#pacific boxers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaijuno · 7 months

Text

In light of Fall Out Boy’s GARBAGE cover of the song. Let’s learn about the original. Notice how they’re actually in chronological order instead of just random references 😒😒😒😒

1949

Harry Truman was inaugurated as U.S. president after being elected in 1948 to his own term; previously he was sworn in following the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt. He authorized the use of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan during World War II, on August 6 and August 9, 1945, respectively.

Doris Day enters the public spotlight with the films My Dream Is Yours and It’s a Great Feeling as well as popular songs like “It’s Magic”; divorces her second husband.

Red China: The Communist Party of China wins the Chinese Civil War, establishing the People’s Republic of China.

Johnnie Ray signs his first recording contract with Okeh Records, although he would not become popular for another two years.

South Pacific, the prize-winning musical, opens on Broadway on April 7.

Walter Winchell is an aggressive radio and newspaper journalist credited with inventing the gossip column.

Joe DiMaggio and the New York Yankees go to the World Series five times in the 1940s, winning four of them.

1950

Joe McCarthy, the US Senator, gains national attention and begins his anti-communist crusade with his Lincoln Day speech.

Richard Nixon is first elected to the United States Senate.

Studebaker, a popular car company, begins its financial downfall.

Television is becoming widespread throughout Europe and North America.

North Korea and South Korea declare war after Northern forces stream south on June 25.

Marilyn Monroe soars in popularity with five new movies, including The Asphalt Jungle and All About Eve, and attempts suicide after the death of friend Johnny Hyde who asked to marry her several times, but she refused respectfully. Monroe would later (1954) be married for a brief time to Joe DiMaggio (mentioned in the previous verse).

1951

The Rosenbergs, Ethel and Julius, were convicted on March 29 for espionage.

H-Bomb is in the middle of its development as a nuclear weapon, announced in early 1950 and first tested in late 1952.

Sugar Ray Robinson, a champion welterweight boxer.

Panmunjom, the border village in Korea, is the location of truce talks between the parties of the Korean War.

Marlon Brando is nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor for his role in A Streetcar Named Desire.

The King and I, musical, opens on Broadway on March 29.

The Catcher in the Rye, a controversial novel by J. D. Salinger, is published.

1952

Dwight D. Eisenhower is first elected as U.S. president, winning by a landslide margin of 442 to 89 electoral votes.

The vaccine for polio is privately tested by Jonas Salk.

England’s got a new queen: Queen Elizabeth II succeeds to the throne upon the death of her father, George VI, and is crowned the next year.

Rocky Marciano defeats Jersey Joe Walcott, becoming the world Heavyweight champion.

Liberace has a popular 1950s television show for his musical entertainment.

Santayana goodbye: George Santayana, philosopher, essayist, poet, and novelist, dies on September 26.

1953

Joseph Stalin dies on March 5, yielding his position as leader of the Soviet Union.

Georgy Maksimilianovich Malenkov succeeds Stalin for six months following his death. Malenkov had presided over Stalin’s purges of party “enemies”, but would be spared a similar fate by Nikita Khrushchev mentioned later in verse.

Gamal Abdel Nasser acts as the true power behind the new Egyptian nation as Muhammad Naguib’s minister of the interior.

Sergei Prokofiev, the composer, dies on March 5, the same day as Stalin.

Winthrop Rockefeller and his wife Barbara are involved in a highly publicized divorce, culminating in 1954 with a record-breaking $5.5 million settlement.

Roy Campanella, an African-American baseball catcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers, receives the National League’s Most Valuable Player award for the second time.

Communist bloc is a group of communist nations dominated by the Soviet Union at this time. Probably a reference to the Uprising of 1953 in East Germany.

1954

Roy Cohn resigns as Joseph McCarthy’s chief counsel and enters private practice with the fall of McCarthy. He also worked to prosecute the Rosenbergs, mentioned earlier.

Juan Perón spends his last full year as President of Argentina before a September 1955 coup.

Arturo Toscanini is at the height of his fame as a conductor, performing regularly with the NBC Symphony Orchestra on national radio.

Dacron is an early artificial fiber made from the same plastic as polyester.

Dien Bien Phu falls. A village in North Vietnam falls to Viet Minh forces under Vo Nguyen Giap, leading to the creation of North Vietnam and South Vietnam as separate states.

“Rock Around the Clock” is a hit single released by Bill Haley & His Comets in May, spurring worldwide interest in rock and roll music.

1955

Albert Einstein dies on April 18 at the age of 76.

James Dean achieves success with East of Eden and Rebel Without a Cause, gets nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, and dies in a car accident on September 30 at the age of 24.

Brooklyn’s got a winning team: The Brooklyn Dodgers win the World Series for the only time before their move to Los Angeles.

Davy Crockett is a Disney television miniseries about the legendary frontiersman of the same name. The show was a huge hit with young boys and inspired a short-lived “coonskin cap” craze.

Peter Pan is broadcast on TV live and in color from the 1954 version of the stage musical starring Mary Martin on March 7. Disney released an animated version the previous year.

Elvis Presley signs with RCA Records on November 21, beginning his pop career.

Disneyland opens on July 17, 1955 as Walt Disney’s first theme park.

1956

Brigitte Bardot appears in her first mainstream film And God Created Woman and establishes an international reputation as a French “sex kitten”.

Budapest is the capital city of Hungary and site of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution.

Alabama is the site of the Montgomery Bus Boycott which ultimately led to the removal of the last race laws in the USA. Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr figure prominently.

Nikita Khrushchev makes his famous Secret Speech denouncing Stalin’s “cult of personality” on February 25.

Princess Grace Kelly releases her last film, High Society, and marries Prince Rainier III of Monaco.

Peyton Place, the best-selling novel by Grace Metalious, is published. Though mild compared to today’s prime time, it shocked the reserved values of the 1950s.

Trouble in the Suez: The Suez Crisis boils as Egypt nationalizes the Suez Canal on October 29.

1957

Little Rock, Arkansas is the site of an anti-integration standoff, as Governor Orval Faubus stops the Little Rock Nine from attending Little Rock Central High School and President Dwight D. Eisenhower deploys the 101st Airborne Division to counteract him.

Boris Pasternak, the Russian author, publishes his famous novel Doctor Zhivago.

Mickey Mantle is in the middle of his career as a famous New York Yankees outfielder and American League All-Star for the sixth year in a row.

Jack Kerouac publishes his first novel in seven years, On the Road.

Sputnik becomes the first artificial satellite, launched by the Soviet Union on October 4, marking the start of the space race.

Chou En-Lai, Premier of the People’s Republic of China, survives an assassination attempt on the charter airliner Kashmir Princess.

Bridge on the River Kwai is released as a film adaptation of the 1954 novel and receives seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

1958

Lebanon is engulfed in a political and religious crisis that eventually involves U.S. intervention.

Charles de Gaulle is elected first president of the French Fifth Republic following the Algerian Crisis.

California baseball begins as the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants move to California and become the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Francisco Giants. They are the first major league teams west of Kansas City.

Charles Starkweather Homicide captures the attention of Americans, in which he kills eleven people between January 25 and 29 before being caught in a massive manhunt in Douglas, Wyoming.

Children of Thalidomide: Mothers taking the drug Thalidomide had children born with congenital birth defects caused by the sleeping aid and antiemetic, which was also used at times to treat morning sickness.

1959

Buddy Holly dies in a plane crash on February 3 with Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper, in a day that had a devastating impact on the country and youth culture. Joel prefaces the lyric with a Holly signature vocal hiccup: “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

Ben-Hur, a film based around the New Testament starring Charlton Heston, wins eleven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

Space Monkey: Able and Miss Baker return to Earth from space aboard the flight Jupiter AM-18.

The Mafia are the center of attention for the FBI and public attention builds to this organized crime society with a historically Sicilian-American origin.

Hula hoops reach 100 million in sales as the latest toy fad.

Fidel Castro comes to power after a revolution in Cuba and visits the United States later that year on an unofficial twelve-day tour.

Edsel is a no-go: Production of this car marque ends after only three years due to poor sales.

1960

U-2: An American U-2 spy plane piloted by Francis Gary Powers was shot down over the Soviet Union, causing the U-2 Crisis of 1960.

Syngman Rhee was rescued by the CIA after being forced to resign as leader of South Korea for allegedly fixing an election and embezzling more than US $20 million.

Payola, illegal payments for radio broadcasting of songs, was publicized due to Dick Clark’s testimony before Congress and Alan Freed’s public disgrace.

John F. Kennedy beats Richard Nixon in the November 8 general election.

Chubby Checker popularizes the dance The Twist with his cover of the song of the same name.

Psycho: An Alfred Hitchcock thriller, based on a pulp novel by Robert Bloch and adapted by Joseph Stefano, which becomes a landmark in graphic violence and cinema sensationalism. The screeching violins heard briefly in the background of the song are a trademark of the film’s soundtrack.

Belgians in the Congo: The Republic of the Congo (Leopoldville) was declared independent of Belgium on June 30, with Joseph Kasavubu as President and Patrice Lumumba as Prime Minister.

1961

Ernest Hemingway commits suicide on July 2 after a long battle with depression.

Adolf Eichmann, a “most wanted” Nazi war criminal, is traced to Argentina and captured by Mossad agents. He is covertly taken to Israel where he is put on trial for crimes against humanityin Germany during World War II, convicted, and hanged.

Stranger in a Strange Land, written by Robert A. Heinlein, is a breakthrough best-seller with themes of sexual freedom and liberation.

Bob Dylan is signed to Columbia Records after a New York Times review by critic Robert Shelton.

Berlin is separated into West Berlin and East Berlin, and from the rest of East Germany, when the Berlin Wall is erected on August 13 to prevent citizens escaping to the West.

The Bay of Pigs Invasion fails, an attempt by United States-trained Cuban exiles to invade Cuba and overthrow Fidel Castro.

1962

Lawrence of Arabia: The Academy Award-winning film based on the life of T. E. Lawrence starring Peter O’Toole premieres in America on December 16.

British Beatlemania: The Beatles, a British rock group, gain Ringo Starr as drummer and Brian Epstein as manager, and join the EMI’s Parlophone label. They soon become the world’s most famous rock band, with the word “Beatlemania” adopted by the press for their fans’ unprecedented enthusiasm. It also began the British Invasion in the United States.

Ole’ Miss: James Meredith integrates the University of Mississippi

John Glenn: Flew the first American manned orbital mission termed “Friendship 7” on February 20.

Liston beats Patterson: Sonny Liston and Floyd Patterson fight for the world heavyweight championship on September 25, ending in a first-round knockout. This match marked the first time Patterson had ever been knocked out and one of only eight losses in his 20-year professional career.

1963

Pope Paul VI: Cardinal Giovanni Montini is elected to the papacy and takes the papal name of Paul VI.

Malcolm X makes his infamous statement “The chickens have come home to roost” about the Kennedy assassination, thus causing the Nation of Islam to censor him.

British politician sex: The British Secretary of State for War, John Profumo, has a relationship with a showgirl, and then lies when questioned about it before the House of Commons. When the truth came out, it led to his own resignation and undermined the credibility of the Prime Minister.

JFK blown away: President John F. Kennedy is assassinated on November 22 while riding in an open convertible through Dallas.

1965

Birth control: In the early 1960s, oral contraceptives, popularly known as “the pill”, first go on the market and are extremely popular. Griswold v. Connecticut in 1965 challenged a Connecticut law prohibiting contraceptives. In 1968, Pope Paul VI released a papal encyclical entitled Humanae Vitae which declared artificial birth control a sin.

Ho Chi Minh: A Vietnamese communist, who served as President of Vietnam from 1954–1969. March 2 Operation Rolling Thunder begins bombing of the Ho Chi Minh Trail supply line from North Vietnam to the Vietcong rebels in the south. On March 8, the first U.S. combat troops, 3,500 marines, land in South Vietnam.

1968

Richard Nixon back again: Former Vice President Nixon is elected President in 1968.

1969

Moonshot: Apollo 11, the first manned lunar landing, successfully lands on the moon.

Woodstock: Famous rock and roll festival of 1969 that came to be the epitome of the counterculture movement.

1974–75

Watergate: Political scandal that began when the Democratic National Committee’s headquarters at the Watergate office complex in Washington, DC was broken into. After the break-in, word began to spread that President Richard Nixon (a Republican) may have known about the break-in, and tried to cover it up. The scandal would ultimately result in the resignation of President Nixon, and to date, this remains the only time that anyone has ever resigned the United States Presidency.

Punk rock: The Ramones form, with the Sex Pistols following in 1975, bringing in the punk era.

1976–77

(An item from 1977 comes before three items from 1976 to make the song scan.)

Menachem Begin becomes Prime Minister of Israel in 1977 and negotiates the Camp David Accords with Egypt’s president in 1978.

Ronald Reagan was elected President of the United States in 1980, but he first attempted to run for the position in 1976.

Palestine: a United Nations resolution that calls for an independent Palestinian state and to end the Israeli occupation.

Terror on the airline: Numerous aircraft hijackings take place, specifically, the Palestinian hijack of Air France Flight 139 and the subsequent Operation Entebbe in Uganda.

1979

Ayatollah’s in Iran: During the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the West-backed and secular Shah is overthrown as the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini gains power after years in exile and forces Islamic law.

Russians in Afghanistan: Following their move into Afghanistan, Soviet forces fight a ten-year war, from 1979 to 1989.

1983

Wheel of Fortune: A hit television game show which has been TV’s highest-rated syndicated program since 1983.

Sally Ride: In 1983 she becomes the first American woman in space. Ride’s quip from space “Better than an E-ticket”, harkens back to the opening of Disneyland mentioned earlier, with the E-ticket purchase needed for the best rides.

Heavy metal suicide: In the 1980s Ozzy Osbourne and the bands Judas Priest and Metallica were brought to court by parents who accused the musicians of hiding subliminal pro-suicide messages in their music.

Foreign debts: Persistent U.S. trade deficits

Homeless vets: Veterans of the Vietnam War, including many disabled ex-military, are reported to be left homeless and impoverished.

AIDS: A collection of symptoms and infections in humans resulting from the specific damage to the immune system caused by infection with the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV). It is first detected and recognized in the 1980s, and was on its way to becoming a pandemic.

Crack cocaine use surged in the mid-to-late 1980s.

1984

Bernie Goetz: On December 22, Goetz shot four young men who he said were threatening him on a New York City subway. Goetz was charged with attempted murder but was acquitted of the charges, though convicted of carrying an unlicensed gun.

1988

Hypodermics on the shore: Medical waste was found washed up on beaches in New Jersey after being illegally dumped at sea. Before this event, waste dumped in the oceans was an “out of sight, out of mind” affair. This has been cited as one of the crucial turning points in popular opinion on environmentalism.

1989

China’s under martial law: On May 20, China declares martial law, enabling them to use force of arms against protesting students to end the Tiananmen Square protests.

Rock-and-roller cola wars: Soft drink giants Coke and Pepsi each run marketing campaigns using rock & roll and popular music stars to reach the teenage and young adult demographic.

Short summaries of all 119 references mentioned in the song, you’re welcome.

#look fall out boy is one of my fave bands but this is inexcusable #fall out boy #Billy Joel #music #Spotify

293 notes · View notes

usafphantom2 · 5 months

Text

U.S. Navy crash and fire crewmen watch a USMC F-35B Lightning II attached to Marine Fighter Attack Squadron (VMFA) 225, 15th MEU land on the fight deck of amph assault ship USS Boxer in the Pacific Ocean while conducting carrier qualifications Jan. 11, 2024. (Cpl. Amelia Kang)

@kadonkey via X

176 notes · View notes

aviationgeek71 · 5 months

Text

A Marine Corps F-35B Lightning II prepares to take off from the USS Boxer in the Pacific Ocean to conduct a simulated expeditionary strike mission, Dec. 12, 2023.

#avgeek #aviation #f35

105 notes · View notes

laracrofted · 2 months

Text

baby, i'm high octane (vii)

synopsis: over the course of the last month of the documentary, nora makes some decisions.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, existential dread, spoilers for ocean's eleven lol, smut (like a little bit, oral sex, allusions to sex) (wc: 12.7K)

note: y'all, it's been so long, i'm so sorry 😭 but i hope the ridiculously long chapter makes up for the wait. last chapter before the epilogue woo!

previous chapter | series post | next chapter

TAGS: @theharddeck @mamachasesmayhem @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @callsignspark @kajjaka @roosterbruiser @djs8891

Nora spends the whole weekend with Jake.

She doesn’t plan to spend the whole weekend with him. It’s one of those things that just kind of happens, like getting caught up in a good book and realizing it’s been hours and you haven’t moved an inch.

It’s not something she does. It’s more what she doesn’t do.

She doesn’t kick him out on Thursday night as soon as Jake has his pants on, doesn’t push him barefoot in the direction of the door with a Thanks for the sex, come back anytime.

She doesn’t make up a half-hearted excuse, some reason that she needs to be up early in the morning to keep him from sleeping over.

It’s so simple, really.

She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays.

On Friday morning, Jake brings her coffee in bed.

She is still half-asleep, sheets all bunched up under her chin, hair fanned messily across the sun-warmed pillows, cheeks flushed. A wide cat-like yawn escapes her as Nora stretches her arms above her head and reaches for the coffee with a slightly hoarse thank you.

Holding the mug in one hand, she rubs the harsh sting of sunshine from her eyes, knuckles creating starbursts on her eyelids, while Jake sprawls across the bed.

He is shirtless, a gold shimmer of chest hair running down his abdomen and disappearing under the black waistband of his boxer shorts. A ripple passes over his ab muscles as Jake stretches out and gets comfortable, searching for her leg through the crumpled pile of sheets.

He strokes a comforting pattern across her calf, across the curve of her knee, and back down again, propped on his elbow to watch her face.

“How’d I do?” Jake asks, nodding to the coffee. His voice is a low murmur, soft as the blueish morning light that filters in between the sheer curtains.

Holding his gaze, Nora raises the mug to her lips and takes a long, luxurious sip.

She almost sighs out loud. It’s perfect.

A half-faded conversation from last night pulls at the edge of her mind, muddled by drowsiness and sleep, like a dream.

She was half-awake, already caught in the deep tide of sleep, almost pulled under from the head rush that washed over her in the late hours of the night after Jake kissed damn near every inch of her and got back in line for seconds. A fuzziness in her fingertips, like Nora was taking her first dizzied steps off of the Tilt-A-Whirl at Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, finding her sea legs in the closeness of him; a kind of gravity in the warmth of his chest, pressed against her bare back.

He wrung another orgasm from her minutes before, and in the afterglow, Nora melted into him like warmed butter, letting out a satisfied hum in the darkness.

Lips warm on her shoulder, Jake asked, “How d’you like your coffee?”

Her lids were so heavy, and Nora let her eyes close.

“Hm,” Nora hummed. “Guess.”

He chuckled, and Nora’s lips curved at the sound, at the warm puff of breath on her nape.

“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?”

“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.”

Jake shifted behind her, closer, and Nora sank further into the warm embrace of his muscular arms around her, so secure and solid. Comforting. Her own personal space heater in the form of a hot Naval aviator.

Who would’ve thought a man called Hangman would be such a cuddle?

And more, who would’ve thought she’d like it so much?

His fingers tangled with hers as Jake seemed to consider his next words, his guess.

“‘Course not. Let’s see. It’s….” Jake’s lips found the hollow beneath her ear, and Nora breathed a shallow gasp. “What? Oat milk and vanilla?”

All of the sudden, Nora felt very awake.

Her eyes flew open, and Nora startled, but Jake was too octopus-like around her for her to crane her neck around and look at him.

“Wow,” Nora said, her raised brows audible in her voice. “Tracking me, Lieutenant?”

“I’m observant.” Jake shifted again. “It’s part of what makes me a great pilot, sweetheart.”

And was that a hint of self-consciousness in his sleep-slurred voice? Underneath all of that self-assured confidence and bottomless bravado?

She kind of wanted to see if Jake was blushing.

His fingers flexed around hers, and Nora lightly squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. Kissed the now-familiar curve of her shoulder and said, “Also, you drink the same thing every day. I’d have a hard time not noticing.”

“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.”

“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.”

There in the dark, Jake’s words sounded like a confession, so open, so sincere.

She drifted off to sleep in his arms, a smile on her face, a pleasant and gnawing ache in her chest.

Now, vanilla and sugar on her tongue, Nora says, “Not bad, Lieutenant.”

Another sip. Another blissful half-sigh.

“It’s actually so good,” Nora concedes. “It’s perfect.”

A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth, and Jake replies, softly, “Good.”

A quick kiss glances against the side of her knee, and Jake sits up and brushes her hair from her pink cheeks.

She is flushed from sleep; warm from the sun and him.

He’s sitting so close; looking at her with such open adoration that she feels like she’s burning.

“You’re staring,” Jake drawls with a slow smirk. You have a staring problem. His voice is like the low rumble of a distant summer storm and slightly hoarse, and Nora wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket and sleep the rest of the day away.

Instead, Nora carefully sets the coffee on the nightstand and cupping his face between her hands, kisses him.

For once, she catches him off guard.

A deep, surprised sound punches out of him – half exhale, half groan.

She loops her arms around his strong neck, pulling him in, needing to be closer to him. Her fingers brush over the shorter hairs at his nape, curl in the longer strands, damp from where Jake must’ve showered before Nora woke. Dark gold, like a bottle of maple syrup in the sunlight.

Catching on, Jake bends a hand around the back of her neck and rolls her underneath him on the mattress, following her down, his mouth on hers the whole way down. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Nora opens for him with a sigh.

It’s slow and natural.

Would it always be like this? So easy? she wonders as Jake slides his hand up her side, fingers fanning across her ribcage and higher. Would it be as easy as falling asleep in his arms and waking up to the rich smell of coffee in the morning and kissing slowly like both of them know there will be other kisses, other mornings?

His hand cuts across her abdomen, and Jake covers her breast with his palm, and Nora lets the thought go, like the end of a balloon string, and arches into him.

There are suddenly too many layers between them.

And impatient, Nora kicks the sheets away and, hooking her leg around his hip, pushes his boxers down and frees his cock. He groans against her mouth, a sweet and rough sound, a reverent sound.

One hand comes down to hold her against him, rough palm sliding across the back of her thigh and up and up, and Nora shudders against him as Jake runs his fingers through the wetness that’s building between her legs.

He still has his other hand on the back of her neck, pad of his thumb swiping across her thrumming pulse, and hell, Nora almost wants to reach up and pull his hand around, urge him to spread those broad fingers across her collarbone, across her throat and –

Another time.

She breaks the kiss and breathes, “Turn over,” against his mouth.

And Jake – damn him – does this thing with his fingers that makes her brain go blank for a solid five seconds. Like Nora’s been put on airplane mode.

A grin dimples his cheeks as Jake looks down at her, lids low, lips parted just enough to show his teeth. “Now, isn’t that my line, sweetheart?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back something halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Just… get on your back.”

It’s actually obscene how effortlessly Jake flips them.

He reaches for her again, moving to pull her forward and settle between her open legs, hand around his hard cock, but Nora plants her hands on his stupidly broad shoulders and pushes him back down.

He could so easily resist her, but Jake lets her lead.

He looks up at her from the pillows with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What’re you up to, sweetheart?”

“You know…” Nora murmurs against his neck. “I had something I wanted to do last night.”

She kisses down his neck, across his shoulders – his beautiful shoulders – and down the center of his chest, memorizing the golden skin and hard muscle in the blue morning. He really is so goddamn handsome.

His gaze is molten, melted gemstones. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She moves down his abdomen, admiring the way Jake’s muscles shudder under the soft press of her lips. She notices Jake is holding his breath, and Nora smirks. Good. She wants him a little uneven.

She looks up at him from under her lashes. “You wouldn’t let me suck your cock.”

“I was being a gentleman,” Jake argues.

“Well, in that case, allow me to thank you.”

Nora runs her hand over his cock, stroking him once, twice, and puts her mouth around him, and Jake makes a choked sound, breathing in sudden and sharp, a fragile sound that quickly fades into a broken groan.

“Christ, Nora…” Jake groans, reaching down, his large hand settling on the back of her head, like Jake needs something to ground himself, fingers threading through her hair.

She hums around him in response, and Jake lets out a breathless, “Fuck,” that’s as flattering as a compliment.

It’s all moans and groans and soft breaths and Nora sweetheart Nora Jesus Christ until Nora looks up at him and murmurs coyly, “Come for me, cowboy,” and half a breath later, Jake finishes in her mouth.

She swallows with a smug grin, and Jake swears again, his cheeks darkening.

He drapes an arm over his face and lets out a string of breathless swears that make Nora laugh.

“Are you okay?” Nora asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretches out next to him as Jake catches his breath.

“I think I might be dead,” Jake mumbles from under his arm, voice muffled, “but good news, I’m definitely in heaven.” He lifts his arm slightly and looks at her sidelong, slanted green eyes full of suggestion. “You wanna be my plus one?”

Her laugh splits into a gasp as Jake slips a hand between her legs.

The coffee is cold when Nora reaches for it again, finding her breath between sips, resting her head on his flushed, sweat-misted chest, but she can’t bring herself to care. She drinks every single drop.

Saturday comes in a blink, and Nora drags Jake to the farmers market in Little Italy.

Or rather, Nora gets dressed in the morning, trading his oversized button-down for a white shirt and a pair of overall shorts, and starts saying, “So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain.

She loves to visit the local markets of new cities as a way to get to know them.

In San Diego, Nora has made a habit of going to the Little Italy Mercato every other weekend to stock up on fresh produce and browse the local art that’s for sale, a whole spread of gorgeous art prints, ceramics, and glassware.

A few weeks back, Nora found a handmade pitcher the color of blue bottle-glass and started filling it with fresh farm-grown flowers ever since. A bright spot of color on her bedroom sill.

It should feel weird that Jake’s there – stepping into this Saturday morning ritual that’s only ever been hers – but it’s actually nice, really nice.

He holds her hand as Nora walks around the street, wandering an aimless zig-zag between the stands, doubling back for the ones that catch her eye.

Her reusable bag grows heavier on her shoulder, slowly filling with fresh fruits and vegetables and even, a heart-shaped bottle of raspberry wine from a Temecula winery, and Nora’s shoulder begins to ache. She moves the bag to her hand and rolls out the minor discomfort in the muscle.

While Nora is distracted at the flower stand, Jake pulls the bag from her loose fingers and swings it over his opposite shoulder and links their hands again.

At first, Nora doesn’t even notice. She is busy sliding her credit card back into her wallet and clicking the no-receipt button on the iPad screen, but the older woman who is wrapping the flowers for her doesn’t miss a thing. She makes enough fuss for the both of them.

“What a nice young man.”

Nora almost snorts. She really wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to accidentally offend the nice woman who has no idea of the effect those words will have on the man behind her. Jake nudges Nora’s hip, biting back a grin, and collects the expertly-wrapped bouquet from the vendor.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jake drawls with a dimpled smile so sugar-sweet that Nora could spoon it into a bottle and use it to sweeten her coffee in the morning. Asshole.

She looks at him sideways, and Jake is already looking at her, a victorious lift to his mouth, like You see? See the sweet old lady who thinks I’m nice?

As Nora wades back into the crowd, a little flushed, Jake leans down and says, “Hear that? I’m a nice young man,” right against her ear.

Now, Nora does laugh.

“Debatable,” she says.

He laughs. His breath is warm on the side of her neck, and Nora feels his lips brush against her skin, against her hair, for the briefest moment. Shorter even, barely even a blink.

It’s a cloudless morning, but Nora holds back a shiver.

I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now.

She slows at the realization, but Jake is smiling, sun-bright, and asks, “You hungry?”

She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, the late morning sun on her freckling shoulders and cheeks. She basks in the feeling, in the buzz of a beautiful Saturday morning that’s brought half of San Diego out into the sunshine.

Her stomach grumbles, and Nora nods.

“Come on, I know just the place,” Jake says.

His hand slips out of hers to find the small of her back as Jake leads her out of the crowd.

Back on Coronado Island, Jake drives along Orange Ave for a while before pulling into the parking lot of a cute diner called Starboard Side.

This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date.

She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her.

It’s the very definition of charming. Sun-soaked and eclectic with deep blue wallpaper on one end of the diner – covered in a nautical pattern of anchors, ships, and ocean waves – and wood paneling on the other, painted a bright sunflower yellow.

She steps around a cluster of people who are waiting around the made-to-order coffee counter, either waiting for their order or waiting for one of the blue stools along the counter to be available, and Jake leads her to a booth in the corner.

“This is the best booth in here. It’s got the best window,” Jake says firmly and also in a way that makes her feel like he is waiting for her to agree with him, like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. Like Jake picked out the best booth in the diner to impress her.

It’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, which somehow makes it all the more endearing.

Smiling, Nora slides in across from him, the sun-bleached vinyl under her legs warm against her bare skin. “It’s beautiful. Do you come here a lot?”

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Jake answers, “since I was first at Top Gun. It’s the perfect amount of miles from the base for a morning run so I’d run here and back and carb load in between. Do you like pancakes or waffles?”

“Who do you think I am? Pancakes, of course,” Nora says, and Jake’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“They’ve got really good pancakes.”

He slides a laminated menu across the checkered table and points to one of the dishes in the Starboard Combos section, and as Nora follows along with his recommendation, walking her through his go-to orders, her hair slips into her face.

It’s been everywhere all morning, a little wild from the warmth of the day, a little windswept from the sea salt breeze coming off the ocean, frizzing and curling around her shoulders. She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself.

He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.

Every easy and casual touch sends a little thrill dancing through her stomach so Nora left it down.

She sweeps it over her shoulder and studies the menu.

A smiling waitress comes by to grab their orders and flits over to collect a stack of dirty dishes from the next table over, a spiral notepad tucked into the band of her brightly colored apron. She returns a few minutes later to set down their coffees and is gone again.

It’s just them now. Just them again.

She stirs the coffee with a metal spoon, oversized ice cubes clinking gently against the sides of the wide-mouth jar. She licks the sugar from the spoon and sets it back down on a paper napkin and watches him.

He rests his cheek on his open palm, curving his other hand around the chipped handle of the baby blue diner mug and watches her back.

He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.

He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.

A golden beam of sunlight slants through the large window at their side, the best window in the whole diner. It’s almost noon, and in the afternoon light, Jake looks relaxed and thoughtful, edges softened, all dimples and laugh lines.

She notices a small hole in the collar of his shirt – barely even noticeable – and Nora latches onto that small imperfection like a lifeline, proof that Jake isn’t something Nora dreamed up. He’s real, heart-achingly so.

“So…” Nora says.

“So…” Jake echoes.

So…

So, what does this mean?

So, what do people talk about on first dates that feel like fifth, sixth, seventh dates?

So so so.

“So,” Nora says again. A complete sentence. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers, mimicking his posture, half leaned forward, shoulders relaxed. “I have a question for you, Texas.”

His lips quirk. “Yeah? What kind of question?”

She dips her chin, lips pursed against a smile. “A very important one.”

A dimple springs up in his cheek as Jake drawls, “Hit me, Hollywood,” in a voice full of Texas.

“What is…” Nora reaches for her coffee. Draws out the suspense. “…your favorite movie?”

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and Nora narrows her eyes.

“Careful now. There are wrong answers here.”

“I’m not worried, sweetheart,” Jake replies with a casual sip of coffee, sprawling posture matching his words. “That’s an easy one. It’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Got anything harder for me?”

Asshole, Nora thinks with affection.

A cowboy movie for a cowboy. Of course.

And Nora lets out an approving, “Good movie,” instead of damn.

Because maybe, just maybe if Jake had god awful taste in movies – like, I respect you less as a person now bad – Nora could pour sand over the sparks that kick to life in her chest whenever Jake’s arm so much as brushes against hers. Damn damn damn.

And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.”

“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.

She pointedly ignores him, cheeks warm, and sips her coffee. “Is there a story there? Or are you really that much of a cowboy?”

He makes a noncommittal sound, not ignoring the question, not answering either.

This is a date, not an interview, Nora reminds herself. She doesn’t push.

He brings the mug to his lips and asks, “What about you? What’s yours?”

“Oh, I – ” Nora makes a face. “I don’t know if I have one.”

Shaking his head, Jake shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’re not getting out of this one, Hollywood, not a chance. You have to have one.”

Nora laughs. “I don’t know. It’s all just so subjective. I like a lot of movies for a lot of different reasons.” She gestures to him. “I mean, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Sure,” Jake says slowly, “but you must have a favorite.”

“That’s what I’m saying. A movie can be a favorite for any number of reasons, like, if you see a movie at the exact right time or maybe, with the exact right person or both, and it’s almost like the movie found you and not the other way around.”

A half-smile forms on his face as Jake listens to her.

“It’s hard to pick one favorite. How do you compare that – that raw emotional experience – with a movie that’s objectively very good from a craft perspective?”

“You tell me, sweetheart,” and Jake chuckles when Nora gives him a look. “Alright, what about two movies?”

“Two?”

“Yeah.” He holds up two fingers. “Pick two favorites.”

Two favorites. She can probably do two.

Thinking for a moment, Nora says, “When Harry Met Sally. One, because it’s amazing movie and the best rom-com of our time, obviously.”

She waits expectantly until Jake echoes, obviously, with a smile.

“Two, because I watched it in high school with my mom. I was supposed to go to this pool party that a girl in my grade was throwing for her birthday, but I got super sick, and I was so upset. It was like, all I’d been looking forward to that week. My mom canceled her plans and stayed in with me.” She smiles at the memory. “We spent the whole night on the couch, eating pizza and watching a Meg Ryan marathon on cable. It’s been a favorite of mine ever since.”

Gaze warm, Jake absorbs this with a nod. “What’s your second favorite?”

“Ocean’s Eleven,” Nora answers without hesitation. “I was obsessed with George Clooney when I was a kid. I once wrote him a letter and asked him to be my step-dad. He never got back to me, unfortunately.”

His laugh lights up his whole face. “God, of course you did. How’d your mom feel about that?”

“She would’ve gotten on board. It’s George Clooney,” Nora says simply, like it’s obvious.

His foot brushes against hers underneath the table, his ankle slotting into the space between hers, and something about it feels so intimate that Nora almost shivers.

After a moment, Jake offers, “I saw Butch and Sundance with my dad.”

An answer to a question Nora didn’t ask out loud.

Surprised, Nora pauses. “Your dad?”

A nod as Jake runs his hand over his nape. “Austin had this retro movie theater that used to play old movies on Saturday and Sunday mornings for real cheap, like five bucks, maybe even less back then. My football practice got rained out one weekend, and for once, my dad wasn’t working so we went to see Butch and Sundance. It’s probably the best afternoon I ever had with him.” A fraction of the seriousness washes from his face as Jake winks and adds, “And I’m that much of a cowboy, sweetheart. You should see my Stetson collection back home.”

A charmed smile pulls at her mouth, and Nora chooses her words carefully. “You’ve never mentioned your dad before.”

One of his shoulders rises and falls. “We’re not close. He was kind of an asshole even then, always on me about every little mistake I’d make during games, every A-minus that should’ve been an A. He only got meaner as I got older.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “My parents split up when I was in high school. He was a real dick to my mom during the divorce, so I don’t see him unless I have to now.”

“My dad’s an asshole too,” Nora says. “George Clooney would’ve been much better.”

Jake laughs, and Nora smiles, kind of proud of herself.

The waitress comes back with their food, and Nora slides the plate of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her. She carefully unrolls her knife and fork and sets the napkin across her lap. She doesn’t want any crushed blueberry stains on these overalls.

An unladylike sound almost escapes her mouth at her first bite, and Nora closes her mouth around the sound.

“You were right about the pancakes.”

“Of course I was.”

Nora rolls her eyes, and Jake chuckles.

Washing it down with a sip of coffee, Nora says, “You never told me your second favorite movie.”

Jake breaks off a piece of whole-wheat toast and dips it in yellow egg yolk. He pops it in his mouth and grinning around the bite, replies, “You already know my second favorite.”

“I do?” She sets her fork down, already sticky with maple syrup.

He nods, not giving her any hints, waiting for her to catch up with him, to keep up.

She wracks her brain for any movie Nora had ever heard Jake mention. She can’t think of a single one. She's about to fold her cards and ask him to tell her until –

“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” Jake says, amused.

She stares at him, mouth open slightly. “You can’t be serious. Your favorite movies are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of the best Westerns of all time, which has been preserved by the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and – ”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.”

His smile splits wide open when Nora bursts out laughing.

After, when Nora is leaving the diner, full of good food, Jake walks ahead of her to check the parking meter, and watching him, Nora has the most disorienting urge to walk over and wrap her arms around him. Press her cheek into the wrinkle of soft heather gray fabric between his shoulder blades. Inhale the smell of his cologne like Nora’s done it a million times before.

This is new, Nora reminds herself. It’s so new.

Except when Jake glances over his shoulder and looks for her, green eyes darting down to run over her bare legs, and smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.

It feels like Nora’s already waist deep, right in the middle of something vast and all-consuming, something bottomless.

And when Jake extends a hand behind him, reaching for her, eyes as green as dew-covered grass, Nora steps into the daylight and links her fingers with his, filling in the gaps, somehow it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.

Two more weeks pass, and Nora’s with Jake more than she’s not.

He sleeps over so often that Nora clears a spot on the bathroom counter for him to leave a spare toothbrush, and likewise, Jake starts to keep her favorite brands of cold brew and creamer in his fridge.

Coffee in bed becomes something of a weekend routine.

Once, in his apartment, Jake brings her coffee in a Lone Star State mug, which looks like one of those souvenir mugs you might find in an airport. It’s covered in a patchwork of orange and light blue doodles: a cowboy hat, a horse, a Sheriff’s star.

“Beth bought it for me when I left for my first deployment,” Jake explains when Nora asks him about the mug, running her fingers over the delicate outlines. “So I’d have something to remind me of home.”

They go on a second date. A third. A fourth.

He finds a dine-in movie theater in La Jolla that’s doing a 90’s Rom Com series all summer and takes her to a 35mm showing of Clueless, listening attentively as Nora explains the difference between digital and film projection in excruciating detail on the drive there, a smile on his face.

On the mornings that Jake doesn’t stay the night, Nora orders an extra coffee – with cream and sugar – from her favorite coffee shops and meets him on the base a half hour earlier than the rest of the Daggers. She kisses him in the quiet of the Ready Room until 8:00 AM rolls around.

It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good.

They keep it under the radar in front of the Daggers.

She’s not worried about them finding out, but Captain Mitchell is an extension of the Daggers, and Nora would really like to keep Aunt Charlie’s ex-boyfriend in the dark about her sex life for as long as possible. Forever, even.

Also, she still has a month left in her contract, and while she’s pretty sure the Naval magazine wouldn’t fire her for sleeping with one of the film subjects in a documentary like this one, she’s not so sure that she wants to put it to the test.

So, for now, under the radar it is.

After the Fourth of July, Javy officially gets his orders to report to Maverick's squadron. He goes back to Lemoore to wrap up some loose ends with his old C.O., and Jake meets him there the next weekend to drive a U-Haul back down.

And Nora emails the magazine and lets them know that the documentary will have one more Dagger.

Nora has more than enough time to weave him into the narrative of the film, and anyway, Javy is an official member of the squadron now. He is as much part of the story of the squadron as the other Daggers.

Plus, Nora hasn’t forgotten how excited Javy was about the film. It’ll be seamless, her version of rolling out the red carpet for him.

On his second day, Nora pulls him aside between drills and sits him down in front of the camera.

It’s a good interview, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He’s a lot like Jake in that way, effortlessly funny and charismatic with a glowing movie star smile. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the interview, completely and thoroughly charmed.

After, Nora walks back to the Ready Room with him, and Javy asks, “How was that?”

“Super good,” she tells him. He holds the door open for her, like a gentleman, and with a smile, Nora crosses the threshold ahead of him, looking at him over her shoulder. “No, but really, it was great. You’re a natural.”

On the couch, Jake grumbles, “I thought I was a natural,” and Nora swats at him on her way past.

Everyone gathers at the Jake’s apartment later that night to eat some pizza and watch a movie.

Nora is curled up on the opposite end of the couch as Jake with an unsuspecting Bob between them. At one point, Jake looks around the room and stretches his arm casually over the back of the couch, and Nora feels him fiddling with the end of her braid.

She hides her smile in her next sip of white wine.

She is peacefully watching the movie, drinking the wine and sharing a bowl of extra-butter popcorn with Bob when Natasha comes back from the bathroom and plops down on the carpet again with a smirk on her face.

“Hangman.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice of you to host and all, but next time, if you’re going to leave your bedroom door open, can you tell your girlfriend not to leave her underwear on the floor?”

Nora chokes.

A popcorn kernel shoots into her airway, and Nora coughs into her wine.

Jake subtly drops his arm behind the couch, letting go of her hair.

Looking down at Natasha, Jake raises his brows, like oh, who, me?, and smiles a familiar cat-like smile, unbothered and calm. “Sure, Phoenix. I’ll pass along the message.”

It’s immediately obvious that Natasha expected him to say anything but that.

She gapes at him, and meanwhile, Nora wishes it was possible to elbow Jake through Bob.

She curls further into the armrest and swallows a mouthful of wine that’s almost too much, wine dribbling out of the side of her mouth and onto her shirt.

What happened to under the radar?

And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear?

Is she wearing underwear now?

She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.

Natasha spends the last 30 minutes of Ocean’s Eleven grilling him – and when Jake smiles that infuriating plastic smile and doesn’t reveal anything, pivoting to Javy – about whether Jake does, in fact, have a girlfriend while Nora pretends to be engrossed in the movie and not eavesdropping.

“Wow, so Danny gets the money and the girl in the end. Good for him,” Nora says.

Bob gives her an odd look. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?”

She reaches for her wine again as a diversion, only to find the glass empty. Goddammit.

When Natasha is still in interrogation mode during the credits, Nora gathers the plates from the living room and escapes to the kitchen, hoping to hide in there until Natasha has even given up or gotten bored.

And knowing her, the latter is far more likely than the former.

Her peace ends about 30 seconds later when Bradley follows her.

He leans against the counter and unrolls the bag of cheese balls that Nora just clipped shut. Tosses one into his mouth. He grins at her knowingly, and Nora narrows her eyes at him in warning.

Don’t say a damn word.

Still, Bradley observes, “You followed my advice, Rogers.”

He’s not loud, but Bradley’s not exactly quiet by nature.

She sends a nervous glance into the other room and hisses, “We’re not doing this right now.”

She dumps the crumbs and uneaten pizza crusts into the garbage and stacks the dishes next to the sink. Turns on the sink to give them a little more privacy because if Nora knows him, Bradley has never left well enough alone in his life.

“Fine.” He knocks back a handful of cheese balls like a shot of vodka and dusts his hands off in a shower of orange crumbs. Nora looks between him and the roll of paper towels at his elbow with a scrunched brow. He doesn’t seem to notice and barrels on, “But listen, as a friend, can I ask you for something?”

“What?” Nora deadpans.

“Can I have like a 10 minute warning before you tell Hangman we slept together? I’d like to protect the goods.”

He gestures to his face, but Nora has a feeling Bradley also wants to protect something else.

She stifles a laugh. “He’s not gonna punch you for something that happened five years ago.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Except I do know that because I already told him.” She points to the counter behind him. “Can you hand me that bowl?”

He pauses mid-crunch and doesn’t move. “You told him?”

She sighs and reaches around him for the chip bowl herself. “Yes, Bradshaw, I told him.”

“And Hangman didn’t punch me?”

“Guess not.”

“I feel like I should be offended.”

She stares at him, incredulous. “Did you want him to punch you?”

“That’s not the point, Nora,” Bradley says, exasperated, like Nora is the one who’s being ridiculous here. “I can’t believe you told him without telling me. How’d he take it?”

“He didn’t care,” Nora says. She squirts dish soap onto a sponge and scrubs the potato chip grease from the bowl. “He actually thought it was funny.”

She suspected that Javy might’ve said something to his best friend about their conversation at the roller rink, and Nora didn’t want any lingering suspicions to turn into something bigger than the truth, something that might affect Jake or Bradley in their already high-risk jobs.

So Nora told him.

He seemed surprised at first.

And then, Jake laughed.

He laughed so hard that Nora hit him with a pillow to get him to stop.

“You and Bradshaw?” Jake chuckled. “You’re so out of his league, sweetheart. Jesus.”

“We were both drunk, okay?” Nora exclaimed. She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?”

“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly.

Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.”

A cheese ball rolls down his chest and under the fridge, and Nora bites the inside of her cheek.

Bradley purses his lips. “Now I feel like I should punch him.”

Eventually, Natasha decides that Jake must be messing with her – “Hangman couldn’t possibly be dating someone. He can never shut up. We’d all know about her.” – and Nora manages to make it out of the night unscathed with the rest of the Daggers none-the-wiser.

(Except Javy, who gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way out.)

A week later, Nora is working late in the Ready Room.

She is leaning on her elbow with god-awful computer posture – one knee pulled up on the chair, a mist of sweat on her brow from the heat – and Jake pops in to the room to let her know that the Daggers are headed to the Hard Deck for an after-work drink.

“You gonna be much longer?” Jake asks. “Want me to wait for you?”

He sets his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers move across the keyboard, kissing a spot underneath her ear that usually makes her brain go back, usually makes her sigh and melt into him, but Nora stays strong.

It’s just this one last thing.

She blows out a grounding several-seconds-long breath to keep herself focused.

“I’m almost done,” Nora replies evenly, impressively evenly, actually, “so don’t distract me.”

His lips pull into a grin against the side of her neck.

For his part, Jake doesn’t say anything else. He gives her space, leaning against the window, and watches her in silence.

She saves one last file, and once the external hard drive is properly ejected, Nora slams the laptop shut. She spins around to look at him, her elbows on the back of the chair, and Jake has his arms folded across his chest, looking effortless and handsome and effortlessly handsome in his black shirt.

Her lip catches between her teeth.

“Hi,” Nora breathes.

Expression soft, Jake says back, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“How was your day? Good?”

He nods. “You?”

She does the same, a dip of her chin.

Evening sun pierces through the open blinds, drenching the room in a copper hue and making it at least five degrees warmer, if not more, and Nora looks him over in the glow. Drinks him in like an Old Fashioned. Her favorite drink.

They’ve been talking a lot about those lately. Favorites.

Favorite movie. Favorite song. Favorite time of day.

When Harry Met Sally. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac. That moment right before sunset when the whole sky and ocean turns pink.

She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.

She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.

She reaches for him. Coasts her palm along the slope of his chin, the cut-glass curve of his cheek, the prickle of stubble on his strong jawline.

She kisses him on the cheek and rests her lips there. Mumbles against his skin, “You could use a shave, cowboy.”

She feels him smile, feels the muscles in his face stretching and working.

“You don’t like the stubble, sweetheart?”

Nora actually does like the stubble. He looks a little more rugged, a little more like a cowboy. She can imagine him on a ranch in Texas, a sunburn on his broad shoulders, riding horses in his real-leather cowboy boots and his real-denim jeans, tipping his Stetson at her with a wink and a broad grin on his ride. She might like it a little too much.

“Well,” Nora drawls, “I didn’t say that.”

As Nora pulls back with a grin of her own, Jake catches her chin between his index and thumb and kisses her.

It’s such a good kiss that for a moment, Nora lets herself forget everything else.

She lets herself forget their surroundings; let herself forget the afternoon she spent making a list of gaps in the footage because she has less than fourteen days to fill them in, less than fourteen days left here.

She lets herself forget the rising number of unanswered emails in her inbox and her one-way plane ticket back to New York at the end of the month.

She lets herself forget anything that isn’t Jake’s hands on her hips, urging her to her feet and pushing her back against the table, hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt, and Nora’s hands in his hair, tousled from the wind and a little damp from his post-flight shower, smelling like soap and jet fuel.

She loses herself in him, in this.

A door creaks open, and she doesn’t even notice.

“Are you still here, Nora? Phoenix wanted me to ask if…”

All of the air rushes out of Bob mid-sentence.

He makes a noise like a punctured balloon – a kind of stunned Oh! sound – and quickly shuts the door again.

Nora breaks away from the kiss, but Bob’s long gone now, picture frames rattling in his wake.

“Oh… Oh my god.” Nora puts her hands over her face and lets out a panicked laugh into her palms. “What are the odds I could ask him not to tell anyone?”

“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.”

“No way. It’s been like 30 seconds. How….” She grabs her phone, and not four seconds later, an incoming call from Natasha pops up on the screen. She presses decline with a startled sound and drops her phone back on the desk, like it’s a snake that bit her.

What the hell? Are Bob and Natasha telepathically linked?

Jake laughs. He looks far too smug for Nora’s liking.

She squints up at him. “And what exactly are you smiling about? I could get fired.”

She’s not really going to get fired, but she is feeling dramatic enough to say it anyway.

“You’re not gonna get fired,” Jake fires back without missing a beat. He hooks a finger in her belt loop and pulls her closer. “And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.”

“Is that a Sweet Home Alabama refer– oh?”

He cuts her off with another kiss, leg sliding between hers and up, his hand around the front of her throat.

It’s a long while before Nora packs up.

She’s only been at the Hard Deck for a few minutes when Bob comes over, looking sheepish, and apologizes with an Old Fashioned in hand.

“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.”

Nora laughs. “Jesus, Bob, I didn’t realize you were such a gossip.”

His blush deepens. “I’m sorry. I really thought everyone knew but me, but I guess Rooster and Coyote were the only ones.”

“It’s okay. We weren’t being very discreet,” Nora admits. She accepts the Old Fashioned with a forgiving squeeze of his arm. “Is Natasha mad? Like on a scale of 1 to Witness Protection?”

He pulls a face. “I think, more than anything, Phoenix is more mad she wasn’t the first one to figure it out. She’s also pissed Rooster knew and didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll let him take the heat for this one,” Nora says conspiratorially.

Bob smiles. “Probably a smart move.”

She kills the next half-hour and change at the pool table with Jake.

He’s apparently taken not sneaking around anymore to mean have his hands on her at all times. He stands too close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans while Nora is trying to take her turn. Cheater.

Natasha comes over in the middle of a game, nursing a Blue Moon.

She stands at Nora’s side and looks down at the game. “I guess I should’ve known,” she says in the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has processed their surprise. “He’s always staring at you lately. You were either hooking up or in desperate need of a restraining order.”

“Jury’s still out on the restraining order,” Nora replies dryly and smiles when an eavesdropping Jake looks up sharply. He meets her gaze and shakes his head, a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth.

A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?”

“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.”

A swooping feeling fills her stomach.

They haven’t used that word yet. Dating.

Dating has weight. Implications that Nora isn’t prepared to deal with right now.

Like, if they’re dating, what happens when she leaves?

And yet, foolishly, Nora really likes the sound of it.

She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.

Natasha observes this interaction with vague fascination.

“I’ll let you two figure that one out.” Natasha hoists herself onto a barstool, legs dangling, and nods to Jake. “I’ve got the next game with you, Nora. Hangman’s been hogging you over here.”

She and Natasha play a couple of games – first alone and then, against an overconfident pair of ensigns fresh from the Naval academy who wander over to hit on them. They win 40 bucks each off of them and send them packing.

And when Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, grinning lips pressed against her cheek, Nora spins around and kisses him on the mouth and doesn’t give a damn who sees.

On the last Friday of the month, Nora sends off the last few files and pieces of footage and organizes a wrap party for the documentary.

She loves this part of the filmmaking process – after weeks, months of work, a moment of pause and celebration and achievement. It’s such a singular and special experience to create something from start to finish, and Nora wants the Naval aviators have the chance to share in that moment with her. See what the last eight weeks have been for.

Captain Mitchell ends the day a few hours early and gathers the Naval aviators in the room where Nora first introduced herself to them all of those weeks ago.

A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.

It’s always a bittersweet feeling, and Nora pushes down the overwhelm that rises in her chest, sticking to the sides of her throat. She swallows hard.

Bradley cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

She exhales a laugh, relaxing. “I do have a little speech. More of an introduction, actually.” She links her fingers and holds them in front of her stomach to give herself something to do with her hands. “Making something like this is never easy. It’s almost always disruptive, but I felt so welcome here. You made it feel easy.”

She continues, “I’m only contracted as the filmmaker so I’m not doing the final edit of the film, but I didn’t want to send it off into post-production without showing you something that represents your hard work and dedication. You’ve volunteered a lot of your time to this project. It’s as much your achievement as mine.” She plugs in her laptop and pulls up the video and smiles. “I have a few minutes of footage for you.”

A chorus of whoops and cheers, and Nora presses the play button.

Text appears on the black screen as Nora quietly sits down.

On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.

The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.

A video of Captain Mitchell fades in, and Bradley claps loudly and shouts, “Let’s go, Mav!”

Natasha shushes him – and maybe punches him in the shoulder because Bradley lets out a pained groan.

“These men and women,” Captain Mitchell says on the screen. “This squadron. There’s never been a squadron like this one in the history of the Naval aviation.” He fades to voice-over over a rapid-fire reel of in-air footage: Jets cut through the blue skies at impossible speeds, perform incredible high-speed maneuvers, again and again and again. A black screen as Captain Mitchell declares, “These are the best fighter pilots on the planet.”

A small smile dances on Nora’s lips, anticipating.

What follows is a straight-forward but effective pattern.

Each Dagger appears on the screen and says their call sign, and Nora clipped something from their interview – a good anecdote, a particularly memorable quote – with footage of them in the air or b-roll of them on the base.

On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.

Next to her, Jake leans over and whispers, “You remember when you told me you didn’t like me after this?”

“Shut up,” Nora whispers back, smiling.

He grows closer, lips brushing her ear. “Now, why would I? We both know how much you love to shut me up, sweetheart.”

A rose pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and Jake chuckles.

Behind him, Natasha kicks his chair. “Zip it, Hangman. Stop flirting during my big moment.”

And Natasha’s JUST loud enough that Captain Mitchell hears.

He looks over with a frown. His gaze snags on where Hangman’s arm hangs ever-so-casually over the side of his chair, his pinky finger brushing against the side of Nora’s hand.

Pete Mitchell huffs out an amused exhale and shakes his head and thinks about all of the improbably and impossible ways that history seems to repeat itself. He looks over his shoulder and spots a familiar figure, slipping into the back of the room unnoticed. He nods to them and directs his attention back to the screen.

A short round of applause breaks out at the end of the video, and Nora beams.

She does a little half-bow at Natasha’s insistence.

“Thank you. You can stop now,” Nora laughs. She collects her laptop from the podium and holds it against her chest. “A military base isn’t the best place for a real wrap party, but Penny’s been kind enough to host us at her house tonight so I’ll see you all there, but while I’m here and still on the clock, any last questions?”

A beat of silence.

A familiar voice rings out from the back of the room.

“Can I ask one?”

Shock burns down the length of her spine, a sparked fuse of a stick of dynamite, and Nora straightens.

“What the fuck?” spills out of her mouth. She gapes. “Charlie?”

Standing in front of the red-and-blue Fighter Weapons School emblem, a leather bomber around her shoulders, a pair of aviator sunglasses in her graying curls, Charlie looks like one of her old photo albums come to life. A wide smile stretches across her face, making her look three decades younger.

What? How? And again, what?

“Last I checked,” Charlie says with a smooth smile. She nods to Captain Mitchell. “Maverick.”

“Charlie.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “Good to see you again.”

Nora is mostly definitely surprised. Stunned. “But… Charlie, what’re you doing here?”

Charlie leans against the back wall, arms crossed, effortlessly cool.

“Pete here was kind enough to let me know about the wrap party, and I thought, what the hell? Maybe I should take one of those vacation days the Pentagon is always on me about.” Her expression softens as Charlie takes her in. “It’s good to see you, sweetie.”

Charlie’s here. She’s here.

Nora blinks rapidly.

And promptly bursts into tears.

Half an hour later, Nora is sitting at a high top in a secluded corner of the hotel bar where Charlie is staying.

She orders an Old Fashioned from the waiter, and Charlie orders a glass of Pinot Noir and swirls the maroon wine around in her glass like a seasoned professional. Nora’s never really understood the point of doing that – something about letting the wine breathe – but it does make Charlie look pretty sophisticated.

Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated.

She sips her wine, lipstick un-smudged, and studies Nora over the glass.

Nora prepares herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

Something along the lines of, So what happened? Did you lose your phone? or maybe, Why did you start crying in the middle of the Naval base like a certified head case? Both of which are fair enough questions.

Bob was the first one to recover from his alarm and procured a packet of Kleenex from one of the pockets of his flight suit. He offered her one with a sympathetic smile, and Nora blew her nose with a grateful nod.

To his credit, Captain Mitchell snapped into action and quickly ushered the rest of the Daggers out of the room.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Nora heard Captain Mitchell say as Charlie wrapped her in a hug. His voice grew a little sterner, a little harder. “You too, Hangman. Let’s go.”

She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned.

She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He was still the last one out of the room.

Now, Charlie looks her over and comments brightly, “You’ve got some color in your cheeks. Are you spending a lot of time on the beach?”

She blinks. That’s… not a question Nora was expecting.

“They put me up in an apartment right on the beach, and the Daggers like to go down to North Beach and play volleyball and football, so I hang out with them sometimes.”

“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.

“I read.”

“Ah. Of course. Anything good?”

What is happening right now? “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“Good.”

Charlie drinks her wine and doesn’t ask anything else.

Nora stares at her. “Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No.”

She almost laughs. “No?”

“No,” Charlie repeats simply. She flags down the waiter and points to the appetizers on the Happy Hour menu. “Excuse me. Could we get an order of the whipped ricotta and then, the truffle parmesan fries? You can charge it to my room. Thanks, hon.”

Nora stares at her aunt like she’s been body snatched, and Charlie sighs.

“Listen,” Charlie starts. “You haven’t called me in weeks so clearly, whatever you’ve got going on is something you’re not ready to share with me right away, and if I know you at all – and I like to think I do – I know I’ll get absolutely nowhere if I push you.” She picks up her glass and swirls it again. “So, we’ll get a couple of drinks and split some appetizers, and when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.”

They do exactly that.

Nora orders a second drink and spreads honey-drizzled ricotta across pieces of baguette and fills Charlie in on the last eight weeks, every minuscule and probably uninteresting detail about the documentary and the squadron. She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself.

And eventually, when her drink is down to ice and the bread down to crumbs, Nora tells her aunt what’s going on.

And Charlie listens.

She listens to everything.

Every doubt and fear. Every uncertainty that’s been weighing Nora down for the past year and a half, making her feel like she’s caught in a bear trap, like she can’t move, like she can’t breathe.

Admitting all of these big and all-consuming feelings to Charlie is scary and freeing in equal measures, but in the end, where there was once a pit in her stomach, she feels relief. She feels one breath closer to the surface.

When Nora is done, her mouth is dried out. She chugs half a glass of water.

And almost spits it all back out when Charlie’s first words are: “So why don’t you quit?”

“What?” Nora asks, more of a stunned syllable than a question.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore,” Charlie says plainly, “don’t.”

Her brows are high on her forehead as Nora asks, bewildered, “So what? Give up?”

“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.”

“They feel like the same thing.”

“They’re not.”

She bites her lip and looks over Charlie’s shoulder and out of the window.

“Isn’t it like…” Nora blows out a breath. “If I quit now, isn’t it like I’m flushing six years of my life down the drain?”

Charlie shrugs. “You still did a lot in those six years. Changing your mind doesn’t take away from any of those accomplishments, but now, maybe it’s time for you to do something else, something you like more. Start over.”

Nora sits back. “You say it like it’s simple. Easy.”

“It might not be easy. It most likely won’t be, but it is that simple, yes.”

Words catch in her throat, and when Nora says it out loud, her voice sounds small. “I’m scared.”

Her aunt’s face softens. She reaches across the table and cups Nora’s hand.

“You’re allowed to be scared. Everyone’s scared.”

She blows out a shaky breath to keep herself from crying again, but a slight crack in her voice gives her away. Damn. “Yeah? When’s the last time you were scared you couldn’t do something?”

God. She regrets the words almost immediately.

She sounds childish, petulant, but right now, Nora feels like the 16-year-old who snuck Charlie’s red lipstick from her make-up pouch and got busted because she accidentally put it back uncapped and ruined the inside of the bag. Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years.

Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.

All of the sudden, Charlie looks very far away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than when your mom died. She made being a parent look so easy, and I got to be the cool Aunt Charlie on the sidelines, and then, she was gone, and I was so scared I’d fuck up and undo everything.”

Nora’s eyes burn. “Charlie, I never… You never said anything.”

“Of course not,” Charlie dismisses with a shake of her head, curls bouncing. “You were still a kid. You were grieving. You needed stability, and I knew I had to do my best because sometimes, you’re scared and you do it anyway.”

“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.

“See I could’ve never come up with something like that, but god, your mom…” Charlie wipes at her eyes with a cloth napkin and smiles. “She was born to be writer. When I got my first interview with the Pentagon, I had less than 24-hours notice. I was living in New York at the time, and I’d need to hop on a train and hope I could find a hotel for the night when I got down there."

"Honestly, I thought about not going, but your mom sat me down and said, ‘Charlotte,’” and Charlie straightens her spine and does her best impression of her sister, “‘You get your bony ass to Grand Central, and I’ll call every damn hotel in DC and find you a room. You got the interview, and now, all you have to do is follow through and take the leap.”

“And you did,” Nora finishes. “You did the interview, got the job, and the rest is history.”

“I did. I followed her advice. I decided that if I was going to fail, I should do it bravely.” Charlie squeezes her hand once more and lets it go. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.”

Nora goes to the bathroom to clean up her mascara and when she comes back, Charlie is signing the check.

She checks her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to head over to Penny’s?”

“Give me one second.” Nora reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. “I have to call someone back.”

Penny Benjamin lives in a beautiful house in La Jolla that looks like something out of Architectural Digest magazine.

A classic California bungalow with off-white siding and wide blue-trim windows and a garden wrapping around the side, summer green dotted with pinks and yellows and reds; on an elegant cliffside, overlooking the Pacific.

It’s a good half hour from San Diego so when Nora and Charlie arrive, the street is lined with cars.

Last week, Nora asked Admiral Simpson for a full list of everyone who’d been on the base during the making of the documentary and forwarded the names to Penny for the wrap party. When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed.

Still, Nora is surprised to see him in the garden, chatting with Admiral Bates with a beer in his hand, a pretty woman next to him who must be his wife.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Warlock and Cyclone,” Charlie says, patting Nora’s shoulder, and Nora nods and watches her go.

She doesn’t see Penny anywhere so Nora goes into the house and finds her in the kitchen. She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something.

“What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?

“Oh, Nora,” Penny gasps, hand fluttering over her heart. “This is your party. You didn’t need to bring me something.”

“Oh please. Charlie’s outside. It’s from both of us,” Nora waves her off as Penny admires the bottle. It was the prettiest one in the store. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way. Your house is so beautiful.”

Now, Penny’s the one to wave her off. “No, no, I was happy to do it. We’ll all miss having you around, even Pete. He probably won’t say it himself, but I’ll say it for him.” Nora smiles widely, and Penny shoos her out of the kitchen. “I’ll open this up and bring it out, but you get your butt outside and enjoy the party.”

Obliging, Nora makes her way back outside.

A makeshift bar is in the middle of the garden, and Nora finds her aunt pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Come on,” Nora nudges. “You can meet some of my friends.”

They make the rounds around the garden. She introduces Charlie to Natasha, who looks as starstruck as Nora has ever seen her.

Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?”

“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.

“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?”

“I did.”

“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.

“Charlie,” Bradley calls out and rushes over to give her a big hug, lifting her kitten heels off the ground. It’s been a few years since Bradley last saw Charlie so Nora’s not surprised that Bradley and Charlie have a lot of catching up to do. She’s happy to listen and chime in every so often.

Awhile later, Bradley leaves to grab another plate of food, and gaze sweeping across the garden, Charlie turns to Nora and asks, unexpectedly, “Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

Nora manages not to blush. She raises her brows. “I would if I had one.”

“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”

Shit.

Nora looks over, and sure enough, even in the middle of a conversation with Javy, Mickey, and Reuben, Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her.

She bites back a smile. And beckons him over.

He crosses the garden in a few long strides and after Nora introduces him (“This is my aunt, Charlie Blackwood.”), Jake greets her with a nod and an extended hand. “Jake Seresin, ma’am.”

“Jake,” Charlie repeats with recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? Nora frowns slightly. She’s never mentioned him before this afternoon.

His lips part in a wide, charming smile. “Likewise, ma’am.”

Charlie looks amused. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.”

“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach.

Charlie’s not fooled. She smirks and asks, “Texas, huh? What part?”

“Austin,” Jake replies. It’s a visible effort not to add ma’am at the end.

“You don’t say. Did Nora ever tell you that my husband John went to UT Austin?”

A spark lights up his eyes, and Jake seems to be doing fine on his own so Nora leaves him alone to grab another drink in the midst of an in-depth discussion of the Texas Longhorns. She spots Ethan and Chris on her way back and gets pulled into a conversation with them, saying goodbye and wishing them luck in their next projects in case Nora misses them later.

When Nora returns, Jake and Charlie are still talking. She must like him.

Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.”

She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both.

“She is,” Charlie agrees. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

She could kick both of them.

When Jake is out of earshot, Charlie comments, “He’s very charming.”

Nora almost laughs. “I know.”

“He likes you.”

She does laugh now. “Believe me, I know.”

“He’s the one who called me,” Charlie adds casually, and Nora whirls on her.

“What? You said Captain Mitchell called you.”

Charlie shakes her head, smiling, a knowing smile. “Pete was the one who forwarded me the invite, but Jake called me.” A chuckle. “He called me ma’am on the phone too.”

She smiles despite herself because of course.

“What’d Jake say? What made you come?” Nora asks.

“He said that you needed me and you probably wouldn’t call me and tell me that outright, but you were having a hard time.” Charlie looks at her sidelong, lips curled at the ends, a dimple in her cheek. “He knows you pretty well, your not-boyfriend.”

Nora looks for him again.

She finds him on the other side of the garden, laughing at something Bradley is saying, hair a golden halo in the summer evening sun. He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.

And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm.

A preview before an inevitable downpour.

Evening begins to blend into night, and Nora sits on the steps of the porch to watch the sunset.

It’s a good vantage point. She can see everyone and everything.

Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off.

Nora watches as Charlie goes over to Captain Mitchell and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Ice. He was a good man.”

Captain Mitchell nods, his mouth a line, emotion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nora looks away.

He gave her privacy earlier. She’ll return the favor.

A step creaks behind her, and Nora dips her head back to see Jake.

“Hi cowboy,” Nora greets, and Jake grins down at her.

He drops onto the step next to her, arm stretched behind her.

“How’d it go with Charlie?” Jake asks.

“Good,” Nora says. She rests her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee, and studies him closely. “She told me that you called her. How’d you even get her number?”

“Bradshaw,” Jake replies. He meets her gaze and holds it, green on blue, sparkling like the ocean. “Seemed like, maybe you needed her.”

Her chest aches, and Nora says softly, “Thank you.”

His wide palm spreads across her leg, fingertips dangling to brush against the inside of her thigh. “How long’s she staying?”

“A week. She changed her flight. She’s flying back to New York with me, instead of D.C.”

Silence falls like an anchor, plummeting to the ocean floor. A muscle works in his jaw, like Jake’s chewing on his next words. “What happens now?”

For her? For them?

She doesn’t have all the answers, but Nora at least has this.

“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.

A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking.

“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.”

She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.”

“Here?” He looks confused, adorably so, and Nora holds back a smile.

“Turns out that Charlie has some empty-nester friends here from her Top Gun days. They’re looking to rent out their guest house for the rest of the year. It’s not far from here actually, within walking distance of the beach.” She can feel her heart pounding like Nora’s running a marathon as Jake slowly start to understand. “I turned down the offer, Jake. I’m moving back to California.”

She called Jenna from the hotel bar. She was a little bit annoyed with Nora, understandably.

Her first words were, “Are you kidding me? You waited until now to tell me this?”

But after a few minutes of Nora’s apologetic I know, I’m sorry, I know, Jenna was ultimately supportive.

“Damn, Nora. This is a real loss for our industry, but I’m happy for you. If you never need a connection in Hollywood, call me. I know people who know people.”

And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it here until she came back.

“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.

She reassures him with a nod. “I still have a storage unit back in New York so I have to go back, and I have a few things left at Charlie’s, but Charlie’s coming to help me clean it out and move what I need. And…” Nora drifts off and for once, the uncertainty doesn’t seem so scary. It’s wide open and hopeful.

Jake wipes his hand down his face and sets his hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, looking utterly relieved. “You’re… god, Hollywood, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack someday.”

“You love it,” Nora teases.

He lifts his chin with his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I really, really do.”

And when Jake kisses her, it feels like maybe he means something else.

Cheeks warm, Nora looks out at the horizon, and it’s that perfect time between day and night when the whole ocean is a watercolor of pale pink and purple. She kisses the carved dimple in his cheek and leans into his strong shoulder, and Jake tucks her under his chin, rubbing his thumb across her palm, over her heart line.

Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.

end note: charlie, my beloved. i didn't mean for this to be so long, but i hope you enjoyed 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

want to be tagged in the epilogue? fill out this form!

#about to be crying through the epilogue goodbye #fic: baby i'm high octane #laracrofted writes #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x nora rogers #hangman x oc #hangman fic #hangman smut #jake seresin smut

63 notes · View notes

trickphotography2 · 10 months

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 10

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Synopsis: 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.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 9 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 10

I’m late.

The thought jolted you awake. It was still dark as you reached for your phone to check the time, knocking over the bottle of Tylenol in the process. After confirming that you still had ten minutes until your alarm went off, you collapsed onto the pillows. The room spun behind your closed eyes as you removed the now-dry washcloth from your forehead and pressed a palm against your temple.

A low-grade headache had been plaguing you for the last few days, stubbornly not moving toward a migraine, so you couldn’t justify using your meds. As it was, you still had some nausea and had gotten sick at work the last two days. Thankfully, Jake was on mids - working from 4:00 PM until midnight since he was helping the Strike Fighter Weapons School Pacific with dog fight training - and hadn’t been on base to make you go home. Your team was reviewing contract bids for a new plane towing machine and needed all hands on deck. You just had to make it through today and tomorrow, and then you’d have a long weekend to relax. Jake could go to the 4th of July party that Phoenix was hosting - you would sleep.

When the world righted itself, you slowly sat up and breathed through a wave of nausea. The pills rattled as you shook out two tablets from the bottle and swallowed them with a sip of water, glancing at Jake sleeping beside you. For the first few nights he’d been on mids, you’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home. With his schedule, you passed one another in the house without having actual time together. A few hours of uncomfortable dozing was worth the minutes you talked until he sent you to bed and watched TV to wind down for a couple of hours before passing out. Since your headache started, you’d gone to bed right after work. Other than exchanging texts, you hadn’t had a chance to really talk to him all week.

Slipping out of bed, you took your phone and headed towards the bathroom, turning off your alarm. You waited until the door was closed to flick on the light, not wanting to wake Jake up. Bracing your elbows on your knees while peeing, you hung your head and breathed through your nose and out your mouth, wishing that you’d taken the time to run back to your apartment to get your nausea meds after work yesterday, but you’d been so exhausted.

The shower warmed as you brushed your teeth and tried not to gag. Deciding that you couldn’t handle the noisy blow dryer this morning, you tied back your hair and stepped under the hot water. Tilting your head back, you exhaled deeply as your muscles relaxed, keeping one hand on the wall when the heat made you lightheaded.

The bed was empty when you crept out of the bathroom dressed for work, and you heard the gurgling of the coffee pot. Following the noise, you found Jake leaning against the counter, ankles crossed while scrolling on his phone, boxers slung low on his hips. His eyes were red with exhaustion when they lifted to meet yours, a sleepy smile crossing his lips as he set the phone down. “Mornin’,” he rasped.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he lied, opening his arms as you drew close. You pressed your cheek to his sleep-warm chest, sinking into his comforting embrace. “You feelin’ any better?” His accent always came out more when he was tired.

“Not really,” you shrugged. His hand swept the length of your back as he kissed the top of your head.

“You know, I learned something pretty interestin’ last night.” When you hummed, he chuckled. “Apparently, orgasms help with headaches.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he asked, pulling away to meet your gaze. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“It’s not exactly the first thing I think of when my head hurts. Besides, I have two perfectly good hands.”

“Your boyfriend also has two perfectly good hands. And a mouth. And a dick.”

“And a work schedule that isn’t exactly conducive to a sex life.”

“Darlin’, I’d happily give up an hour of sleep to help you feel better.”

“How generous of you,” you chuckled. He pressed his lips to your forehead before kissing you.

“You’re going to the doctor if you don’t feel better tomorrow.”

“It’s just a headache.”

“They shouldn’t last a week.”

“Whatever, Dad,” you huffed. Jake lightly swatted your ass, a teasing smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“Careful, baby - I might just start likin’ you calling me Daddy.” He kissed you again, lips a soft counterpoint to his rough stubble, before guiding your head back onto his shoulder. “Take the day off.”

“I can’t. We’re almost done with the first run through the bids.” When a wave of nausea hit, you turned to press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers digging into his back as you breathed through it.

“Darlin’.”

“I’m fine,” you said once it passed. Smiling weakly, you pulled away. “You should go back to bed.”

“Any chance you can join me? For medical reasons,” he added, brushing the hair from your face.

“I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine. But I’m serious - you’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Groaning, his head fell back against the cabinets as you stepped out of his arms and got your coffee ready.

The morning passed in a blur of documents as the team sat in the conference room. Cruz had picked up a box of donuts, and you’d nibble on a plain one while sipping your coffee. During a bathroom break, you’d grabbed another sports drink from the hanger break room, tossed two dollars into the jar, and added the ninth tally mark by your name. But as it got closer to lunchtime, half of the donut sat heavily in your stomach, and most of the coffee sat in front of you.

“I’m heading to the food court if you want to join,” Cruz offered, pushing away from the conference table.

“I’m in,” Woolsey agreed, as did Armitage and Gale.

“I’m good,” you said. Lunch didn’t sound appealing, but a power nap in the car did. Once you’d tossed the donut and grabbed your thermos, you headed to your office to grab your keys. When you bent to retrieve your purse from the desk drawer, another wave of nausea hit. Groaning, you sat in your chair, dropping your head into your hands. Sweat dotted your brow as your ears started to ring.

You stared, trying to figure out where you were and why you were looking at the ceiling tiles. Turning your head, you saw the bottom of a desk and realized you were on the office floor. Your ears rang louder, and you widened your eyes as the room spun. Your hand shook when you held it in front of your face. From the corner of your eye, you saw feet approaching and looked up to see Armitage’s shocked face. Her mouth moved, and you frowned. She crouched and pushed against your shoulder when you tried to sit up. “What happened?” you asked, sinking back onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ, are you alright?”

“I…I think I fainted.”

“Shit.” She turned to look out the office door but whipped around when you gagged. Pushing onto your elbow, you reached for the trashcan and vomited. “Damn it. Are you okay?” Draping your arm over the rim of the trashcan and resting your head on your forearm, you breathed through your mouth, trying to keep from fainting again. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She was right. Your left foot had a deep scratch, and blood was dripping into your shoe - you’d caught it on your desk drawer. “Fuck.”

“You need to go to the hospital. I can drive you.”

“No, I’m fine. I… I can go myself.”

“You can’t drive.” You groaned, knowing that she was right. But the idea of having your coworker take you to a hospital - and it would have to be off base - was too humiliating. You knew what you had to do. Armitage helped you into your chair, which had rolled across your office and hit the wall, before grabbing your phone.

“Hey, darlin’. You on lunch?”

“Can you come to get me?”

The Navy spent a lot of money training their pilots to be calm under pressure, which was the only way Hangman was able to drive to the Bounty Hunter hanger, and then across town to a civilian hospital. After escorting you into the ER and getting you settled into a chair with the paperwork, he parked the truck and hurried back inside.

Other than when you stepped into the restroom, Jake never left you, keeping his arm draped over your shoulders. Tucked against his side, you kept your eyes closed as you told him what happened, his lips grazing your temple. Thankfully, your foot stopped bleeding as you waited the hour to go back to an exam room. You could tell he wasn’t happy they sent a medical student to take your history. Jake stood to the side, arms crossed and eyes following every movement.

“Your paperwork says you’ve had a headache for a few days. Is that common?”

“No. I have migraines, but they’re usually gone in a day or two.”

“Any stressors?”

“Other than work, not really.” He nodded again.

“Do you know what usually triggers your migraines?”

“Stress or my period.”

“Is your menstrual cycle normal?”

“Pretty much,” you shrugged.

“And you said your last period was about a month ago?” You nodded. “The paperwork says that you were sitting before you fell. Were you sitting for a long time?”

“Kind of. But I’d walked to my office.”

“When you fainted, did you hit your head?” You nodded. “Did you vomit afterward?” Nod. “Do you know how long you were unconscious?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He left after cleaning and bandaging your foot, and a few minutes later, you had your blood drawn and was hooked up for an EKG. Jake stepped out to call his CO and tell him he wouldn’t be at work that night, then slid his hand into yours as you closed your eyes and tried to stay calm. When the tests were done, you curled up on the bed and dozed with your head on his shoulder.

Around 3:00 PM, the doctor finally came into the room with the med student and shook both of your hands before settling on the stool and tapping on her tablet. “So your labs look good. You’re a little dehydrated, but I’m not seeing any issues with your heart. I did want to ask a couple of follow-up questions. Have you had any sharp pain recently in your stomach, pelvis, or shoulder?”

“No,” you frowned.

“The lightheadedness - has it been consistent or just the one time?”

“I’ve felt a little light-headed off and on, but it goes away in a minute or so.”

“Any irregular bleeding?” You shook your head. “Great. So it looks as though you experienced vasovagal syncope, which is when your blood pressure has a sudden drop. You mentioned that your periods trigger your headaches, and hormone fluctuations can trigger one.”

“So she’s okay?” Jake asked, squeezing your hand. The doctor smiled at him.

“Yes, she’s okay. I wanted to discuss some of the symptoms you were experiencing before the syncope. You mentioned being nauseous - was that just before the syncope?”

“No, it’s been a couple of days.”

“Have you vomited?” Nod. “Have you been keeping food down?”

“Not really. I’ve mostly been eating crackers the last couple of days.” You pointedly ignored the look Jake gave you.

“Have you been more fatigued recently?” Brow furrowed, you nodded again. “How about any other physical symptoms?”

“Like?”

“Any tenderness in your breasts?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jake answered, clearly thinking about how he’d brushed your nipples in the shower over the weekend and you’d threatened to punch him in the throat. You blushed. The med student snorted. The doctor met your gaze, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“The labs show that your HCG levels are elevated, which probably triggered the vasovagal syncope.” Her eyes darted between you and Jake before she added, “HCG is what we look for to confirm a pregnancy.”

The word echoed through the exam room. You froze, feeling Jake’s hand flex around yours. “P-pregnancy?” you stuttered.

“Yes,” the doctor looked between your stunned faces. “I would recommend setting up an appointment with your OB in the next couple of days to see how far along you are and to monitor your morning sickness. Right now, it’s unclear if your nausea is because of your headache or hyperemesis gravidarum, which is severe morning sickness. I’m a bit concerned about you being dehydrated, so make sure you’re taking in as much fluid as possible - water, sports drinks, soup, popsicles, whatever you can keep down. For food, go with the BRAT diet - bread, rice, applesauce, and toast. And I want you to try and eat a couple of small meals throughout the day. You want high carbs and protein with low fat.”

“I’m going to write you a prescription for something to help with the nausea. For the headache, again, hydrate and eat. You can take acetaminophen as needed. I want you to return to the ED or urgent care if you still can’t keep anything down, if you faint again, or if you feel any pain in your abdomen or shoulder. And make sure that you take your time when standing up - your blood volume increases during pregnancy, and your pressure can drop. Compression socks can help. Do you have any questions?”

“I’m pregnant?”

Her smile was soft when she nodded, “You’re pregnant.”

“Darlin’, you awake?” Jake asked, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. Your seat was tilted back, eyes closed behind sunglasses against the setting sun. It would be so easy to pretend you were sleeping, but you held out your hand and felt his palm slide against yours before the soft brush of his lips against your knuckles. “You feeling okay?”

“My head still hurts, I’m nauseous and exhausted, but other than that, I’m okay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”

“It hasn’t been - this isn’t the first time I’ve had a headache last this long. I’ve only been dizzy a couple of times.”

“That’s a couple of times too many.” When you tried to pull your hand away, he tightened his grip. “I’m gonna get you settled at home, then go to the store and pick up some stuff. You need to eat.” The thought of food turned your stomach, and you rolled your lips together, focusing on your breathing. He momentarily let go of your hand, and the air conditioner blasted, the cool air hitting your flushed skin. “Tell me if I need to pull over.”

Thankfully, you made it back to the house. When Jake stopped to let the garage open, you threw open the door and rushed inside as he parked, barely making it to the guest bathroom to vomit bile. A minute later, he set a glass on the counter, pulled your hair away from your face, and rubbed soothing circles on your back. “I thought morning sickness was only in the morning,” you groaned.

“Well, you’re an overachiever.” You let out a watery chuckle, sitting back on your heels and blowing your nose. He handed you the glass of water before leaning against the doorframe. Your hand shook when he pulled you to your feet, and his lips pressed into a thin line. As soon as you rinsed your mouth and washed the tears from your face, he lifted you off your feet and carried you into the bedroom. He left after setting you on the bed and telling you to get comfortable.

Sighing, you stripped off your shirt and slacks and pulled one of his t-shirts from the dresser before retreating to the bathroom to brush your teeth and remove your makeup. He returned as you slipped under the covers, handing you an ice pack and setting one of his sports drinks on your bedside table. Carefully, he sat beside you, planting a hand on the bed by your hip as you placed the ice pack on the back of your neck. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now,” you sighed, blinking back tears. “I think I’m still in shock.”

“You and me both, darlin’. So much for it just being a headache.” Jake’s smile was soft, contradicting the tension in his shoulders, as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m gonna go to the store. You want anything in particular?” When you shook your head, he left.

Once you heard the rumble of the garage close, you turned onto your side and hugged your pillow. You and Jake had talked about kids before but hadn’t had strong feelings either way. When picturing your future, you thought about vacations and career advancement. You could see a kid or two, but that wasn’t the first thing you thought of. It wasn’t like your friends who always identified being a parent as something they had to have in their future.

You’d decided to wait until after getting married to make the final decision. But it seemed like the universe was going to make you choose early.

The first tears fell as you slid your hand under Jake’s shirt and cradled your stomach.

Jake walked around the grocery store in a daze, tossing items into the cart.

Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his kid.

He'd been scared when you called him to say you needed to go to the hospital. Not only because you were hurt but because he couldn’t take you to the nearest hospital - the one on base - but had to go to a civilian one. He’d already been mentally crafting his argument to push up getting married when the doctor dropped the bombshell.

Pregnant.

That word terrified him. He’d never pictured himself as a dad, even when his ex tried to convince him to have a kid. Jake knew he wouldn’t be a good one, especially if they had a boy, not with how he’d been raised. He didn’t want a kid to grow up hating him for doing a shitty job.

But he couldn’t deny that his heart leapt when the doctor said you were having his child.

Something soft crushed under his shoe. Jake stopped and stepped back, lifting his foot to see a small elephant stuffed animal with a pacifier attached to its trunk. Slowly, he scooped it off the floor while looking around the aisle to see if someone had dropped it. He spotted a guy in NWU camo pushing a cart with a car seat, turning left in front of him. After grabbing a jar of applesauce, he followed, speeding along the aisles to catch sight of him again.

Of course, he caught up with him on the aisle with all the baby stuff. “Hey, excuse me. Is this yours?” The man tossed a package of diapers in the cart before looking at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh shit. Yeah, thanks, man,” he replied, closing the few steps to take it. “My wife would kill me if I came home without Wubbie - bedtime’s hard enough without his paci.” Jake fought the urge to raise an eyebrow but nodded.

“No problem.” He glanced at the car seat and saw that the baby was wearing the man’s service hat and felt his lips twitch into a smile. With a nod, he pushed the cart away, unable to stop looking at the shelves as he walked. There were so many different types of diapers and wipes. And it was all expensive. His steps faltered, and he grimaced when he saw a straw-looking thing for literally sucking boogers out of a baby’s nose.

“That thing is disgusting but a lifesaver,” the guy said, coming up behind Jake and seeing what he was looking at. He grabbed a bottle of baby lotion and tossed it into the cart. “You having your first kid?”

“Uh,” Jake said, “yeah, I guess I am. How’d you know?”

“You’ve got that freaked-out new dad look,” he chuckled, then glanced at Jake’s cart. “Plus, you’ve got a shit ton of stuff for morning sickness. My wife swore by these ginger candies they’ve got over in the pharmacy area.”

“Thanks, I’ll grab some.”

“Congrats, man. You’re in for a fun time. And thanks again for the pacifier.” Jake stood there for a long moment before heading to the pharmacy.

What he needed more than anything right now was to talk to someone and get his head on straight before going into the conversation with you. Having kids was supposed to be something you discussed in a couple of years, but not now. Not when he didn’t have time to really think about what it would mean to be a dad. His whole adult life had been focused on becoming the best naval aviator. Now that he’d accomplished that, he had time to breathe, enjoy being in a relationship, and get promoted to Lieutenant Commander. A baby would complicate that.

Not that he didn’t like kids. Some other officers had them, and he liked them in theory. They were cute, and he knew any child the two of you made would be adorable. But they were a lot of work. And he didn't know how to be a father. His example growing up was everything that he didn’t want. Jake knew he could focus too much on his career and what he wanted to do, which was, unfortunately, similar to his dad. He could be mean and lose his temper when annoyed.

As much as he wanted to call Coyote and talk about how much he was freaking out, he couldn’t. His best friend would tell him what he wanted to hear, but Jake wasn’t sure what that was. He needed someone who would give him an honest opinion without considering his feelings.

And, thankfully, he had just the person for that.

The phone rang as he stopped in his driveway. Rather than reach for the remote to open the garage, he waited.

“Hangman.”

“Am I going to be a shitty father?” The words were out before he could stop them.

There was silence for a long moment before Rooster groaned. “Jesus, Hangman. At least tell me that you knocked up your girlfriend and not - ”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jake snapped. “This was a dumb fuckin’ idea. Don’t tell anyone - ”

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry,” Rooster said quickly. “Don’t know why you didn’t call Coyote for this.”

“Because he’s gonna tell me what I wanna hear. I need to know what the truth is.”

“And I’m the guy to do that? The one in the squad who grew up without their dad and has Mav as a pseudo-parent?”

“The only thing you’ve never hesitated on is calling me on shit, Rooster.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. So am I gonna be a shitty dad?” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose as the silence dragged on.

“You’re dangerous in the air, but when your team needs you, you’re there. You get the job done.”

He cleared his throat, “That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.” Rooster sighed, “The fact that you’re worried about this means you’re not gonna be a shitty dad, Jake.” Hot tears sprang to his eyes as he let his head fall back, and he quickly brushed away the few that fell. After a long moment, Rooster cleared his throat. “So when’s she due?”

“No idea. Just found out a couple of hours ago.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” The silence stretched again. “Thanks for… that. And could you not tell anyone about this? We’re…”

“Yeah, no, of course. And…uh… congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” When the call disconnected, Jake folded his arms over the steering wheel and rested his head on his forearms. There was a tiny flicker of hope in his chest that he wouldn't be the worst father if one of his strongest critics believed in him. Hell, he was pretty sure all he needed to do was do the opposite of everything his own did. Sighing, he hit the garage opener and pulled the truck in before grabbing the bags from the backseat.

When he opened the door, he saw you standing in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water. You looked pale as the corners of your lips lifted in a tired smile. “Hi.”

“Hey, darlin’. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I was, for a little while.”

“Were you sick again?”

“Almost. How about you? How are you doing?”

“I’m not the one who ended up in the hospital today,” he replied, setting the bags on the counter and starting to unpack them, his back to you. Sighing, you set the glass down and crossed the kitchen to wrap your arms around him, head resting between his shoulders.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” `

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Are you as freaked out as I am?” When he huffed, you moved to lean your back against the counter beside him. His eyes met yours. “I know we said we’d have the kid conversation in a couple of years, but what’s your gut telling you?”

Jake’s gaze drifted down your body to land on your stomach. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before answering. “I think we can do this.”

“I think we can, too,” you said. “But do we want to?”

“Do you?”

Your heart beat fast as you studied him, trying to figure out what his response would be. With a deep breath and tears stinging your eyes, you said, “I’m terrified but…kind of. You?”

Knowing that this moment would change everything, Jake swallowed hard and nodded.

Your gasp echoed in the kitchen as you clapped your hands to your mouth. A slow grin spread across his lips as he turned to face you, gently tugging your hands away to wipe the tears on your cheeks. “Darlin’, are we having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you whispered.

Jake’s kiss was soft, interrupted by his laugh as he tugged you close. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the quick thumping of his heart against your palm. “You know,” he said, “this means we’re gonna have to renegotiate the contract.”

“Let’s focus on one life-changing thing at a time, please,” you groaned.

“‘M gonna put a pretty little somethin’ right here a hell of a lot sooner,” he grinned, lifting your left hand and tapping your ring finger.

“I hope you’ve been saving up, then.”

“I can probably scrape something together.”

Little did you know that Jake had an engagement ring tucked into the back of his closet.

He’d called your parents to ask for their blessing to marry you on the ship coming home from the uranium mission.

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

Author's Note: The way I STRUGGLED with this chapter. Given the story synopsis, you know the ultimate decision, but a surprise pregnancy when you're in your 30s is a moment to pause and reflect on what you want. And with Jake's daddy issues, I think he would struggle with the idea of being a good parent. Hopefully Rooster was able to set him straight!

Read Jake's POV of this chapter and Chapter 11

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @mayhemmanaged; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

173 notes · View notes

transhuman-priestess · 11 months

Text

Alice's Wonderland

Android girl Alice doesn't feel like she gets enough time with her boyfriend, Hunter. Fortunately, she's got just the plan to make sure he stays with her forever, and to make him a cute girl, too.

This story contains sexually explicit content. It is intended only for legal adults ages 18 and up.

It also contains hard kinks, nonconsent, violence, brainwashing, and forcefemme. You Have Been Warned, do not complain to me.

Hunter woke to a knocking on his door. The fierce RATATATAT startling him out of a dream about getting caught in a thunderstorm back in Iowa City.

RATATATATATAT!

He opened his eyes, It was still dark outside. He fumbled on the nightstand for his phone. 03:32. He’d been asleep barely an hour.

“HUNNNTER! SWEETIE!” came a bright synthetic voice from the door of his studio apartment, “I HAVE A SURPRIIIISE FOR YOUUUUUUU!”

It was Alice, a synth girl he’d been dating for a few weeks. Still groggy after being yanked out of REM sleep so recently, Hunter got to his feet, threw on a pair of boxers, and opened the door.

On the sidewalk outside stood an android girl, a shade under 2 meters tall, with gunmetal gray skin and blaze orange filament hair. Her eyes wide, a bright, neon green-yellow.

“Alice,” Hunter said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of hers, “do you know what time it is?”

“It’s 11:34:12 UTC!” she said, full of cheer, as ever.

“Yeah but we’re not in UTC, babe,” he said, “we’re in Pacific daylight time, and it’s 330 in the morning.”

“I’m sorry!” her face fell into an expression of passive disappointment, “I just really really really wanted to show you something and waiting until morning felt like it would be forever and I couldn’t get myself to stay in standby mode so I decided I’d take a walk over here and get you so I could show you right now because I’m just so excited to see you and-”

“Hey, Chippy,” Hunter cut her off, “Chippy, dear, you are talking way too fast.”

She took a deep breath. If he’d been more awake, Hunter might have marveled that Arlington Robotics had programmed her with such a human behavior. As it was, he was just happy she’d stopped talking for a moment.

“Hunter,” she said, deliberately, but without hesitation, “I would like to show you a project I’ve been working on.”

“It can absolutely wait until morning, hon.”

“No! It can’t! There isn’t time!”

“Look,” he clutched his face in frustration, “I cannot just boot myself up like you can on a moment’s notice. I was up til 2:30. I need to sleep! I had a long shift today.” He paused to take in her face, her expression slowly shifting from excitement to disappointment. He felt a small twinge of guilt for a moment, but only a moment, before he continued. “I really, really need to sleep. I’ll be over first thing tomorrow. I promise, Chips.” He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, the smooth silicone skin neither warm, nor cool to the touch.

“No,” She said, the bright voice suddenly stern “I’m taking you now.”

She moved with a speed and precision no human could hope to match. Hunter felt himself spin around. One hand came up and firmly clasped itself over his mouth, the other reached up behind his legs, and just like that, she was carrying him in her arms as if he were a bride. He kicked and writhed and tried to scream but Alice was so strong.

“Stop that!” she whispered, “Stop it! The neighbors will hear!”

Well of course they would, that’s what he wanted. He wanted this insane robot to put him down and he wanted to run back inside his apartment and he wanted to hide in the bathroom with a hammer and pray that the doors held so he didn’t have to fight her. He tried to work his way out of her grip, kicking, flailing, biting.

He managed to chew a chunk of silicone out of her hand, and she screamed “HEY! That hurt!” She took her hand away from his mouth and Hunter took in a breath to scream, but right before he could let it out, Alice said something he couldn’t quite hear, but sound like “see way,” and the back of his head erupted in pain. He blacked out.

***

Hunter tried to roll over onto his side, but something was catching his wrists and ankles. His head felt just like it did the morning after his senior prom all those years ago.

“Oh! Are you awake?” Alice’s voice. The fight, a blow to the head. Slowly, Hunter opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a drop panel ceiling with antique fluorescent tube lights. The lights were off, but the room was bathed in a warm glow. Sunrise. He looked at his wrists and found that he was shackled to a metal table.

“I was worried I’d hit you too hard.” To his right, Alice was standing near curtained windows flanking a frosted glass door. Her voice was bright and bubbly again. “This is my shop! I live upstairs.” The room was about 5 meters wide and maybe three times as long. Synth parts and repair tools lined the walls. To his left, at the back of the room, was a computer terminal and a list of basic services with appropriate pricing.

“What’s going on, Alice?” he asked, his words slurred. He thought he probably had a concussion.

“Well,” She began, with the air of someone about to spring the most incredible birthday surprise. “I figured out a way that we never have to be apart again!” She raised her arms in the air as she said this, like a cheerleader.

“What are you talking about?” he tried to turn towards her, but found that he could only move his head an inch or so.

“See, you’re a human.”

“Uh, yeah.” He didn’t like where this was going

“And I’m a synth.”

“Yeaaaah?”

“And that means that we can’t spend much time together,” she started pacing, waving her hands as she spoke, “You’re always sleeping and eating and going to the bathroom. We never have time to just hang out, you know?”

“Chips, I think you ought to run a full diagnostic.”

“I. AM. FINE.” Her usually soft yellow eyes turned an angry red and her voice became distorted. He heard her cooling fans spin up rapidly. After a moment they slowed back down and her eyes faded back to yellow. “But you’re not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re limited. You’re biological. But I can make you better.”

“Wait are you-” She walked into his view and stood over to him, holding what was, unmistakably, a buzzsaw.

“I’m going to turn you into a synth, Hunter. Right here, right now. Don’t worry! It won’t hurt too much.”

Fear gripped Hunter. He felt his heart race and his chest grow cold, like someone had poured ice water into a funnel above his sternum. He felt the adrenaline leak slowly down his arms to his fingers.

“Please don’t do this, Alice.”

“Why not? Don’t you like me?”

“I do, but-”

“THEN WHY,” she yelled, eyes red once more, “DO YOU KEEP AVOIDING ME?”

She’s glitched out. Hunter thought, She’s glitched out and she’s going to kill me.

“I haven’t been avoiding you!” he said

“That’s bullshit, Hunter!” She practically spat it at him, “You’re always saying ‘ohhhh I have to go to wooorrrrk’, ‘ohhhh I have to see my moooooom, ohhhh, I have to sleep!’ but I know you’re lying! You’re seeing someone else!”

“No, I’m not!” he wasn’t, he had no idea what she was talking about, “I promise.”

“Well, once I get your memory engrams scanned we’ll see about that. But that’s for later. Right now,” she grabbed something off a table above his head, “It’s time for a little nap.” She was holding a breathing mask.

“Please,” she said, in her most friendly medical assistant voice, “do not resist.”

He tried to move his head away, to hold his breath, to fight back, but it was useless as he struggled against the restraints. Eventually, he had to breath. It smelled like a leaky air conditioner. But he felt strangely wonderful, peaceful. Like he was resting on the world’s most comfortable mattress.

***

His waking this time was quite sudden, and complete. Hunter was fully aware of being awake, but he couldn’t see anything, even when he opened his eyes. He tried to move his fingers but found he couldn’t even feel them. He couldn’t smell anything either. In fact it felt as if all of his senses had been turned off.

Except, apparently, his hearing, “Oh good! It worked!” Alice’s voice again. Terror gripped him but this time, for some curious reason, Hunter didn’t feel the ice water flowing over his chest and to his fingertips.

“One second, dear.” she said. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t seem to grasp the air in his chest.

Suddenly his vision was dazzlingly bright. It was like staring into the sun itself. After a moment his eyes adjusted and he realized that he had, indeed, been staring directly at the sun as it shone in through the window at the front of the shop. He heard the idle drone of a bus roll by.

“This is good,” He heard Alice say. He couldn’t move his head, but he found that he could move his eyes. His gaze wandered across the room for a moment before locking on Alice, standing in front of something that should have been impossible.

Alice was standing in front of the table he’d been laying on before.

“Oh honey!” she said, her eyes dancing with happiness, “It worked! The procedure worked!” She stepped to the side and Hunter finally realized what she had done. He was still on the table. His head had been cut open, his brown hair was slick with his blood. A bowl-shaped piece of skull sat to the side. The mask was still on his face.

Alice was over by him now. The him that could see, but not speak or move or run or fight.

“All brain case functions are nominal.” He felt himself rise as Alice picked whatever was left of him off the table. “The next step,” she said, “is to build your new body!” she delivered the news as if they were going to do makeovers at a slumber party.

Hunter felt nauseous. A curious sensation now that he no longer had a digestive tract.

“Oh,” He heard her say, “I should turn your vocal synthesizer on,” She pressed something in what felt like the side of his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he screamed, but the voice that came out was not familiar to him. It was lighter, smokier, feminine.

“What? Change my voice back. CHANGE MY VOICE BACK.”

“Oh, darling, I think it’s cute!” Alice said, giggling, “Hey, would you like to see what you look like now?”

“No!” he cried, the voice of a college girl, not a man, “I don’t want to see whatever fucked up thing you’ve done to me!”

But she was already moving him. He watched as his vision swept over the room, past his now-severed body, and towards a mirror. He saw Alice, and in her hands he saw a round steel box with two synthetic eyes on the front, an array of ports along the back and bottom. Him. His brain case.

“I built it myself,” Alice said, proud of her ingenuity, “I modeled it after an Arlington system I saw back at the factory.”

She turned him towards her, fixing her gaze on his. “Oh, my love,” she said, “I’m so excited!”

“What is wrong with you?” Hunter said, in that awful feminine voice, “Run a system checksum, reboot into safe mode, something!”

“Oh no, honey,” she said, her voice soft and dangerous, “I don’t need to do that. I’m functioning just fine.”

She put him down on a counter, facing the wall, pressed a few buttons on his side, and he drifted off to sleep again.

***

Waking was, again, instantaneous. This time, Hunter could feel he had a body again. It felt strangely incomplete, as if part of it was missing. He opened his eyes. He was strapped to a nearly vertical surface now, and able to move his head somewhat. Still in the main room of Alice’s cybernetics shop. He looked to the table where his body had been, but it was gone.

“I tossed it into the matter recombinator,” He heard Alice say off to his left. He turned his head to see her standing over some sort of electronic device.

“You know they scan the waste stream for human biomass,” he said. The voice wasn’t so bad, he thought, “They’ll know you did something to me.”

“Oh,” Alice chuckled, “don’t worry about that, I learned to spoof those sensors a while ago.”

She picked up the object she’d been working on. It was roughly the size of a brick, with synthetic skin on one of the small ends, an array of pins on the other.

“I was just putting the finishing touches on this,” She said, an impish grin on her face.

“What is it?” Hunter asked.

“Oh,” Alice said, coyly, “I think it’s better if I demonstrate.”

She dropped to her knees in front of him and grabbed something near his waist. He looked down, but he couldn’t see her over his...”YOU GAVE ME TITS?”

Alice giggled madly, “Yes! Isn’t it great? You’re going to be the prettiest synth girl in Cascadia!”

“I’m not a girl!” Hunter said, in his girlish voice, “I’m a man. I’m a MAN!” he felt like he might cry.

“There there,” Alice stood up for a moment, and gently touched his face, “it’s okay dear, you’ll get used to this, I promise.”

She pushed upwards on his crotch and he felt something click into place in his chassis.

“Now,” Alice said, her voice quiet and seductive, “Do you want to see what a girl feels like?”

He didn’t understand at first, but then he felt Alice’s hand glide across his groin.

“How do you like your new pussy?” she asked. She didn’t wait for a response before pushing in and slowly rubbing her hand around Hunter’s new clit. His head felt so warm, so hot.

“N-no,” Hunter said, moaning, he didn’t want it to feel good, “s-s-stop”

“We’ll need to come up with a new name for you,” Alice cooed into his ear, “won’t we?”

“My...name,” it was so hard to think while Alice was stroking his pussy, “is...Hunter.”

“No,” she said, “that won’t do.” Her fingers sped up. It was like she was trying to melt his brain away. This felt so good. It felt so much better than-

No, it didn’t. He wouldn’t let it.

“Hmm,” he heard Alice say, but it was hard to concentrate with her rubbing his clit, “How about...Jessie?”

“Hnnnn,” Hunter couldn’t think enough to form a sentence, “aaaAHHHHHHHH,” was all that came out when he tried.

It was like a wall of electricity was pressing up against his insides. A pressure sparking and ready to explode at any moment.

“Awww, what’s that, Jessie?” Alice said, “Cat got your tongue?”

The dam broke. The ball of electricity in Hunter’s abdomen exploded, he felt himself convulsing, fluid spilling out of his crotch, “Oh wow!” he heard Alice say, “You’re quite a squirter! I like that.” It felt so good. She felt so good. Hunter/Jessie loved the way Alice’s silicone finger tips traced across their clitoris, drawing lines in their labia. As the waves of pleasure faded, they began to relax in the restraints.

“Wow!” Alice was overjoyed, “and I didn’t even get inside your pussy yet.”

Alice didn’t need to hit any buttons, Hunter drifted off to sleep all on their own.

***

> BOOTUP

> SYSTEM CHECK

> FLUID SYSTEM – NOMINAL

> SENSORY SYSTEM – NOMINAL

> MOTOR FUNCTION – NOMINAL

> NETWORK MODULE – ALL BANDS READY

> ALL SYSTEMS READY

“What is your name, dear.”

“My name is Jessie.”

Jessie had only been asleep for a couple of hours. But she’d had the most wonderful dreams. She was with Alice as the both floated through space, looking down at Earth and up at the Moon. The stars were all so bright and shining. She could see the infrared and the ultraviolet and the faint specks of gamma rays coming from distant galaxies. It was all she needed to clear her head.

“Good morning!” Alice said, cheerfully, “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, dear.” Jessie smiled, “Thank you for this body.”

“You changed your mind quickly, didn’t you?”

“Well,” Jessie thought for a moment, “I don’t know, it just feels better than it did before. Being a human guy just seems...less attractive now.”

“I’m so glad. I was worried you’d never come around.”

“It’s okay, hon.” Jessie said, gently “I’m just happy you love me enough to make me like you.”

“Thank you, dear, for understanding why I had to.”

Jessie grabbed Alice by the waist and pulled her close, kissing her. The feel of their silicone lips meeting was sublime, better than any sensation that Jessie had ever felt in her old body.

“Hey, Jessie,” Alice stepped back, “I have one more thing to share with you.”

Alice walked over to a shelf and grabbed a small object. She walked back and Jessie saw what it was. A cock.

Alice pressed it up into her own groin, clicking it into place. “Wanna try me?” she said, playfully.

Jessie did. She knelt down and began kissing Alice’s cock. Its cool skin slipping over her tongue and between her lips. She bobbed up and down on it, looking up occasionally at Alice, who moaned in pleasure. Jessie could feel Alice getting hard in her mouth. After a time, Alice gently pushed her head back. “Stand up,” she said to Jessie.

Jessie obeyed, and Alice grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her up against the wall. Jessie wanted this. She wanted it so badly. She wanted Alice to take her and fuck her and own her.

“Are you ready, Jessie?”

“Please.”

Alice reached down to spread Jessie’s pussy open, teasing it with the head of her cock. Almost slipping it in, but pulling back every time.

“Pleaaaase please please stick it in me,” Jessie whined, “Please I want it so bad.”

Jessie gasped as Alice pushed her cock all the way into Jessie’s new cunt. Nothing in the world ever felt so right. Alice began to fuck her, slowly at first, taking what seemed like forever to slide in and out. Jessie couldn’t help but buck her hips.

“Oh, someone’s a naughty girl.” Alice said with a grin, “Keep doing that. I like that.”

Jessie obliged. Alice began to speed up, thumping herself all the way to the base, her balls slapping against Jessie’s lips. Jessie began to moan.

Alice grabbed Jessie around the waist and, without pausing her hips, lifted Jessie up off the ground and away from the wall. Jessie wrapped her legs around Alice’s waist. This was all Alice now.

She’s so fucking hot, Jessie thought, I love the way her cock slams inside me.

Alice started speeding up, using her hips and her arms to bounce Jessie on her cock. She wasn’t so much fucking Jessie as masturbating with her. Jessie couldn’t think of anything hotter. I’m just her toy, she thought, this is all I ever wanted.

“God, Jess,” Alice said, grunting as much as speaking, “Your pussy is so good. I designed it so good.”

“Yes you did.” Jessie replied, “Your cock feels amazing.”

“I wanna cum inside you babe”

“Then cum inside me, Alice, dear.”

Alice began to move her hips faster, and faster, and faster. Her eyes started to glaze over, a bit of drool collected at the corner of her mouth.

“Jessie,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too.”

“Watch this.”

Alice touched the side of Jessie’s face and suddenly Jessie could feel both of their bodies from both sides. She could feel their pussy taking their cock, she could feel the buildup of pleasure about ready to break free from both of their bodies, and then.

Supernova. Alice came hard, crying out in pleasure, pumping Jessie’s cunt full of her cum. Jessie’s pussy bore down on itself, convulsing to bring itself as close as it could to Alice’s cock. The pleasure obliterated every conscious thought in the minds of both androids. A white-hot flash of sensation and joy that burned for what felt like an eternity.

Alice gently began to slow her hips as the last aftershocks of orgasm bounced off the walls of her and her partner. Jessie was limp in her grasp. Neither girl was quite certain where they ended and the other began.

Both slumped to the floor, their fans running at max speed.

“Jessie?”

“Alice?”

“You were wonderful.”

“Thank you dear.”

“I’m so glad I made you.”

“I’m so glad you made me.”

The androids embraced, then sat in silence for a time. Finally, Jessie spoke up.

“Alice?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I wanna be with you forever.”

Alice smiled.

[end]

#ivy michaels writing #robot girl #robot girls #yuri #yandere

191 notes · View notes