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multiverseprincess · 2 days

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an i love venus so fkn much 🥰🤲🏽

Filet Mignons and Parking Spots

Summary: Against your better judgement, you agree to have dinner with the human equivalent of a Hangnail, aka Jake Seresin. A follow up to Matcha Lattes & Parking Spots!

Warnings: Language, lots of banter, Jake getting turned on by women who are mean to him.

Part 3 is up!

This was ridiculous. Absurdly so.

He clearly wasn't taking you to dinner because he actually wanted to learn how to park better. He was hoping he could win you over with that small town billboard dentist ad-smile and be allowed into your pants.

Which wasn't happening. No way in hell was he coming near you.

You refused to give him your address. Like hell he was going to learn where you live.

You: I've listened to way too many true crime podcasts to give you my address. You've already shown signs of being a psychopath with how you got a Matcha latte with zero sweetener.

Hangnail: ooo what's your fav podcast? :) :)

You couldn't tell what was more annoying: his insufferable overall being or the fact he responded to every insult with a question whose goal was to learn more about you.

Like he actually wanted to get to know you.

As your grandmother would say, "His cornbread ain't done all the way in the middle."

And yet, here you were, outside the restaurant, waiting to see if this douchebag could show up on time. You didn't have high hopes, considering his parking skills.

"Hey gorgeous."

Fuck, right on the dot.

Your lips couldn't help but part when you turned around and saw the bouquet in his hands.

He brought flowers. The red roses popped against the anemones and white narcissuses. A yellow satin ribbon wrapped around the stems.

"Figured the goddess of love deserved some gorgeous flowers," He grinned.

You wanted to gag.

"You're supposed to take them." You couldn't decide what was worse: that stupid, nearly blindingly white grin or the Texan accent that laced his words.

You hesitantly took the flowers. They were pretty. But they were also given to you by a dude who couldn't park.

And who drank skim milk.

"They're the flowers associated with Venus, the goddess of love," He said. He looked so proud of himself, you could see him dying to pat himself on the back.

You rolled your eyes, "Yes, I also had a Percy Jackson phase and went on Wikipedia to look up what was associated with each God. Also, these flowers are associated with Aphrodite, not Venus."

The living embodiment of a graduated frat bro shrugged, undeterred from your comment, "I mean, they're basically the same."

You took a step back, "No they are not….Jesus Christ, I have to teach you how to park and the difference between Roman and Greek Mythology?"

He just continued to smile, "Told ya I need that second date."

"You need someone to inspect that head of yours," you scoffed, trying to ignore that warm feeling swirling around your stomach as he opened the door to the restaurant for you.

The human hangover had the audacity to laugh at your comment, "My squad said the same thing today."

There wasn't going to be enough alcohol to get through this evening.

—------------------------

You were stunning, absolutely gorgeous. The soft lighting casted a soft glow across your face, highlighting your beautiful features.

Jake was surprised when you pulled out a marker and a sketchpad. You were keeping your word. You were committed.

He loved it.

"So your speed affects the angle you can pull your- are you even listening, Flyboy?"

"To you? Of course," The lovesick look that had taken over his face remained. It would be cute, if it wasn't so insufferable.

You scoffed, "Alright, then paraphrase it for me. You do know what that means, right?"

You looked ethereal as you stared up at him through your lashes. Your brows were raised to indicate your low hopes for him. The way your bottom lip slightly jutted out, forming the most adorable frustrated pout Jake had ever seen.

"Based on your calculated average of my speed, I need to decrease my that by about forty-five percent, which would put me at going thirty five and a half miles per hour. This would increase my adjustment time by," he moved his head back and forth as he paused, briefly counting, "....twelve seconds, which will allow me greater control of switching from a ninety degree angle to hundredth and twenty."

"You pulled that out of your ass," you deadpanned.

"Do the math if you don't believe me." Jake leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms as a smug grin spread across his face.

He didn't know why Javy was so worried. He was winning her over in no time.

"Wow," you looked up from your phone after toying with the calculator app on your phone, "You can do more than just count to one hundred and smile?"

"Darlin," he chuckled, "You don't become the only current generation aviator with two confirmed kills by coasting on good looks alone."

Boom. Stuck the landing. Jake was internally scoffing at Bradshaw's comments from earlier, about how he'd be lucky if he left this date with no wine thrown at his face.

Jake knew he'd have you falling for him in no time, especially after you learned exactly who you were with.

Your face remained the same, apart from a raised eyebrow, "Only two?"

The corners of your lips turn upward into a smirk as that cocky grin of his faltered.

"Within the first month at my last place, my cat brought me four mice and two birds. Just saying," you brought your wine glass to your lips, savoring the few moments of silence.

Jake was thankful he had put the napkin over his lap. It perfectly covered the semi he had been sporting since y'all sat down.

"Birds and mice are not the same thing as what I've done," he nearly huffed.

You grinned, shrugging your shoulders, "I think they're pretty comparable."

Jake huffed, "No they are…."

Oh.

You were trying to rattle him. On purpose. And it almost worked.

He loved it. It was fun, listening to your every word. The fact he actually had to try to see what impressed you. And boy, did he want to impress you.

"Um…are you two ready to order?" Your waiter asked. It wasn't the first time he had come in at an odd point in the conversation with zero context.

You were thankful, because it meant that you wouldn't have to deal with the Abercrombie and Fitch wannabe model's stupid stare. The one where his green eyes literally sparkle and a dreamy smile plastered his face.

"I'll take the hanger steak, medium rare, but with no caramelized onion butter and instead of the garlic mashed potatoes, I'll have the asparagus," you told them.

"I'll have the filet mignon-"

"You're at a steakhouse and you're ordering a filet mignon? The most basic steak?" You scoffed at him.

"Oh, so you're also a meat expert too?" Jake asked, his tone playful.

"My dad was a butcher. It's just soft, there's no other redeeming qualities about it. Ribeye or Hanger is better," you explained as you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, then I'll take the ribeye. Medium rare."

You weren't expecting him to actually listen to you. You were expecting a scoff, an eye roll, a comment about you being too smart, too obnoxious, too annoying.

As if he could sense your confusion, he elaborated, "You said your dad was a butcher. Makes you more than qualified to speak on which cut of steak is the best."

It was uncomfortable, how he hung on to your every word. How he remembered little details. When you mentioned earlier that you had walked to the restaurant, he asked what true crime podcast you listened to on your way here. The way he approached all of this like it was normal, like it was the expected thing to do.

"Also, I have mints, if you want them. No need to avoid great food."

"What the hell are you talking about, GI Joe wannabe?" That feeling of uneasiness began to morph into agitation.

"Look, Venus, you don't need to avoid garlic and onions. I got plenty of mints, so whenever you want to kiss me, just say the-"

A bread roll landing right between Jake's eyes interrupted him.

"I have IBS and avoid dairy so I don't spend the next two hours on the toilet, it has nothing to do with kissing you, you Chippendale reject!"

"So you think I'm attractive enough to be a Chippendale?" Was all Jake took from that conversation.

The second bread roll that landed against his nose made him process what you had actually said.

"So what do you eat when you're sick?"

You should have ordered an Old Fashion. Wine wasn't strong enough for this. You pressed the rim of the glass to your temple, hoping the pressure would be enough to wake you up from this nightmare.

"How did you go from me talking about avoiding dairy so I don't shit myself later, to that?" You would have thrown a third bread roll, but the look your waiter gave indicated you might get kicked out of the restaurant for it.

"It's an important question. Because you can't have Mac and Cheese, or pasta, or broccoli cheddar soup. So what do you eat when you're sick?" Jake repeated, unaffected by your comments.

He was quite impressed with your aiming skills. He imagined the two of you at the Hard Deck, laughing while you threw darts, a gold wedding band adorning your left hand-

"I mean, hard cheeses don't really bother me that much, it's pure cream and milk I really avoid," you shrugged, "Usually I order something with noodles and sauce, like Pad See Ew."

He tapped a finger against his chin, which you were pretty sure could crack a nut with.

"Good to know."

"Good to know?"

"Yeah, it's always good to know what someone likes to eat when they're sick." It was frustrating how you couldn't get a read on him. Was he truly being genuine or was just a dumbass? Or both?

You scoffed, "I don't know why, considering I don't plan on getting sick anytime soon."

"I hope not, I want to see you again sooner rather than later," He smiled, those darn dimples showing again, "but it's good to know for the future."

The future.

There were so many reasons to throw a bread roll at his stupid face. His heinous parking skills. His stupid callsign. The fact he kept insinuating that he would see you again.

It would have been easier if he was just a jerk who was looking to get into your pants. That's what you were used to. Folks who saw you as just another notch in their belt, not someone worthwhile enough to date.

Instead, he had an ego bigger than Texas, couldn't park to save his life and had questionable taste in caffeinated beverages.

“Y’know, I think I finally figured out who you look like,” you said before taking another sip of your wine.

Jake smiled before twirling that toothpick, which you really wished he'd stopped doing because it was extremely distracting.

"Oh really now?" He asked, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Yeah," a smirk of your own formed, "Pretty sure I saw your face in one of the stock images my college used for their responsible drinking course every freshmen had to take. You were the frat douche in the polo with a red solo cup, right?"

He laughed. Full on, threw his head back and laughed.

"You're fuckin' hilarious Venus. I could listen to you for hours," He told you after composing himself.

Fuck, he meant it.

You straighten your shoulders as you look across the restaurant, trying to seem as uninterested as possible, "Lucky for you, there's a lot about you I can critique. You just might get your wish, Officer Headache."

"It's Lieutenant," he corrected, though the smile remained on his face.

You put your hand over your heart, feigning guilt, "Forgive me, Lieutenant Headache."

Jake couldn't be mad. You were clever, seeing that he had picked his rank being more important than getting his call sign right.

He loved it, how clever you were, how witty you were. Talking to you was exhilarating, similar to how he felt when he was flying.

"So why did you join the Navy? Did being an Abercrombie model not work out?" You asked, taking a bite of your bread roll.

Jake chuckled as he shook his head, "Actually, I worked for Hollister."

"Wow, thanks for telling me you peaked in 2009."

"Oh, like you didn't have a less than desirable job in college?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was trying to egg you on, but you didn't mind. It was nice to see that he could do more than just give you heart eyes.

"I was a barista all through college because I had some dignity."

"So you are a coffee expert!" His sea green eyes lit up when he spoke. That, combined with how he pointed a finger at you, it was…cute.

Wait, what? No. He wasn't cute. He was annoying and cocky and insufferable and agitating.

He was so close. Jake almost got a smile out of you. You were warming up, he just had to be patient.

He most likely wouldn't get a kiss tonight. But that was fine, he could wait. He had a whole lifetime ahead of him.

"Guess so. Which, to me, means that I can continue to shit on your beverage choices," you shrugged.

"You say it like listening to you talk is a bad thing."

Usually it was for other folks. Why he was an exception was mind boggling.

"But long story short, when you join the Airforce, you get shipped out to the middle of nowhere. I already grew up with that, and wanted a change. The ocean was a getaway."

"Huh, I'm surprised. You can say something that's not completely insufferable."

He loved pleasing you. Jake made a mental note to text his mom later that she would soon get her desired daughter-in-law.

"I'm more than happy to keep surprising you Venus." You gagged.

Thankfully your food arrived before he could say any more. You made a mental note to give your waiter a generous tip.

The roasted asparagus looked amazing and you couldn't wait to take a bite out of-

"Wait! Don't eat that." You looked up at him, your fork inches away from your mouth.

"It has butter on it," Jake explained, causing your eyes to roll.

"I go here multiple times, it does not-"

"Excuse me! What is this roasted in?" Jake asked a nearby waiter, picking up your plate.

"Uh, ghee I believe?" Well, that explains why you always felt bloated after eating here.

Jake shook his head, pointing to you, "She's got a dairy allergy."

The waiter apologized, taking your plate away and assuring you that they'll bring something out quickly.

"Here, have some of mine while you wait." He moved his plate over to you.

"I'm not going to sleep with you," you blurted out. After all, that had to be why he wanted to play the hero, right? Lieutenant Headache could get fucked if he thought that was enough to allow him into your pants.

"I'm aware." He didn't sound broken up about it. Perhaps he already had a list of other girls he could call after your date ended.

"And that doesn't bother you?" You leaned back into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. Your mind kept trying to think of his offensive driving skills and not the fact that no one had ever paid that close attention to your dietary restrictions before.

"I didn't do that in hopes it would let me into your pants. You said it made you uncomfortable. So….I don't want you to be uncomfortable," he smirked, "Besides, I can wait, Venus. Got a whole lifetime."

You scoffed, as this Great Value brand Captain America was unbelievable, "Is that your way to tell me that you plan to kidnap me or something?"

Jake grinned, "Nah. Just plannin' on marryin' ya."

"I think you need to get your head checked." He couldn't be serious. There was no fucking way.

Why would he? You were mouthy and sharp and loud and….he's had heart eyes ever since you first yelled at him in that fucking parking lot.

Oh God, maybe he was serious.

"Maybe you should learn how to park properly first before you think of marriage." You begrudgingly took a bite out of his steak, ignoring the soft smile that plastered his stupidly handsome face.

"More than happy to show what I've learned from you." You looked up. He was serious.

Which was how you found yourself sitting on the grass, watching the human Hangover show his newly learned parking skills.

"How was that?" He yelled, sticking his head out of his offensive Jeep.

You waltzed over, taking your time as you circled the perimeter of his car.

"You're awfully close to the line on the right," you observed.

Jake scoffed, "But I'm within the line."

"You ever tried to park when some asshat in a big car is nearly over the line? Oh wait," you paused, "you've been that asshat. Anyways, it's next to impossible. So you're still a dick when it comes to parking."

"So what you're saying….is I need more lessons?" Jake asked, leaning out the window of the driver seat.

He didn't want lessons. He just wanted another date with you. It was so obvious and-

"Definitely."

Regret hit you as soon as you saw how his eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across his face.

"So we're going on a second date?"

"It's not a date. You need lessons, that's all."

"Lessons….over dinner?" Jake was hopeful. You were reserved and he didn't blame you. But he could see cracks, a wall that was slowly but surely chipping away.

"I'm picking the restaurant as you've shown with your steak choices that you still can't be trusted. And no, you're not picking me up. The verdict is still out on whether you're a serial killer or not."

"Whatever you say, Venus." Jake made a mental note to tell Bradshaw and Phoenix to suck it tomorrow morning because he has gotten a second date with no wine thrown at him, just three bread rolls.

It was then he realized you had leaned forward and it was the closest he had ever been to you. He could see every mark on your skin, all the different shades of color in your eyes.

Man, he hoped y'all's kids would get your eyes.

You were mentally kicking yourself for allowing him to get so close. The smell of cedar wood was overwhelming, you wanted to gag. His face looked ridiculously smooth, aside from the light stubble that graced the lower half of his face.

And now you could see how his tongue and lips moved that damn toothpick, flipping it around effortlessly-

Nope, you had to get the fuck out of here. You were not about to get caught staring-

"See something ya like, Venus?" He asked, his voice low. Damn it, had he leaned in even more?

You took a deep breath before pursing your lips into a sickeningly sweet smile, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"Yeah, I do…" you voice was breathy as you titled your head up, getting closer to his face. You smelled like cocoa butter and your chest was pushed up against the car door and crap, could see the bulge he was sporting in his lap?

Fuck you were inches away from his lips. Jake mentally scoffed at his squad, what the fuck were they worried about?

"A second free dinner. Please thank Uncle Sam for me next time you see him!" With that you walked away, leaving him hanging.

After taking a few steps, you looked back and couldn't help but giggle. He was in the same position, his eyes widening as he processed what you had done.

You were going to be the death of Jake Seresin.

He couldn't fucking wait.

And thanks to that fakeout, he could see your hands up close, confirming that a pear-shaped gemstone would look best on your left hand.

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

@abibliophobiaa @wildbornsiren @maxmayfield @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @mothdruid @stranger-nightmare @xbamboowishesx @theharddeck @princessphilly @rae-gar-targaryen @shrimping-for-all @mygyn @another-tblr-fangirl @alana4610 @cherrycola27 @annie-franny @whatislovevavy @sugarcoated-lame @ouralcohol @topaz125 @hoe-on-the-range @gigisimsonmars @verdandis-blog@mxgyver @princessofglitterland

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multiverseprincess · 2 days

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one of my fav things to re-read on here 💛

jake seresin being down bad 😩🤌🏽

Parking Spots and Matcha Lattes

Summary: In an attempt to get coffee, you meet a grade A asshole whose head you want to rip off. Meanwhile, Jake Seresin is pretty certain he just met his future wife in the parking lot of a coffee shop.

AKA Jake Seresin likes mean women, pass it on.

Shout-out to @p3mybeloved who isn't in the TGM fandom, but is the inspiration for this fic ♥️♥️

Part two is up! As is part 3!

It hadn’t been just a long day. It had been a long week.

And it was only Tuesday.

You were exhausted from working after hours to meet critical deadlines. If Barbara from admin found one more thing to nitpick, you were going to lose it.

So you decided to get coffee. Could you have made some at home? Absolutely. But you needed something, just a little something to make your morning brighter. Something that would remind you there was some good in the world and help you get through the first two hours of your day.

Instead of hitting snooze on your alarm clock five times, you got up after hitting it twice. You even remembered to apply deodorant and swipe on mascara. You left five minutes before your alarm to leave went off. Five whole minutes. You were on track to get coffee and get to work in plenty of time. Things were going well.

Too well.

You should have known something was about to fuck up your day when you saw the perfect parking spot. When the hell did that even happen? Never, you should have just gone to the back of the lot.

Foolishly, you started making your way towards the spot, thinking of all the things you could do with the extra minutes you would receive from your soon to be princess parking.

Your car and body lurched forward as you slammed on the brakes in order to not run into the white Jeep Wrangler that sped out from around the corner.

The heart palpitations you were experiencing from the sudden, potentially life saving decision descended into anger as you watched the speed demon take not just your desired parking spot, but also the one right next to it due to parking at an angle.

You gripped the steering wheel as rage seethed through your body. Instead of an elderly lady who just shouldn’t be driving, a tall blonde man dressed in some type of military uniform got out of the car. He didn’t even check his horrendous excuse of a parking job, walking into the coffee shop without a care in the world.

What a fucking asshole.

Normally you’d just find another spot and try to move on.

Not today. Because today was supposed to be a good day and you had done everything in your power to ensure it would start off on the right foot and this douchecanoe just ruined it.

So you found a nearby parking spot, walked over to the eyesore of a car and waited. All the rage and anger built up into you, thinking about his horrendous parking job, as well as the bullshit of your job.

You didn't even wait for him to say anything before tearing into him. The fact he was blonde and conventionally attractive added to your anger because of course a real life Ken doll would think it's okay to park like that.

"Hey dickhead! Who the fuck do you think you are, parking like that?"

"What the-oh wow," his voice trailed off when he took in all of you, not that you noticed.

"Is that how you drive tanks in the army? Because if so, holy shit, our country is-”

He scoffed, “Sweetheart, please. I’m a Lieutenant pilot for the Navy. And one of the best ones at that.”

Whether it was the Texan drawl that dripped through his voice or how he expected you to fall to your knees by revealing this information, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, so you can fly million dollar planes but can’t park without taking up two spaces?” You remarked. He seemed to be taken aback by your comment, which gave you the motivation to keep going.

“First off, who the hell drives through a parking lot at forty-five miles an hour?! There are kids-well teenagers-who walk through here! I know your car is obnoxious as your personality, but not all of us get an adrenaline thrill from having to slam on their fucking breaks so they don’t crash into you.”

You didn’t notice how his emerald eyes were wide and staring right at you. You were on a roll.

“In fact, you probably wouldn’t have had to park so offensively if you had fucking slowed down. Or, you could have had a shred of decency and repark. Don’t they teach that in the military? To have honor or some shit? Or were you too busy doing bicep curls at the gym that day?”

It was then you noticed that his eyes were wide, reminding you of those stupid disney princes your cousins used to fawn over as kids. The look he had on his face made it seem like he was in a far off place, it was almost…..dreamy?

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of his chiseled face, “Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m trying, but your eyes are super distracting, has anyone ever told you that?”

It took your brain several seconds to process what he just said. Then you had to take another ten seconds to process that he wasn��t being cocky or a smartass when he said it. He was being genuine.

What the actual fuck?

—---------------------------------------------

Jake Seresin woke up this morning, like any other day. He got up early so he could get coffee off base. The Starbucks they had on base was always overcrowded and bitter. Plus, it was nice to get off base for a little bit, get away from things and have a sense of normalcy.

He was not expecting to meet his future wife in the parking lot of a local coffee joint.

Nor was he expecting her to introduce herself by yelling at him.

But it was kinda perfect.

You were stunning, even though you assumed he was in the army, of all things (he’d let that one slide, you’ll learn eventually).

The passion in your eyes as you pointed out exactly what was wrong with his parking job was admirable, alluring, even enticing.

Jake couldn't lie, he'd thought you'd be impressed or at the very least, taken aback by his rank.

Instead, you steamrolled right past it, continuing to list what he had done wrong, taking stabs at him along the way.

It was hot.

You were making valid points. He didn't have to drive that fast, it wasn't like he was late.

But it was also extremely difficult to focus on what you were saying when those big bright eyes of yours were burning into him.

How could he focus on anything else?

So he was honest and told you so.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" You threw your hands up in exasperation.

That we aren't making out right now, is what Jake wanted to say. But his mother would smack him if she found out that's what he said to her future daughter-in-law during their first interaction.

"I have no problem darlin'. In fact, I'm pretty great. Got a matcha latte and have just met the most stunning girl in the world," he flashed that blindingly white smile, ready for you to ask for his number.

"You parked like that for a matcha latte? You couldn't have made me slam on my breaks for something that doesn't taste like dirt?" You spat.

Huh, normally that line worked. The fact it didn't was more exhilarating than nerve-wracking.

Jake honestly found it borderline erotic.

"I didn't realize I had met a parking and coffee expert," He preened, that award winning smile remaining on his face. He was curious, what could get you flustered?

You swore you could see red.

Oh, he was trying. Trying to knock you off balance. Trying to see if he could rattle you. It fueled you.

"I'm not an expert, it's called being a decent human being with common sense, you knockoff Ken doll." The lovesick look on his handsome face remained. If he was a cartoon, hearts would appear over his head.

Oh, you were perfect.

Outright asking for your number wouldn't work. Compliments were going right over your head. He had to change tactics.

He looked over at his parking job before facing you again, "Y'know, you're absolutely right. That was a shitty parking job."

Your eyes widened, surprised that this walking Crest Whitening Strips advertisement could admit he had done something wrong.

Jake continued, "And I'd love to learn more about how to park correctly from you…over dinner."

When you started ripping into him, you weren't exactly sure what to expect. Most likely an argument that would end with middle fingers thrown in the air as you both walked away.

Not him asking you out.

"You want me to continue yelling at you about your inability to park over dinner?" You asked. Perhaps the lack of oxygen he experienced from flying planes had affected his ability to think. Perhaps folks should study the effects his job had on the brain. Not that Congress would allow it (couldn't interfere with recruitment).

That stupidly white smile remained on his face, "I was also hoping I could learn more about you too."

Hesitation filled you. The officer (or whatever his rank was) was being genuine. His compliments didn't feel forced. It was just odd that after being yelled at for nearly ten minutes, the conclusion he came to was that he wanted to go on a date with you.

"Buy me coffee first." You challenged, crossing your arms over your chest as an attempt to come across as intimidating, despite how much taller the soldier was compared to you.

A smile broke out onto his face. Not a cocky one, but one that was soft and sweet.

It was almost endearing. Almost.

"Anything for you darlin'," he declared, sea green eyes sparkling, "I'm Jake by the way."

You didn't expect him to go through with it. Nor did you expect him to jog ahead so he could hold the door open for you.

A warm feeling began to flutter in your stomach, until you remembered his heinous parking skills. That warm sensation would transform into a quiet, bubbling rage.

"Hangman? The fuck kind of name is that?" You asked upon hearing him say it to the barista.

"It's my callsign darlin'," he explained, like it was the most obvious and sensible thing in the world.

"First off, my name is not darlin, I just told you it two minutes ago. Second, you are way too smug to be telling me how your callsign is after a children's recess game, Officer." You ignored the confused stare of the barista who handed you your drink.

"I didn't get it from the game and it's Lieutenant," he corrected, his voice the sharpest it had been since talking to you.

A nerve had been struck. Or so you thought.

You leaned forward, your cardigan brushing against the khaki shirt he wore.

"Learn how to park properly and maybe then I'll get your rank right, officer." You were quite proud of yourself for that one, considering he was actually silent for a few moments.

Meanwhile, Jake was doing everything in his power to not sport an erection in the middle of the coffee shop. Because holy shit, you were hot. It was ridiculous how your smirk almost made his knees buckle.

He wondered if you'd prefer an early summer or fall wedding. He had always envisioned getting married in late May. But the rust colored cardigan you had on perfectly complimented your complexion. You'd probably looked great in mustard too. But those colors were more appropriate for a fall wedding and not-

"Cat got your tongue? Or does the navy have their own expression?" Your voice broke Jake out of his thoughts.

He just smiled, shaking his head, "Just got distracted by how pretty you are. Gonna tell you now, I don't know if I'll be able to focus on parking standards during our date tonight. Might need a second one for review."

You rolled your eyes, "It's not a date it's…. actually I don't know what you call it when you are teaching a grown ass man how to properly park over dinner-"

"It's a date." The barista called out before turning around to work on the other orders. Heat rushed to your face as Jake slipped a five dollar bill into the tip jar.

"Whatever" you fumbled to get your phone out, pulling up a new contact, "just give me your number so I can text you the address of the restaurant."

He quirked an eyebrow, "You're picking the place?"

"You can't drive for shit and out of all the types of tea lattes you could drink, you go with matcha," you leaned in to look at the sticker on his cup, "with skim milk. The federal government may trust you with their jets, but like hell I'm gonna trust you to pick a restaurant."

Oh, he was definitely going to marry you. In his head, he already tried out pairing your first name with Seresin and it sounded heavenly.

He just grinned, his emerald eyes shining and you really wished he'd stopped doing that.

The scent of cedar wood flooded your nostrils as he leaned in, his face much closer to yours than it had been so far. Was he bending his knees to be at eye level with you?

Focus, you told yourself. He can't park for shit and got zero sweetener in his drink. Who the hell does that?

"I look forward to showing you on our date that I have great taste, as well as many talents that will have you overlooking my parking skills," his voice was low, dripping with a pathetic attempt of seduction that made you want to bang your head against the counter of the coffee bar.

"Type your phone number in before I throw my drink at you. I don't care if I get fined with 'defacing government property'." You all but shoved your phone into his chest, earning a chuckle from him that sent more heat to your body than rage.

"Anything for you, Venus." Did the obnoxiously bright smile ever go away?

"Y'know, you could have a really strong legal case for what all the lack of oxygen has done to your brain, like not being able to remember my name."

Jake shook his head, "Oh, I remember your name. Venus suits you better. Hottest planet, looks great in rust," he motioned to your cardigan, "Goddess of love and beauty. It's quite fitting for you."

This guy was unreal. The grip you had around your drink tightened, your bottom lip pushing forward to form an annoyed pout.

"I look forward to our date tonight, Venus," He said as he handed you back your phone, his long fingers brushing against yours.

Your eyes couldn't roll harder, "I look forward to serving my country by teaching you how to properly park, Hangnail."

"It's Hangman."

Now it was your turn to smirk, "Nah, Hangnail suits you better," your voice dropped, mocking his southern accent.

With that, you left the coffee shop. You had to, otherwise you were going to throw your drink at him.

You missed the downright lovesick smile that adorned Jake Sersin's face as he watched you walk out.

"Thanks for helping me meet my future wife y'all," He said to the very confused baristas.

"She looked like she wanted to murder you," one commented.

Jake laughed, shaking his head, "Don't worry. I'll win her over."

As you got in your car, a vibration from your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out, a message from an unknown number flashing on your screen.

Looking forward to our date tonight. Can't wait for your lesson Venus ;)

Oh that bastard. When the hell did he have time to send himself a text to get your number?

You shook your head despite the fact he couldn't see you.

A loud horn made you jump. You looked up from your phone to see the living embodiment of a Ken doll in his car that was now in the middle of the parking lot, right across from your car.

He waved. God, you wanted to wipe that smirk off his stupid face.

Instead, you rolled down your window.

"What the fuck are you doing?! You're going to block traffic!" You yelled.

"Text me your address Venus! I'll pick you up at seven!" He winked, driving away as he ignored your comment.

At least he wasn't speeding through the parking lot this time.

Maybe there was hope. Maybe. Doubtful. Probably not.

On the way back to base, Jake wondered if you'd prefer a silver or gold band for your engagement ring.

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