at that time but I know damn well that was you in New York. I cannot fucking believe you would come to my show and not even tell me! And then to not reach out after was a fucking slap to my face.” Her breathing was starting to get heavy, the woman pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t even recognize you honestly. The Robert I knew would’ve never hurt me like you did. He would’ve at least shown me some respect. He wouldn't leave me to wonder what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said sternly.

“Well it doesn’t feel that way now does it?” She said just as harsh, “Why?”

“Y/n, it’s complicated,” he put his hands to his neck, looking at the ceiling as he started to lose composure.

“Then tell me why!”

“Because I fucking love you that’s why!”

The words had left Bob’s mouth before he could stop himself. Silence ignited, the WSO covering his mouth with a hand as he went pale, staring at Y/n whose own mouth was parted. The confession had hit her full blast, causing her to stumble back as though she physically felt them possess her. A shaky hand came to her own mouth, looking away from the man when her eyes closed allowing the tears to spill on her cheeks.

“I love you,” Bob whispered, mirroring her expression. “I’ve loved you since we were fifteen, Y/n. I knew I felt something when we were twelve, but I just brushed it off thinking I was confused. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you—and what we could have. But I didn’t want to lose you if you didn’t feel the same.” Opening his eyes, they locked on hers. God even when she cried she looked beautiful. “When you left…I thought it would be easier to move on. But then we talked every week and the feelings wouldn’t go away. No matter how much I tried. You took my heart with you to L.A. and you’ve had it ever since.”

He waited for her to respond, chest on fire with how bad his heart was racing. Fingertips were going numb as Bob stared at her with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back in time and change it as much as I wish I could. Please know, Y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you. I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I won’t blame you if you walk out that door and we never see each other again. But just when you do, know that I’m truly, deeply, sorry.”

Time seemed to slow now with the two adults staring at each other. Now that it was all out in the open, Y/n seemed to be processing the whole thing. Bob couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n’s brain was screaming, as was her heart. Lips quivering, the woman sniffed.

“You love me?”

“I do,” Bob signed after a moment. He no longer could keep it in, feeling the immense relief at being able to finally say it aloud.

“For years?”

“Almost seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” she repeated with an unreadable tone. “Y-you, I thought—your mom told me you were engaged.”

“That was in college,” he explained softly. “She was at the show with me that night. Saw how we reacted to each other and realized things I tried to hide. I ended things with her—I couldn’t trap her in a marriage that would make her unhappy—make me unhappy. She understood after a while and we stayed friends.” Bob rubbed his jaw, adding, “everyone else that came along was the same. I couldn’t love them the way they wanted me to. My heart wouldn’t allow it.”

Y/n leaned her head against the wall behind her, gazing at the ceiling, “A-and you were just going to go through life alone? Never planning to settle or be happy?”

“What good would it be hurting someone by committing to them when I couldn’t offer everything they would give me in return. They could love me, but I couldn’t love them, Y/n, and that’s unfair.” He wiped away a tear that slipped from his eye, no doubt his irises were red, “I’d rather be alone than do that to someone.”

She took a sharp inhale at that, more tears falling. “You should’ve told me,” her voice cracked, making him look away. Only to freeze when she said in almost a whisper, “Because we could’ve had all this time.”

“Wh-what?” Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or did she really just say what he thought she did?

Y/n chuckled, but it was more of laughing at how sad the situation was. Shaking her head, her eyes stayed on her boots as she said, “Did you ever wonder why I rejected Tyler Davies when he asked me to homecoming junior year, insisting I wanted to go with you instead?” Tyler was the quarterback of their high school football team. A senior, who asked Y/n to the dance and became the talk of the school when she said no. Many were jealous she even got his attention, riddled with shock she would reject the star player.

“Because you felt sorry for me I didn’t ask anyone?” He asked like it was obvious, causing her to huff.

“Because I wanted you to ask me,” his heart skipped again, “And whenever Melinda Perry would flirt with you in government I would literally send her daggers because of how jealous I was. Why do you think I warned you not to go out with her when you asked for my advice? Yeah I knew she was a snake to most of her boyfriends, but I was also selfish because I didn’t want you dating someone else. God, Robby, you were so blind. Even with your glasses you still couldn’t see that I loved you.” It was though he was on cloud 9, disbelief at what he was hearing.

Y/n loved him. At least she did when they were teenagers.

The next question couldn’t even form in his mind before she was lifting her head back up, shrugging when allowing the confession to fall from her lips. “And as much as I want to hate you right, I can’t bring myself to. Because I’m still hopelessly in love with you, Robby.”

Now he was the one stumbling back. “Y-you do?”

“I do. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen.”

He didn’t recall much that happened after that. Just that his feet were carrying him over to her, cupping her face in his hands and moving their faces close together. Lips just barely brushing over, he waited for her to make the next move. Y/n wasted no time, pressing her mouth to his and the two felt the eruption of warmth and love consume their bodies. Her arms around his neck, her fingers ran through his blonde hair causing Bob to groan. The sound made her gasp, allowing Bob to slip his tongue past her lips and heat up the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, bringing them back together.

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His arms went to cradle her, pressing her against the wall. She simply nodded before kissing him back, “I forgive you, Robby.” God he missed that name. Only she could make him feel some type of way when she said it. He chuckled when she added, “Even though I should slap the fuck out of you.”

It was a miracle they made it up the stairs and into his childhood bedroom which was now a guest room. He had to remember to lock the door after setting her on the bed, praying to God his family would stay outside. There was music playing from what he could hear through the window so it made things easier when the two got lost in each other.

Clothes scattered the floor, kisses and hushed whispers shared between the two. Bob worshiped Y/n, letting his mouth kiss along every inch of her, trailing down any tattoos that coated her skin and paying extra attention in the places that brought her the most pleasure.

When he entered her they both sighed in bliss, moving as one until they reached a climax that brought them both to tears. All the time Bob whispered how much he loved her, Y/n repeating it each time. She moaned with each thrust and whenever she pleaded with him to do something Bob delivered it without hesitation. With her leg over his shoulder, chests pressed and mouths attached together the officer believed if he died right there it would be with a smile on his face. They came together, Y/n gasping his name as he eased them through their climax. When it was over Bob leaned down to capture her lips, wiping away her tears before removing himself to clean her. They basked in the afterglow, Y/n laying her head on his chest while he lightly traced the tattoos on her arm with his finger.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, making her humm in response. “Enrique…”

The woman made a sound, lifting her head to gaze at him. “Enrique and I had been friends for some time—and we did drunkenly hook up once to get the sexual tension out of the way but that was it,” Bob controlled his reaction, though he couldn't say anything for he too had his fair share of one night stands. “The band’s contract was renewed and The Walking Dead was just starting out. The label and his producers thought it was a good idea for us to be seen together. Just to bring in some press for our upcoming album and the show. But we never felt anything more than friends for each other.”

Bob sat up a bit, causing her to lean on her elbows as she rested on her stomach. His expression was unreadable, “but you two were married.” Again Y/n let out a sigh.

“Enrique and I were friends so we shared things. He confided in me, I confided in him—Enrique was in love with someone who he couldn’t have. Ring a bell?” She raised a brow at him. “I was in the same boat. Just like how you said you couldn’t bring yourself to love anyone else, I couldn’t either. But at the time I thought you were married, Robby.” That had his eyes widened. “I called your mom after the concert that night, hoping to get to you and she told me you were engaged. So when I met Enrique and we both were going through the same thing, we thought ‘instead of being miserable alone, let’s be miserable together.’ Our publicists hated the idea, but we both believed we wouldn’t get our fairytale ending.”

Something in the way she said that last sentence had Bob think about Enrique Lorenzo. Most recently it was revealed he was in a relationship with fellow costar Simon Zahir, coming out as bisexual to the world with an instagram post of the two sharing a kiss.

“So you married him even though you didn’t love him?” Kinda like how he almost did with Abby. It made Bob frown thinking about it.

“I did love him, just not the way a wife should love their husband. And he understood because he couldn’t love me the way a husband would their wife,” she sadly smiled, “It was a mutual understanding where we would go and support each other at premiers and award shows, kiss for the cameras, all that was needed to show the media we were a happy couple. But behind closed doors we actually lived separately.”

Hesitant to ask, Bob waited a moment before saying what was on his mind the last couple years. “What made you two divorce?” The question made her give a small smile.

“Simon confessed to Enrique he loved him after they finished filming season four, and that he and his wife were divorcing. When Enrique told me… I could just see the hope in his eyes, and who was I to deny him his chance at happiness just because I didn’t want to be alone. It would have been selfish of me to. No, I told him the first thing the next morning we’d file but our publicists called and asked to wait until Simon was divorced before we went through with ours. That’s why we were ‘separated’ for a year,” she put quotes around ‘separated’. “We didn’t want to cite irreconcilable differences since it was a mutual decision, but the lawyers thought that was the best route to go.”

Bringing a hand up to caress her cheek, Bob asked the second question he wanted to know, “What made you come here?” She leaned into his touch, “you said you thought I was married. How did you even get here?” The last question was more due to the fact The 1985’s were currently on tour. It was another reason why he was so shocked to see her there when he arrived.

“We played in Helena last night. After the show I had this feeling I needed to come here, so I called my mom to get your mom’s number. That’s when she told me you were flying in today.” Her face turned to one of guilt, “I sorta feel like a bitch because tomorrow is your birthday and I came here knowing there would likely be an argument. Even though I thought you were married, I just really wanted to know the truth. It was eating me up. And with that feeling I needed to come here again after so many years, it sorta felt like a sign—if you can call it that.”

Leaning more into his hand, Y/n added, “I didn’t come with the intentions of winning you over or anything—especially under the impression you were married. I wanted answers, that was all. Although,” she kisses his wrist, “I’m not complaining with how things turned out.”

“Me either,” he agreed with a laugh. As he moved in to kiss her, a knock on the door interrupted causing the two to look like deer in headlights.

“If you two are presentable,” it was his sister, “then we’d be happy if y’all joined us for dinner sometime soon. But by all means, take your time.” She ended with a cheeky laugh before footsteps indicated she had walked away.

Bob let his head fall back into the pillow with a groan while Y/n giggled. She went to get up, but the man wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled into her neck. “I’ve waited too long for this.” Humming, he felt her hands go to his air, maneuvering them so he was on top of her.

Y/n gasped at the feeling of him becoming hard again, causing Bob to smirk as she wrapped her legs around him to offer assistance. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

In the haze of it all and as the weeks passed, the two began to live the life they dreamed of with each other. Neither realized they had forgotten protection that night….until Y/n was puking on the tour bus and counted the days since her last period.

“Look at me,” Bob held her hands. They sat in her hotel room in Sacramento, the band finishing out their tour in California before setting to work on their next album. When she called him that morning about her possibly being pregnant Bob got in his car and drove straight there. Thankfully it was a Saturday so he was off and had great timing. Pepper was kind enough to give her a spare pregnancy test she had on her, so Y/n waited until Bob arrived to take it.

Relieving herself on the stick, she kept it in the bathroom to wait for the results while she sat with him on the bed. She was crying, unsure how to feel. Part of her was excited at the idea of being pregnant and having a baby with Bob, but also feared it was too soon. They had just started dating, she was on tour until the end of the month, and they had been keeping their relationship quiet from the public so she was scared of what could happen.

For the WSO, he was going to be happy regardless of the outcome. “Look at me, Y/n. Everything is going to be okay. I am not leaving you—I swear to you, baby. If that says positive, then believe me when I say I will be the happiest man alive,” she whimpered, making him press kisses her cheek lovingly, “We’ll get through it together. You’re gonna be done with the tour in a few weeks and then we can take it from there. And if it’s negative then that’s completely okay too.”

When the results did come, the stick reading in small letters pregnant, the couple cried together with Bob pulling Y/n into his lap. “I love you—I love you,” he kissed all over her face, her cries turning into giggles. “It’s going to be okay, Y/n. I’m so happy, darlin’. So so happy. I want nothing more in this world than to have a baby with you. You’re going to be the best momma ever. I know it.”

October of 2017 brought Marcel Brandon Floyd into the world. Keeping her pregnancy a secret, no one besides the band and their families had knowledge of the birth of their son. Thankfully Bob’s identity was still hidden, both very careful to not let paparazzi catch them together. Especially with Y/n being pregnant they didn’t want to add on the stress of the media discovering their relationship. They planned to announce it on their own at some point once the baby had arrived.

It wasn’t until Marcel was roughly a month old that Y/n posted an Instagram picture with his tiny hand wrapped around her finger, ‘my world has arrived 🤍 10.20.17.’ The announcement had Y/n trending #1 on Twitter and talk show hosts calling to have her on the show. Y/n declined, she only really made television appearances with the band if they were performing, but that was only when they released new music.

Around the holidays was when Bob proposed. They were sitting by the fire, Y/n in his lap with Marcel in her arms when Bob simply said, “Marry me.”

At first she thought he was joking, but then he removed a velvet box from his pocket. Her eyes watered, “Are you serious?”

“More than I’ve ever been. You’re my person, baby. I’ve waited for this moment my whole life—and I won’t waste another second. Marry me, Y/n. Be my wife and I promise to love you even after death.”

He truly meant it when he said he didn’t want to waste another second. After she said yes, they put Marcel to bed and Bob made an appointment at the courthouse, both agreeing to get legally married and wait for a big ceremony some other time. They made love all through the night until the sun rose. In the morning the little family and the band gathered in the courthouse and tied the knot.

Y/n already knew the media was going to have stuff to say about her when the news broke. This was her second marriage, also happening in the spur of the moment like her first one. Only this time around it was with her soulmate so the rockstar couldn’t give a fuck what they had to say. She and Bob were coming up on a year, had a child, and planned to spend every second of their lives together. She loved him with every ounce of her being.

On instagram the picture posted was of their rings followed by one of them kissing where his face was hidden. “I’ve been keeping a secret from all of you. In January I reunited with my childhood best friend, who I was in love with way before The 1985’s were even thought of. Things happened in life causing us to drift apart, but we recently found our way back to each other and I plan to never let him go. He is my second half. The person I was meant to grow old with. I can’t put into words how happy I am and with the birth of our son, our little fairytale seems to be working out. Some of you may think this is all too fast but let me tell you this, we’ve waited a long time for this moment. I ask that you please respect our privacy and thank you to all who have supported me over the years. Much love, Y/n ♥️”

For almost two years the two kept their relationship under wraps from the media. Then in October of 2019, just before Marcel’s birthday Bob was called back to Top Gun. It’d been several years since he graduated from the program, surprised they even wanted him for the mission. With how timing was the WSO would have to report to Fightertown a couple days after his son turned two. Y/n had a beach house in San Diego, deciding her and Marcel would stay there while Bob was in his detachment and what made it better was Xavier and Farrah—who fell in love over the course of their years as a band— were both from San Diego, both currently there while the band took a small break. Bob would have to stay on base with candidates, but after training ended he’d come to the house to be with them.

Pepper and Thomas were back in L.A, but we’re working on beats for their upcoming album and sending the three what they had for them to add on or scrap if they felt it didn’t fit. They had a meeting with the two Zoom with Xavier and Farrah and their two young kids at Y/n’s place the day she got the call Bob was in an accident.

“Hello?” She answered the phone, moving to the side away from where Xavier was drumming. Marcel was in his little playpen, a pair of baby earmuffs over his ears to protect them from the loud noise.

“Hi….” The guy on the opposite end let out a soft chuckle. “I’m looking for uh, Y/n L/n?” His tone was that of someone who found it funny he was asking for someone he definitely thought wouldn’t be on the other end of the phone. Like he saw the name on the card and said, “there’s no fucking way this is the guy married to Y/n L/n,” but because of his job he had to call the number anyway.

“This is her. Who am I speaking to?”

The man went silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. “This is Lieutenant Royce from NAS Miramar medical group,” Y/n’s heart picked up as dread filled her, “Can you confirm you are the spouse of Lieutenant Robert Floyd.”

“Yes,” she rushed out. “I am. Is he okay? Did something happen?” Closing her eyes, she prayed she wasn’t about to receive the worst news imaginable. No, Bob had to be okay.

“There was an accident with his F-18 this afternoon, he had to eject—.”

“Excuse me one second,” she apologized before bringing the phone back slightly to yell at the drummer, “Xavier! Stop drumming for five seconds—I need to fucking hear right now!” The man winced as he mouthed, ‘sorry’ catching the ashen look on her face. Both he and Farrah set aside their instruments, watching Y/n turn away to speak again, this time more calmly. “Please repeat that for me, Lieutenant.”

When Royce heard the name of The 1985’s drummer being shouted at, the Lieutenant nearly forgot what he was calling for, “U-uh, yes. There was an emergency ejection in your husband’s F-18 this afternoon during training. He is okay minus a few bruises, but he will be staying overnight in our facility for observation.”

“Oh my gosh, okay,” she breathed in relief, bringing a hand to her mouth to calm herself. “Is there any way I can see him?”

“Do you have a dependent ID card?” She tells him yes and he says with a light cough, “Then yes you can come onto base and see him.” Royce gave the address, still finding it hard to believe he may have been talking with the frontwoman of the most popular rock band in the last 15 years. He really thought it was just someone who shared a name with her. But then again, they sounded very alike.

Thanking the officer, Y/n wrote down the address and rushed to grab her purse. “I have to go to base—something happened with Bob. Can you guys watch Marcel until I get back?”

“Of course,” Farrah told her, “go go, we’ll stay here and clean everything up.”

Practically speeding onto base, it was the first time she ever had to use her military ID, which had the guard at the front gate jaw drop. He maintained professionalism, scanning her card and nodding to the rockstar. As much as he wanted to ask for a photo the guy could tell she was in distress and it wasn’t a good idea. “Have a good day, Ms. L/n.”

“Thank you, sir. You too.” She waved apologetically, recognizing the look she often got from fans. Had the situation been different she would’ve happily chatted a little longer.

It was the same when she got to the infirmary. The receptionist, who looked to be in her mid twenties, dropped the apple in her hand while other young servicemen were doing double takes and whispering. “That’s fucking Y/n L/n.” “Are you sure?” “I’m serious! I had a huge crush on her in college. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

“Hi,” she offered a small smile, aware the guy to her left had his phone out trying to sneak a picture, likely tweeting the fact she was in a Navy hospital. “I’m looking for my husband, Lieutenant Robert Floyd. I received a call from a Lieutenant Royce saying he was here.”

Upon hearing his name, the gentlemen seated behind the girl with his back to her spun around, eyes bulging when they landed on Y/n. The chair almost fell when he stood abruptly. “T-that’s me. Yes I’m the one who called you, Ms. L/n. If you would follow me I’ll take you to him.”

“Thank you,” she walked behind him, ignoring the whispers and comments made by those around. By now TMZ probably got tipped off, she could already feel her phone buzzing—no doubt from her publicist wondering what the hell was going on. She made a mental note to call her back later to explain.

Royce knocked gently on the door before opening it, “Lieutenant—oh you have visitors I apologize,” he glanced over his shoulder to Y/n, still in disbelief on what he was about to say. Turning back to Bob, Royce gives a nod, “your wife is here.”

“She is?” Y/n heard Bob, and some murmurs of voices going, “Wife?” “When the hell did he get married?”

Pushing past Royce, thanking him briefly, Y/n entered the room only to stop short at the several pairs of eyes landing on her. Off to the side she saw a man with a buzz cut drop his bag of chips, choking on the one in his mouth, “What. the. fuck.”

The two standing in front of the bed—mouths agape—parted away allowing Y/n to see Bob sitting with his flight suit unzipped and tied around his waist. Exhaling in utter relief the woman rushes to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Robby.” She felt his arms go to her waist, pulling her closer as she hid her face in his neck. Y/n could literally cry with how happy she was to see him in one piece.

“I’m okay, darlin’.” He rubbed her back, aware his fellow aviators were staring at them with mixed expressions. They looked confused, disbelieved, shocked, and in awe.

The quiet, reserved, yet sometimes sassy WSO is married to the woman who's been ruling the radio over the last decade.

Who had seven fucking Grammy’s under her band’s name.

Pulling away, Y/n ran her hands along his shoulders, checking for any visible wounds. “What happened? Lieutenant Royce told me you had to eject?”

“There was a bird strike,” he explained, taking her hands and soothing them with his thumbs. “We lost both engines—Phoenix tried to get back control but we were going too fast and couldn’t save the jet. Had to eject at the last second—we’re okay though, I promise. Just a little shaken.”

“Thank God you’re alright,” she sniffed, hugging him again while kissing his cheek. “Leave it to you getting in an accident that makes me use my ID for the first time.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting. I was tempted to run the gate because I had no patience, but controlled myself. Getting arrested would not have been good.”

“No it wouldn’t,” he chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead.

The clearing of someone’s throat ended the moment, Y/n removing herself from Bob to face the group of aviators who were still speechless by the scene. Smiling shyly, Y/n took in each of them. “Hello, I’m Y/n.”

“Oh we know who you are,” Fanboy said with awe, groaning when Payback smacked his shoulder with a disapproving look. “Sorry that was not the best thing to say. What I-I meant was we’re all fans of your work.”

“And by that he means we were all jamming to your music on the tarmac just yesterday, not understanding why Bobby here looked so smug when Seresin said he could totally get a shot with you if he ever got the chance,” Rooster added on, resulting in the blonde pilot to glare at him before blushing when the others started to laugh.

“Well now I sure as hell won’t try—I’m not that shallow to hit on a married woman, Bradshaw. Made that mistake ages ago and it was not pretty. Anyways, sorry Bob for what I said,” he held a hand up, “but let me be the first to say what a fucking G you are. And Y/n, it’s an honor to be in your presence. Big fan.”

Y/n raised a brow, smirking to her husband to see his reaction. He sure did look smug, keeping his arm around her waist. “A fucking G, huh?”

“He’s the one who said it,” he smiles before noticing she was alone when she arrived, “Where’s Marcel?”

“With Xav and Farrah. They were at the house when I got the call—we were working on some songs.” In the corner of her eye she saw Coyote and Fanboy visibly react to the mention of her bandmates.

“Forgive me for asking,” Phoenix finally spoke from her bed that was seated right next to Bob’s. “But weren’t you two childhood best friends if I’m not mistaken? Sorry if it’s too personal, but I remember seeing your post on instagram two years ago and I thought it said something like that.”

The couple smiled, confirming her wonders. “Yeah,” Bob looked at Y/n with love in his eyes. “We grew up together. Took a hell of a long time before we could get our chance at love, but it was worth the wait.”

For almost an hour the aviators learned more about Y/n and Bob’s relationship, literally saying it should be a romance novel with what life threw at them. The hopeless romantic in Phoenix couldn’t help but awe, feeling so much happiness for her backseater and the rockstar she’d been listening to since sixteen. They truly were the ultimate love story.

When it came time for the mission with Bob and Phoenix selected as one of two foxtrot teams, Y/n held onto him the entire night prior to him shipping out. He made love to her for hours, very slow and sensual ensuring she felt every inch of him. And when they climaxed a tear spilled from her eyes, “You better come home to me.”

He kept a picture of her and Marcel in his pocket the entire time. Before the jet took off of the carrier Bob gave it a small kiss before keeping it safe in his flight suit. The second they got back after successfully completing the mission he called his wife to tell her he was coming home. She practically catapulted into his arms when she picked him up from the docks, not giving a shit that the paparazzi had followed her there. By now the whole world knew who Bob was to her.

The rest of 2019 seemed to go by in a blur. They first thought 2020 would be the best year of their lives when it was discovered Y/n was pregnant again, having conceived the night Bob had left for his mission. She was just at the end of her first trimester when the entire globe shut down. When the rumors spread of a possible pandemic with the outbreak happening across the ocean, the 1985’s all took up camp in San Diego now that Bob had become an instructor with Phoenix at Top Gun. Thomas and his fiancé, who was an actress, didn’t mind moving, neither did Pepper and her girlfriend. The group were working on their sixth studio album and had celebrated 15 years as a group.

But they were starting to get burnt out, thinking it was time to go on hiatus.

Concerned with the virus and what it could have on her pregnancy, the two were very strict on keeping up with covid restriction. For at least three months Bob was working from home, the base shutting down with only certain personnel allowed on. Marcel was still too young to be in pre-school and daycare wasn’t needed since Y/n was home most days. And when she did have business meetings to attend or studio sessions he often traveled with her. Zoom became their best friend during the lockdown, with meetings happening frequently at the beginning to figure out what they were going to do going forward.

Y/n spent weeks going through what were the best records to put on the album. If this was going to be their last for a while then she wanted it to be their best. Two songs she knew she wanted were ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’, while the other 13 were going to take time to decide. ‘Pompeii’ could definitely have people relate with how this lockdown was making them feel. On the other hand, ‘Little Black Dress’ was mostly for her, inspired by the time Bob went absolutely feral when she walked into the room wearing a little black dress.

It was one of her favorite memories.

And so the months went on and before they knew it they were welcoming a baby girl in July—right smack in the middle of a pandemic. The whole ordeal was unlike anything they ever imagined. Only Bob was allowed in the room, not even their son could come visit so little Marcel didn’t even get to meet his sister until days later. He was with Y/n’s mother who traveled down from L.A and quarantined in the weeks leading to her due date. Y/n hated hospitals, looking forward to bringing their daughter Brenda Rose home. Unfortunately no one else in their family or friends could meet the baby girl until spring of 2021 when things were starting to settle out.

That was also when The 1985s made the decision to go on hiatus, planning to release their album that summer before going on a final tour in 2022.

“This just in, pop rock group ,The 1985s, have announced a hiatus following the release of their upcoming album End of An Era set to drop at the end July. Frontwoman, Y/n L/n, posted on her Twitter a photo of the group in a sweet embrace with the caption, ‘when one chapter ends, another begins. Join us in 2022 as we say goodbye to the stage—thank you to everyone who has supported us since we were kids on MySpace. We hope to see you as we close this chapter in our lives, but don’t worry, the future can always surprise you. In the meantime, as Elvis would say, ‘The 1985s have left the building.’”

“It’s a sad day for fans of Grammy award winning rock band The 1985s. Earlier it was announced they are going on an indefinite hiatus once completing their impending world tour for their sixth studio album. Formed in 2003, the 1985s skyrocketed to the Billboard charts after debuting with their single ‘1985’ in 2005, going on to dominate the late 2000s and early 2010s with features on The Twilight Saga: Eclipse soundtrack, the 25th anniversary of We Are The World to raise charity for the Haiti earthquake, and accumulating a total of seven Grammys including taking home the big three: ‘Record of The Year,’ ‘Song of The Year,’ and ‘Album of The Year’ in 2008 for their second studio album Sugar, Spice, and A Little Bit of Rock ‘N’ Roll. The announcement of the hiatus has succeeded the news of bassist Thomas Quinn tying the knot with longtime girlfriend, Oscar Winner Amelia Bandera, who recently revealed she was pregnant with the couple’s first child. Last year frontwoman Y/n L/n welcomed a daughter with her husband—the couple’s second child since they wed in a private ceremony in 2017. And word on the street is keyboardist Pepper Renolyds is looking to adopt with partner Jenna Langdon. The married pair of the band, Xavier and Farrah Hernandez have had two children following their wedding in 2010 and have hinted at possibly wanting to have a third. It is unsure when the group is likely to regroup after 2022 comes to an end, but one thing is for sure: The 1985s have embedded their name as one of the bestselling groups of the 21st century. I’d say we could be looking at a possible induction to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame in the future, and a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”

Now here they were, November of 2022 at Madison Square Garden to take the stage one last time. Would they ever come back? Probably, but it would be some time before they did.

So they were gonna go out with a bang.

“I have twenty minutes until my ass needs to be on stage, Robby,” Y/n mumbled between kisses, back pressed against the door of her dressing room. His mouth went to her neck, roaming his hands all over her body that was covered in her usual leather, “That’s plenty of time.” The response had her giggle, moaning when he attacked her sweet spot making him smirk.

“Then you better do double time…we’re on the clock.”

Her glam team was going to be pissed when she came out with messy hair, glistening of sweat, and slightly smudged makeup, but she didn’t care. Not when her husband was rocking her world as he had her bent over the couch. His chest pressed to her back and hair in his fist, whispering absolute filth into her ear—saying he was going to have her on stage full of him and only he would know. But Bob also gave words of praise and love.

It wasn’t the first time he snuck backstage to rile her up before a concert. When they started the American leg of the tour in California he was at almost every show and would bring her flowers. Sometimes the kids came along, other times they stayed with Phoenix, but each time Bob would either get her pent up by teasing her as the minutes counted down…or would full on rail her. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t get off on the thrill of almost getting caught….or the fact anyone passing the dressing room could figure out what they were making their own music.

This time around in The Garden their kids were with Phoenix and Rooster, who were all waiting to get to their spots on the floor after wishing her and the band good luck. The others were already there, ready to have the time of their lives with the sold out arena. Bob needed to hurry because the stage manager was going to be knocking on her door any second.

They finished with minutes to spare, out of breath and panting with a light layer of sweat coating Y/n. Fuck she looked sexy in her leather and messed up hair, glistening as the light hit her. A smug look took over Bob, winking at his wife who just shook her head with a smile, “I’m gonna miss that now that the tour is over.”

“Don’t worry, baby. We still got after party.”

The rockstar ushered him out when the stage manager appeared, the aviator delivering a smack to her ass as he told her good luck. She smacked his in return causing him to yelp, “Naughty boy.”

Yeah he got some looks from his fellow officers when they got to the floor, Jake whistling under his breath as he went to check his watch. “Jesus Bob, you two were at it for a while. Were you trying to go for baby number three? I hope she’s able to walk on stage.” The comment had Phoenix slap his shoulder, “Can you not? We have kids with us,” she gestured to not only Bob’s children but also Payback's ten year old son and Hondo’s seven year old daughter. Then there was Mickey’s girlfriend carrying their toddler with baby earmuffs, the same Brenda and Marcel were wearing. “My bad,” Jake said, though the smirk remained on his face when Bob sent him a wink.

When the show started it was the most amazing thing any of the squad had witnessed. Some of them had seen the band in their college days, but it was obvious they were gonna top what they did ten years ago. There was a light rumble to Madison Square Garden with how loud it was. Flashing lights and smoke covered the stage, the countdown with a video montage hitting zero before The 1985’s opened with ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go,’ sending everyone who was still sitting on their feet. Bob put Brenda on his shoulders, Rooster doing the same with Marcel who were clapping and pointing to their mother, “Mommy!”

“Now, I’m searching every lonely place,” Y/n belted out the first line of the chorus, moving down the stage’s elongated platform that split the floor. “Every corner calling out your name. Tryna find you, but I just don’t know.” Xavier hit the drums with Farrah’s riff, Y/n holding a hand to chest, “Where do broken hearts go?”

“Are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? Or are you giving it to someone else? Tryna find you, but I just don’t know,” Pepper and Thomas joined the vocals, “Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go?”

When the song came to an end, Y/n let the audience scream for a moment before introducing the band. “Madison Square Garden!! New York City!!” The crowd screamed again, smiles on every member. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, theys and thems and anyone in between…. welcome to the ‘End of An Era’ world tour—our final show as we close out an actual end of an era,” Y/n moves closer to her friends with a sad laugh, hearing the sounds of protest from some fans.

“Let’s start off by introducing ourselves…..Mr. Thomas Quinn on the bass!” Tom hits some chords against the audience’s cheers, Y/n doing a little dance off to the side. “Miss. Pepper Reynolds on keys everyone!” The former pianist lets her fingers move along the keys, grinning wide and waving when she finishes. “Show me what you can do, Ms. Farrah Cortez,” the guitar solo sends the crowd into a frenzy, which only increases when Y/n introduces Xavier. “And last but not least, Mr. Farrah Cortez,” laughter rings out before she corrects herself, “I meant Mr. Xavier Hernandez,” the drums go crazy when his last name leaves her lips. She waits till he’s finished to do a bow.

“And I’m Y/n L/n,” she has to pull her mic away to hide her laugh, cheers ringing from every corner in the sold out stadium. “And we’re The 1985s.”

The energy throughout the concert was insane. Even during intermission and 5-minute breaks the audience was having a blast. The dagger squad, plus Hondo and even Maverick were dancing and singing along—the older man getting a literal PowerPoint lesson from his former students on everything there was to know about the group.

Y/n was very entertained when Bob told her that night, saying Maverick aced his test they’d given him. “You gave your old instructor, the famous Captain Mitchell….a test on our band and music? And he got a 100%?” His little nod and smile had Y/n jump in his arms, kissing all over his face, “You’re so fucking adorable, Robby. I love you so much.”

The first part of the show was mostly dedicated to songs on their most recent album, including ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’. The latter had Bob blushing mad during the set, especially when Y/n came over to where they were at, eyes on him and curing a finger to get him to come to the edge of the floor. There the stadium exploded when she practically laid on the platform to lean over and kiss him, the cameras catching the scene to display on the giant screens.

Blowing kisses to her kids, she got back up and finished the song, smirking at how the dagger squad were whistling and howling in cheers. “Sorry I couldn’t help myself,” she giggled, moving back to her bandmates to prepare for the next set.

Though the tour mainly focused on their songs from their latest work, they called back to some old hits, including ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ which was written for the third Twilight movie soundtrack. “We got any Twilight fans here tonight?” Y/n chuckled at the screams, “I got one thing to ask then….Team Edward or Jacob?”

‘Some Nights’ was one of her favorites to perform, feeling a wave of nostalgia each time she did. It was a fan favorite as it was their second single ever released. The band harmonized on the track, all of them showing off their vocals with the ‘Oh come on,’ part of the song.

Y/n was hesitant to sing ‘Iris’ and ‘Payphone,’ considering they were about her husband, but he assured her when they were planning the tour set list that he wouldn’t be offended. They were some of her greatest works, the audience should hear them.

They even covered the iconic, ‘Don’t You Forget About Me,’ from the Simple Minds—most notably from the movie The Breakfast Club. “I hope you never forget about us, New York,” Y/n said when they finished, “Cause we’ll never forget you.”

Finally they were coming down to the final ten minutes and they had yet to play the song that started it all. “As we come to the end of tonight’s show, we just wanna thank each and every one of you for the support and love you have shown us tonight and through the years. None of this would’ve happened without you all—and we cannot thank you enough for sticking by us, you all play a giant role in what we do. And we’re going to miss you the most as we close this chapter in our lives,” Y/n pauses, feeling the tears prick her eyes. Glancing at her friends, she could see they were fighting back their own. They knew it would be an emotional night, and now they were minutes away from stepping off the stage for the final time.

“We started this journey when we were only seventeen and eighteen—and it’s been a hell of a ride since. Next year marks twenty years since we became The 1985s, seventeen since we made our radio debut, back when MySpace was still a thing,” she has to laugh at that, “What better way to end this tour—end this chapter, than by traveling back in time to the year that started it all.”

The reaction in the dome had little Brenda have to cover her hands over her muffs because it was so loud, Bob holding her on his hip and asking if she was alright. “Loud,” she said in her small voice, causing him to mentally awe.

“I know, baby, it’s loud. But the show is almost over and then mommy will be done, then we go home. Can you hold on for one more song? It’s your favorite one,” Brenda’s eyes brightened at the mention of her favorite song, nodding frantically making him laugh. “Okay munchkin, I expect to hear you sing along—except don’t say the bad word in it, understood?”

“Yes, dada.”

Phoenix was jumping up and down with Marcel in her arms, head banging with the little boy along with Rooster and Javy. Everyone was in delight, rockin out to the final number. Brenda sang along with Bob, the crowd harmonizing with them.

“She’s seen all the classics,” Y/n belted the second verse, hands moving on her guitar, “She knows every line. Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, even St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“She rocked out to Wham, not a big Limp Bizkit fan. Thought she’d get a hand on a member of Duran Duran.”

Her and Farrah were leaning their backs against one another, “Where’s the mini-skirt made of snakeskin? And who’s the other guy that’s singin’ in Van Halen? When did reality become TV? Whatever happened to,” she hit a riff, “sitcoms,” she hit another, “game shows? Sing it!”

The entire squad, the kids, and Madison Square Garden echoed, “ON THE RADIO!”

“Was Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied with 19…19…1985!”

Her mini solo before the bridge had the crowd wild. Smiling the entire time, Y/n even went to the side where her friends and family were, making them all go crazy. “She hates time, make it stop. When did Motley Crue become classic rock?”

“Classic rock,” the band repeated.

“And when did Ozzy become an actor? Please make this stop,” Y/n hit a riff, “stop,” another, “stop!” Only the cheers could be heard during the slight pause before Y/n brought her hand back on the chords.

“And bring back Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied—sing it!”

“1985!!!”

“One last time Madison Square Garden!!” Not a single person in them dome didn’t sing along, everyone shouting the final chorus at the top of their lungs.

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. But she’s still preoccupied, with 19….19….1985!!!”

All the band members continued playing an extended outro, lights flashing all around as the crowd whistled and screamed. Y/n ran over to each side of the stage before coming to the middle, waving a hand to her band who were still going hard on the instruments before raising it and finally bowing.

On the floor, Brenda still in his arms, Bob wiped away the tears falling from his cheeks with his free hand. His friends were cheering, the entire scene overwhelming for the WSO as he stared at his true love as she took her final bow. Y/n was also crying, as were her friends when they finally closed the show shouting, “Madison Square Garden—New York City we love you! Thank you so much for being here with us and being the best crowd ever. Safe travels wherever you’re going and we hope all your dreams come true. Until we meet again….as Elvis would say, The 1985s have left the building!”

The crowd was still screaming, the five adults coming to the middle of the stage holding hands in the air before bowing. Then they all met in a tearful embrace, Y/n full on sobbing with Farrah and Pepper, overcome with emotion that it was all over. Waving to the crowd, they spotted dozens of fans in their line of vision crying, some even throwing flowers onto the stage. They all went to each side of the platform to blow kisses and wave, until finally walking off into the arms of their crew who’d been with them since 2005–where another heartfelt moment took place.

As soon as their families made it backstage, Y/n was dropping to her knees to allow Brenda and Marcel to run into her open arms. “My babies!!” Peppering kisses against their cheeks, Y/n held them tight as they said words of praise. “You were amazing, mommy!” “That was so fun!”

“Thank you, baby,” she kissed Marcel’s head, looking up to see Bob staring at her with absolute love and admiration. Gently moving him and Brenda to the side, Y/n stood up, only to squeal when Bob’s hands went to her thighs to lift her up, spinning them around.

“You were incredible!” He exclaims, stopping still but still holding her up. Their lips met in a searing kiss, “absolutely spectacular.” Her hands came up to cup his face, deepening the kiss as their children wrapped their arms around Bob’s legs. It was like they were in their own little world, oblivious to everyone celebrating around them. The band were with their kids and partners, the crew were popping off champagne.

“I love you so much, Robby,” she said against his lips, kissing him again when he said, “I love you too, baby. More than anything in this world. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

When they pulled away, Y/n was a flustered mess, mirroring that of Bob who was looking at her like she was a goddess. “Don’t give me that look, Floyd. Not until we get to the hotel.”

“Can’t help myself, darlin’,” he chuckled, adjusting her in his arms before giving her another kiss.

“Eww,” Marcel groaned, making the couple laugh into the kiss. Bob set Y/n down, but pulled her close as Brenda and Marcel squeezed in between them.

“So what’s next then?” Bob whispered in her ear. “I know you can take the girl out of rock n roll…but she’ll always be a rockstar.” Y/n laughed, pulling away to gaze deeply in his beautiful blue eyes that she fell in love with as a teenager.

“Now, we live our lives. One day at a time. Together.”

Y/n really needed to thank her mom one day. It was because of her that the woman got to live her dream. After all, she was the one still preoccupied with 1985.

……….

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21

#Spotify #robert bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #lt robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd angst #bob floyd smut #bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #singer!reader #rockstar!reader #dagger squad x reader #dagger squad imagine #dagger squad #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman

[rebelliousstories]

Personal Heaven

Relationship: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Request: No

Warnings: None, fluff piece

Word Count: 2,373

Main Masterlist: Here

Top Gun Masterlist: Here

Summary: When the Dagger Team gets leave and their families get a chance to come visit, everyone gets to see Bob’s slice of personal heaven.

“Hey Bob,” Phoenix says clapping her WSO on the shoulder, “are we finally meeting your family coming up?” The smile on her face says how she feels about meeting Bob’s family. He was usually reserved and quiet, but when it came to talking about family? Even more so. She knew he had both his parents still, and what looked liked a younger sister and a niece and nephew who’s photo he kept on him at all times.

Bob looked at the pilot and simply shrugged his shoulders. The family leave day was coming up and he already knew his parents weren’t coming out. His family might but that depended on when school could let out. All he offered her was a simple, “I don’t know.

Boisterous laughter was heard coming down the hall and the rest of the team came into view. Hangman was grabbing Payback in a headlock, while Rooster and Fanboy laughed at the two men. Phoenix went over to try and free Payback, smiles never leaving anyone’s faces. The group made their way out of the building towards their jets and the conversation turned to the day everyone was looking forward to.

“So boys, who do you have coming for Family day?” The female pilot asked of her fellow aviators. Hangman’s smile got even bigger as he took the opportunity to go first.

“My baby sister is coming to visit. I can’t wait to show her around. And just in case y’all were wondering, she is off the market. None of you can have that Seresin.” His eye’s lit up talking about his younger sister. Anyone near him could tell that he had been looking forward to this for a long time. Rooster let out a groan.

“Man, I can only hope that your sister is nothing like you. I can’t imagine what it would be like if we had two Hangman’s in the area. Pretty sure the Earth would implode.” Rooster barely missed a smack sent his way by Hangman, both men laughing about it.

“I got my mom and brothers and sisters coming. A little Garcia reunion. I haven’t seen my siblings in almost a year cause they're still in school and my mom is the only one that can take off to come see me.” Fanboy gushed. Everyone in the team had felt what he had at one point or another. Not seeing certain family for almost a year at a time because of schedules or other contributing factors.

“I feel ya man. I haven’t seen my folks in several months just because I’m stationed out here in Cali for right now. It’s a bit of a jog from East to West coast.” Payback said to the group. Phoenix chimed in, “Mine too. Seeing my mom and dad again in about six months.”

“I’m gonna spend some time with Mav and Penny before going to see my parents.” Rooster explained. The mood turned slightly somber at this but everyone was still happy that they were going to get a slice of home soon. But everyone turned to the quiet WSO that had yet to say anything. He felt their eyes on him but Bob didn’t offer an answer. He simply stayed quiet as the group kept walking. Well, until his name was called.

“Bob, you got someone special coming?” Rooster asked, waiting patiently for his answer. But he offered the same one he gave to Phoenix earlier. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Phoenix wrapped her arm around his shoulder, “if you have no one coming, you’re welcome to stay with me. My family has been wanting to meet you anyways.” Bob smiled at this. At least he wasn’t spending the day alone if they couldn’t come. But he felt like he might intrude and started to protest when their jets came into view.

Their training had started and Bob tried to clear his head as fast as possible because he couldn’t afford to not have a clear head while in the sky. He hoped they could come. But he understood if they couldn’t.

~

Only a week later and family day was here. All the officer’s had waited on the tarmac while the plane let out it’s passengers. And one by one, the team members left. Phoenix’s parents were there, welcoming their daughter with open arms. She brought them over and introduced the team to them. When they got to Bob, Phoenix’s mother grabbed him in a tight hug and left Bob speechless and a little awkward. When she pulled back he could could see more people coming off the plane.

Hangman’s sister, Payback’s parents, and Fanboy’s family. Bob kept looking over their shoulders to see if he could see them. But after a few minutes, he gave up hope. He got introduced to everyone’s families and right as they were about to go have dinner, he heard it.

“Daddy!! Daddy!” Two little voices shouted after him. He turned around just in time to be tackled by two bundles of sandy blonde hair. They made it. They had actually made it. The rest of the team stood there, shocked into disbelief.

“Billy! Dani!” He exclaimed back. The wide smile that overtook his face got even wider when she came into view.

“Oh of course. You only care that I brought you your kids but no lovin’ for your wife. I see how it is Robert Floyd.” The mystery woman teased her husband as he stood to embrace his wife. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips, while her arms came to rest on his shoulders.

“Never Mrs. Floyd. I’m so happy that you’re here. All of you. I thought I wasn’t going to see you guys this time.” He pulled back and picked up Dani and took a thing of luggage.

“Well, I finally was able to get permission from the school to get them out so they could come see you. Apparently when you say you’re a military wife, their heartstring pull. So we have a whole week with you Bobby.” Mrs. Floyd stated while she took Billy’s hands and the other two things of luggage. As they approached the group, everyone was finally able to come a little out of the shock they were stunned into. But Rooster was the first to make a comment on it.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Floyd?!” The sheer volume startled said woman. She shyly ducked down her head as Bob stood with her and their two kids.

“Um guys, this is my wife Bonnie or Patriot. And these are our twins, Billy and Dani. Kids say hi. This is daddy’s team that he told you guys about,” and so the round of introductions began. The five year old twins were fascinated with Rooster’s mustache, thought Hangman was a jungle gym with how big he was, and that Phoenix was the cool aunt. Payback and Fanboy played with them and were fun to be around. Everything was peaceful and Bob was thankful for not having to answer any questions about his family. The same couldn’t be said at dinner.

As the team sat in the restaurant, some of the team’s families stayed, some went to their hotels. Bob’s family sat with him at dinner, his wife to his left and Dani on his right. Then the questions started.

“Why did you keep this a secret Bob?”

“How long have you known each other?”

“How old are the kids?”

Bonnie’s head was reeling with the sheer volume of questions. She hadn’t been expecting them to be so curious about their little family. Bob placed his hand on her thigh and gave a comforting squeeze. Phoenix seemed to corral the boys who were shooting off a million questions a second.

“Guys! Give them some space to talk. Bob, why’d you keep this a secret?” She asked, genuinely puzzled why the WSO wouldn’t take every opportunity to gush about his family when he so clearly loved them with his whole being.

“Well, it never really came up. And no one asked. Plus I was trying to keep her a low profile. Ever since she retired 5 years ago, I’ve been flying solo ever since, bouncing between pilots. Well until I got called back.” Bob admitted quietly. His wife looked at him and smiled.

“Once I knew I was pregnant, he tried to keep me grounded and I managed to avoid that until about four months I was showing pretty heavily since I had twins. But even when I was grounded, I did control and paperwork for the Navy. It was nice for a while. Then we had the kids and I wanted to stay home with them all the time. I was already a captain so I retired with a healthy retirement from the Navy.” Bonnie explained to the stunned group of aviators. There was a minute of silence before Hangman spoke up.

“Patriot? You’re Patriot?” The blonde haired man questioned the former aviator.

“We’ll, it was either Patriot or Marilyn. When I first got into flight school I had blonde hair that was kept in waves from a perm when I was younger. I chose my call sign before anyone could give me a stupid one.” She responded to the inquisitive crowd.

“Stupid? Like Marilyn Monroe?” He quipped. But she was just as fast.

“No. Stupid like Hangman.” Patriot took a long drink of her beverage in front of her as the table roared with laughter. Hangman’s cheeks blushed and his smirk turned to a genuine smile. He sat back in his chair, laughing until his sides hurt. As he calmed down he called out to Bob.

“You got a good woman there Bob. How’d you snag her?” Phoenix was just now calming down from the conversation before she contributed again.

“We met at boot camp. We were the only two people that needed glasses so naturally we were paired together. We stayed friends for many years through boot camp, eventually going to the same flight school. Once we were in flight school, we finally decided to do something about our feelings. Well more like he skirted around the issue when I cornered him at a bar. Even when I told him I liked him and wanted to go out with him he didn’t believe me.” The female Floyd spoke.

“Yeah how did you too meet? I saw your picture with him all the time but you look so similar in the photo that I thought that was his younger sister with her kids. Not a wife and his children.” Now it was Bob and Patriot’s time to laugh as they looked at each other.

“To be fair, you were very intimidating in flight school. Blonde hair, bombshell, red lipstick and heels to kill? I was scared you were gonna eat me.” Bob let out with a laugh as the group joined him.

“I think so. Eventually. I was just content with them being my little private piece of heaven.” He answered sincerely. He wanted to keep them close and never let go. But when your a naval aviator, everyday is a gift that you survive. Bob had some close calls in the past and his last thought is always Bonnie and his kids.

“Oh yes. So scary that you wanted to marry me after six months of us dating.” Wife teased husband as another question arose. This time from Rooster.

“So, two little Bob’s. Were you gonna tell us about them?” Rooster asked the couple. The kids had long since fallen asleep against their parents. Bob had been brushing Dani’s hair as he thought about the question. Had he ever intended on telling them or introducing them to his family? He felt his wife’s gaze on the side of his head as he pondered the question.

“Well I’m glad that we finally got to meet them. You have a beautiful family Bob.” Hangman said, shocking the table by the sincerity in his words.

The cool nighttime air greeted them as they made their way to the car. Quietly they loaded Dani and Billy in the back before moving to the front. Bob grabbed the keys from his wife, and set off for the hotel that his family was staying in. He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove, windows down, and a comfortable silence surrounding them. Patriot looked over at her husband.

“Thank you. I’m glad you can finally meet them. My actual family meets my flying family. And as much as we’d love to stay, we should probably get the kids to bed.” Bob and Bonnie made rounds saying goodbye to everyone and giving hugs. Once the bill had been paid, the couple grabbed their kids and sent a final wave before leaving the restaurant.

“Yeah. I think everyone was happy they finally met y’all as well. I really didn’t mean to leave you as a mystery this long but it never came up. I never really had a reason to bring you up in conversation. And you know that when I’m up in the air I-”

“I’m glad I finally got to meet the team babe. They seem like a good bunch.” She said to Bob as he glanced over at her for a second.

“Need to focus on flying and not us. I know sweetie. I’m not mad at you. But I have a feeling we’re going to see them a lot this week.” Bonnie gave her husband a sweet smile as he continued to drive to their week of family relaxation.

~

“I’m not sure. But i hope whatever I have, is even just a smidge of what they have.” He had a soft smile on his face for once, not a smirk. The rest of the team engaged in a beat of silence before turning back to the conversation. Jake stayed quiet for a few minutes before engaging in conversation again. All the while thinking about having his own wife and kids to keep as his personal slice of heaven.

“So when are we gonna get a Mrs. Hangman huh?” Rooster took a drink of his beer after asking said aviator. Jake Seresin hadn’t really thought about having a wife and kids soon but he was starting to rethink that.

#top gun #top gun imagine #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert bob floyd imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #bob floyd x oc #rebelliousstories #writing

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 3 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna finally agrees to meet her new friends at the bar, she learns pretty quickly that the hot guy from the bookstore is actually Bob Floyd. But the fact that she ran and hid from him, thinking she'd never have to see him again, leaves her feeling mortified, and Bob is left to draw his own conclusions.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna took a deep breath as she swiped on some mascara and found her tube of lipgloss. She finally caved and agreed to go to the Navy bar that her friends couldn't stop talking about at lunch every day. She only had about five dollars in her wallet to buy a drink since she sold her car for rent money. She couldn't believe was going to take an Uber all the way to Coronado just to make an absolute fool of herself in front of this Bob character. And worst of all, she was still thinking about the hot guy with glasses from the bookstore. 

"It's okay," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "At least you're absolutely killing it at work. And you're having a good hair day." She dabbed at her lips, but skipped the concealer. Kevin used to love it when she covered up her freckles which made her never want to do it ever again. Every time she thought about him, her heart skipped a beat, but not in the fun way.

She counted to five and said, "Kevin isn't here." Then she put her makeup away and made sure her computer was plugged in so she could mess around online when she inevitably returned to her miniscule apartment within the next hour and a half. "Let's get this show on the road," she muttered. 

The ride to the bar was uneventful, as she was sure the rest of her evening would be as well. Bob sounded like an absolute dream when Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics talked about him. Anna couldn't imagine him being outright rude to her after the two of them said he was sweet and had perfect manners, but she could already tell what his reaction would be: a kind but forced laugh, and maybe a halfhearted smile. And then Anna would probably get to watch him pick up a different girl instead if she didn't leave right away with her proverbial tail between her legs. 

Maybe she should have stayed home.

"Here we are," the driver said as he pulled into a beachside parking lot as the sun started setting over the ocean. "The Hard Deck."

"That was quick," she murmured, wishing she could stay in the solitude of this backseat a bit longer as she climbed out. "Thanks."

The fact that every day in San Diego was warm and beautiful was going to take some getting used to. The weather almost never wavered here unlike back at home. Anna opened the weather app on her phone and scrolled to her saved location in New Jersey, and sure enough, it was raining there. She nibbled on her lip and checked her work email, dragging the toe of her beat up sneaker on the gavel parking lot. 

She was just stalling now, wondering if her friends would even notice if she didn't show up. They just met her two weeks ago; they probably didn't even really like her that much. Her thumb hovered over her rideshare app as she thought about the two other women just going about their business like normal if she never went back to the weird tree at lunchtime. She was inconsequential to their day.

Anna pressed her lips together and tapped the app. There was a car two minutes away, but the guilt of having wasted eighteen dollars to come here in the first place was eating away at her mind. "Damn it," she whispered as she closed out of the app and shoved her phone into the pocket of her snug jeans. She started walking up to the sand covered wood planks that led to the entrance of the bar, and she didn't stop until she was inside. 

Slow Ride was blaring from the sound system, and the place was pretty packed. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust so she could get the lay of the land, and when she did, she realized she was surrounded by mostly men. "Great," she mumbled, earning a few looks, probably because she had barely taken a step beyond the entryway before freezing up. 

But as Anna made her way closer to the bar, a big guy in a khaki uniform winked at her and called out, "Hey, Red!"

She felt her cheeks warm up which was certainly not going to help with that nickname. "Oh no." Deftly, she squeezed her way through the many bodies until she had one hand resting on the bar. Why were all these men so attractive? And why were they looking at her? 

When a different guy next to her turned and saw her, he stuck out his hand and said, "Hey, I'm Jackson."

"Anna," she replied, slipping her smaller hand into his very briefly before trying to take a step back. But she just ended up bumping into someone else. 

"You gotta let me buy you a drink," Jackson told her with a grin. "Seriously. You're already the best part of my night."

Anna swallowed as she looked around for her friends, but she didn't see either of them. "Um... not yet. I'm not a big drinker."

Jackson laughed merrily. "Aww, honey. You came to the wrong place. Hey, Penny!" Anna watched the bartender turn around with her hands full of two martini glasses. "Can you get this one anything she wants on my tab?"

Penny laughed, and said, "You'll have to get in line, Jackson. You're number four on her roster already."

"Damn it!" Jackson complained with a laugh.

Anna's eyes went wide as Penny delivered the two drinks and then came back and leaned on the bar right in front of her. "By the looks of things, you won't have to pay for a single drink all night. So what'll it be?"

Penny had friendly looking eyes that made Anna feel a little more comfortable. "A ginger ale?"

"Coming right up," Penny replied, reaching for a pint glass and the soda dispenser gun without looking away. "I've never seen you in here before, so I feel like it's only fair to warn you that these guys can get a little relentless."

That was literally the last thing Anna wanted to hear right now. Even Jackson hadn't moved an inch away from her, and her hands were starting to sweat as the ginger ale came gliding across the bar. When she wrapped her hand around the cold glass, she told Penny, "I'm actually supposed to meet some friends here. But I don't see them?"

She smiled and said, "Give me a name."

Anna looked down into the bubbles of her drink and muttered, "Jessica Reed?"

The response was immediate but kind. "By the pool table. Where she always is. Oh, and do not challenge her to a game, because she will kick your ass."

Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. "Thank you so much. And um... could you thank whomever paid for my ginger ale?"

Penny nodded as Anna started to head for the pool table. Jackson pouted at her, and the big guy in the uniform called out, "Come back, Red!" She ignored both of them as she fought her way through the crowd, desperately trying not to spill her drink on anyone. There were a lot more khaki uniforms and even some one piece jumpsuit type things that had patches sewn onto them. She read a few of the patches as she got closer to the pool table. Harvard. Omaha. Halo. Those were some weird names. 

"There she is. Anna!" 

She turned her head when she heard her name, and she saw Jessica waving one hand in the air as she juggled a beer and a pool cue in the other. Jessica actually looked happy to see her as she stood there, all wrapped up in the arms of a guy that Anna couldn't fully see yet. And then her other friend was waving both hands in the air, too, so she waved back. "Hi."

Both women squealed, "Hi, Anna!" in unison, and it was honestly one of the nicest sounds Anna had heard in recent memory. She already felt better about being here now, and that's when she caught sight of who she assumed was Jake. And she was momentarily struck dumb. 

The blonde man kissed the side of Jessica's neck and whispered something before releasing her, and then his green eyes met Anna's as he smiled. She decided immediately that he looked like a GQ model, and that was actually pretty fitting for what would pair well with Jessica.

"Hey," Jessica said, reaching for her hand and pulling her closer. "This is my boyfriend, Jake." She gestured over her shoulder to the GQ model who reached his hand out.

"Hi, Anna," he said with a southern drawl. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh. Same," she replied, biting her tongue before she told him she'd never heard of a man who was sweet enough to pack his girlfriend fancy sandwiches and also had the nerve to look like he belonged on a magazine cover.

"And that's Bradley," Jessica said mildly. 

"My god," she whispered to herself. Her other friend was wrapped up in a pair of thick arms that belonged to a man with a mustache and alluring scars that ran along his left cheek and down the side of his neck into his floral shirt collar. He was every bit as good looking as Jake, but he had dark hair and eyes and looked decidedly a little bit rougher around the edges. 

She blushed as she remembered the comment about how he and his wife liked to use math as foreplay in the bedroom. Right now, he kept pulling his wife closer for another hug and kiss while she playfully tried to escape his grasp, and Anna had to look away, because a flash of jealousy hit her like a brick. 

"Hey, Anna," came Bradley's gravelly voice as he finally released his wife, and she shook his hand as well. "Sugar told me you're from New Jersey."

Sugar? Anna was definitely beat red in the face now. "That's right."

He laughed and reached out again for a fist bump. "Way better than all these west coast losers," he said over his shoulder, earning a middle finger from another seriously good looking guy.

"Stop trying to make her think you're cool, Beer Boy," his wife told him with an eye roll before he turned away to talk to the other guy. 

The problem was, Anna already thought they were all devastatingly cool, and now she was standing here like an awkward fifth wheel. "Do you want a beer?" Jessica asked with a smile. "They have Sam Adams."

Anna didn't want to tell her about the scant five dollars in her pocket, and she also didn't want to have to thank one of the random guys who told Penny they wanted to buy her a drink, so she just shook her head. 

Then her other friend said, "Well Bob is up at the bar right now. You just missed him, actually." She was smirking as she added, "He's probably getting himself a ginger ale, but if you want a beer or something else, he'd be happy to get it for you."

She made like she was about to call out his name when Jessica said, "Bob also likes ginger ale. And the bookstore in North Park."

Anna met her eyes before turning and craning her neck. "He does?" she asked softly, thinking about those pretty eyes and wire rimmed glasses and the smell of tea leaves. And then she saw him. He was here! "Oh," she gasped. He was Bob?

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

"Thanks, Penny," Bob said as he accepted his drink. Two of the guys at the bar were talking about a cute redhead, and all he could think about was the girl from the bookshop who decided after probably four minutes and seventeen seconds that she didn't want to talk to him anymore. He wanted to look around for this mysterious, new redhead, because if he was being honest, that was something he really thought was pretty, but what was the point? She was probably already over trying to talk to Bradley or Jake or Mickey.

Yesterday, Bradley told him to start wearing his uniform to the bar if he wanted more girls to talk to him, but Bob wasn't that desperate. He still had this fantasy where he met the girl of his dreams kind of organically. But maybe wearing a Dungeons & Dragons shirt wasn't the best thing he could have paired with his jeans tonight. Jake took one look at it thirty minutes ago and told him to go home and change into something else.

"Your girlfriend likes it," Bob had told him with a smirk, and sure enough a minute later Jessica was making a fuss over it.

But now he was making his way back to the pool table where the two couples were most likely on the verge of being indecent. Seriously, if Bob had to watch Bradshaw's hands all over his wife's rear end for one more minute, he was going to scream. 

Then he saw her, and he nearly dropped his glass of ginger ale on the floor. It was the girl from the North Park bookstore. Red hair, brown eyes, freckles, kissable lips. She was looking back at him in disbelief. 

Oh my god. He was hallucinating. He must be. Jessica was talking to the redhead who wasn't paying an ounce of attention to her, because she was focused on Bob. Her lips curled into a smile, and he thought he'd better make sure. When he glanced to his left and then his right, he didn't see anyone else who could be on the receiving end of that smile besides him. 

"Bob!" called Bradshaw's wife. "Come meet Anna!"

Anna. That was the name of their new friend from the university. They talked about her all the time even though they just met her. They told him he would like her. But this was the girl who wanted that horrible Vonnegut book last weekend. This was the girl Mickey thought he imagined.

Apparently he hadn't stopped walking, because now he was right in front of the three women, and he had three pairs of wide eyes trained on his face. "I remember you," he said softly. "From the classics section." Her lips parted softly, and her pupils went wide as Bob asked, "Are you Anna?"

She nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink beneath her freckles. He almost groaned, because she was so much cuter in person than what his memory supplied. Nothing about her was flashy, which he almost preferred, but there was no way she wasn't the hot girl that those guys at the bar were talking about. 

"I am," she replied. "And you're Bob?"

He glanced at the other two women, wondering what exactly they told her about him. They looked like they were both holding their breath as he held out his hand and said, "I'm Bob Floyd. It's nice to meet you. Again."

"I'm Anna Webber." She bit her lip, a look of embarrassment overtaking her features as she shook his hand gently. Then he remembered that she ditched him last weekend, leaving nothing but the book he'd already devoured in her place like some sort of parting gift. He released her hand abruptly and cleared his throat.

Now she looked a little hurt, but he didn't know what to say. He ran his fingers through his hair, his nerves getting worse by the second as the other two women practically vibrated with excitement on either side of Anna. "Uh, thanks for that book recommendation. I loved it," he said, barely meeting Anna's pretty eyes.

She gasped and asked, "You read it? You actually read it?"

Bob was trying to formulate another coherent response, but the urge to walk out of the bar was very strong. He was already embarrassed right now, and then he heard Mickey's voice as his friend walked over. "Holy shit, she does have red hair and brown eyes."

Mickey seemed to capture Anna's attention for the time being which really grated on Bob's nerves. Nat would never do this to him, and he couldn't wait until she got home from being deployed. Then Bradshaw's wife was in his personal space along with Jessica. "So she was the girl? From the store in North Park?" she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"The one you had instant chemistry with?" Jessica added hopefully. 

Bob swallowed hard. "Yeah," he murmured. "It was Anna. But the two of you need to knock it off now, because it's probably not going to happen. There's just something about me that doesn't translate well. She kind of ditched me at the bookstore."

"What do you mean?" Jessica practically shrieked, and Bob had to hush her. "You're perfect for each other!"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting his awkwardness wash over him. "I don't know, Jess."

When he opened his eyes again, Anna was looking at him while she talked to Mickey, and Bob knew it would take even longer to get over the mystery woman now.

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

Anna couldn't believe Bob was the mystery man from the bookstore. Their chance meeting read like a piece of poetry that had no business being in her life, but the fact that she was meeting him for the second time felt something like fate. And she didn't like it. Not one bit. 

He was so handsome, just like Jake and Bradley. Now Anna was wondering what they fed these men in the Navy, because Mickey was very good looking as well. But the more she spoke to him, the more irritated Bob seemed. And she didn't like how his brow was pinching above his glasses. Not compared to the way he'd looked at her in the bookstore. 

Her mind was a mess right now. And then she remembered that she actually ran and hid from Bob last time she saw him. She started to panic and look around, silently coming up with an escape route, but it was too late. 

"Let's play pool?" Jessica asked a bit cautiously, and that was when Anna fully pieced it all together. Her new friends from work were going to think she wasn't attracted to Bob, but that couldn't have been further from the truth right now. Frankly she didn't know what she should do, so she followed everyone over to the pool table.

Well, everyone except for Bob. He remained at the bar alone, and she couldn't really blame him for not wanting to talk to her after the stunt she pulled in the bookstore. But she was only trying to protect herself. Maybe she could explain that to him. 

She was trying to decide if she would have hid from the most attractive man who had given her the time of day in years if she knew it was actually Bob. That's when she set down her empty glass of ginger ale because she was being handed a pool cue and told to team up with Bradley. She went through the motions, playing as well as she could while she chatted with everyone, but she found herself hoping to catch Bob's pretty eyes looking at her. Once she lost and handed the cue to Jessica, she saw him heading her way, and he had a glass of ginger ale in each hand.  

"Anna," he said softly in that voice that left her shivering. She took the drink he offered her and tried to act normal, but she was still so startled by what he said earlier. 

"Did you really read A Room with a View?" she asked quickly before she lost the nerve.

Bob smiled softly and met her eyes briefly before glancing at the floor. "Every word of it."

She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Kevin never once read any of the novels she suggested for him, preferring modern horror monstrosities instead. And then he went and actually turned her life into a horrific monstrosity which she should have probably seen coming. But right here in front of her was Bob who she had actually already met and formed a pitiful crush on, and she couldn't bring herself to say more than, "I'm happy you read it."

He was blushing now as he sipped his own ginger ale before saying, "Yeah, it was great. I wouldn't mind some more of your book recommendations, honestly. As long as you don't try to get me to read that Vonnegut."

"Cat's Cradle," she said with a laugh that had his gaze snapping back up to hers. His eyes were hopeful as she smiled at him, but she rubbed her hand along her forehead and said, "I'm sorry I... vanished. The other day."

"What happened? I told Mickey I needed a minute, and you were just gone."

She wanted to be honest with him, but she didn't know how to explain herself. And now she was starting to feel like she and Bob were in a fishbowl; so many pairs of eyes were looking their way with next to no subtlety. She cleared her throat and decided to avoid his question. "Have you read any Jane Austen?"

He looked a bit disappointed by her response, but he said, "I have not."

"I think you'd enjoy Persuasion. Or Northanger Abbey. What about Virginia Woolf?"

Bob shook his head. "I feel like I'm about to embarrass myself again like I did last weekend at the bookstore, but no, I haven't read either."

Anna practically moaned at his bashful expression and pink cheeks. He smelled so good, it was unbelievable. Why did she feel so drawn to him? Why couldn't she stop herself from taking a step closer when he muttered, "As soon as you said you knew what Cat's Cradle was about, I figured I was in way over my head. The classics kind of elude me. I'm actually more of a poetry buff."

"Poetry?" she gasped, heart pounding at an overwhelming rate as he swirled his glass of ginger ale around with nonchalance. As if he hadn't just said the sexiest thing any man had ever told her. 

"Are the two of you just going to stand here and play footsie all night?"

Anna looked up to see Jake with a smirk on his face right in front of her. She didn't even notice anyone else in her vicinity before he spoke. Bob was shaking his head and already taking a step away from her when she asked, "Do you want me to text you some more recommendations?"

Bob froze and turned to look at her with a soft smile. "That'd be great." When she handed him her unlocked phone, he quickly added his number before handing it back to her. His calloused fingers felt even more exhilarating this time, which was very bad, because she'd already been thinking about the way he accidentally touched her at the bookstore on repeat.

"I'll send you some of my ideas," she muttered, pocketing her phone again before allowing Jake to pull her away toward the pool table again. She tried her best not to let her attention return to Bob over and over again, but she mostly failed. Sure enough, after a while, she saw another woman break the perimeter of the pool table and make a beeline toward Bradley before eventually turning toward Bob. 

She was really pretty with shiny brown hair, and it made Anna uncomfortable when she touched Bob's arm. It wasn't fair. He was so lovely and soft spoken and handsome. He was even wearing a shirt Kevin would have never been caught dead in, but it made Anna smile. In another version of her life, she would have gone for it tonight. Instead she got to watch the brunette woman hand him her phone just like she'd done a few minutes prior. 

"It's pretty late," she said suddenly even though she had no idea what time it actually was. "I'm going to head out."

Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics both looked a little alarmed. "Already?"

"Yeah," she said, setting down her ginger ale and trying to skirt past Bob and the unknown woman. She gave both of her friends a quick hug and said, "I have a lot to prepare for my upcoming classes this weekend."

"Let me walk you to your car," Bob replied immediately, slipping away from the brunette to be closer to Anna. "Maybe you can give me the titles of the Jane Austen books again?" His cheeks were flushed, and the other woman looked annoyed now which did make Anna smile.

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," she repeated for him as she started to walk past the bar sending a wave in the direction of the pool table. Bob was following her now as she added, "And I don't have a car, so there's nothing to walk me to."

"Persuasion and Northanger Abbey," he repeated softly to himself. "Will you let me drive you home then?" he asked hopefully. "All I had to drink was ginger ale."

Anna let herself look up at him before she shook her head. "I'll get an Uber, but thanks for offering. It was nice to meet you. Again."

"It sure was," he agreed as he continued to follow her all the way to the door.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she noticed the dark haired woman on her tiptoes looking around for Bob. "Your brunette friend is looking for you," Anna said softly before slipping outside into the cool night air and opening the rideshare app on her phone. Bob didn't follow her any further, and she rode home with disappointment and sadness thrumming through her body. She was out of cheap wine, but at least she had her favorite poetry website to keep her company.

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

Bob groaned as he nudged his glasses up his nose and pressed his fingertips to his eyes until he was seeing stars. "But I like redheads," he moaned to himself. He could not believe it. He really just couldn't get over the fact that tonight of all nights some random woman started to chat him up. Anna could barely look at him to begin with, but now he'd be damn lucky if she actually texted him the book recommendations at all. 

His dream girl was Anna. Anna was the perfect woman he met at the bookstore. Anna was the one he'd been thinking about nonstop, but now he had confirmation that she wasn't into him. That's why she vanished last weekend. That's why she gave him the cold shoulder tonight when he was practically tripping over himself at the sight of her. She was perfect. He was just hopeless. He could keep thinking about her, but what was the point? Now that he knew she worked with his friends, he had to stop this crush in its tracks and try to save face.

"There you are, Robby." A hand snaked around his side to his abs, and he almost jumped a foot in the air. He hated being called that, and he hated that Anna saw this woman talking to him. 

"Hi," he said cautiously, taking a step away from her. 

"Is the redhead your girlfriend?" she asked, clearly annoyed now.

Bob sighed and said, "I wish."

She rolled her eyes and vanished back into the crowd, leaving him alone again. He never imagined he'd have such an eventful night involving the fairer sex. "Damn it," he whispered as he made his way back toward the pool table to his friends. 

"There he is!" Bradley called out with his hands cupped around his mouth. "Big ol' Bob! Did you just give your phone number to not one but two women?"

His wife and Jessica both looked mad now. "I thought you liked Anna," Jessica snapped. "Once we realized she was the redhead from the bookstore, we thought you'd probably end up sneaking off with her or something."

Bob could feel the heat rising in his face. "Come on," he replied, giving Jessica a look. "There's no way that would have happened. And I didn't give that other woman my number. I didn't even want to talk to her." In a softer voice, he added, "She just started touching me for no reason."

Bradley's wife pulled Bob in for a quick hug as she said, "Pretty soon, you'll be as good at dodging them as Bradley is." She looked him in the eye and quietly asked, "Now what happened with Anna?"

"I don't really know." That was his honest answer. "I was excited to see her again. I guess I imagined she vanished in the bookstore like some sort of romanticized Cinderella fairytale or something stupid when in reality she just... kind of got tired of talking to me. She seemed a little uncomfortable when she saw me again tonight, so that must be it."

"I think you're wrong," she said with conviction that almost made Bob believe it himself. "Jess and I will ask her about it next week."

"Please don't," he groaned, shaking his head. "I'm going to go home. See you at D&D tomorrow," he told Jessica before stopping by the bar to pay for the ginger ales, but Penny just waved him on. He left her a ten dollar tip and walked out to his truck. 

It wasn't even that late, and when he parked in front of his duplex, his elderly next door neighbor was still awake with her door propped open for her cat to come back inside. As Bob trudged up the shared walkway with his key in hand, she called out, "Robert! Is that you?"

"Hi, Suzanne," he replied with a laugh. "It's me."

She was sitting on her couch, and he could hear game show reruns playing as she loudly said, "You're home pretty early for a Friday night. Still haven't found a girlfriend?"

Bob groaned. He could kick himself for even mentioning that he wished he had a girlfriend a few weeks ago when he took dinner over for her one Sunday evening. "Still single," he confirmed as he headed for his front door which was all of ten feet away from hers. 

She scoffed, and Bob saw her massive cat, Sylvester, streak back inside. "You must not be trying very hard, Robert. Handsome, strong thing like you."

It was like arguing with his grandma, so he just avoided it completely. "Okay, I saw Sylvester run inside, so I'm going to close your front door. Make sure you lock it before you go to sleep. Good night, Suzanne."

He pulled her door closed for her and then unlocked his, and he walked inside to find his copy of A Room with a View sitting on the coffee table. It seemed to be taunting him like it knew he'd seen the adorable redhead again. And struck out a second time. He was confused and hurt and annoyed, and he just wanted to go to bed and pretend like he wasn't as hopeless as he felt. 

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

These babes need to get themselves straightened out! Anna, he thinks you're not into him! Bob, she's scared to admit she is! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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