#I NEED TO STOP STALLING-WHOOPS I MEAN YELLING- AND JUST CLICK 'POST' NOW DON'T I?
Text
This Close
a little j.h.s. something
pairing: My favorite Texan Naval aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Female...Reader? OC? She’s kind of both? I’ll explain more in the Author’s Note. 😜
warnings: Mutual pining. Yearny. Friends with feelings they’re not acknowledging. PG-level swears. Takes place in a bar that’s not The Hard Deck. There’s a Dean Martin song used.😜
word count: a little over 1k.
author’s note: This is my first bit of writing shared in a good long while, and also my first bit of writing for Top Gun Maverick since that movie happened to me this year. Be gentle please I’m nervous???? 😨😱 This story is actually part of a moment I have in mind for a whole, longer, multi-parted story that’s currently simmering on the stovetop of my brain until I can figure it out more/work up the nerve to plot it out and start writing and sharing it involving Jake and a Lady OC who I’m also still developing. Hence she, ‘Birdy’ a nickname she’s referred to as once here ☺, is sort of straddling the Reader/OC line at the moment. I honestly prefer writing this way than in the second person; it’s easier for me and I find I like the way things flow and feel better, so hopefully y’all don’t mind it. Okay. I’ve officially rambled w a y too much so I’m shutting my cakehole now. 🤐 I sincerely hope it pleases you! 💕❤
bonus material: This is the song that’s playing in the bar in case you want to listen in on Jake and Birdy’s dance. It’s not a love song really, but I love it and find there is a certain sweet, romance to it. But then again, I’m a known Sap, so form your own opinion. 😉
tagging: My Sweet B.💗 ‘cause she’s a dear, inspiring, and encouraging gem of a lady, whom I love. @bradshawsbaby
"The sun is sinking in the west
the cattle go down to the stream
the redwing settles in her nest
it's time for a cowboy to dream..."
With the first few lines of the song and Dean Martin's signature croon, the energy and volume in the crowded bar immediately shifts, lowering from it's previous loud, buzzing intensity to a quieter, pleasant hum. A few of the dancing couples rearrange themselves into new pairs, but most stay with their current partners.
Jake's green eyes glow warm. His lips are still upturned in a gentler, one-sided version of his familiar wide and sunshiney smile, as his gaze sweeps around the space casually, before meeting hers.
"Shall we?" he quirks an eyebrow up. Speaks only loudly enough for her to hear. His left hand remains loosely entwined with her right, leftover from the previous, faster dance, but he's inviting her to join him for this one, not assuming she wants to. A gentleman's gesture.
And some might argue against it: but she knows, believes, has seen, that Jacob Seresin is a gentleman, in the truest sense of the word. He just....buries that part of himself, walls it up, far too often.
She tightens her grip on his hand. Let's herself notice, secretly relish, the roughness of his calloused fingers and palm. And the skipping jolt it sends to her heart. "Let's." and a smiling nod is her only response.
“Purple lights in the canyons
That's where I long to be
With my three good companions
Just my rifle, my pony, and me...”
They step in close to one another once more, less than a foot of space between them. It's not really different than what they had been doing a minute or so ago, albiet slower, but the feeling, the energy between them has changed, just as it has for the place as a whole.
It's not necessarily an unpleasant change.
Jake's right hand holds her waist with a sort of tentative firmness, the heat of his palm bleeds through the material of her dress to her skin. His left hand has raised her right while they sway and take small steps in time with the music.
At first she looks everywhere but at her partner's face. Gaze sweeping around the room at the other couples, the lights above the bar, patrons' abandoned drinks....
She's exposed, raw, hyper-aware of the pounding of her heart against her ribs, of how hot her cheeks are, of the inherent intimacy there is in this slow closeness, and somehow it seems that if she looks in Jake's eyes it will be a tacit acknowledgement of the Truth she's currently refusing to actively acknowledge: that she likes this. Likes him. This man is her friend (becoming one of her favorite, best ones), so of course she likes him, and she is comfortable with him, as a woman and as his friend, but that Truth? What it actually means deep down? It's a damn frightening thing to look at head-on.
All these sensations and thoughts scramble through her heart and brain in milliseconds.
“Gonna hang my sombrero,
On the limb of a tree
Comin' home, sweetheart darlin'
Just my rifle, my pony, and me...”
The sound of the Naval Lieutenant humming the tune of the song near her ear draws her eyes back to him, almost against her will, but not actually. He's looking around too at first, but quickly meets her eyeline with a gentle widening of his smile.
"You know this song?" she asks with a smile of her own; she knows this tune well but wouldn't have guessed he did. It brings an ache of fondness to her chest that he does.
"Mm-hm." he nods and grins fully with his mouth closed. His nose scrunches up once, barely perceptible but she catches it. The skin around his eyes crinkles and her chest is hurting again.
She drops her gaze for just a moment, trying to think of something to say. The silence isn't uncomfortable, it's just that she likes the sound of his voice. Likes the way he talks to her. But when her eyes catch the sheen of sweat on his skin over the hollow of his throat, they fly back up. Immediately.
Jake is still looking at her. His look is so very unguarded (her heart whispers the word: tender) it sends any thought of words out of her mind. His pink mouth is still smiling, but it too is a smaller, softer, a more intentional, meaningful thing.
“Whippoorwill in the willow
Sings a sweet melody
Ridin' to Amarillo
Just my rifle, my pony, and me...”
He breathes out the quietest, whispered, "Hey, Birdy."
Her throat is tight with some unexpressed, still-ignored emotion but she's able to whisper back, "Hey, Jay."
Jake gives her hand two squeezes in quick succession.
“No more cows to be ropin’
No more strays will I see
Round the bend, she'll be waitin'
For my rifle, my pony, and me
My rifle, my pony, and me...”
Someone in the crowd calls for the song to please be played again, just once more. Their request is granted.
She swallows hard. Jake's lashes are long and his eyes are so green and the unguarded, tender look in them is still there. He is no longer smiling, just looking; his expression still soft, open. He's not only looking at her but seeing her. The rosy, ruddy glow to his cheeks and the firmness of him beneath her hand that cups his back, all shout of the health, vitality, alive-ness of him.
It's a fight to think of other things besides her desire to lean all the way into his chest.
I wanna give up that fight. For right now: I can give up. I give up. she thinks to herself. With a finality and resolve to which she grasps tightly.
Before anxiety and self-doubt and outright fear can question and crumble that resolve she does it.
She takes the half-step in, tucking her left hand between their two bodies up by her face and rests her cheek to his t-shirt covered chest, right below his left clavicle. She allows any tension to bleed from her shoulders, her neck, her arms, and lets him hold her.
Just for the rest of the song, she tells herself.
As he curls his right arm all the way round her back, Jake holds his next inhale at its peak for a quick extra second or two, then lets it out evenly, once she relaxes fully against him. She can't see his face of course, but he feels like even his blinking is slow, and careful. She's never been quite this close to him before now. And he's never....he's not sure he has ever allowed himself to consider that he's wanted her to be...but his deep-down self is realizing: he has. Damn.
He shakes that realization and its implications off for the moment. It doesn't have to be dealt with right now.
Just enjoy the rest of the song, Seresin, he tells himself. Rests his cheek gently against her head. Holds her.
They sway and take small steps, to and fro, to and fro, until the song does...eventually...unfortunately....end.
#Jake 'Hangman' Seresin#Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader#Top Gun Maverick Fanfic#Hangman x Reader#Top Gun Maverick#I Wrote This#*sets this down gingerly. looks at it a moment. runs away to hide behind a bush and watch*#I cannot lie I love this very much and am really proud of it bUT I AM ALSO RIDOIKULOUSLY NERVOUS#'CAUSE LIKE I SAID IT'S BEEN A MINUTE SINCE I'VE SHARED MY WORD BABBLINGS#AND THERE ARE S O M A N Y AMAZINGLY TALENTED HUMANS IN THIS COMMUNITY OF FANS OF THIS FILM#THAT IT'S EASY TO BE INTIMIDATED#I NEED TO STOP STALLING-WHOOPS I MEAN YELLING- AND JUST CLICK 'POST' NOW DON'T I?#Me @ myself: yeah you do Kid. OKAYOKAYOKAY here goes.#Please tell me what you think!! 💕💕💕#Sometimes I Art#<- because I made the moodboard and I want it in my art tag ^u^
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