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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 years

Text

Heartbeats

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC/Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Rebecca Cooke

Summary: A first date at a Beer Garden shouldn’t be difficult to manage, especially with his team at his side, but Santi still has doubts.

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Benny being Benny, references to war time injuries, references to Anxiety if you squint

A/N: Hey y’all. Sorry it’s been a while. Some stuff came up, but I am so happy to finally have this chapter out to you all! Anyway, this is chapter 3. Please enjoy!

**********

Listening to his own heartbeat had become something that Santi was pretty comfortable with. When the Humvee had hit a landmine during his first deployment, sending him, Frankie, and Will sky high, he’d woken up in a military hospital in Germany, with only the steady beeping of his heart monitor to keep him company. Well, it kept him company until Will wandered in with a cup of coffee. The youngest member of the team had somehow managed to walk away with a couple of cracked ribs and some scarring on his back, whereas Pope had fractured his knee and given himself a pretty nasty concussion. At that point, Frankie was still out. He had broken a rib, punctured a lung, and fractured his hip, all on top of a nastier concussion than Pope’s. There was a harried moment when they thought he wouldn’t make it, but Fish was the toughest bastard out of any of them, and within nine months he was patrolling the desert with Santi once more.

After various near-misses, his multiple knee surgeries, and his so-called miracle neck surgery, Santi woke up to that same sound of his heart beating. It reminded him that he was alive. It was a comfort.

Now, his heart was beating so loudly in his ears he couldn’t think straight. And, the kicker was, he wasn’t even in country or recovering from a near miss. He wasn’t getting shot at or sneaking around an enemy compound. He wasn’t even sitting in the back of a helicopter while Fish tried to fly it over the fucking Andes while carrying too much weight and, fuck, he was an idiot. He hadn’t even been able to pull off a ‘sure thing’ mission. He hadn’t been able to pull of a relationship with a girl that everyone thought he was fucking anyway. Why the fuck did he think he would be able to pull off impressing this much younger woman who, for some god forsaken reason, thought he was worth her time?

Rebecca was a professional. She had a fucking Masters of Fine Arts that she used to lead tours and co-curate the art museum while also teaching art lessons to kids all across the state. And then there was him. Santiago Garcia. A washed up, beaten down, half-broken retired soldier who was living off his (not unsubstantial) savings and the kindness of friends, who had almost no prospects other than signing another damn contract and going off to shoot questionable people under the orders of even more questionable people until his knees gave out or he broke his fucking neck running around on favela rooftops. She was so far out of his league, he had no clue how to even find her league.

And yet, he found himself sitting outside her apartment in his truck, about to go and buzz up to let her know that he was there. Early. To pick her up. For their date. What was he thinking?

He was shaken out of his negative reverie when his phone buzzed four times in quick succession.

“I swear to god, if you’re sitting outside her apartment deliberating over actually picking her up or standing her up, I will drive there myself and beat some sense into you.”

“Hey man, Charlie’s had a little too much to drink (first weekend alone without Mateo) and she’s threatening your manhood if you stand up your date. Do not show up here alone, cabrón.”

“Dude, you’re bringing a date? Why haven’t I heard about this lovely lady?”

“Ignore him. He’s drunk.”

Pope could imagine his friends, his team, sitting around their reserved table at the beer garden, acting like millennials with their phones out, texting him and ignoring each other for a moment. They were insane…He loved them.

“Keep your shirts on, I’m coming.” He copied and pasted the message into the four separate threads and sent them off, ignoring when his phone buzzed again with what could only be a “That’s what she said” reply from Benny as he exited his truck and made his way to her lobby door.

He pressed the small white button next to her name and waited impatiently for her response.

“Hello?” the tinny machine garbled, but he had become accustomed to her voice. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds, like the sound of the waves at the beach or the sound of his own heartbeat. Soothing.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, c’mon up! I’ll be ready to go in five!”

Santi gulped then shook his head and pulled the door open when the lock clicked, signalling that she had unlocked it for him. What was he nervous about? He was god damn Delta Force. Some girl should not be shaking him up this bad.

Santi took the short elevator ride up to the fifth floor, trying to calm his hammering heart, and knocked on her door.

When the door creaked open, he was reminded that Rebecca Cooke wasn’t just ‘some girl’. He had taken one look at her, sweaty and red faced and face distorted from pressing into a massage table and been smitten. Every conversation he had with her dragged him further in, until he was hooked.

Now, standing in front of him, dressed in a sapphire blue lace dress that swished around her knees, he was smacked in the face with the fact that she was, in fact, the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. The short sleeves showed off the smoothness of her arms and the V-neck had him having to drag his eyes away from her décolletage.

“Hey Santi,” she smiled gently at him, moving in to place her hands on his shoulders as she placed a hesitant kiss on his cheek.

“Um…hey,” he replied, mentally kicking himself for being so lame. “Uh, these are for you.” He handed her the bouquet of wildflowers he had bought on a whim on his drive over.

Rebecca smiled up at him, a slight glimmer in her eyes as though he had just made her the happiest person on the planet. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he blurted. She giggled, turning her back to him and he grimaced at the stupid cornball line.

“Let me put these in some water and grab my shoes, and we can go, okay?” she called back. He looked towards her retreating form and gulped at the sight of her bare back. Fuck, this was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get himself under control. If he was going to actively pursue Rebecca, he was going to do it properly.

“Uh, yeah. No worries.” He followed her a few steps into her home and peered around at the small space. It was a small apartment, cozy and warm. A suede sectional sofa overtook most of the living room, a soft looking throw blanket tossed over the side and brightly coloured patterned pillows were piled up on one end as though she had been searching for something. A variety of prints and pictures decorated her walls, everything from the infamous Kissing on VJ Day photo to a print of San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk by Monet, drawing his eye from one frame to another in rapid succession, drinking in the little details of the life she lived that he so desperately hoped to be a part of.

“Ready to go?”

His eyes were drawn back to her like magnets as she exited the small but spacious kitchen, glass vase in hand. She deposited the vase with the wildflowers on the side table next to the sofa, picked up her purse and held up her other hand, a pair of strappy sandals hanging from her finger.

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. It’s a, uh…it’s a nice place you’ve got here,” he managed to get out, cursing himself internally at his stupidity.

She smiled sweetly at him, that starry-eyed look still in her eyes as she clutched his arm to slide her sandals on.

“Thanks. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

She didn’t release his arm as they exited the apartment, clutching him close as she locked the door, as they rode the elevator, and exited the building. He shifted carefully to grip her hand and help her into his truck, closing the door softly behind her as he paced over to his door, silently coaching himself to not be a total idiot on this date.

She was into him. Holding onto his arm, looking at him the way she was. She liked him. All he had to do was not screw it up…and not let his friends screw it up.

He hauled himself up into the driver’s seat of the truck and let it idle for a minute as he double checked his mirrors. Finally, he pulled out of the parking lot and began the ten-minute drive to the Beer Garden.

“I, uh, I meant what I said. About your apartment. And about how beautiful you look. Because you do. Look beautiful, I mean. That dress is…nice.”

“Thanks.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Santi fidgeted with the wheel. He was halfway to convincing himself that this whole thing had been a bad idea when she turned to him. “Are you as nervous as I am?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, causing her to giggle. “I swear to god, I’m not normally like this.”

“I know, that’s why I asked! I thought you were either really nervous or completely regretting asking me out,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat as the tension began to slowly dissipate.

He waited until he pulled up to a red light to turn and meet her gaze. “The only regret I’d have is if I didn’t ask you out at all and was left wondering what might have happened if I’d just gotten my balls up and asked.”

He watched her eyes widen as she looked down at her lap, jerking the car back into motion as someone honked behind him.

“Can I confess something to you?” She waited for his nod. “I had a shot before you got to my place to try to calm my nerves, but I don’t think it worked. I just…why are we nervous? We’ve been friends for a couple of months now, right?”

“Right!” he exclaimed, laughing as he risked another look at her. “I don’t know, Bex. Maybe that’s why we’re nervous?”

She shrugged delicately, pulling her legs up into the seat as she twisted to watch him drive. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just…I really want this to go well, you know?”

Santi took a hand off the wheel and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I know. I really know.”

She sighed, twisting her hand in his grip until she could interlace their fingers. “Okay. So. We’re two friends. Going on a date. We’ll just…see how it goes, okay? At the end of the night, if we decide we’re better off as friends, you drop me off, give me a high five, and we’ll see each other on Monday at the clinic.”

“But?” he asked anxiously because, like he said, he knew. He knew how badly she wanted things to go well because he desperately wanted the same thing. He’d been drowning in her for months, and he felt like he was just now being taught how to swim.

“But…” he heard her take a shuddery breath. “But if things do go well, and I really hope they do, Santi…If things go well, we agree to go on that coffee date before our sessions on Monday. Deal?”

He squeezed her hand again. “Deal.”

**********

The Beer Garden was a nice place. A solid first date choice. There was liquor to settle the nerves, incredible food to snack on over conversation, a live band to dance along to, mood lighting, and an outdoor patio with fairy lights that was pretty fucking magical, if Santi was allowed to say so.

He and the team had been there once or twice, usually after completing a room at Santi’s house, but this was the first time both Charlie and Frankie would be joining them, since Mateo was off for a sleepover at Grandma’s house. In a way, Santi was grateful. Rebecca knew Charlie, and Charlie was very protective of her patients both inside and outside of the clinic. Santi knew that Charlie and Frankie would help make her feel welcome. Will wouldn’t be an issue. But Benny…when the kid drank, he drank hard, and he was a loudmouth stone cold sober. Hopefully, Will would be able to keep his kid brother in line.

Santi slowed as he felt the distance between him and Rebecca grow, their arms growing taut until he was forced to stop and turn around, lest he let go of her hand.

“Hey, you okay?” he moved to stand in front of her, shielding her from the busy wait staff and slightly drunken customers who were milling around the door to the outdoor patio.

She offered him a distracted nod, her free hand coming up to smooth her hair behind her ear. “Uh, I’m just gonna…” her eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of Charlie sitting at a long picnic style table with a bunch of large men. She met his eyes urgently. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”

Again, Santi found himself watching her retreating form as he cursed his own actions. He thought that having a group hangout would be a good idea for a first date. It kept things loose and informal and, after their conversation in the truck, he thought it couldn’t hurt to have some people there to help things continue moving in the right direction. Besides, so many people had group first dates. It kept things light. Only, now Pope was seeing his mistake. He wasn’t just introducing Rebecca to his friends. He was introducing her to the most important people in his life. His closest friends. His team.

“Fuck…” he mumbled to himself as he watched her duck into the bathroom before nearly sprinting outside to the table. He dodged a few waiters and barbacks before slamming his hands down on the table, causing Benny to jump. “She’s in the bathroom, Chuck, don’t start,” he quickly stated, watching as Charlie’s eyes went from murderous to understanding in the space of a blink. He slowly met each and every one of their eyes. “If any one of you motherfuckers ruin this for me, I swear to god I’ll find a way to end you.”

“Hey, I like her already,” Charlie shrugged, tipping her glass back to swallow the last of the foam. “If you ruin this with her, I’ll be the one ending you.”

“Noted. Fish?” His best friend cocked an eyebrow at him and Santi nodded, communicating in that way that only best friends can. “Fair enough. Will?”

“Hey man, I just came out for a drink.”

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded, before fixing his eyes on the youngest member of the group. “Benny?”

“What? What am I gonna do?”

“Considering you’ve stared at every waitress’ ass as they walk by, and commented on two of the barbacks’ butts, I’d say you’re definitely the problem here, Ben,” Charlie commented lightly, leaning over to rest her head gently on Frankie’s shoulder, smiling softly when he planted a sweet kiss on her temple.

“Hey, I—”

“Shut up, she’s right,” Will growled into his glass.

“Fine, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Charlie, did you collect on your little workplace bet?” She offered him a slightly drunken thumbs-up. “Good, you’re buying.” Pope considered the table before him before straightening and taking a few steps back towards the door. “Please, just be nice?”

“Hey, I’m always nice!” countered Benny, a cocksure grin on his face.

“Yeah, that’s what he’s afraid of, dipshit.”

The din of another Miller argument faded as Santi returned to his post just in time for Rebecca to emerge from the bathroom.

“Uh, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” Santi wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he led her out onto the raised wooden patio. “You’re still nervous, huh?”

She nodded hesitantly. “Charlie’s fine, but the rest of your friends…”

Santi tugged her gently to the side and pulled her to a stop.

“Don’t worry about them, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Santi, you fought a war with them. That’s not something I can just not worry about.”

“Look, they’re gonna love you. Trust me…” he looked over his shoulder to peer at his friends, who were all surreptitiously trying to both look at them and look natural. “They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots. Look…see that blond guy? That’s Will. You could set a bomb off next to him and he wouldn’t flinch.”

“Oh, so that’s Will the Wise?” Santi smiled at the moniker. He’d found himself dropping some of Will’s more memorable motivational quotes during physio, and she had come up with the name for his quiet but forceful friend. “And the one who hasn’t stopped staring at my ass is Benny, I assume?” Santi whipped his head around to see Benny subtly trying to peer around him to get a glance at Bex’s profile. He quickly moved into his field of view and turned his back on him. Benny wanted to check out a nice ass? He could feel free. “And I know Charlie, which makes the quiet one…?”

Santi smiled softly. “That’s Frankie.”

“I like him already.”

His smile grew at the pronouncement. “I figured you would. Frankie’s good people. Easy to get along with. Now, please don’t worry?” he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before running his hands up and down her arms soothingly. “They’re gonna see exactly what I see.”

“Which is?”

He smiled. “A stunningly beautiful, intelligent woman who I somehow suckered into going out with me. Ready?”

She gripped his hand again and smiled up at him. “Ready.”

**********

Things were going…well. Better than Santi had dared to hope. He didn’t know what Will had said, but Benny was being a real gentleman and keeping his mouth shut other than asking polite and interested questions about Bex’s work. Bex and Frankie had taken off like two peas in a pod, which gave him a warm feeling in his chest that he dared not name. Not now, anyway. Instead of examining his feelings, he decided to go get another drink.

He stood slowly, squeezing her hand when the angle got too awkward to maintain contact, and leaned down to ask, “You want another one, Bex?”

She smiled and nodded, “Yeah, would you mind getting me a pale ale this time?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!” Benny interrupted, leaning across the table towards them. “She got a nickname?”

Santi shot Will a look, but the older Miller just held his hands up in surrender, as if to say, “You brought it on yourself”.

“I-is that a problem?” Rebecca asked, looking around confused.

Frankie leaned forward, resting his free arm against the table and adjusting his grip around Charlie’s waist. “Every one of us has a nickname,” he explained quietly. “For us,” he gestured to the men. “It’s a military thing. Kind of like a right of passage.”

“I earned ‘Charlie’ after three months of seriously dating Frankie,” Charlie added, her voice only slightly muffled from her cheek resting on Frankie’s chest. “Chuck came three months after that, and then only Santi gets to call me that.”

“Oh…” Rebecca murmured, wrapping her arms around herself and looking around the table at the demolished plates of nachos, chicken wings, sliders, poutine, and potato wedges. Santi quickly retook his seat, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

It had been instinct, giving her a nickname. Rebecca was too formal for the spitfire who made him laugh so hard his abs hurt more than his knees after a physio session. Becca was cute but she had grimaced at the name, citing overuse in popular culture for her dislike. Rebbie made her snort, and Becky made him want to go find Douchebag Derek and give him a swift kick so there was no way his DNA would be reproduced.

She had loved the name Bex. It was rare, it was quick, it denoted her spark and her wit, and, best of all, he was the only one who used it. Now, it looked like she was feeling insecure in it.

“Frankie’s nickname is Catfish,” he piped up, not wanting her to think too much on the subject of him giving her a cute moniker so early in their relationship (week 3 to be exact).

It worked. Her head whipped around so quickly both Charlie and Santi winced.

“Really? Why?” she asked the man sitting next to her.

Frankie’s quick glare and microscope cock of the eyebrow went unnoticed by the entire table, except Santi, who gave him an apologetic half shrug.

“When we were in basic,” he began with a good-natured grumble. “We were all swapping stories one night, and the only good one I had was the one where my old man and I went out fishing together.” Rebecca watched as Charlie placed a small kiss on Frankie’s chest, just above the third highest button, where Frankie had evidently decided to quit, not that his fiancée was complaining about the excess skin on display. Clearly a sore subject, Rebecca filed away for later. “We went all day without catching a single fish, but just as we were about to call it quits, there’s a tug on my line. And I ended up reeling in a 17-pound catfish.”

“Last time you told the story it was 15 pounds,” Will muttered.

“I always heard 13,” Benny laughed.

“Eh, whatever. It was a big fish to 10-year-old me, okay?” Frankie downed the last of his beer. “Besides, it’s not as stupid as how Ironhead got his name.”

Santi laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one.” Will glared at him. “Hey man, Frankie told his story, now you’ve gotta tell yours.”

Will sighed as he sat forward, leaning in towards Rebecca. “So…I was probably the clumsiest private in basic training. Now, I could do push ups and sit ups like a champion, but the more complicated exercises…Well, let’s just say our drill sergeant didn’t know what the hell to do with me. Climbing a rope ladder? I’d get my foot twisted and end up hanging there like three-day old laundry on the line. Going on a march through the woods? I’d find the only rock in the road and trip over it. Field striping a rifle? I’d yank on something too quickly and give myself a black eye.” Rebecca giggled, bringing a smile to Santi’s face. “And inevitably, every time I screwed up, I’d end up smacking my head. One day, we were doing this exercise and I really got my bell rung. Our drill sergeant sent me to the infirmary because he knew there was no way in hell that I didn’t have a concussion. But I didn’t. Hell, I didn’t even pass out. When he found out, he was shocked. Said I must have the hardest skull on earth. Thus, Ironhead was born.”

“Pfft…” Benny snorted loudly, the sound breaking through Bex’s giggles and Charlie’s muffled chuckles. “It’s not even a good story, man! I coulda told your drill sergeant that you were clumsy as fuck the day you enlisted! Now, Pope’s…that’s a good fucking story,” he guffawed, leaning back as far as the bench seat would let him.

“Benny…” Will put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, which was quickly shrugged off. Santi fixed him with a glare, and Frankie was subtly drawing his hand over his neck, but Benny was too drunk to care.

“Pope?” Bex looked up at Santi confusedly, but he didn’t get the chance to explain before Benny’s crowing laughter boomed out once more.

“‘Oh god, oh god! Yes god! Yes! Please, god. Por favor, mi dios! Oh my god, oh my god!’,” Benny’s voice rang out in a poor imitation of a girlish squeal. He threw his head back and laughed drunkenly, almost falling off the bench seat. “We thought for sure that Corporal had to have the Pope himself in her room for her to be screaming for God that loudly. But no. Turned out to only be Santiago Garcia, known almost exclusively as Pope from then on out.”

Bex looked between the two men, eyes wide, before standing and squeezing out into the crowd, heading back towards the bathrooms.

“At least I got a nickname, jackass,” Santi hissed, kicking away from the table. “I didn’t spend my whole military career known only as ‘Will’s Little Brother Benny’.”

Santi turned and chased after Rebecca, praying she hadn’t gone too far.

“What? What did I say?” Benny asked, half a potato skin hanging out of his mouth.

“If this fucks them up, I’ll kick your ass for both of them,” Charlie groaned, unable to take her eyes away from where her two friends had just disappeared.

**********

He found her standing under the strings of lights that hung above the front door.

“Y-you weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?” he asked in a slightly trembling voice.

She turned to him, eyes bright, and chuckled. “No…I just needed some air. Well,” she looked around the darkened city street. “Some different air. Front fresh air instead of back fresh air. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged out of his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders as she shivered. “I…I’m sorry about Benny. He’s an idiot most of the time, but when he drinks…”

“He could win the Nobel Prize for Darwinism?”

He chuckled, a soft smirk appearing on his face. “Yeah, something like that.” They stared up at the dark sky for a long moment, a hesitant peace falling between them. “That story he told…I’m not exactly proud of the way I used to be. I hope you know that.”

Rebecca shrugged delicately. “We all have a past. We all have things we’re not proud of. What matters is who we are today. And you want to know something?” she looked up at him with those eyes, and he pressed down the urge to kiss her.

“What?”

“I really like who you are today,” she whispered, bringing a smile to his face.

“I really like who you are every day,” he whispered back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, his smile growing even larger when she leaned into him. “You ready to get out of here?”

She wrapped his jacket tighter around her body. “Yeah, it’s getting a little chilly.”

He nodded in agreement, gave her a quick squeeze and released her. “I’ll go grab my wallet and we can get going.”

Santi wove his way back through the crowded Beer Garden until he reached the table, quietly scooping up his wallet.

“Everything okay?” Frankie asked quietly as Charlie dozed on his chest.

“Yeah, tell your firecracker that she doesn’t have to kick any asses. See you tomorrow?” Frankie nodded as Santi pulled out a crisp twenty and threw it on the table. “Adios, hermano,” he murmured, bringing his hand gently down upon Frankie’s cap and giving his head a slight jiggle. “Will, can you get me that info on that electrician?” Will nodded as Santi clapped a hand down on his shoulder, bringing his hand up to gently clasp his buddy’s forearm before Santi removed it to give Benny a quick swat on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Santi fixed him with a glare. “Yeah, okay. I deserved that. Night man.”

Santi strolled out of the restaurant, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw Rebecca, wrapped in his jacket, staring at the restaurant doors, waiting for him. That warm feeling in the pit of his stomach came back full force, and, for the first time, he didn’t want it to go away.

**********

His truck quietly slid into a parking spot out front of her apartment building.

“Well…” she murmured. “I guess this is me.”

Santi nodded, a sigh building in his chest. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t want a simple dinner date to end, but he wanted it to continue. He wanted to keep talking to her, keep listening to her, keep touching her.

“I’ll, uh…I’ll walk you to the front door,” he stated, desperate to stretch their remaining few seconds as long as he could.

She smiled and waited as he made his way around the front of the truck, opening her door and offering her his hand. They strolled the maybe twenty paces to the front door and stopped, turning to face each other while their free hands sought each other out.

“I had a really nice time. Your friends are great. Frankie’s awesome.”

“He really is.”

“Well…uh…good night, Santi.”

“Bex?” he tugged slightly on her hands, so she remained facing him. “I…” That warm feeling in his stomach burst. “Oh, fuck it,” he pressed forward, planting his lips on hers the way he had been imaging since he had picked her up four hours previous. Sweet and tender, raw and full of something that would go unnamed for a while but had so much potential. He pulled back for the space of a breath, taking in her closed eyes and slightly parted lips. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

Finally, her eyes opened. “Don’t stop,” she quietly pled, freeing her hands to place them on either side of his face, tugging him back to her lips.

They stood there for what could have been minutes or hours, neither knew nor cared. It was like every moment of their friendship had been leading them to this moment, and they wanted to live in it forever.

It wasn’t until the nearby sound of a fire truck siren starting up broke the serene quiet that they broke apart.

“So, uh…coffee on Monday?” she asked, eyes slightly glazed over and lips plump.

“Definitely.”

**********

Tags list: @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha, @himbopoes, @sophoclese, @phoenixhalliwell, @buckstaposition, @who-talks-first

#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago pope garcia x rebecca cooke #not another fairytale ending fic #first date fic #series #triple frontier fanfic #frankie catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #oscar issac #pedro pascal #slow burn #but its not that slow

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