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best friend blindness — jake seresin (part one)

word count : 18.6K words pairing : jake seresin x f!reader / hangman x switch (reader) synopsis : you have always been jake’s constant, the friend who stays, supports, and never asks for more. one night meant to be easy and familiar begins to feel different, filled with small moments, strange tension, and thoughts you have spent years avoiding. by the time the night ends, something has shifted, even if neither of you is ready to name it yet. content warnings : emotional tension, jealousy but unlabelled, mild alcohol use, poor communication, bad decisions, rom com logic, navy inaccuracies, and an author (me) who really tried to use american english but definitely failed somewhere ;( author’s note : i lovelies, this is part one because this fic is definitely getting long and i think it’s going to be split into three parts, maybe more if i lose control again. i also haven’t proofread this properly yet because ellipsus, which i use to write because it’s ai free, has been acting a bit unhinged lately and fighting me every step of the way. please excuse any mistakes for now, and check the comment below for the full author’s note. thank you for being hereeee!!

masterlist

You and Jake had always existed together, not in a way either of you ever chose out loud, but in the quiet, accumulative way things happened when you kept ending up in the same places over and over again.

Back in college, before flight suits and call signs and the weight of expectations, it had been shared lectures and late nights, you sitting cross legged on the floor of the library because all the chairs were taken, Jake slouched beside you, stealing your highlighters and your snacks like they were communal property.

He had always been confident, even then, loud and sure of himself in a way that made people gravitate towards him, while you were steadier, more observant, the one who noticed when deadlines crept up or when he was about to say something that would get him into trouble.

It followed you into flight school without either of you questioning it.

Long nights hunched over manuals, Jake pacing the room because he could never sit still when he was stressed, talking through procedures out loud while you listened and corrected him, half distracted, already knowing where he’d trip himself up.

He complained constantly, about instructors, about unfair calls, about how no one seemed to see how hard he was trying, and you were there for all of it, grounding him when his ego ran too hot and steadying him when the confidence slipped.

When he failed a check ride and tried to brush it off like it didn’t matter, you were the one who found him later, sitting alone with his helmet at his feet, jaw tight, eyes distant, and you didn’t push or lecture, you just sat down beside him and stayed until he finally admitted he was scared.

Jake leaned on you in ways that felt almost unconscious. Bad days always led him back to you.

Too much bravado, you reined him in. Too much doubt, you reminded him who he was.

You were the person he trusted to tell him the truth without softening it, the one who could cut through his bullshit with a look, and he never questioned why it was always you.

It never felt like something you had to think about either, because loving him had slipped into your life so quietly you hadn’t noticed it happening.

You were just there. You always have been.

By the time you were actually flying, not just training for it, the dynamic was set so deep it felt permanent. The squad saw it, joked about it, rolled their eyes when the two of you showed up together like you always did.

You were the one they looked at when Jake got too cocky, because you were the only one who could talk him down. You were the one who stayed behind after briefings to make sure he actually understood the parts he pretended not to care about.

People laughed and called you his handler, his conscience, the one who kept him in line, and it never occurred to anyone that there might be more to it than that.

Jake certainly never thought about it.

Why would he? You were supportive, constant, unfailingly there.

You teased him about bad dates and women who never lasted, you listened without judgment, you never made it awkward or asked for anything in return.

Everyone had already decided you weren’t the romantic type, had tucked you neatly into a box that felt safe and familiar, and Jake believed it because it made sense, because it meant nothing had to change.

To everyone else, you were easy to read, or at least they thought you were, and once people thought they had you figured out, they stopped paying attention. You wore what worked, not what turned heads, flight jackets thrown on over old T shirts, boots that had seen better days, hair pulled back because it was easier and because you hated the feeling of it getting in your way.

You never lingered in front of mirrors, never fussed over makeup beyond what was necessary to look awake and professional, and when someone joked about you not owning a dress, you laughed it off because it was simpler than correcting them.

The way you moved through the world didn’t help either. You sat however was comfortable, legs sprawled, elbows on tables, voice level and unsoftened. You swore when you were annoyed, laughed when something was actually funny, and shut things down quickly when they edged too close to disrespect.

You didn’t flirt, not in the way people expected, didn’t perform softness or play coy, didn’t shrink yourself to make anyone else feel bigger. Most of the time, you listened, and when you spoke, it was usually to say something practical, something grounding, something that kept things from going off the rails.

So the assumptions came easily. Tomboy. One of the guys. Probably a lesbian. People said it like it was a harmless conclusion, like it explained everything they needed to know. You never bothered to correct them.

Letting them believe it meant fewer questions, fewer raised eyebrows when you stayed single, fewer explanations about why you never brought anyone around. It wrapped around you like armour, kept expectations low and curiosity even lower.

Around Jake, it only reinforced the picture they’d already painted. You treated him the same way you treated everyone else, familiar and unguarded, teasing him when his ego got too loud, grounding him when he started to spiral.

You were careful without even realising it, never letting your touch linger, never holding his gaze a second too long, never doing anything that might make people pause and look twice. From the outside, it looked easy, like romance simply wasn’t on your radar at all.

And because appearances were comfortable, people didn’t look any deeper. They didn’t notice the way you paid attention to everything, or how much of yourself you kept tucked away to fit into the role they’d assigned you. They saw what you showed them, and that was enough.

It kept things simple.

It also meant no one ever thought to wonder what it cost you to stay there.

It showed up in little moments, the kind that seemed harmless at the time, the kind you laughed off because that was easier than sitting with what they meant. Like the times Jake would sling an arm around your shoulders without thinking, casual and familiar, and you’d feel people’s eyes on you, the brief flicker of curiosity before they settled on an answer that made sense to them. You never let it linger.

You always shifted just enough, ducked out from under his arm with a joke, gave them something else to look at.

There was that one time at the grocery store, late at night after a long day, both of you still in flight jackets because neither of you could be bothered to change. You were arguing in the cereal aisle about whether he actually needed another box of sugary crap when you noticed a pair of women a few aisles down, whispering and glancing over, eyes lingering in a way that was unmistakable.

They smiled at you, then at Jake, the kind of look people gave couples who looked annoyingly comfortable together.

You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly hurt.

Jake had a box of cereal tucked under his arm, something aggressively sugary, the kind that advertised happiness in cartoon fonts.

“You don’t need that,” you said, tapping the box with your finger. “You’re going to die young and it’ll be my fault for enabling you.”

“I fly jets,” he said easily. “I deserve sugar.”

“You deserve vegetables.”

He ignored you, obviously, already reaching for another box, when you noticed them. Two women a few aisles down, pretending to debate pasta shapes while very clearly watching him. Not both of you. Him. Their eyes followed him when he laughed, lingered when he leaned on the trolley, bright and interested and painfully obvious once you clocked it.

Of course.

You felt that familiar, stupid twist in your chest, the one you’d learned to swallow quickly, because there was nothing productive about standing there thinking about why it bothered you. You didn’t want the assumptions. You didn’t want the looks. You didn’t want to be part of the equation at all.

So, you did what you always did: you fixed it.

“My girlfriend is going to kill me if I forget the oat milk again,” you said, casual, a little louder than necessary. “She already thinks I do it on purpose.”

The shift was immediate. One of the women glanced at you, then back at Jake, and the tension eased, relief washing over her face like you’d just clarified the rules. They didn’t whisper anymore. They just watched him, openly now.

Problem solved.

Jake, unfortunately, chose that moment to turn into an idiot.

“Your what?” he asked, brows knitting together as he stared at you.

You didn’t look at him. You kept scanning the fridge. “My girlfriend.”

“Uh … when did you get a girlfriend?” he asked, genuinely confused. “You never said anything.”

You felt your eye twitch. Internally, you were already weighing your options, none of which involved committing murder in a public supermarket.

“Jake,” you said through your teeth, still smiling. “Don’t.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Who is she?”

You grabbed the oat milk yourself and dropped it into the trolley a little harder than necessary. Fictional. Imaginary. Completely made up because you were tired of playing a role you never asked for.

You leaned in closer and muttered, “She does not exist.”

He blinked. “What?”

You finally looked at him then, lowering your voice. “Those women were checking you out. I said that so they wouldn’t think we were together.”

There was a beat where his brain clearly caught up to his face.

“Oh,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He glanced down the aisle, finally noticing what you’d clocked minutes ago, the way one of them smiled when their eyes met, the way he instinctively straightened, confidence clicking back into place like muscle memory.

“Oh,” he said again, this time with a grin. “Wow.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“You could’ve told me,” he said.

“And ruin the fun?” you shot back. “Also, don’t flatter yourself. I did it for me.”

“For you?”

“So people stop assuming I’m your girlfriend,” you said, pushing the trolley forward. “It’s exhausting.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re oblivious,” you said. “We make a great team.”

At the checkout, the cashier smiled politely, glancing between the two of you. “Together or separate?”

“Separate,” you said instantly.

Jake frowned. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you said. “Unless you’d like to explain my imaginary girlfriend.”

He snorted. “Fair.”

You paid, grabbed the bags, and walked out into the night like nothing had happened, heart steady, expression easy, everything neatly packed away where it belonged. Just another assumption redirected, another moment smoothed over before it could get complicated.

It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that, and it definitely hadn’t been the last.

You’d lost count of how many moments you’d quietly redirected over the years, how many assumptions you’d corrected before they had the chance to settle, how often you’d stepped sideways just enough to keep yourself out of the story people wanted to tell about the two of you.

It had become instinctive, almost automatic, like checking your mirrors before changing lanes, something you did without thinking because the alternative felt dangerous.

You’d done it at bars when someone’s eyebrows lifted in that knowing way and you’d laughed first, too quick, too easy, shutting it down before Jake even realised what was being asked.

You’d done it at squad events, dropping the word girlfriend into conversation like a casual detail, something offhand and unimportant, just enough to steer curiosity elsewhere.

You’d done it in passing comments, in body language, in the careful way you never let your touch linger, never let your gaze stay a second too long, never let yourself soften around him in public.

It was easier to manage the narrative than to deal with the fallout of letting it exist. Easier than watching people reassess you, easier than feeling the weight of questions you weren’t prepared to answer, easier than risking the way Jake looked at you changing.

Because once something was named, once it was acknowledged, it couldn’t be packed away again, and you had built your entire sense of safety around keeping things exactly where they were.

You told yourself it was self preservation, that it was practical, that it kept things simple. You told yourself you weren’t lying so much as editing, trimming the edges of reality so it fit into something manageable.

The truth felt too big, too exposed, too likely to ruin everything you’d built with him, so you kept choosing the version of yourself that asked for nothing.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a choice.

It became a habit, rather.

And habits were hard to break, even when they started costing you more than you ever meant to give.

And speaking of habits, some of them followed you straight onto the tarmac, clung to you just as stubbornly as the heat and the sweat and the way Jake always found your wing without even looking for it.

Training ended the way it usually did, engines screaming, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins long after you brought the jet down, hands steady even though your body was already aching in that familiar, satisfying way.

When the canopy lifted, the heat rushed in immediately, thick and heavy, sweat already soaking through your flight suit, hair damp at your temples as you shoved your helmet under your arm and climbed down the ladder. The smell of fuel hung in the air, sharp and metallic, mixed with salt and effort and the kind of exhaustion that felt earned.

Jake was already out of his jet, of course he was, flight suit half unzipped, shirt plastered to his chest, sunglasses on like he hadn’t just worked himself to the edge. You didn’t even look his way at first. You didn’t need to.

The results were barely out before it started.

“Holy shit!” Rooster said, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “She beat you again.”

Phoenix laughed, loud and unapologetic as she did. “Again, Hangman? That’s rough.”

You finally glanced over then, tugging your gloves off slowly, watching Jake’s mouth curve into that familiar, disbelieving grin.

“Okay,” he said, holding up a hand. “Let’s not act like that was a blowout.”

You snorted. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true,” he shot back. “I was distracted.”

You tilted your head. “By what? Your own ego overheating?”

That earned a chorus of laughs, someone clapping you on the shoulder hard enough to jostle you forward.

“Hell of a flight,” Payback said. “You flew like you woke up mad at the sky.”

You shrugged, breath still a little unsteady. “Sometimes it deserves it.”

Jake leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing something important. “You got lucky.”

You leaned in just as close, eyes bright despite the sweat dripping down your spine. “Scoreboard doesn’t do luck, Hangman.”

The oohs came immediately, Jake groaning as he threw his hands up, though the grin never left his face.

Everyone looked wrecked, hair damp, faces flushed, flight suits clinging uncomfortably, the whole group buzzing with leftover adrenaline and heat and that sharp edge of competition that never quite went away.

Mav’s presence cut through the noise like it always did.

He stopped in front of you first, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, taking you in with that quiet, assessing stillness.

“Nice flying,” he said. “Clean, controlled, didn’t let Seresin drag you into his bad habits.”

Jake let out a dramatic sigh. “Sir.”

Maverick barely looked at him. “You flew well, too,” he added, finally turning his head. “But loud doesn’t always mean smart.”

A few people laughed. Jake straightened anyway, clearly pleased despite himself.

Mav’s gaze swept over the rest of the squad. “You all pushed it today. That’s good. That’s what practice is for. Just remember, beating each other here doesn’t mean anything if you can’t keep it together when it counts.”

Then his eyes flicked back to you. “Consistency like that doesn’t happen by accident,” he said. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

Something warm settled in your chest at that, pride curling in under the exhaustion, muscles aching in a way that felt worth it. Someone handed you a bottle of water, and you drank greedily, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Jake caught your eye over the rim of his sunglasses, sweat running down his jaw, expression hovering somewhere between competitive and something quieter.

“Don’t get comfortable,” he said. “I’m taking you down next run.”

You capped the bottle and smiled at him, easy, familiar, automatic.

“Sure you are,” you said. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

And just like that, the noise swelled again, laughter and movement and heat pressing in from all sides, everything slipping back into its usual place.

Winning felt good, but it felt safe too, because for now it was still just flying, still just competition, still just habit.

And you were very good at habits.

Of course Rooster was the one to break the lull, because Rooster never let a moment breathe longer than necessary.

“So,” he said, clapping his hands together like this was a foregone conclusion, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt, grin already locked in. “Hard Deck. Drinks on Hangman, obviously. We gotta celebrate Switch embarrassing him in broad daylight.”

A chorus of agreement followed immediately.

“Oh absolutely,” Payback said. “I’ve been waiting all week for this.”

Jake scoffed, tugging his flight suit the rest of the way down, shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. “First of all, I was not embarrassed. Second of all, why am I paying?”

“Because you lost,” Phoenix said sweetly, not even looking at him as she wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. “And because we enjoy watching you suffer.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself, heat still buzzing through your veins, adrenaline making everything feel a little louder, a little looser.

“I accept,” you said. “As the winner, I feel that’s only fair.”

Jake turned to you, incredulous. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Am I?” you asked, tilting your head. “Because it feels earned.”

Phoenix finally looked up then, eyes flicking between all of you, wrinkling her nose theatrically. “Okay, hold on. Hard Deck is fine, but can we all agree on one thing first?”

Rooster groaned. “Don’t ruin this.”

“We are disgusting,” she said plainly. “I am not drinking next to any of you until you shower. You smell like jet fuel and poor life choices.”

“That’s the vibe, Tash.” Rooster protested.

“It’s not,” she shot back. “It’s a biohazard.”

You glanced down at yourself then, at the sweat clinging everywhere, at the way your flight suit felt like it had been glued to you. She wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah,” you said. “She’s got a point. I’m pretty sure my skin is trying to escape my body.”

“Traitor,” Rooster muttered.

Bob finally spoke up from a few steps back, quiet as always, helmet tucked under his arm, glasses slightly fogged at the edges from the heat. He smiled, small and gentle, like he found all of this more amusing than he let on.

“I wouldn’t mind a shower first,” he said. “Hard Deck will still be there.”

Phoenix pointed at him immediately. “See? Bob gets it.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Of course Bob gets it.”

Bob shrugged, still smiling. “I like a clean body.”

That earned a few laughs, the tension easing into something familiar and easy. You caught Bob’s eye for a second longer than necessary, the way you always did, his smile widening just a fraction before he looked away again.

“Alright,” Rooster sighed dramatically. “Fine. Everyone showers, but we’re not letting Switch escape this. Tonight’s about her.”

You blinked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Phoenix said. “Switch beating Hangman? That’s at least two rounds.”

Jake jabbed a finger in your direction. “I want it on record that I’m demanding a rematch.”

You grinned, slinging your helmet under your arm as you started walking towards the locker rooms. “Get in line, loser.”

As the group moved together, laughter bouncing off the concrete, sweat drying slowly on your skin, it all felt dangerously normal again, teasing and rivalry and shared victories folding back into place like they always did.

Another habit, which means that another night that would probably mean more than it was supposed to.

By the time you got back to your flat, the city was all glittering lights and distant hums and sirens that felt almost comforting after the day, like it had its own rhythm and you were part of it whether you wanted to be or not.

You kicked off the flight suit and threw it over the back of the chair without even looking, slid into something easier, more you, leather jacket thrown over a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled because practicality always wins over showing off, boots laced tight, the kind of outfit that says you know what you’re doing and you don’t need anyone to notice.

Hair pinned back loosely, a few strands falling where they liked, and your lips were barely there, just chapstick, but enough to remind anyone paying attention that you’re still Switch, still sharp, still impossible to ignore if you wanted to be.

You caught your reflection for a second and smirked at it, tilting your head, eyes lingering, thinking not bad, Switch, not bad at all. You looked dangerous if you wanted, careless if you chose, annoyingly confident without trying, and you knew it, and that felt good.

That felt like power. That felt like something no one could take from you.

Your keys slid between your fingers, and your pride waited out there, engine already thrumming faintly in anticipation. The supercharged Ninja H2 Carbon, sleek, fast, lethal, yours, and it practically hummed at you like it knew you belonged on it, like it knew tonight was going to be something.

Swinging your leg over, settling into the seat, you flexed your fingers against the controls and felt the weight of it beneath you and smirked because honestly this was your playground. Everyone else could still be sweaty and chaotic, but this, this was precision, control, speed.

You were Switch. Always Switch.

The engine roared to life at the twist of your wrist, and the city opened up, lights streaking past like it was all in slow motion, wind whipping your hair loose, cold in a way that made your skin tingle, the smell of petrol and asphalt and possibility mixing with the adrenaline still thrumming in your chest from training. You loved it. You loved the rush, the way it made you feel alive, untouchable if you wanted to be, entirely, deliciously untouchable.

Hard Deck wasn’t far, but that didn’t stop your brain from racing. You imagined the teasing, the laughter, the groan Jake would inevitably let out when he saw you walk in looking effortless and put together while everyone else was still sticky from sweat.

You grinned because he’d never notice until it was too late, and maybe tonight you’d let him stew a little, maybe tonight you’d let him squirm, maybe tonight he’d realise that winning against you in the sky didn’t make him immune to losing on the ground.

Your fingers brushed the throttle again and you whispered to yourself, not like anyone could hear over the roar, “Not too fast, not too reckless, just enough to be Switch,” and it felt like a promise and a warning at the same time and you laughed softly because it was true and also because no one could see how much you were grinning under your helmet.

The lights of Hard Deck drew closer, bright and sparkling like it was daring you to walk in, and heat from the day still clung to your skin, mixed with the wind, mixed with adrenaline, mixed with a kind of quiet anticipation you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time. Sexy, chaotic, sharp, entirely yourself, and you knew it.

You parked the Ninja, kicked it onto the stand, ran a hand through your hair and tugged the jacket tighter over your shoulders and muttered under your breath, “Alright, Switch, let’s see how the boys handle this one,” and somehow it felt like everything was about to explode and you loved it already.

The door slid open and immediately it hit you, the smell of beer and sweat and lingering jet fuel and someone had clearly been frying food and the heat of bodies still buzzing from training and somehow it all mixed into the kind of mess you loved, the kind that made you grin before you’d even stepped fully inside. And of course, Fanboy spotted you first because he always did and he had that ridiculous way of pointing like he’d discovered treasure.

“There she is!” he yelled, voice cracking a little and a few heads whipped around and everyone started laughing and grinning and somehow the whole room felt like it got louder just because you arrived, because apparently your presence could do that.

You rolled your eyes but smirked anyway because yes, of course it was fanboy, and yes, he had to be dramatic about it and yes, you secretly loved it. “Relax,” you said, sliding past the bar, jacket still on, hair messy from the ride and wind, chapstick catching the light just enough to remind people you were still you, still Switch, still lethal if they dared. “I only just got here. You’re all sweaty anyway. Sit down before someone actually melts.”

“Too late,” Payback muttered from the corner, shirt clinging to him in all the wrong ways, hair plastered down and shiny with sweat. “I’m already melting.”

“Gross,” Phoenix said without looking up, flicking you a glance that made you grin because she was always that one that pretended to hate you but couldn’t resist noticing. “And you too, Switch. Don’t act like you’re not dripping.”

“Am I?” you said, shrugging one shoulder and letting the jacket catch the light, letting the room notice just enough. “Hah! I think I’m glowing. You might want to check your specs.”

Fanboy bounced in place, pointing at you again like it was a revelation, like the world had suddenly aligned. “She’s glowing! Look at her! Switch, you look… lethal. Sexy lethal. I can’t even.”

You laughed, letting it spill out, shaking your head because yes, this was exactly the kind of attention you liked, messy, chaotic, half-teasing, half-serious, and you let it sit just long enough to enjoy it. “Maybe I should start charging cover at the door.”

Payback snorted, leaning against the bar and giving you that look that said he was pretending to be annoyed but you knew better. “I’d pay to see you take down Hangman again. I’d pay double if you tease him first.”

“Oh, I do tease him,” you said lightly, voice calm but there was that glint in your eyes, that little heat you always let slip when you were enjoying yourself. “The real question is if he survives it.”

Phoenix laughed, snorting and trying to hide it. “God, the way you talk about him Switch, do you even realise how dirty you sound right now?”

You tilted your head and smirked and let the words linger just enough for them to stew. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s more fun leaving you to wonder.”

Fanboy was practically vibrating now, gesturing like you were some rare bird that had just flown into their midst. “She’s dangerous. I’m telling you, she’s dangerous and sexy and just—I can’t even. Switch walks in and the whole room tilts.”

You laughed again, tilting your head, glancing around at everyone, feeling the small, familiar thrill run under your skin. You loved it, loved the way they all flustered themselves around you, loved the chaos, loved the little dangerous power of knowing exactly what you were doing without needing anyone to notice, and the way they couldn’t help but notice anyway.

“Speaking of chaos and danger,” Phoenix said, voice dropping conspiratorially like she was letting you in on a scandal, “I feel like this is the perfect time to ask about your sex life. You can’t just waltz in here looking like that and not have stories, Switch.”

For a second the room froze like someone had pulled the pause button, and then chaos hit all at once. Fanboy was practically vibrating in place, pointing at you like you’d just become a national treasure. “YES! Finally! Spill it! Tell us!”

Payback leaned forward, elbows on the bar, hair still damp and plastered to his forehead, grin wide, eyes glittering with that awful, insatiable mischief he always had. “Come on, Switch, one story, just one. I’m begging. I need to know if you’re actually human.”

You tilted your head, letting the words hang between you, teasing, deliberate, letting them stew in the suspense. “You’re all going to be disappointed,” you said lightly, smirk already tugging at your lips, letting the small thrill of control run through you like electricity.

“Did someone say sex?”

And of course, that was exactly when Rooster’s ears pricked up. Or maybe it was that his brain short-circuited the moment he caught the word, because he popped up from behind a stool like a meerkat who had just spotted a predator, eyes wide, mouth half-open.

The room lost it.

“Oh, my God,” Phoenix gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth, “Rooster, don’t act like you didn’t hear that. You have perfect hearing for everything else and suddenly you’re deaf?”

Fanboy lost it entirely, hopping from foot to foot, pointing at him again like he’d just won some kind of lottery. “She said SEX, dude! SEX! Not that we didn’t expect you to hear it, but seriously, you’re ridiculous!”

Rooster groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I did not mean to hear it! I was just… walking by!”

“Uh-huh,” you said, voice smooth and teasing, letting it drip slow and deliberate. “Totally accidental, obviously. Purely coincidental that you popped your head in like that.”

Phoenix snorted, nearly falling off her stool laughing. “Purely accidental my arse. You stopped everything you were doing to come eavesdrop, didn’t you?”

Rooster sank into a chair, rubbing at his forehead like he’d just been scolded as a child, and you bit your cheek to keep from laughing too loud because honestly, it was perfect. He was flustered, exposed, caught in a moment he never expected, and you loved every second.

And then you noticed him, tucked in a corner, quiet, calm as ever, everything about him impossibly still except for the faintest tilt of his head, the tiniest smirk that made your chest tighten just a little. Bob Floyd.

He had arrived quietly, glasses catching the light just enough to make it clear he’d seen everything and was letting it roll off like he didn’t care, but you knew better. That little smile told you he noticed, he was observing, and somehow that made the teasing and chaos feel even sweeter because he was there, silent but present, watching everything with that quiet kind of amusement.

You caught his eye for a split second, just long enough for a little thrill to curl up your spine, and he gave a small nod, like he appreciated the mess without wanting to touch it, and your chest squeezed at the tiny gesture, because he was always like that, calm but somehow in on everything.

Fanboy shrieked again, pointing at you like a fool, Rooster groaned and hid his face in his hands, and you leaned back, smirk wide, letting it wash over you, the noise, the chaos, the little bursts of heat that made you feel alive.

“See,” you said, voice smooth and casual, almost mocking, letting your eyes flick to Bob again for the tiniest second, “this is why I love coming here. Absolute chaos, everyone flustered, and you just… watch.”

Bob’s smile widened just a fraction, the one that made your stomach twist in that familiar way, and you let yourself enjoy it for a moment before turning back to the squad, letting them continue to stumble over themselves.

“You’re all ridiculous,” you said lightly, letting the words roll out like silk over sharpened steel, “absolutely ridiculous.”

And the room erupted again, laughter bouncing off the walls, Rooster groaning louder than before, Fanboy squealing like a kid on a sugar high, and you grinned, letting the messy, chaotic, teasing energy wash over you because this; this was exactly where you thrived, exactly where you belonged, exactly the kind of night that made you feel untouchable, alive, and entirely, irresistibly Switch.

Rooster finally looked around, squinting a little as if it had suddenly occurred to him that something was off. “Where’s Hangman?” he asked, voice hesitant, like he was half-worried he’d missed something obvious.

You gave him a look that could have killed, one brow arched, lips tugging into the tiniest smirk, the kind that said am I his mum, really? “Honestly, Rooster,” you said, voice calm, almost teasing, “the guy can take care of himself. Probably off somewhere with a chick or two, or maybe he’s sulking somewhere because I embarrassed him again. Either way, not my problem.”

Fanboy snorted, bouncing slightly in place like he couldn’t contain himself. “Ooooh, I like that. So Switch is single tonight, right? Free to dish out all the stories without Hangman whining in the background?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking, letting him stew for just a second. “Free as a bird, if you mean that.”

And then, because you’d been glancing toward the corner anyway, your eyes caught Bob, calm as ever, helmet tucked under his arm, glasses slightly fogged from the training, expression faintly amused but quiet. Fanboy, of course, spotted him at the same time and immediately zeroed in.

“Oi,” Fanboy called, pointing, “what about him? Bob? Surely he’s got someone in the background, right? You’re not just single and mysterious all the time, are you, Floyd?”

Bob blinked, tilting his head just slightly, and you almost laughed at the way he simply let the question hang, that faint little smile creeping onto his lips that made your chest twist because it was sweet, gentle, like he knew exactly how to handle teasing without overdoing it.

You leaned back, smirking at him, letting Fanboy fidget a little more. “Looks like you’ve been caught, Bob. He’s got a little mystery, but honestly, if he does have a girlfriend, I’d be impressed. Sweet little guy, too quiet to give anything away.”

Bob’s smile widened just a fraction, that faint tilt of amusement and warmth that made your chest squeeze, and you let yourself enjoy the moment, the way it felt soft in the middle of the loud, sweaty room.

Fanboy was still bouncing, muttering about needing details, Rooster looked like he’d been caught between caring and panic, and you leaned back further, smirk still in place, watching it all unfold.

Tonight was full of small victories, teasing that stung just enough to be funny, and little glimpses of people you liked seeing in the softer, sweeter light, and somehow it all felt ridiculously good.

“Honestly,” you said, tilting your head at Rooster, “he’s fine. Probably off charming someone somewhere or just quietly being Bob. Either way, leave him be.”

Fanboy grinned like he’d won something and muttered under his breath, “I swear, Switch, you make everything more interesting,” and you laughed softly because he wasn’t wrong. You always did.

You leaned back against the bar, smirking at Fanboy bouncing like a maniac and Rooster still looking vaguely panicked about Hangman’s absence, when Bob finally spoke, voice calm and quiet but somehow cutting through the noise like he always did.

“I’m not sure why I feel singled out here,” he said, pushing his glasses up slightly, smiling faintly but teasing, the kind that made your chest squeeze just a little. “It’s not like I have a scandalous sex life worth spilling.”

Fanboy’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Wait, hold on! Are you saying… you’re single? Bob Floyd? The sweet little genius pilot who never says a word? Single?”

Bob tilted his head, calm as ever, voice low and almost amused. “Apparently so. I suppose some of us just… prefer to observe.”

You snorted, grinning at him. “Observe? Bob, mate, you’re not just observing. You’re winning at it quietly. That’s even worse. Everyone else flails around like idiots and you just… stand there and watch. You’re teasing us all without moving a muscle! That’s so cool!”

He shrugged slightly, still holding that faint little smile. “Perhaps. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing how ridiculous you all look when you get carried away.”

Fanboy groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Ugh, he’s not even embarrassed! He’s enjoying this! Bob, you’re unfair, man!”

You laughed, shaking your head, eyes flicking to him. “He’s sweet, though, isn’t he? Quietly enjoying himself without needing the attention, that’s why he’s impossible to tease properly.”

Bob’s eyes met yours for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and his smile widened just a touch. “I’d say you make it entertaining for everyone, Switch. I can see why you enjoy it.”

You blinked at that, heat curling somewhere deep and familiar, and grinned because yes, he noticed, yes, he gets it, and yes, you like that he’s the calm in the middle of the room, quietly appreciating the mess without being messy himself.

“See,” you said, voice soft and teasing, “everyone here is ridiculous, but you… you’re somehow worse. Quietly worse.”

Bob chuckled quietly, a small, low sound that made your stomach flip, and muttered under his breath, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Fanboy groaned again. “Oh, it’s official. Robert Floyd is secretly a legend. I love him already.”

You laughed softly, leaning back a little, heart still buzzing.

Phoenix finally got serious, voice cutting through the lingering laughs and teasing like someone had flicked a switch. “Alright, everyone,” she said, sliding onto a stool and crossing her arms, “seriously, Maverick dropped something in the debrief this morning, and we need to pay attention before we get too distracted by Switch’s glorious victory over Hangman.”

The table quieted a little, everyone suddenly remembering that yes, even on nights like this, training didn’t stop for anyone.

“Apparently,” she continued, voice tight, “we’ve got a mission coming up. Navy detail, top-secret stuff, only two of us are going to be sent in. It’s over at the Norfolk base, the training facility there, and only a couple of people get picked to actually go in. Everyone else will be backup and support, but the two people who go in… it’s serious.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head, smirk tugging at your lips without really meaning it. “Oh, only two? That’s generous. I assume there’s a catch.”

Phoenix shot you a look, half-annoyed, half-amused. “The catch is that you don’t get to pick, Switch. Maverick decides. And yes, it’s serious. You don’t get to tease your way through this one.”

Fanboy groaned from the corner. “Of course, it’s always serious when Switch is involved. Can’t we just send everyone else and let her sit back?”

“Not happening,” Payback muttered, voice low, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know she’s not going to sit back. She’s going to volunteer before anyone can blink.”

You smirked again, because of course, that’s what everyone thought, and of course, you were going to let them think that for now. The mission sounded serious, maybe even dangerous, and part of you felt the familiar pull of adrenaline curling under your ribs. Not just from speed or competition, but from the idea of being chosen, of being one of the two who actually went in.

Bob, quiet as always, lifted his gaze, glasses catching the light faintly, and murmured, calm as ever, “Sounds like it’s going to be interesting. Whoever Maverick picks is going to need a steady partner. That could get tricky.”

“Tricky is my middle name,” you said lightly, voice teasing, letting the words hang just enough to make him glance at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Rooster, who had been half-listening while still recovering from earlier teasing, frowned slightly. “So who’s he thinking about sending?”

Phoenix shook her head. “No clue. He didn’t say. He only made it clear that only two are going in and everyone else stays out. Top brass, high clearance, top-secret stuff. You know the drill. Keep your heads on straight.”

You leaned back, letting the leather of your jacket creak under you, smirk still in place. “So basically, everyone gets to sit around nervously and speculate while Maverick decides who actually gets to be useful. Perfect.”

Fanboy groaned again. “I swear, Switch, you’re impossible. You make everything sound like a game even when it’s serious.”

“Of course I do,” you said lightly, shrugging, letting the thrill curl under your skin again. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Bob’s quiet chuckle faded into a small frown as he leaned a little forward, voice low but serious. “Switch,” he said, and you noticed the way he tucked his helmet under one arm like he was trying to seem casual, “in the Norfolk exercise, if we’re sent in as the two operators, how are you planning to handle the comms? Standard Navy protocol, or are we improvising once we’re inside the facility?”

You lifted an eyebrow, smirking faintly because of course he’d ask something like that, and even though the room was still noisy around you, your voice stayed calm, measured, with the tiniest edge of satisfaction curling in your chest.

“I’d follow standard protocol for secure channels, obviously, but I’d be running two backups simultaneously, one encrypted comms feed with redundant routing and a secondary VHF line just in case the first goes down. Add in signal scramblers to prevent any triangulation, which leaves us free to manoeuvre without detection. We’d also pre-map the facility comm nodes and assign sector control to each of us before insertion. And if anyone tries to jam, I’ve got contingency routing baked in. Net result: minimal risk of losing contact and maximum situational awareness. Calculations are solid, and it keeps us operational.”

Rooster’s jaw dropped slightly and he immediately shook his head. “Nah, nah, nah, Switch. That’s overcomplicated. You’re wasting time. Simple, secure comms, like Maverick said, just stick to standard channels, don’t mess around with all that redundant crap. You’ll only confuse yourself.”

You gave him a sharp look, that little tilt of your head that meant do not start, and let a faint smirk creep onto your lips. “Rooster, save it. I’ve already calculated the probability of signal failure, redundancy load, and net operational efficiency versus standard protocol. Even with your simple channels, we’d be looking at a thirty-two percent risk of total blackout in the worst-case scenario. Thirty-two percent, Roo. You don’t get to argue with numbers.”

He opened his mouth again, clearly wanting to, but you just shook your head, leaning back slightly, eyes glinting, letting him simmer for a moment. Bob, on the other hand, tilted his head, faint smile tugging at his lips, impressed without saying it outright, and you felt that small heat in your chest, the one that came from knowing you had nailed it and he noticed it too.

“Exactly,” you said lightly, voice calm but carrying that little weight of satisfaction. “Numbers don’t lie, and neither do contingencies. Stick to the plan, and we stay in control. That’s the point, right?”

Fanboy groaned loudly, flopping back against his stool and throwing his hands up like he was personally offended. “We are at Hard Deck, why are you guys talking about work? Ugh, seriously, can we not do this tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking because yes, he was right, but part of you secretly loved the way he got so dramatic over the tiniest things. “Oh, poor Fanboy,” you said, voice smooth and teasing, letting the corner of your mouth tug up, “do you need a hug, or are you just going to continue whining for the next hour?”

Payback snorted from across the table, towel still draped over his shoulders from training, voice low and amused. “Let him whine. It’s hilarious.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes but smiled faintly, leaning back with her phone tucked under one arm. “I kind of agree. Can we all just enjoy the night? Drinks, food, teasing Switch, maybe stop pretending we’re in a briefing room for five minutes?”

You leaned forward slightly, voice playful but still sharp. “I can enjoy the night just fine, Phoenix, but part of me lives for the look on Rooster’s face when someone mentions probability of failure. Makes it worth it.”

Rooster groaned again, rubbing at his temple, muttering, “I hate you all sometimes.”

And then Penny appeared at the edge of the table, tray in hand, balancing drinks like it was some kind of art, placing them down with a soft clink that made everyone lean in just a little. “Here,” she said lightly, voice calm but warm, “drinks for everyone. Thought you might need a little liquid courage after all the nerd talk.” With that, she left.

Fanboy immediately grabbed one, grinning like it was Christmas morning. “Finally! Something fun to focus on.”

You picked yours up casually, letting the light clink against the glass, and smirked at Bob, who had shifted slightly to let his drink rest next to him, careful and deliberate as ever. “Liquid courage, Bob? Or are you just going to sip it politely while everyone else loses their minds?”

He glanced at you, calm, faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I can enjoy the night and stay operational. One does not exclude the other.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, heart still buzzing from the adrenaline of earlier. “You make it sound like a war strategy, not a drink.”

The laugh barely finished leaving your mouth when something shifted, subtle enough that you almost ignored it at first, just a change in the air, a familiar scent cutting through the mix of alcohol and salt and sweat that Hard Deck always had. It hit you low and sharp, that clean cologne you’d smelled a thousand times before mixed with something unmistakably Jake, and your chest tightened before your brain could catch up, instinct louder than logic like it always was with him.

You stilled, fingers tightening just slightly around your glass, and turned your head towards the door without even thinking about it, heart doing something stupid and unhelpful as the lights from outside spilled in.

And there he was.

Jake strolled in like he owned the place, flight jacket slung over his shoulders, that familiar swagger in his step that had always grated on you and grounded you at the same time, except this time his arm was wrapped casually around someone else. A woman. New. Beautiful in a way that felt intentional, glossy hair falling perfectly over her shoulders, dress hugging her in places you refused to look at for more than a second, heels clicking against the floor like she knew exactly the effect she had. She laughed at something he murmured into her ear, leaning into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, like that space had always been hers.

Something cold settled in your stomach.

It wasn’t sharp, not exactly, more like a strange hollowness, like the room had tilted just enough to throw you off balance even though you were still standing perfectly still. You told yourself it was nothing, that this was expected, normal even, because Jake was Jake and Jake dated and Jake always brought someone new around eventually. You’d teased him about it enough times. You’d been supportive. You’d smiled and nodded and pretended it didn’t matter because that was the role you’d perfected.

Still, your chest felt tight, breath catching just a fraction, and you hated that your eyes kept tracking him automatically, watching the way his hand rested at her waist, the way he leaned down to say something and she laughed again, bright and easy and entirely unbothered.

Get a grip, you told yourself, jaw tightening as you took a slow sip of your drink, forcing your expression to stay neutral, casual, unbothered. This was just Jake. This was just another girl. This was just how things were.

And yet, something about it felt off.

It crept in quietly, that strange, uncomfortable feeling you couldn’t quite name, a dull ache under your ribs that didn’t make sense and therefore annoyed you more than anything else. You weren’t jealous. That was ridiculous. You didn’t do jealous. You were happy for him. You were always happy for him. That’s what best friends did.

Still, your gaze flicked back to the door before you could stop it, watching as he guided her further inside, arm still firm around her shoulders, and you felt that odd tightness again, deeper this time, settling somewhere it hadn’t before.

You shifted slightly, rolling your shoulders like you could shake it off, like you could physically dislodge the feeling if you tried hard enough. It was nothing. Just a surprise, and a habit. You know, just your brain misfiring because Jake had always been there, always within reach, and now he wasn’t, not in the way you were used to.

Jake, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. Once he spotted where you were sitting, he shifted his grip around the woman at his side and started weaving through the crowd towards your table like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he hadn’t just walked in and subtly rearranged the atmosphere of the room. She stayed close to him, hand resting on his arm, heels clicking softly against the floor, head tilted up as he said something low to her that made her smile.

Phoenix noticed immediately.

“Alright,” she said under her breath, already sitting up straighter, eyes flicking around the table in warning. “Everyone behave. Be nice. Do not be weird.”

Fanboy rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder he didn’t strain something. “I’m always nice.”

“You are absolutely not,” Payback muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

Rooster scoffed. “Define weird, because that feels very subjective.”

Phoenix shot him a look that could ground an aircraft. “You know exactly what I mean.”

There was a chorus of exaggerated sighs and half hearted groans, chairs shifting, postures adjusting in a way that screamed barely restrained curiosity. Bob, though, just smiled softly to himself, fingers laced around his glass, eyes warm behind his glasses like he found the whole thing quietly amusing. He glanced at you for a brief second, catching the corner of your mouth lifting despite yourself.

You couldn’t help it. The teasing smile came naturally, familiar and reflexive, tugging at your lips as you watched Jake approach, watched the way the boys immediately tried to look casual and failed. You leaned back slightly in your chair, shoulders loose, expression easy, like you were watching a scene you’d seen a hundred times before, even if this version had a new variable walking beside him.

Jake stopped at the edge of the table, grin still firmly in place, arm tightening just a little around her waist. “Hey,” he said, voice bright, eyes flicking to you first before he caught himself and looked around at everyone else. “You guys started without me?”

Phoenix smiled sweetly, the kind that came with a warning label. “We were just about to order another round.”

Jake laughed like she had personally insulted him, that loud, easy kind of laugh that made everyone glance at him, shaking their heads but secretly glad he was here. “Wow,” he said, throwing a look around the table. “I step out for five minutes and you’re already having fun without me?”

“You’re late,” Phoenix said casually, voice smooth but sharp enough to sting a little. “We were trying to behave, not that it really matters.”

Jake scoffed, rolling his shoulders, eyes immediately snapping to you, just like always, bright and searching and somehow comforting even if it got under your skin. And before you even realised it, before your brain could stop you, you did it, the stupid little friendship clap, palm to palm, twist, back of hands bumping, that ridiculous ritual you’d been doing for years without even thinking.

“Dude,” you said automatically, shaking your head at him. “You’re late.”

He blinked at the word, just once, like he wasn’t sure it belonged in this context, then grinned anyway, because of course he did. “Dude?” he repeated, amused. “That’s new.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair, casual, smirk tugging at your lips. “Felt right. Especially since you lost today.”

“Oh come on,” he said, pointing at you, mock offended. “You got lucky.”

“Lucky,” you echoed, smirking wider. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep tonight, loser.”

Fanboy snorted, Rooster groaned, Payback laughed quietly into his drink. “She cooked you today, man,” Fanboy said, still smirking.

Jake rolled his eyes but the smile never left his face. “I’ll get you next time, Switch. Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” you said easily. “Loser.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then remembered the reason he was here in the first place. He shifted slightly, hand going to the girl’s back, adjusting her so she moved naturally into the group, and finally gestured to her like he’d been waiting to introduce her. “Right, okay. Guys, this is Amber.”

Amber stepped forward with a smile that was bright and warm, effortless but deliberate, like she’d practiced once and realised she didn’t have to try that hard. Hair glossy and falling neatly over her shoulders, dress hugging her in all the right places without looking like she was trying, makeup subtle but polished, lips glossy, everything coordinated. She smelled faintly floral, soft but not overpowering, like something expensive and delicate.

“Hi,” she said, voice sweet, confident, and clear. “I’ve heard a lot about you all.”

Her eyes flicked to you, just for a second, curious, almost appraising, like she was trying to figure out what your place was in all of this. You met her gaze without flinching, expression calm, fingers resting against your glass, smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth because you could tell she was already measuring and it amused you.

“Welcome,” you said lightly. “You picked a lively table.”

Phoenix slid a chair out smoothly for her. “Sit before they scare you off.”

Amber laughed softly at that, a light sound, and glanced at Jake like she was checking if this was normal behaviour or some kind of test. “I think I can handle it,” she said, still smiling as she sat down, smoothing her dress under her thighs in a way that felt very deliberate, very aware of herself.

“Bold words,” Fanboy said, lifting his beer slightly. “We’re a lot.”

“And loud,” Payback added.

“And emotionally unavailable,” Rooster chimed in, entirely too proud of himself.

Phoenix shot him a look. “Speak for yourself.”

Amber laughed again, shoulders relaxing a little. “I’ve been warned,” she said, glancing at Jake.

Jake grinned. “I told you they were harmless. Mostly.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, lifting your glass to your lips, eyes flicking briefly to Amber and then away again, like it didn’t matter, like you weren’t clocking every tiny movement without meaning to.

Bob leaned forward slightly, polite as always, smile soft behind his glasses. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said gently. “We’ve heard… a lot about you, too.”

Amber’s eyes brightened. “Only good things, I hope.”

Bob hesitated for half a second, then smiled wider. “Mostly.”

That got a laugh out of the table, even Jake, who shook his head and reached for his drink. “See, this is what I deal with.”

“You love it,” Phoenix said, already signalling Penny for another round. “Otherwise you wouldn’t keep bringing people here.”

Amber glanced around again, taking everything in, the noise, the familiarity, the way everyone leaned into each other’s space without asking. Her eyes landed on you once more, just briefly, like she was still trying to solve a puzzle she hadn’t been given all the pieces to.

“So,” Fanboy said, unable to help himself. “How did you two meet?”

Jake opened his mouth but Amber beat him to it, smiling. “Through mutual friends. He was very annoying.”

You snorted quietly into your drink before you could stop yourself.

Jake turned to you immediately. “Hey.”

“What?” you said innocently. “She’s not wrong.”

Amber laughed, glancing between the two of you now, curiosity sharpening just a touch. “You must be Switch,” she said, tone friendly but searching. “He talks about you all the time.”

There it was.

You lifted your brows slightly, amused, shrugging like it meant nothing. “All lies, I promise.”

Jake scoffed. “Rude.”

Phoenix hid a smile behind her glass. Rooster watched the exchange with far too much interest. Bob shifted slightly beside you, quiet but observant, like he felt the subtle shift in the air even if he didn’t name it.

“Well,” Amber said lightly, breaking the moment before it could stretch too far. “I’m glad to finally put faces to names.”

Penny arrived then with the drinks, setting them down with a knowing smile, the clink of glasses cutting through the conversation just enough to reset the table, to give everyone something to do with their hands.

“To surviving another day,” Payback said, raising his glass.

“To beating Hangman,” Fanboy added, nodding at you.

You lifted your drink in response, smirk returning. “Cheers to that.”

“And speaking of that,” Rooster said suddenly, far too casually, leaning back in his chair with that look that meant he was about to be annoying on purpose. “Switch here has been suspiciously quiet about her personal life lately.”

Your stomach dipped just a fraction.

You felt it immediately, the way the table shifted, the way everyone’s attention slowly, deliberately, turned towards you like spotlights clicking on one by one. Fanboy’s brows lifted in interest. Payback tilted his head. Phoenix gave Rooster a warning look that he ignored completely.

“What personal life?” you said, deadpan, already regretting sitting up straighter.

“Oh come on,” Fanboy chimed in, grinning. “You can’t just be out here embarrassing Hangman on the daily and not give us something. You seeing anyone?”

Jake took a sip of his drink at exactly the wrong moment.

He choked, coughing hard enough that Amber immediately leaned in, hand rubbing his back, concern written all over her face. “Baby, baby, you okay?” she asked softly.

You watched it happen with a detached sort of amusement, lips pressing together to stop yourself from smiling.

“I’m fine,” Jake said hoarsely, waving a hand, clearing his throat. “Went down the wrong way.”

“Sure it did,” Phoenix muttered.

You rolled your eyes then, finally letting it show, lifting your glass again like it might shield you from the attention. “Absolutely not,” you said. “My love life is not a topic of discussion.”

Rooster grinned wider. “That’s a no then?”

“That’s a none of your business,” you corrected easily, tone light but final. “Some of us enjoy a bit of mystery, you know.”

Fanboy groaned. “Boringggggggg.”

Amber laughed lightly, but there was something a little too sharp under it, something just off enough that you felt it without knowing why. She shifted closer to Jake, fingers curling around his arm, holding onto him like she was making a point, smile still perfectly in place as she looked at you.

“So,” she said, tilting her head, voice sweet in a way that felt rehearsed. “You and Jakey have known each other for a long time, right?”

Jakey…?

You nodded easily, not thinking twice about it. “Yeah, uh, since college.”

“That’s… wow,” she said, brows lifting, squeezing Jake’s arm just a little tighter. “That’s a really long time to be so close, hah.”

Jake laughed, oblivious, leaning back into his chair. “Switch has basically been around forever.”

You snorted. “Rude.”

Amber smiled again, but this time it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just think it’s interesting,” she said, gaze flicking between the two of you. “You don’t really act like… how people usually expect, you know?”

You blinked, genuinely confused. “Uh. Thanks? I think.”

Phoenix shifted beside you, watching Amber carefully now. Bob went still, fingers tightening slightly around his glass.

Amber continued, still smiling. “I mean, you don’t dress like most women, and you don’t really talk about dating, and you’re always with my Jakey, so I guess I was just wondering…” she trailed off, letting the implication hang.

You laughed softly, waving a hand. “Oh, that. Yeah, uh, people just assume things,” you said honestly. “I don’t really bother correcting them unless it gets annoying.”

Jake frowned slightly. “Assume what?”

You glanced at him, amused. “Mate, people think we’re together all the time. Or that I’m not interested in anyone at all.”

Amber’s grip tightened again, her smile sharpening. “That must be frustrating,” she said quickly. “Having people misunderstand you like that.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, sincere, shrugging. “I’m used to it.”

Amber hummed softly at that, smiling, still holding onto Jake’s arm like it was an anchor she didn’t quite trust. She tilted her head again, studying you a little more openly now, gaze slow and deliberate, lingering on your jacket, your boots, the way you sat too comfortably in your own skin.

“So,” she said, voice light but pointed, “have you ever wanted something… different?”

You blinked. “Different how?”

She shrugged, nails brushing Jake’s sleeve as she spoke. “I don’t know. Softer, maybe. More traditionally feminine. Dating, settling down, all of that.” She laughed quietly, like she was joking, but her eyes stayed on your face. “I mean, you’re very… not that.”

There was a pause. Not an awkward one yet, but just long enough for something to shift in your chest, a subtle tightening you didn’t fully understand. You laughed it off instinctively, because that was what you always did.

“I suppose not,” you said honestly. “I like what I like.”

Jake shifted beside her. “Amber.”

“What,” she said quickly, still smiling. “I’m just curious.”

Phoenix’s jaw tightened. Bob glanced at you, concern flickering briefly across his face before he looked back down at his drink.

You tilted your head, trying to understand where this was coming from. “I don’t really think about it that much,” you admitted. “Clothes are just clothes. I’ve got other priorities.”

Amber nodded, but her smile thinned. “Right. Flying. Jake. The squad.” She laughed again, a little too quick. “You must spend more time with him than anyone.”

You shrugged again, slower this time. “We work together.”

“Still,” she said, eyes flicking to Jake and then back to you. “It must be hard, being so close to someone who dates a lot.”

That was when it landed wrong.

You felt it then, that faint prickle along your spine, that sense that you’d stepped into something without realising there were lines drawn on the floor. You shifted in your seat, smile softening but not disappearing.

“I don’t really keep track of his dating life,” you said lightly. “That’s his business.”

Jake frowned now. “Amber, seriously, it’s fine.”

She squeezed his arm, still smiling. “I know. I just like understanding the people in his life.”

You nodded, polite, genuine, even as something in your stomach twisted in a way you couldn’t quite name. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Amber smiled again, but this one was sharper, tighter, like she’d decided something. She leaned in a little closer to the table, still pressed into Jake’s side, fingers visibly curled into his sleeve. “I just think it’s interesting,” she said, voice light, almost playful, “how some people get very comfortable playing the role of the girlfriend without actually being one.”

The table went quiet.

Not dead silent, but close enough that you could feel it, glasses pausing halfway to mouths, someone’s chair creaking because they shifted without meaning to. Phoenix’s brows knitted together. Fanboy stared down at his drink like it had suddenly become fascinating. Bob froze, jaw tightening just slightly.

Jake stiffened immediately. “Amber,” he said quietly, leaning in, voice low and urgent. “Hey. Stop it.”

She laughed softly, waving him off. “What? I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You blinked, genuinely startled, then laughed too, a quick breathy sound that surprised even you. “It’s fine,” you said, holding up a hand, trying to smooth it over because that was what you always did. “Really.”

Amber turned fully towards you now, eyes bright, smile widening. “I just mean,” she continued, undeterred, “it must get confusing sometimes, right? People thinking you’re something you’re not. I’d hate that.”

You tilted your head, studying her properly for the first time, not defensive, not angry, just trying to understand what she was reaching for. “I don’t,” you said simply. “I’m pretty clear about who I am.”

There was a beat.

Then she laughed, louder this time, and tightened her grip on Jake, practically draping herself over him. “Well,” she said brightly, glancing around the table like she needed witnesses, “just to be clear, I’m Jake’s girlfriend.”

Jake grimaced. “Amber.”

She ignored him, smiling at you again, sweet and pointed. “So you don’t have to worry about any confusion.”

Something settled in your chest then, calm and steady, almost disappointing in how little it hurt compared to what everyone else seemed to expect. You smiled back, easy and unbothered, even if the room still felt stiff around you.

“Good to know,” you said lightly. “Congratulations.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched a little too long, and then Rooster let out a loud, awkward laugh, waving his hands like he was trying to physically sweep the tension away. “Alright, alright, that’s enough of that. How about we… Switch, hey, you and me, we go grab another round of drinks?”

You blinked at him, a little surprised, but the relief in the air was palpable. “Sure,” you said, standing and brushing your hands lightly over your jeans.

Jake stiffened slightly beside Amber, glance flicking toward you as if he wanted to say something, but his lips pressed together, then he muttered, “Excuse me,” and started moving toward the door with Amber at his side.

Amber laughed softly at something he said and rested a hand on his arm as they walked away, clearly content to monopolise him.

Before he disappeared completely, Jake paused, glanced back at you, eyes soft and apologetic, and mouthed a quiet, “Sorry.”

You met his gaze, shrugging with a tight-lipped smile, because there wasn’t anything to say, not that you wanted to admit anyway.

Rooster draped one arm casually over your shoulder, tugging you just a little closer, his grip light but grounding, like he wanted to make sure you felt safe from the tension you’d just left behind. “Don’t worry about her,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Amber’s just… insecure.”

You tilted your head, genuinely confused, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Insecure? About what?”

He chuckled softly, like he knew something you didn’t, eyes flicking toward the bar as if the answer was somewhere in the shadows. “You know… just… stuff. She’s holding onto him too tightly.”

You frowned, brow furrowing. “Holding onto him? What does that even—”

He sighed, cutting you off before you could finish, shaking his head, the weight of it heavy but not unkind. “Never mind,” he said, a little exasperated. “You’re smart, Switch. Smart as hell, but you’re not smart enough to notice everything. Ugh.”

You blinked at him, trying to make sense of the words, the tone, the vague warning wrapped in amusement. “Wait—what exactly am I not noticing?”

Rooster just shook his head again, letting the question hang unanswered, a small smirk on his face, and tugged you gently toward the bar. “Someday you’ll get it. Until then, just… let’s get the drinks.”

The night went on in its usual blur, the kind of blur that wrapped around you and made the hours stretch and shrink all at once. Drinks came and went, laughter spilling over, conversations looping and folding in on themselves, jokes recycled with slight variations, and the soft clink of glasses punctuating the rhythm of it all.

You leaned against the bar more than once, letting the warmth of the room settle around your shoulders, the low hum of music, chatter, and the occasional shout from the other side of the floor creating a comfortable background to your thoughts.

At some point, the haze of the evening wrapped its fingers around your mind, dragging you from one group to another, catching snatches of conversation, half-forgotten details, moments of insight that you’d tuck away for later, things you noticed about the way people moved, the way they laughed, the way they held themselves.

Amber appeared at the edges of your awareness now and then, a presence that made your chest tighten for reasons you didn’t let yourself name, always near Jake, always leaning in, always smiling, always measuring something you couldn’t quite place.

You moved through it all the way you always had, with that practiced casualness, the smirk tucked in your pocket, the hands busy but relaxed, the mind alert to everything and nothing at once.

You found yourself laughing at jokes you’d already heard, offering comments that slipped past most of the table without a second thought, watching Bob quietly observe, Phoenix keeping an eye on the squad, Rooster and Fanboy arguing over nothing that seemed important only to them, and Payback leaning back like he didn’t care but still caught everything.

Hours passed and the haze thickened. You didn’t notice exactly when the lights dimmed a fraction, when the crowd thinned slightly, when conversations slowed into comfortable murmurs.

Time was fluid here, and you let it flow over you, letting your body relax while your mind catalogued, assessed, and filed away each tiny movement, each glance, each laugh. For a moment, the night was simple, and it was easy, and the tension that had been coiled so tightly earlier unspooled just enough that you could breathe, just enough that the lingering knot in your chest softened, though it didn’t entirely disappear.

By the time the night wound down, the table had thinned, voices lowered, and the floor had cleared enough for people to start thinking about heading out. Penny came up to you all, brushing hair behind her ears, bright practical smile on her face. “Alright, you guys,” she said, sweet but firm. “Be careful driving, okay? Don’t do anything stupid, and watch out for each other!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rooster muttered, already grabbing someone by the arm.

Sure enough, there was Fanboy, leaning way too heavily on you and Rooster, one arm slung over your shoulder, the other on Rooster’s, staggering like he had two left feet. “Nooo,” he whined, voice slurred. “I can walk, I’m fine, I’m… king of the streets, yeah…”

“Uh-huh,” you said, steadying him with one hand, smirking. “King of the streets, right. Let’s see you survive getting to Bob’s car first, yeah?”

Rooster laughed, tugging harder. “Move it, man, you’re heavy and it’s freezing.”

Fanboy hiccupped, swaying dangerously. “I… am… invincible. Like… like Switch over here. Yeah, yeah, invincible… I respect you, Switch…”

“Thanks, mate,” you said lightly, rolling your eyes, “but I think you respect your own reflection more right now.”

Behind you, Bob and Phoenix were attempting the same heroic feat with Payback, who had collapsed into a heap of limbs, arms flopping like noodles. Phoenix groaned, voice exasperated but amused. “Bob, he’s gonna fall over again!”

“Not on my watch,” Bob muttered, straining under Payback’s weight. “Come on, man, almost there!”

Payback hiccupped loudly. “Bob… I love you… I love all of you…”

Phoenix rolled her eyes, dramatically. “Why do I even let you guys out at night?”

Fanboy, still halfway to Bob’s car, glanced over his shoulder. “Switch… promise me… we’ll have more nights like this…”

“Only if you survive the walk, king of the streets,” you replied, tugging him forward, grinning despite the cold.

By some miracle, with your balance, Rooster’s grumbling, and Fanboy’s obvious attempts to collapse, you made it to Bob’s car. You plopped Fanboy into the passenger seat with a thump, Rooster holding his legs so they didn’t splay.

Bob and Phoenix finally wrestled Payback into his seat behind them. Phoenix muttered about how utterly ridiculous the squad was, while Payback waved like he was conducting a parade.

“Alright,” Bob said finally, tired but amused. “Everyone accounted for. Switch, you good to ride out?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, adjusting your jacket and sliding onto your Ninja H2, revving it softly so it purred under you. “But you lot… some of you really need to sort out your drinking game, seriously.”

Rooster snorted. “That’s what makes it fun, dude.”

A faint scent drifted through the night air, sharp and unmistakable, pulling your attention before your brain had even processed it. You turned your head swiftly, and there they were, Jake wrestling with a very drunk Amber, trying to keep her upright as she leaned against him like she was made of rubber.

“Amber, seriously,” Jake muttered under his breath, low and tired, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other gripping her hand like he was holding a rope. “You are going to fall over if you don’t bloody stand straight.”

“I am NOT falling!” Amber slurred, swaying dramatically, one foot stepping sideways like she was auditioning for a slapstick show. “I am perfectly fine! Perfectly! You, ugh, don’t understand me!” She jabbed a finger at him and nearly smacked him in the face.

Jake groaned, dragging her toward the curb. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I AM NOT UNBELIEVABLE!” she shrieked, hiccupping loudly. “You're the worst! The absolute worst! And why does Switch get to be all calm and clever, huh? Why me?”

You blinked, leaning lightly on your bike, grin tugging at your lips. That was Amber in full, glorious, dramatic mode, completely unrestrained and utterly impossible.

Jake muttered something under his breath as he half-supported, half-dragged her to a taxi waiting a few metres away. She kicked out randomly, nearly catching a passing pedestrian, arms flailing, a miniature hurricane of tantrum and liquid courage.

“I AM A PRINCESS!” she hollered, tipping back against him with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. “THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!”

The taxi driver leaned out of the window, eyebrows raised. “Ma’am, you need to sit down.”

Amber thumped the side of the cab with her hand, voice high and theatrical. “I WILL SIT WHEN I DECIDE TO SIT!”

Jake huffed, gripping her firmly and guiding her inside, bracing as she practically fell into the seat, legs flailing, then slammed the door with a final dramatic thud that rattled the windows.

You stayed put in the car park, hands resting on your bike, shaking your head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. The scene had been ridiculous, chaotic, absurd, and yet perfectly in character for both of them.

Jake leaned closer to Amber, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear, probably some half-hearted joke or teasing comment, because it made her giggle, a light, tinkling sound that cut through the night air.

She pushed him playfully, a mock glare on her face, teasing him with a soft, “Oh, come on, babyyyyy.”

Before you knew it, she tried to kiss him, leaning in with exaggerated drama, lips puckering, but Jake twisted his head at the last second. Her lips met his cheek instead and she squealed in mock protest, giggling again.

He sighed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck, then turned toward the taxi driver and handed over a few notes, giving Amber’s address with an efficiency that contrasted sharply with her ridiculous antics. The cab doors closed with a soft clang and Jake waited until the taxi pulled away, headlights fading into the distance.

For a moment, he just stood there. His shoulders slumped slightly, hands brushing through his hair, and even though you only saw his back, you could tell he had closed his eyes, letting the night fill him. He inhaled slowly, exhaling heavily, like he was carrying everything from the night in his chest, releasing it into the salty breeze drifting in from the beach nearby.

You pushed yourself off the bike, boots hitting the ground with a solid thud, the engine ticking softly behind you as it cooled, and before you even gave yourself time to think better of it, your mouth moved first, because that was always how it went with him.

“Wow,” you said, tone light, sharp with that familiar bite, head tilting as you took him in from a distance. “Didn’t know babysitting was part of your flight hours now. Thought that cost extra.”

Jake stiffened, then turned, eyes going wide for half a second like he’d been caught doing something illegal, or emotional, or both. “Jesus, Switch,” he breathed, hand flying to his chest. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

You lifted a shoulder, smirk settling in easy. “Relax, Hangman. You’ll live. She will, too. Eventually.”

His expression shifted then, surprise melting into something softer, warmer, the kind of smile he saved without realising for you, the one that showed up before his brain could stop it. “You stayed,” he said, like the fact itself meant something.

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t fall asleep in the car park,” you replied, dry. “Or get abducted by drunk civilians.”

He laughed, proper and loud, the tension peeling off him in layers, and then he was moving, jogging toward you with that familiar, reckless confidence, arms already opening wide. “C’mere.”

You saw it coming a mile away.

“Nope,” you said immediately, stepping aside at the last second, letting him barrel forward with all the momentum of a golden retriever that had misjudged a turn.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jake yelped, stumbling, boots scraping against the tarmac as he windmilled dramatically, barely catching himself before eating concrete. “Oh, come on!”

You clicked your tongue slowly, head tipping to the side as you slid your hands into your jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed, posture casual in a way that came naturally to you, like you hadn’t just watched him nearly kiss the ground because he forgot how gravity worked around you.

“Tsk,” you said, shaking your head, eyes dragging over him lazily. “All that confidence and still taken out by your own feet. Tragic.”

Jake straightened fully, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket, affront written all over his face. “You sabotaged me.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Pretty sure the Navy teaches you how to walk without faceplanting, Seresin.”

He scoffed, pointing at you accusingly. “You moved on purpose.”

“Of course I did,” you replied easily, lips quirking. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you tackle-hug me in a public car park. There are standards.”

Jake let out a laugh that was all teeth and trouble, pointing at you like he’d just found his opening. “Standards,” he repeated, scoffing. “You literally ride a death machine to the bar and wear the same jacket like it’s stitched to your skin.”

You snorted, shifting your weight, chin lifting. “It’s called consistency, Hangman. Something you wouldn’t understand given how often you change your mind, your plans, and apparently your girlfriends.”

“Ouch,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock pain. “That one hurt.”

“Good,” you replied sweetly. “Means it landed.”

He narrowed his eyes then, that familiar spark lighting up behind them, the one that always meant he was about to do something stupid. “You know what,” he said slowly, grin spreading, “you’ve been running your mouth a lot tonight.”

You barely had time to register the warning before he suddenly took off, boots pounding against the tarmac as he sprinted straight for you.

“Oh my God, absolutely not,” you yelped, laughter bursting out of you as you spun on your heel and bolted, jacket flapping, trainers slipping slightly as you headed straight for the beach.

“Get back here, Switch!” Jake shouted behind you, laughing too, voice loud and unrestrained, chasing you without hesitation.

You ran like a child let loose, lungs burning, laughter spilling out of you uncontrollably, shoes sinking slightly into the sand as you hit the shoreline. The air smelled like salt and freedom and something reckless, waves crashing nearby as you kicked up sand, heart hammering with pure, stupid joy.

“You’re gonna regret this!” Jake yelled, closing the distance, his laughter chasing you just as much as his footsteps.

“Big talk for someone who already ate it once tonight!” you screamed back, breathless, laughter shaking you as you ran closer to the water, feet cold now as the tide kissed your ankles.

Your foot caught in the sand and suddenly the ground disappeared beneath you, a sharp little yelp tearing out of your throat as you went down hard, knees and hands sinking into the cold, damp shore, sand spraying everywhere and sticking instantly to your palms, your jeans, your jacket.

“Oh, bloody hell,” you laughed, breathless, pushing yourself up immediately, scrambling to your feet because you could already hear him behind you.

Jake lost it.

He doubled over, hands on his stomach, laughter ripping out of him so hard it echoed over the beach, pointing at you like you’d just put on a private show just for him. “Oh, my God,” he managed between gasps. “Did you see that? Switch, you absolutely wiped out!”

“Shut up!” you shot back, already moving again, sand clinging to you, shoes squelching as you bolted forward. “I slipped!”

He coughed, straightening slowly, dragging in a breath like he was trying to recover from nearly laughing himself into an early grave. “Worth it,” he wheezed, wiping at his eyes. “Totally worth it.”

You didn’t wait for him to fully recover. You took off again, laughter spilling out of you, heart racing, and the moment he realised you were still running, something feral lit in his expression.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jake said, voice dropping, grin sharp as he lunged forward once more.

You were almost at the edge of the water, feet skimming the frothy surf, heart hammering, thinking you could make it without getting wet, when suddenly strong arms wrapped around you from behind.

“Gotcha,” Jake said, grinning like a madman, and before you could protest, he hoisted you over his shoulders effortlessly, your legs kicking and flailing as you laughed uncontrollably. “Oh, you’re mine now,” he added, a laugh rumbling in his chest, and started heading toward the water.

You thwacked his back hard, still laughing. “Put me down, you lunatic!”

He only laughed more, taking long strides through the sand, but then you yelped and pinched him hard on his side. “No! My leather jacket will get wet and ruined!”

Jake let out a sharp, surprised scream, stumbling and almost dropping you. “Ouch! That hurts!”

He ended up plopping you onto the sand with a soft thud, both of you laughing so hard it hurt. You scrambled to your feet, chest heaving, hair sticking to your damp skin, and watched him rub the side you’d pinched, his face pouting just enough to make you grin.

“I warned you,” you said, still gasping for breath, a teasing tilt in your voice.

Jake only grumbled, mock indignation in every movement, but his eyes sparkled, and you couldn’t help smiling that ridiculous, wide smile. You kicked off your shoes, pulled your leather jacket off, and tossed them somewhere dry, preparing for round two.

Before you could even take a proper run, Jake lunged again, catching you in his arms like it was second nature, and hoisting you onto his shoulders. He kicked off his own shoes quickly, placing his phone carefully on top of them to keep it safe, and started moving toward the water.

“Jake!” you screamed, a mix of protest and laughter, your voice nearly drowned by the waves and his booming laugh. “I’m not ready!”

“Too late!” he yelled back, long strides carrying you closer and closer to the surf, and you shrieked again, laughter spilling out of you uncontrollably, wind whipping at your hair, sand sticking to wet skin, the cold edge of the water lapping at your toes.

Jake paused for a moment at the water’s edge, looking down at you still perched on his shoulders, sand sticking to your legs and jacket half-tossed to the side. “Ready for this?” he asked, voice teasing, grin wide and mischievous.

“Ready-ish,” you panted, still laughing, arms gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it. “Just… don’t… drop me!”

“Not a chance,” he said confidently, but the gleam in his eye said otherwise. With a sudden lunge forward, he plunged into the surf, cold water splashing around both of you instantly, soaking your hair, clothes, and what little remaining dignity you had.

You shrieked, laughing hysterically, trying to cling on as he splashed through the shallow waves, the water icy against your skin. “Jake! I’m freezing!” you yelled, breathless, sand and water mixing around your feet and legs.

“Good! That’s the point!” he called back, ducking under a small wave deliberately, water spraying over both of you, making you squeal and slap at him.

Eventually he lowered you into the water, still laughing, and you both waded deeper until the waves lapped at your chests. “Okay, okay, you win,” you admitted, coughing slightly as the cold bit into you, but a grin tugged at your lips anyway.

Jake shook his head, water flying off him, and nudged you playfully. “Win? You were almost in the water and I had to save you.”

“Oh, save me, sure,” you said, smirking despite the chill. “More like drag me into the freezing ocean like a maniac.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, eyes sparkling. “Exactly! And now we swim.”

The cold bit at first, but the alcohol in your system gave a pleasant, warm buzz that made the ocean feel exhilarating instead of unbearable. You kicked off the sand completely, diving into the small waves with reckless abandon, and Jake followed immediately, splashing through the water with long, confident strides.

You swiped at him playfully, water flying everywhere, and he retaliated, scooping up a handful and throwing it at your face. You sputtered and laughed, swiping more back, the ocean around you turning into a blur of foam, spray, and golden moonlight.

The moon hung low and full above the horizon, casting silver paths across the rippling water, turning everything ethereal and unreal. You could see it reflected in Jake’s hair, wet and plastered to his forehead, the droplets sparkling like tiny diamonds in the pale light. He grinned at you, teeth flashing, eyes wild, and for a moment you swore the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the moon, the waves, and the sound of your laughter bouncing off each other.

You dove under a small wave, surfacing with a splash right at his chest. He grabbed you around the waist, yanking you into a playful spin, both of you howling with laughter, water sloshing over your shoulders. You swiped at him again, laughing breathlessly, and he pretended to stagger back as if you’d actually knocked him off balance.

Wave after wave you chased each other, diving, spinning, flailing, arms tangled in water and salt, the cold nothing compared to the rush of adrenaline and the warmth of being alive, reckless, and untethered. Your laughter rang louder than the waves themselves, echoing under the vast, silver moon.

Eventually, you both slowed, chest-deep in the water, breathing hard, faces wet, hair plastered to your foreheads, eyes glinting in the moonlight. You just floated there for a moment, staring at each other through the gentle, rolling waves, water dripping from your lashes, and the world around you felt impossibly still and peaceful.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said between breaths, a smile tugging at your lips even as the salt stung your skin.

“You’re one to talk,” he replied, shaking water from his hair, laughter still lingering in his voice.

And there you were, chest to chest, surrounded by the soft rhythm of the small waves, moonlight painting everything silver, laughing at each other like children who had no care in the world, knowing that even in the chaos of your lives, this moment was yours and his alone.

The laughter slowly faded, leaving just the sound of small waves lapping against your bodies, and for a moment, the world shrank to nothing but him and you. You found yourself staring at his eyes, the blue-green swirl that had always had a way of pulling you in, blue on the outside, green in the centre, almost glowing in the silver light of the moon.

He was doing the same, and you could feel the quiet intensity in the way he held your gaze, something unspoken, teasing, familiar, and dangerous all at once. You were about to say something, anything, when a rogue little wave hit you square in the chest, water rushing up your nose and mouth, and you choked, sputtering violently.

Jake’s laughter rang out, deep and teasing, and you couldn’t help but join in, coughing and wiping water from your face. Without thinking, you splashed some of it back at him, and he yelped, flinching slightly before grinning again.

“Oh, really?” he shouted, water dripping off his hair, voice a mixture of laughter and challenge.

You didn’t answer. Instead, with a wild gleam in your eyes, you dove at him, fingers tangling in his wet hair and shoving his head under the water for just long enough to get him laughing and gasping.

When he popped back up, sputtering and wiping at his eyes, you didn’t hesitate. In one fluid move, you climbed onto his shoulders, laughing so hard your stomach ached, feet kicking wildly in the water, holding on tight to his back. He froze for a second, eyes wide, and then laughed, realizing what you’d done.

“What the hell are you—” he started, voice muffled by laughter, and you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, backhugging him like a human floater, legs dangling in the water as he tried to regain balance.

“You’re my personal buoy now, Hangman!” you yelled, grinning over your shoulder, water dripping off your hair and face.

Silence settled between you, soft and unforced, the kind that didn’t itch or beg to be filled. You stayed draped over him, using him shamelessly as your floater, feet kicking gently behind you to keep yourself balanced, the water cool against your calves, steady and calm now.

Jake adjusted without a word, instinctive, grounding himself in the sand beneath the surface, and one of his hands came up to find yours, guiding it properly around his neck, fingers lacing with yours like it had always belonged there. His grip was warm, secure, anchoring you as much as the water held you both.

You rested there, chest against his back, cheek close enough that you could feel the heat of him through the sea-soaked fabric, his breathing slow and even. Neither of you spoke. Neither of you needed to.

The moon hung impossibly large above the horizon, pale and glowing, its reflection stretching across the water in a silver path that shimmered with every small movement of the waves. You watched it quietly, blinking salt from your lashes, listening to the rhythm of the ocean and the steady thud of his heart beneath your hands.

Jake tilted his head slightly, gaze lifted toward the sky, and you followed it, the two of you floating there together like the world had narrowed down to this exact moment. The laughter from earlier felt distant now, replaced by something softer, heavier, something that settled in your chest and stayed there.

Your feet kicked lazily, just enough to keep you buoyant, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, absent, unconscious, like it was simply what his hand did when yours was there.

You breathed in, slow and deep, the scent of salt and night air filling your lungs, and for once, you didn’t catalogue the feeling or try to name it. You just let it exist, suspended under the moon, wrapped around the boy who had always been there, floating together in the quiet.

Jake’s voice finally broke the silence, low and careful, carrying over the gentle lap of the water. “Switch… I… I’m sorry about earlier.”

You blinked at him, tilting your head, curiosity pricking through the haze of the night. “What?”

He swallowed, throat tight, eyes flicking down to the water between you before back to the moon above. “Amber… she was being rude to you.”

You laughed softly, shrugging, the sound airy and light. “It’s fine, really. She was valid. Honestly, I get it.”

“No, Switch,” he said firmly, voice sharper now, insistence threading through the calm. “She crossed the line. That wasn’t valid, that was just… plain rude.”

You exhaled slowly, a tired, amused sigh that puffed into the salty air. “Jake… she’s valid. She’s allowed to react like that. She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

He blinked at you, sharp, incredulous, and you could see his jaw tense even through the soft glow of the moonlight. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said flatly, cutting you off before you could even protest.

You froze for a moment, eyebrows rising, heart doing that little jump that always betrayed itself when it came to him. “Wait… what?”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, voice low and careful, like he was choosing each word. “She’s just… a woman I slept with once. I invited her to Hard Deck because… well, I was bored, alright?”

You blinked at him, incredulous, tone rising despite the calm of the water around you. “Bored?”

He shrugged, almost sheepishly, eyes flicking away. “Yeah, bored. Nothing more to it.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head, floating slightly in the gentle sway of the water. “Right, okay. So what you’re saying is… You’re going to let her go because she’s boring you?”

He grinned, a little too smug and then nodded, and you immediately scoffed.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, lips curling.

“Hey,” he said defensively, water dripping off his shoulders, “I can’t help it if she’s… not exactly riveting.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and you pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation, voice sharp now, teasing but full of weight. “Seresin, that is exactly the kind of thing you shouldn’t be doing. You don’t get to toy with people like that, alright? Especially not someone you bring into your circle just because you’re bored. That’s… that’s rude, and you know it.”

He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but you just shook your head, eyes narrowing slightly, though the corner of your lips tugged in a warning smirk. “You really need to think before you act, Hangman. Seriously. Not everything is a game, and not everyone’s supposed to be a… filler for your amusement.”

Jake blinked at you, incredulous, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Wait… you’re really telling me this? Now? You know me, Switch… I do this all the time.”

You held his gaze calmly, voice soft but firm, cutting him off before he could deflect. “Yes, Jake. I know you do it all the time. And I should have never tolerated it. Seriously, you need to stop acting like other people are just… distractions. You need to think before you act, and Amber doesn’t deserve to be used like that.”

He swallowed, eyes flickering, and after a long pause he admitted, almost reluctantly, “I’m… I’m just using Amber to—”

“To what?” you asked sharply, tilting your head, your patience thinning, even as your chest still thumped from the cold water and adrenaline.

He exhaled, running a hand over his damp hair, gaze heavy and frustrated. “I’m just… using her to make someone I like jealous.”

You felt your stomach twist, not with jealousy exactly, but that tight, bitter awareness of the ridiculousness of his schemes. Slowly, carefully, you let your grip on him loosen, letting yourself drift back in the water so you could face him fully.

“Jake Seresin,” you said, voice low but trembling slightly with exasperation, eyes locking onto his, “that is… completely ridiculous. You cannot use someone to make someone else jealous. That is manipulative, it is cruel, and it is not how people are supposed to be treated. Not Amber, not anyone. You don’t get to do that, not ever.”

He stayed silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of your words, and you shook your head slowly, letting the moonlight glint across the water and your hair plastered wet against your face. “Honestly… I don’t even care if it’s supposed to be a game. Stop using people to get what you want, because it’s not clever, it’s just mean, and I am so done with you doing it.”

Jake’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing slightly as he let out a low, reluctant sigh. “Come on, Switch… it’s not like that. You’re twisting it, okay? I’m not — I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It’s just… complicated.”

You blinked at him, raising an eyebrow, voice sharp even though your body was still shaking from the cold and adrenaline. “Complicated? Jake, using someone to make someone else jealous is not complicated, it’s childish and selfish. And you know it.”

He ran a hand through his wet hair, water dripping down his face, and stepped a little closer, voice quieter now but still firm. “I know, I know, it sounds awful. But you don’t get it because you… you see the result, not the reason. I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I just… I didn’t know another way to get through to someone. It was stupid, yes, but not mean.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head slowly, incredulous. “Jake, this is exactly the kind of ‘reason’ that gets people hurt. There is no excuse for treating someone like a pawn, not for a game, not for attention, and definitely not because you can’t figure out how to deal with your own feelings. Do you even hear yourself?”

Jake’s jaw tightened, water sloshing around his hips as he ran a hand through his dripping hair. “Switch… I’m figuring it out, alright? I just—”

“You’re figuring it out?” you snapped, voice rising, frustration cracking through the calm night. “Jake, you say that every single time, and nothing changes! Someone always gets hurt, and you just… fumble around thinking it’ll magically work itself out. I know you, damn it. You never figure it out! Not really, not completely, and people get hurt because of it!”

He opened his mouth to argue again, but you weren’t done. “And I’m sick of it! I’m always saving you, always catching the mess before it destroys everything, and what happens when I need you? Huh? Where are you when it matters, Jake? I’m here, every single time, cleaning up the chaos you leave behind, and you… you don’t even notice!”

Jake’s eyes widened, as if your words hit him harder than anything before, and he started to speak, but you cut him off mid-step with another surge of anger. “No! You don’t get to argue me down! You don’t get to brush it off like you’re figuring something out when all I see is a trail of people you leave behind, and I’m so tired of being the one who holds it all together!”

His face shifted then, expression hard and almost desperate, and he finally snapped back, voice low but sharp. “And maybe that’s because you won’t open yourself, Switch! Maybe that’s why I have to… I have to do this my way because you won’t let anyone in!”

Your laugh came out sharp and humourless, cutting through the quiet like a snapped wire. “What does that even mean?” you shot back, anger finally breaking loose, chest heaving, water sloshing around you as you took a step closer. “Explain it to me, Jake, because right now it sounds like absolute rubbish.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, frustration written into every line of him, eyes bright and a little wild. “It means you shut everyone out,” he said, voice rising now, matching yours. “You shut me out. You shut everyone out. You carry everything on your own and when I ask if you’re okay, you smile and say you’re fine, that it’s alright, that you’ve got it handled, and then you move on like nothing ever happened.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It is,” he insisted, stepping closer too, water rippling between you. “You never ask for help. You never let anyone take care of you. You don’t lean on anyone, not even me. And don’t tell me you don’t need it, because I know you do. I see it. I’ve always seen it.”

Your throat tightened, anger burning hot behind your ribs. “So what, that makes it okay for you to use people and hurt them?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it’s exhausting watching you pretend you’re made of steel when you’re not. I want to be there for you, Switch. For God’s sake, we’re best friends. I’m supposed to be there for you, and you won’t let me.”

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, the sound tearing out of you before you could stop it, hands coming up as you splashed the water in frustration. “No, don’t you dare,” you snapped, voice rising, echoing slightly over the quiet sea. “Don’t shift the topic, Jake. We’re talking about you. This is about you and the stupid things you do, not me.”

He blinked, jaw tightening, water dripping from his lashes as he stared back at you. “It is about you,” he shot back immediately, tone heated now, defensive but desperate all at once. “It’s about both of us, and you know it.”

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head, anger burning hot in your chest. “That’s what you always do. You mess up, you hurt someone, and then somehow it turns into a conversation about me and my issues instead of you owning your crap.”

“That’s not fair,” he argued, stepping closer again, the water sloshing between you. “I’m not dodging it. I’m saying this isn’t one sided. You don’t get to lecture me like you’re completely innocent here.”

You scoffed, eyes flashing. “Innocent of what, Jake? Of not using people? Of not dragging other people into my mess because I’m bored or jealous or can’t communicate like a grown man?”

Jake blinked, eyes narrowing, and his jaw tightened, water dripping from his hair. “You think it’s just about that?” he said, voice low but tense. “It’s not. It’s about feelings, Switch. You don’t get that because you don’t… you don’t let yourself feel half the time!”

You tilted your head, incredulous, anger still simmering under the surface, voice sharp. “Feelings? Oh, so now this is about my feelings? Maybe if you actually dealt with yours instead of dragging people along like they’re props, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”

Then, silence fell between you like something heavy and fragile all at once, your chest rising and falling too fast, breath loud in your ears, the cold salt air burning a little as you dragged it in.

The water rocked gently around you, waves brushing your ribs, your shoulders, nudging you closer and then easing away again, like the sea itself was trying to calm you down when you clearly could not be bothered to listen.

Jake did not look at you.

He dropped his gaze to the water, jaw tight, shoulders tense, hands clenched and unclenched beneath the surface like he was physically holding himself back from saying the wrong thing again. The moonlight shimmered across his arms, across the slow ripple of the sea, and for a few seconds neither of you spoke, just stood there letting the waves crash softly into you, over and over, washing away nothing at all.

Then he inhaled deeply, a shaky breath that you felt more than heard.

“Do you ever wonder,” he said quietly, still staring down, voice low and careful like he was stepping onto thin ice, “what would it be like if you actually let someone choose you instead of pushing them away first?”

Your eyes widened at his words, chest tightening in a way that made it hard to think straight. You blinked at him, trying to process, trying to read the expression on his face that was half serious, half unsure, like he’d just thrown himself off a cliff and was waiting to see if you’d catch him.

“I… what?” you managed to say finally, voice small even though your heart was hammering, legs trembling slightly in the water as if the tide itself was aware of the tension.

He lifted his gaze slowly, blue-green eyes glinting in the moonlight, catching yours with something raw and unguarded, and impossibly charged. “I mean… I mean, you always do everything yourself. You handle it all. You think no one else can, or should, or maybe you just don’t trust anyone to. But… what if I could? What if I wanted to? And you just let me?”

You swallowed hard, arms tightening around him instinctively even though you weren’t really touching yet, a shiver running through you that wasn’t entirely from the cold. The waves slapped gently against your sides again, small and steady, and suddenly the world felt impossibly small, like it had shrunk down to the two of you and the sea and the moon hovering silently above.

“I… I don’t…” you began, hesitating, because you didn’t know if your voice would betray you, because letting him in even a fraction felt like stepping off the edge into the unknown.

Jake inhaled slowly, like he was bracing himself, and then he said it, quiet but deliberate, the kind of words that landed sideways in your chest and knocked the air right out of you.

“I don’t need you to be strong with me.”

You blinked, brow furrowing immediately, confusion cutting straight through the haze of emotion. “What does that even mean?” you asked, breath catching, because it sounded important and terrifying and nothing like the Jake Seresin you knew, the loud one, the reckless one, the one who never spoke like this.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes fluttered shut, lashes dark and wet, and he stepped closer, close enough that the water sloshed between you, knees bumping, skin brushing. Then his hands came up slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you might bolt, his palms warm and rough against your cold, wet cheeks, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.

Your breath stuttered, body going utterly still, heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it over the surf.

“I mean,” he said softly, eyes still closed, forehead almost touching yours now, “you don’t have to hold it together around me. You don’t have to be the clever one or the composed one or the one who’s always fine. You can fall apart, Switch. I won’t leave. I won’t get bored. I won’t run.”

He finally opened his eyes then, blue green and earnest and terrifyingly sincere, searching your face like he was memorising it.

“I just want you to let me be there,” he murmured. “Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”

You stood there, frozen, water lapping at your waist, heart hammering like it was trying to escape your ribs. His words settled over you, heavy and insistent, and you opened your mouth, then closed it again, because nothing you could say seemed enough, or even right.

Jake let out a soft sigh, wet breath misting slightly in the cold night air, and his hands slid down from your cheeks, resting lightly on your shoulders. He didn’t pull away completely, didn’t step back, just stayed there, patient and steady, watching you with that intensity that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

“I notice everything,” he said quietly, voice low, almost reverent. “Everything. The way you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed, the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard, how your shoulders tense when you’re trying not to show it… even the little ways you laugh that no one else catches because you think no one’s paying attention.”

You blinked, heart stuttering, unsure how to respond, speechless as the words seeped in.

He swallowed and went on, slower now, careful, like each word was measured, but urgent at the same time. “I see when you’re pretending to be fine, and I see when you’re not. I notice when you’re holding back, trying to keep everyone else from seeing how much you carry, how much you actually care, and I notice how much you hide just to make it easier for everyone else… easier for me.”

Your chest felt tight, words stuck in your throat. You wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a shallow inhale, the kind that left your lungs aching and your mind spinning.

“And…” he hesitated, eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, the way your hair clung to your wet cheeks, the faint shimmer of moonlight in your eyes. “…I notice you. All of you. Even the parts you don’t think anyone does. Even the parts you hide the most.”

You were speechless, still standing there, chest heaving too fast, water cold against your skin, mind spinning from the raw honesty in his voice.

You wanted to say something, anything, but it all lodged somewhere between your throat and your lungs, leaving you exposed in the moonlight, completely unguarded, and it felt impossibly heavy and yet sharp in the best and worst way.

Your hands twitched at your sides, wet hair plastered to your face, and you just stared at him, the moonlight catching the tension in his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the way he was looking at you like he could see all of you at once, the clever, reckless, untouchable Switch that no one else ever noticed, and the part of you that only he ever seemed to.

The waves lapped gently around your thighs, steady and indifferent, and you felt the years of him being right there, always close, always reckless and loud, folding into this quiet, surreal moment that had nothing to do with jokes or flights or bets, and everything to do with just him and you and the way he saw you.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, trying to find something to anchor yourself, anything that did not feel like you were standing on the edge of something you were not ready for, and all the clever lines, all the teasing, all the jokes you usually hid behind fled at once.

Your chest tightened, stomach doing flips, and for the first time, the water did not feel cold at all, it barely even registered against the heat rising from your skin, the strange, electric chaos of feeling seen in a way that terrified you.

And after a long beat, your brain finally caught up enough to let out the only thing that made sense in the middle of all this, dripping, heart hammering, completely overwhelmed, and somehow entirely Switch.

“What the fuck?”

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