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princessmisery666 · 2 years

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Just A Kiss - Part 3 Under The Radar Mini Series

Summary: A kiss always means something, especially with an ex.

Warnings: potential spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick - I’ve used some lines from the movie, language, angst, fluff, cheesy innuendos, Hangman is a cocky son of a bitch with a soft side, Rooster is kind of an ass, the beach scene.

W/C: 5.6k (it was supposed to be a drabble!)

Rating: M (mature)

Characters: Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Captain Phil “Maverick” Mitchell, fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity), Mentioned/Small Parts: Hondo, Admiral Simpson, Penny Benjamin.

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader, past Hangman x Fem!Reader

Bingo: @anyfandomfluffbingo Square Filled: “I was made for politics. I have great hair, and I love lying.”

Notes: @sfreeborn gave me the bolded prompt.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: title card made by me, divider: @writercole / gif: @indifferentvincent

Master Lists: Under The Radar // Main

Just A Kiss

The San Diego heat is stifling, but it's nothing compared to the inferno Rooster ignites inside of you. His mustache tickles where he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck, heading south. One hand holds your hip, fingers digging in deep, his other gropes and kneads your annoyingly covered breast, and you desperately want his hands to travel south too. But pressed against a tree fifty or so feet from The Hard Deck is hardly the place for it.

The team doesn’t know that you’re together. You’d gone along with Bradley’s wishes not to let the team know because the little bubble the two of you are in is fun and exciting, except in moments like this when you really want to be alone with Rooster. Their ribbing and comments will only rain on your parade.

You growl, part frustration and part whining. “Urgh, remind me again why we’re here?” you sigh, your hands moving across his back as he continues his assault on your neck.

“We both said,” he mutters as he kisses your collarbone, “we were coming for a drink.” His teeth scrape away his kiss, and he changes direction, working his way to your mouth. “It’ll look suspicious if neither of us shows up.”

You’re already late. You told the team you were showering before meeting them. But unable to stop yourselves, you ended up fucking in the shower and again on the bed in your dorm.

The earlier release wasn’t enough for either of you, though. He kisses your mouth softly and slowly, knowing exactly what he’s doing, how worked up you are. He’s a damn tease, and you love him all the more for it.

Sooner than necessary, he pulls back, smiling devilishly as he tries to subtly adjust himself in his pants. “It’s gonna look suspicious if you walk in there packing all that heat, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you chuckle and grope his growing erection through his jeans.

He laughs, stepping back, and your eyes fall to get a view of exactly what he’s packing. “I promise I’ll take you into town tomorrow night, just me and you, and I’ll show you all of this heat.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“You can hold anything you want, baby,” he says, spreading his arms wide as if inviting you to do just that. He waits a moment for your laughter to teeter off, and then his expression morphs to one of softness and honesty. “I’m serious. I wanna take you on a real date. Let’s meet at that Italian place you like at seven?”

He bites his bottom lip, looking slightly worried as if you might say no. He still doesn’t quite understand you’re already a goner for him. You’d find a way to give him the moon if he asked. Still, it’s nice to keep him on his toes.

You’ve spent too long mentally swooning at his bashful grin, so he edges closer, dipping his head to ghost his lips over yours as he talks. “We’ve got the weekend off. We can both say we’re going home, but let's check into a hotel. Forty-eight hours of uninterrupted heat,” he says, grabbing your hand and using it to cup his still hard cock.

“Count me in,” you say before closing the small gap between your mouths.

The Hard Deck is packed to the rafters when you make your way inside ten minutes after Bradley. You’re pretty sure your fellow officers have some idea that the two of you are more than friends, but Bradley wants to keep it quiet, and you respect his wishes. He has enough to deal with having Maverick as his Captain.

Of course, the crew is at the pool table - the competition doesn’t end just because they're on solid ground. Despite the crowded bar, Jake calls, “there she is!” and is loud enough that a few people turn to stare at you as you approach the bar. You need a drink to cool down after the hot and heavy make-out session with Bradley outside.

You feel a presence slide up next to you, warmth radiating off of it, and there’s a split second of hope that it's Rooster, using the crowded bar as an excuse to push in close to you. Until you smell that familiar sickly sweet cologne, and you know before he speaks, it’s Hangman.

“Penny, her drinks are on me,” he says when the bar owner approaches.

Hangman may be an asshole ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, but he’s an asshole that feels guilt, and you’ll ride his guilt train as long as there are free drinks involved. He owes you for the next lifetime, anyway.

“Ooh,” Penny coos, a knowing smile highlighting her pretty features. “Is there something going on here again?” she asks, pointing between the two of you.

You scoff with a roll of your eyes, not quite offended at the inclination but close enough. “God no, I dodged that missile.”

“Please,” Jake tuts, the Prince Charming smile in full effect. “You know you miss me.”

“Like a hole in the head,” you grimace, taking your bottle of beer from Penny and leaving him to pay.

--------

As the team makes a slow retreat from The Hard Deck back to base, you fall behind, leaving twenty or so feet between you and the main group. Hoping Bradley will take the hint and fall in step beside you. You want to make sure you’re still meeting at dawn.

There’s an unused storage container on base, it’s out of view of the main areas, and you’re pretty sure none of your colleagues are aware of it, so you and Rooster have taken to meeting there just before dawn. You can’t wake up next to him, but it’s the closest thing, starting the day in his arms.

You catch the corner of his eye as he’s talking to Bob and Phoenix, and his mouth curls at the corner slightly, but before he can give the pair an excuse to fall back, you see Jake stop in his tracks, obviously waiting for you to catch up. You sigh but know you have no choice but to stay the course and walk beside him.

“You alright back here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh with a lie, “new shoes, think they’re giving me a blister.”

Before you know what’s happening, Jake has scooped you up bridal style, and you yelp in surprise, making the group turn to look at what all the fuss is about.

“Put me down,” you demand, but Jake just laughs and adjusts your position to better carry you.

A few of the guys laugh and continue on, but Bradley stares for perhaps a millisecond too long, and then Phoenix is ushering him away with a roll of her eyes and her hand around his bicep.

You squirm, trying to get Hangman to put you down, but he doesn’t take the hint. “Quit moving. I’m saving your feet,” he says.

“Seriously, Seresin put me down.” Your tone is stern and demanding as you wriggle as much as possible, and he reluctantly sets you back on your feet. “What the hell is going on with you lately? The free drinks, letting me win at pool earlier, now trying to be my knight in shining armor and carrying me. I get that you feel guilty, but what gives, dude?”

“I do feel guilty.” Even if he hadn't said it, it's written all over his face. You feel bad for being so vexed, but he’s spent most of the night monopolizing the space beside you, not leaving any room for Bradley or anyone else for that matter, and it's beginning to bug you. He laughs, almost uncomfortably, “but you make that all sound like it's a bad thing.” His head drops to stare at his feet as he starts to walk again.

“It’s not,” you say, falling in line beside him. “I appreciate the drinks and entertainment of watching you lose,” you smile, and his beams back at you as bright as the sun. You slowly walk in silence for a few steps, and you watch Rooster and Fanboy shoving at each other, trying to gain the upper hand to get the other in a headlock.

“They shipped you off so fast after the incident I never got a chance to say thank you for taking the fall for me,” Jake says sheepishly. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

You know that gratitude doesn’t come easy for Hangman, and he doesn’t like owing people favors. You lying for him means he will owe you for a very long time. Not to mention, the lie told means you're grounded for a year and tasked with being Maverick’s personal assistant instead of training alongside your fellow aviators.

“You’re welcome.”

“Why did you?” he asks, “we didn’t exactly end things on the nicest of terms.”

That's an understatement. Your relationship, if it could ever have been classified as that, ended with you breaking Hangman’s nose.

“That’s code for you were an asshole.” you laugh.

He was an asshole, but it was your fault that you’d expected more when you started your arrangement with him back at the academy. You both needed a release from the stress and intensity of training. He certainly wasn’t an asshole in the privacy of his bedroom. He was, surprisingly, a generous lover. But knowing that he had a girlfriend the whole time makes you see that’s all it had ever been, sex. At least that's what you tell yourself. The nights you fell asleep together, you’d always woke up alone or had left before he woke up.

Granted, you never talked about what it would be between you, but it didn’t stop the hurt you felt when he very publicly screwed you over.

He grabs your wrist, forcing you to stop and face him. “I’m serious, Y/N. You didn’t owe me anything, and you didn’t have to tell them it was you that screwed the mission up when it was on me. I mean, I was an asshole to you too.” He smirks, and you remember that being part of how you fell into bed with him back at the academy. His charm and Hollywood looks only added to the attraction. “But that makes me wonder even more why you did it?”

You explain, “you were on strike number two. You’d be out on your ass right now if I hadn’t.”

“And why do you care if I get fired or not?”

You sigh, he’s probably fishing for compliments, but you give in anyway. “Because you’re one of the best at what we do. The US Navy needs you.”

“That’s it?” he asks and seems almost hopeful there's more to it.

Your brow creases with confusion, “What else would it…”

Before you can finish the question, his lips are pressed to yours. The shock makes you stumble back a half-step, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist to steady you, and the other cups your face to draw you to him.

It’s maybe a second before your brain subdues the shock enough for you to react, and you push him off just as you hear Coyote yell, “yeah, get your girl, Jake!”

Jake stumbles back, this time under the force of your shove, and he looks completely perplexed by your reaction.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask, wiping your mouth.

“What?” he asks with just as much confusion. “I thought you wanted to start where we left off!”

“What would have ever given you that idea?!”

“You’ve been flirting with me all night! You took the fall when I fucked up. Why else would you do that besides you wanting to be with me?” he details with a cocky smirk that you just want to slap off his face.

“Flirting? When did I flirt with you? I’ve been trying to get away from you all night! And I already explained why I took the fall!” You are almost shouting at him now, causing a scene, but you don’t care.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he coos, stepping towards you again, “you know you can’t resist this.”

“I’m seeing someone,” you explain, shooting a glance toward the group who are all staring at the altercation, except Bradley, who’s marching off at speed toward base. Fuck! You turn your anger back to Hangman. “Even if I weren’t, we’re never going back there.”

To his credit, he looks genuinely sorry. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, now you do.” You turn and stomp off after Bradley, hoping to catch him before he disappears into his dorm. You hear a door slam before you get there, deciding to try and talk to him anyway.

“Rooster?” you quietly call as you knock on his door. “Please, Bradley, we need to talk.”

His silence speaks volumes, and when you hear voices closing in, you hurry to your room, softly shutting the door before you sink to the ground behind it, tears falling from your eyes.

You feel like a complete fool. Bradley didn’t meet you at the container and ignored every call and text. He’d avoided being alone with you during the training exercises. Yet you still went to the Italian place at seven. After an hour and a half of waiting and further radio silence, you gave up. The cab drops you off at The Hard Deck, and you spy his Bronco in the parking lot. You debate waiting by his truck to confront him, but then you hear the tinkling of the piano inside, and you know he won’t be leaving anytime soon.

As you expected, when you enter, Rooster is at the piano, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy circle behind him, and the whole bar joins in to sing Great Balls of Fire. He doesn’t play the piano or sing without having a couple of drinks in him, so he’s been here a while. A clear indication he had no intention of ever meeting you. You thought, well hoped, he’d have met you to at the very least talk. But it seems he prefers to ignore you.

The song is finished, and the jukebox is back on by the time you manage to get served at the crowded bar. When you approach the group, now all back at the pool table, you feel each of the guys’ eyes on you, taking a moment to admire the sundress, heavier make-up, and styled hair. You receive nods of approval, a few wolf whistles, and proclamations of how hot you are in one form or another. But the only one you care about is Rooster. His eyes drag the length of your body twice before his gaze fixes on yours and lingers. You think you see a hint of regret, but before you’ve had enough time to study it, Jake speaks up.

“Damn, you look good. A date?” he asks.

“I thought I was supposed to have one,” you shrug, sighing as you get your emotions in check. “I guess I was wrong.”

Bradley shies from your disappointed look and smiles toward Bob. “Rack ‘em up, Bob.”

“Well, whoever he is, he’s a fool for missing out on all this,” Jake says, motioning up and down your body.

“Damn, Hangman, that might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say to, well, anyone.” Rooster comments. “You two must really be in love.”

Jake replies with something just as juvenile, but you're already making your way out the back of the bar to pay attention to it. Perhaps it's too late, but now you realize it was a mistake coming here.

The sun is dipping below the horizon at what looks like the edge of the earth, the waves are calm, and a few people are sitting in the sand, but they are far enough away you can only hear a hearty laugh every now and then. You don’t bother sitting down, not intending to stay longer than it takes you to finish your drink.

You take a long pull on the brown bottle, and then Bradley steps into your peripheral vision. The tide draws an inch closer before either of you speaks.

“You look beautiful,” Bradley says. It’s nice of him to say it, but it would have been better had he said it over dinner.

“That means much less than you think it does,” you mutter.

He doesn’t respond. Probably best; it will only end in an argument. He turns to leave, and that’s your limit.

“So you aren’t even going to ask about the kiss?” you call after him, spinning to face him.

“It looked pretty obvious to me,” he shrugs.

“It was just a kiss. it didn’t mean anything.”

He scoffs, “A kiss always means something, especially with an ex.”

“He’s not an ex. Not in the sense you’re implying. You know exactly what it was. You were there when it ended.”

“He fucked up a mission, almost got you killed, you found he had a girlfriend the whole time ‘you weren’t in a relationship’,” he says with full-on air quotes, “and you still lied for him. A lie that got you suspended from the air for a year and assigned to be Maverick’s personal assistant. Seems like you wanna restart that arrangement to me, and clearly, Hangman thinks so too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I stopped the kiss, and I pushed him away.”

“You kissed him back.”

“No, I didn’t. I froze with shock.”

“We’re fighter pilots, Y/N. We don’t freeze, we react, and you reacted!”

“I WAS NOT EXPECTING TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT!” you yell. “It’s not like on a mission where I have to make a split-second decision to save a life.” You both stare at one another, chests rising and falling rapidly for a long, tense moment. It’s clear Bradley’s not going to say anymore; he breaks eye contact to watch the dwindling sun over the ocean. You don’t want him to walk away, so you continue. “Look, me and Hangman were never any more than a fling, not like us. We’re more than that.”

Silence. He doesn’t even look at you again.

“Well, at least for me, it is, or was?” you say quietly. He whips his head to look at you, but his expression gives nothing away. “Was I wrong again? Fucking Navy Pilots,” you scoff, “your heads are so far up in the clouds you can’t see a good thing on the ground. Are you going to say anything? Deny it? Confess your love? Anything?”

Rooster stays silent, looking out over the ocean, his jaw ticking as your eyes fill with tears when you hear the door of the bar open.

“Hey, guys!”

You both turn to see Fanboy at the backdoor of the bar, and he waves you both over, “we’re heading out.”

Bradley is the first to walk off, and you sigh before following.

You walk across the hanger to the designated teaching area. Everyone is there, chatting amongst themselves. They’re expecting Maverick, so a few turn in your direction, but when they see it's you, they turn back to their conversations. Then when you step up to the podium, the room falls silent, and everyone focuses their attention on you.

“There’ll be no flying today,” you announce, following Maverick’s orders. You wait for the grumbles of ascent and mumbled questions to quiet again before you continue. “You need to change into some beach attire and meet Maverick on the beach at the back of The Hard Deck.”

“The beach?” Hangman asks.

“She didn’t stutter,” Rooster pipes up, throwing Hangman a dirty look.

“You’ve got thirty minutes.”

That spurs the group into action, although you can tell they all want to ask more questions. They begin heading out, but you call Rooster, “Lieutenant Bradshaw, can I talk to you for a second?”

He turns to face you, and loud enough that the group almost out of the door can still hear him, he asks, “Is it something else from Maverick?”

Your heart drops to your feet. Why is he being like this? You shake your head slowly and swallow the rush of emotion that wants to distort your vision. “No, it’s not a request from the Captain.”

He nods once, lips pressed in a straight line, before turning on his heels and walking away. He breezes past Hangman, closer than necessary, close enough that if Jake hadn’t stepped back, Rooster would have bumped his shoulder.

Your head drops to your chest, unable to watch as Bradley disappears. It takes a minute to control your emotions enough to continue, and when you raise your head, Jake is watching you. His usual smooth expression is creased with what looks like concern.

“Bradshaw?” he asks with an incredulous smile.

“Don’t!” you warn, and Jake’s arms immediately go up in surrender. You start following the others out, and Jake matches your pace to walk with you. You shake your head. “Please, Seresin, I don’t want to hear whatever immature scathing remark you want to make.”

“I’m just curious to know what happened?”

You sigh, completely done with this whole conversation, but you know he won’t let it go. “I’m paying the consequences of your actions once again.”

“I never meant to cause you any trouble.”

“Yet you always seem to.”

“Y/N, honestly, if I’d have known you were seeing Rooster, I wouldn’t have.”

It’s not insincere, but it’s Jake. He perhaps wouldn’t have kissed you had he known you were seeing Bradley, but he certainly would have made snide remarks to make it clear he’d had you first. You glance sideways at him, and his expression shows genuine remorse. “You should really go into politics; I almost believe you.”

“I was made for politics,” he says, pushing his shoulders back and walking a little taller. “I have great hair, and I love lying.”

“And there it is.” You turn and stride away, your shoulders square and your jaw tense, trying to hold the tears back from falling. It won’t do any good to let them see you cry, not now.

-----------

You’re not involved in the football game. You sit on a bench and catch up on some paperwork, glancing over when they get overly excited or celebrate a score. You're glad for the invitation; it's a sight to behold. It started as a show of testosterone until Phoenix showed them all how it was done. But still, the boys make it a gun show at every available opportunity, sweat-soaked, tight, chiseled muscles glistening in the sun, and they take turns to run into the water to wash off the sand or cool down before resuming play.

Bradley catches your eye more than once, he doesn’t immediately look away, which is promising, but the undistinguishable expression makes anxiety fizz in your gut. You all had a weekend off, the weekend you were promised forty-eight uninterrupted hours of Bradley. But you didn't hear a peep from him, though you refrained from contacting him too.

Maverick makes his way over to you and sits on the opposite side of the table, “you sure you don’t want to get involved?” he asks, motioning toward the game.

“I’m sure, sir,” you chuckle at Fanboy and Payback doing a victory dance, and then your attention diverts to Rooster and Phoenix, who are a little too handsy for the dog fight football game they’re supposed to be playing. You look away, back down at your paperwork before you can screw this up any further.

You feel Maverick’s eyes on you, but you don’t look up. “Is that a thing?” he asks, “Rooster and Phoenix?”

You shoot a glance over again to see them coming out of an embrace, both smiling widely. It could be a friendly, teammate celebratory hug, that's all it probably is, but Maverick’s question and your jealousy are enough to make your jaw tick.

You clear your throat and go back to writing the not-so-interesting report. “I don’t know, sir, it could be.”

“So you and Bradshaw aren’t a thing anymore?”

You raise your eyes to Maverick so quickly you make yourself a little dizzy. You can feel the guilt on your face, so there’s no point in denying it. Relationships between similar ranking officers are allowed, so you haven’t broken any rules. The shock is born of the fact he knows in the first place.

“Honestly,” you sigh and give a small unsure smile. “I don’t know.”

“You’re good together,” Maverick says, “at least that's what your squadron Captain reports.” He smiles at your confusion, giving a small chuckle before continuing, “both of your monthly assessments, your Captain mentioned the relationship in a few of them. Mostly the ones since you were assigned to me, they report after spending his downtime with you, Bradley’s more focused and happy.”

“Maybe that was true, but now I’m not sure.” You avoid eye contact, hanging your head to hide the emotions dancing across your face, the regret, the bitterness, the ever-present ache of rejection.

You’re spared further questioning when Admiral Simpson’s shadow blocks the sun, and he stands with his hands on hips staring at your colleagues playing football. “What is this?” he asks Maverick.

“Football, sir.”

“They just had two days off, and now they’re playing games on the beach?” the admiral questions harshly, not for the first time seemingly regretting the decision to put Maverick in charge of the squadron.

“You asked me to build a team, sir,” Maverick counters, “there’s your team.”

The admiral stands and watches for a moment, and when Hangman’s team scores, he asks, “who’s winning?”

“I think they stopped keeping score a while ago, sir,” you explain just as Hondo catches the ball and everyone chases him before taking him down.

Bradley and Phoenix are the first two on their feet, once again, her arms are around his neck, and he wraps one of his own around her waist. You swallow the lump building in your chest and look down at the report again, not missing the concerned look that Maverick has on his face as he watches you.

The jealousy is rolling through you in waves while you watch Rooster and Phoenix flirt. They lean into one another, hands always touching the other in some way, lingering looks, eye contact that makes it abundantly clear they wish they were alone. You know Bradley is flirting; you’d been on the receiving end once upon a time. But now it seems that fairy tale is ancient history. Phoenix reciprocates. They’ve always been close. While you were in Hangman’s bed, Rooster and Phoenix were becoming friends, and now it appears to be flourishing into something more.

You want to get drunk. Blackout, forget your own name, drunk. But you can’t. Being hungover and partly responsible for eighty million dollars worth of government property is not a good idea, and you’re already suffering the consequences of bad decisions.

It’s easier to remove yourself from the situation, so you finish your drink and make sure Penny knows your drinks are on Hangman’s tab. She smiles knowingly and gives you a wink before watching you leave.

Jake’s been chatting to a redheaded woman by the main door for most of the night, and he catches your arm as you pass by. “You okay?” he asks, but he’s looking over the top of your head. You know he’s looking at the cause of your early departure.

“Yeah,” you smile through the lie, thankful for the acknowledgment. Your night had been kind of lonely with just Penny to keep you company. “I put my drinks on your tab.”

“Good,” he says and leans down to place a kiss on your cheek. Without even looking over at Bradley, you know from the sly smirk Jake throws in his direction that he saw it. This isn’t what you want, an immature back and forth, making the other jealous. You want to talk it out but know this isn’t the place, so you leave with a heavy sigh.

Halfway back to base, you hear hurried footsteps behind you. You turn and see Rooster jogging in your direction, his hair bouncing in an annoyingly cute way.

“I don’t want to fight,” you state as he gets closer, your shoulders deflating as you let down your armor.

“I’m not here to fight,” he says, “didn’t want you walking back on your own.”

“I’m a big girl Bradshaw. I can take care of myself.”

He ignores your snark and asks, “it’s early; where’re you going?”

“To bed.” You don’t have it in you to fight, but your mouth has other ideas. “Didn’t feel much like watching you with your hands full at the bar.”

“Full hands, roaming lips,” he shrugs, and the anger flashes behind his eyes, “same thing.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous that Jake had me first? That he kissed me in front of you? Believe me, if I could go back and undo Jake and me, I would.”

“I don’t believe that, and I’m not sure you do either.”

“You think I want him back?”

“Something like that doesn’t die so easily,” he says quietly, “I was there, remember?”

“Yeah, you were there for the messy end too. You think I want that again?” Frustratingly, all he does is shrug. The hurt tightens your chest, and your mouth runs away with itself. “Although it was easier to be with Jake, at least I wasn’t some dirty little secret.”

“Don’t!” Rooster warns, pointing a finger at you. “You know why I wanted to keep us quiet. This mission is hard enough working under Maverick without Hangman giving me shit about you.”

You roll your eyes, “since when can’t you take Hangman’s shit?”

“Y’know he has some interesting stories about you, which he likes to share regularly and in picture-perfect detail.”

“And you believe him? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re going to do that? Bring up stories that Hangman told you? The man lies through his teeth all the time!”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think? It’s not like you talk about him.”

“Cause he’s not worth talking about.”

“Bullshit!” he yells, face turning red, and you hate that it's come to this. “I was there at the messy end, remember,” he quotes, “I was the shoulder you cried on for weeks. I was the one who had to talk you out of setting your career back with a sabbatical.”

“Why bring all this up now, Bradley? It never seemed to bother you so much before. Why don’t you just tell me what’s really going on?”

“I can't do this. Not with you. Not against him. I'm not going to sit here and wonder if it’s mutual every time he's near you.”

The ocean lulls the tension in a silent moment that stretches.

Rooster sighs regretfully. “Tell me, look me in the eye and tell me it's not. Tell me I’m not competing with him up there and down here. Just don't lie to me!”

“I’ve never lied to you,” you say, slightly hurt at the implication.

“So don’t start now. I can see myself falling for you. I see it, us, together, happy, I can picture it.” He pauses as if living the moment in his mind, yet his tone promises that there's a huge but coming. “But I can't put myself through the what-ifs and the questions of what happens if I leave and he's still here? Or you get stationed together. I can't go out there thinking he's making a play for you and that you'd let him.”

“So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

“I’m saying I don’t know. And I’m keeping too many secrets. It’s screwing with my head.”

“For the record, Maverick and everyone else who matters know about us. They figured it out on their own. And, while we’re on the subject, so did Jake.”

You can see the internal turmoil as it crawls across his face, part confusion perhaps as to how they figured it out, a slight accusatory frown as if he thinks you spilled the beans to everyone.

He settles on anger, shaking his head. “So Jake knew, and he still kissed you?” he asks, disbelief making him chew the inside of his cheek. “Why am I not surprised? Knowing about us probably made him want to do it more. A challenge to see if he could get you to cheat.”

He spins on his heels heading back toward the bar, but you run to block his path, palm flat on his chest to stop him. “Don’t be an idiot. Punching Jake won’t do you any favors, and in his defense, he didn't know until after he kissed me.”

“There you go again, defending him.”

You roll your eyes, taking a step to the side, effectively unblocking his path. “So go ahead, punch him, or whatever it is that you want to do. But that doesn’t change the fact that you still haven’t said it.”

“Said what?”

“If it's over, just say it's over. Don’t leave me in limbo. That’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw and turns his back to you, hands on his hips.

“For the record, I fell for you harder than I ever did with Hangman. You had every part of me, still have most of it despite your best efforts,” you say, choking back the tears that threaten to spill. “But if you won’t do it, I will. I’m not going to sit here and convince you that I would never do anything to hurt you. I can’t make you trust me and certainly can’t make you love me. So I’m done trying.”

Part 4 - Got Your Six

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