Pairing: Calvin Evans x Fem!Reader!
Summary: Mornings with Calvin are practically inescapable.
Smut Below The Cut (unprotected sleepy morning sex, spooning sex, slight Somnophilia, very light choking)
Authors Note: This idea came to my mind last night and I literally couldn’t get it out of my head, so I decided to write it. I guess I’ve broken out of my writers block? I don’t know for sure, but it feels that way right now (I’m not going to jinx it.)
Word Count: 4,298
Buy me a ko-fi (if you'd like)
Calvin couldn’t start his mornings off without you.
You were the first thing that came to his mind when he woke up, and you were the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep with you wrapped up in his arms and huddled into his chest beneath the covers. He couldn’t remember the mornings that he used to wake up without you, because in his mind you were the person that truly made his life worth living, and for him that life also hadn’t started until he met you. Gone were the days of worrying about his successes, about the formulas that he saw when he closed his eyes, about the pressure that the Hastings Research Institute put on him to get the Remsen Grant, because whenever he woke up in the mornings to you all those chaotic thoughts and fears disappeared–you were like a human version of an anti anxiety medication, and he had told you so many times in the most earnest voice–and he meant every word of it.
When his alarm went off in the mornings all he could think about was finding your body so he could feel you against him. Most of the time you had migrated to the other side of the bed throughout the night, but you had always laced one of your legs around his just so you could have the comfort of still being connected in some way, and this morning was no different. Your smooth calf was locked around his like a serpent, the muscle there was heavy and it weighted his limb down to the point of numbness–he could feel the pins and needles settling in when he wiggled his toes around experimentally. But he didn’t mind the unusual sensation at all, he actually relished in it, because it was as if you made a temporary mark on his nervous system and he found it to be the closest thing to having you etched into his entirety, even when it was for a few fleeting moments.
His eyes slowly fluttered open, adjusting to the waking sunlight that began to peek through the soft mingling colours of apricot, fiery orange, and pastel pink that painted the sky. Dawn was slowly fading off into the horizon and the day was welcoming him with a shadow of warmth that seeped through the white sheer curtains that covered the windows of your shared bedroom. A smile appeared on his face as he stretched out his arms, being mindful not to move too much so he wouldn’t prematurely wake you up. He could feel his cock straining painfully against the sheets as the sensitive head grazed the fabric, blotting the slate grey material with droplets of his precum. It was evident he had been hard long before he woke up, but now that he was aware of it the desire to relieve himself was the only thing on his mind, especially with the ache that began to pulse low in his belly.
Once the haziness of sleep slithered out of his muscles, he finally turned onto his side to look at you, seeing the expanse of your exposed back greeting him. There was a sheen of sweat that coated your skin, glistening in the breaking sunlight, and he could see your body shifting with each deep breath you took. You were still in the throes of sleep, unbothered by his alarm that had gone off just moments ago–you were so used to it at this point your mind had blocked it out completely–and he used your slumber as an opportunity to admire your body, letting his eyes roam over your dewy flesh, until he pulled down the sheets just a little more to see the subtle dip of your spine and the rounded curve of your ass. He could see your skin prickle with goosebumps at the additional exposure and he couldn’t help but trace his eyes along the little pinpricks that shivered up onto the wide plane of your back.
You never wore clothes to bed anymore and even when you did–on the rare occasion you wanted to dress up in a nice lingerie set for him–it would end up abandoned on the bedroom floor before you could even settle down on the mattress, so you threw out the thought of ever being clothed while sleeping beside him, and thankfully for Calvin it granted him the perfect access he needed to get both your mornings started off right.
Slowly, he shuffled along the bed, closing the space between the both of you while his stomach stirred with an uncontrolled twisting of anticipation as he reached for you, wrapping his arm around your waist before slotting himself against your back. The contact sent a rush of heat through him, feeling the warmth of your yielding skin sink into his, bursting up his stomach and along his chest.
He breathed in deeply, taking in the light scent of your soft floral shampoo that had sunken into your hair from your nightly shower. He wanted to bury his nose into it, wanted to allow it to fill his lungs until he couldn’t smell anything other than that, but he settled on planting a wet kiss against your shoulder–quietly greeting you in hopes it would stir you from your slumber–feeling the muscle beneath his lips twitch.
When your breathing didn’t change and you didn’t move against him he fanned his hand out along your stomach and dragged the tips of his fingers around your navel, rounding it over and over again in hopes that the featherlight touch would rouse you, but that didn’t work either.
A small frown pulled at his mouth at the unsuccessful attempt feeling the hunger for you growing more feral as the minutes ticked on–and he slid his arm under your pillow to pull you even closer to him, shifting behind you so he was cradling your ass in his lap and resting his painfully hard cock against the small of your back while he adjusted his leg so it was now tucked between yours–conveniently locking you in place so you wouldn’t be able to move even if you wanted to.
“Sweetheart…” He whispered against your neck, his voice scraped raw with sleep, as his mouth brushed along the skin there, his lips parting just enough to leave a trail of saliva that cooled with each breath he took–causing the fine hairs there to stand at attention.
“Are you awake?” He asked, gliding his hand up the soft plane of your belly, spreading his fingers wide as they found the weight of your breast, feeling warmth and heaviness of it fill his palm as he gave it a gentle squeeze. You let out a small, sleepy huff and pressed back against him, creating a fleeting moment of pressure on his cock before easing forward into your original position, nuzzling into your pillow with a barely audible snore.
He stilled for a moment, resting his forehead against your shoulder as a quiet huff of laughter escaped him, warming the skin in front of his mouth. He must’ve worn you out completely last night, because usually you would’ve stirred against him by the third or fourth touch he gave you, with your eyes heavy but aware of what was happening, as your body reached for him. But this morning you were lost to the depth of your sleep, like you were in some sort of hibernation.
He sighed against you, releasing your breast slowly before shifting his hips back just enough to reach between you, wrapping his fingers around the aching length of his cock. The tip was weeping, slick with glistening trails of precum, and when he guided himself lower, sliding the thick shaft between your thighs, he felt the evidence of last night still there–the warm, silky remnants of his own release leaking from you while you slept–pulling a soft, helpless whine from his throat at the discovery.
If kisses and quiet questions weren’t enough to pull you back to him, this would certainly suffice as a solution.
Gently, he began to move his hips, dragging his cock through the slick heat between your thighs, smearing himself with the wetness that had coated your folds. Every forward glide made his swollen tip nudge against your clit, and he could hear the ease of the slide, the sweet, sloppy sounds ringing through his ears. When he returned his hand to your breast, cupping it again, he could feel that your breathing had picked up–the way your chest was rising and falling beneath his touch in a quickened rhythm every time he bumped the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.
A triumphant smile curved his lips, as he tilted his head and caught the fleshy lobe of your ear between his teeth, nipping just hard enough to sting before soothing the spot with the flat of his tongue, hearing you draw in a sharp breath at the jolt of pain that shot through you for a brief moment.
“You awake now, Sleeping Beauty?” He teased, as he nuzzled his nose into the curve of your neck, dragging his thumb along your nipple, and giving it a careful pinch, feeling your thighs flexing around his cock while he continued to rut against you. A small moan escaped your throat as you arched your back and pushed your ass into him, “Or do you need more than just this to wake you up?” He asked, feeling his pulse thundering in his throat as his words began to escape him in short breaths. You were still drifting in and out, caught up in the haze of your sleep that you could barely make out an answer, but when you felt his body slowly pull away from yours and his hips angled perfectly so the thick tip of his cock could catch at your entrance your body reacted before your mind could even catch up–sliding your leg back over his to open yourself up to him, granting the space he needed.
Without even a second thought, he carefully eased his hips forward, sinking inside you inch by inch. The heat of your arousal was molten around him, velvet-tight and enveloping, pulsing around him in rhythmic little flutters that made him feel like your body was sucking him in. A shudder rolled through his body as he adjusted himself against you, making sure he took things slow so he could savour all the sensations that you were giving him.
He could’ve sworn that he was breaking out into a sweat as he finally sank in fully and held still, just to admire the way you accommodated him and how you let out these little breathy noises as you slowly began to piece together all the sensations that were igniting through your body–the way his hand was holding your breast so gently, how his hot chest felt against your back, the way his heart was beating through you and matching the same staccato rhythm yours was taking on, and how he was stretching you to the brink of being too full even though you had taken him like this so many times before. A whimper escaped you as you shifted your body against his, squirming slightly at the way he was trying to hold you still, feeling his arm beneath your pillow shift so it could band around the front of your shoulders.
“Cal…” You whispered, your voice barely forming his name on your lips, as your walls tightened around him, squeezing him so tight it felt like you were trying to keep him trapped inside–ceasing any possibility of movement from him. He hissed through his teeth at the inescapable feeling of you, and he pinched your nipple again in response, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers.
“There you are, Sweetheart…” He murmured, pressing opened-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and licking long stripes over your skin, tasting the saltiness of your sweat and the faint sweetness of your sleep-warmed body, “Been waiting for you to join me.” He added, dragging his teeth along the curve of your neck–scraping the sharp edges of them over the thin skin there, and repeating the same motion until the spot burned and you shivered against him. Soft dazed sounds kept escaping you as your eyes finally fluttered open to adjust to your sunlit surroundings–how the beam of light from the window caused a kaleidoscope of colours to reflect off the beige walls of your bedroom, how dust motes floated and shimmered in those fractals, how you could see your own reflection in the gold stand of your bedside lamp.
You turned your head, seeking the sight of him, and when your eyes met his he could see the lingering haze of sleep that surrounded your gaze still. There was something deeper beneath that look though, something far more intimate that lit your eyes with pure desire, like you had a craving that only he could resolve.
His iris were barely visible under his blown out pupils, apart from the thin shimmering blue ring that surrounded the darkness. The look was only one of pure hunger, the same one he wore when he had you on your knees or spread beneath him when he would get home from the lab at night–when he would lose himself in your round after round, grabbing at your hips or holding your face so you would look at him in the eyes as he took you, whispering the highest praises on how good you were to him, how amazing you felt, and how he couldn’t get enough of your body. The memories alone made you squirm again, needing to get closer to him, to be enveloped in his arms, to be pulled into the abyss of pleasure he gave you–it was so close, yet it felt so far away that you could feel the frustration building deep within your belly.
Your eyes traced over the familiar map of his face, counting the cinnamon coloured freckles that splattered over his nose, and focusing on the red lines beneath his eyes that stood out on his pale skin from where his tight lab goggles rested. They were practically indented into his flesh, and even when he took time away from the lab they never ceased to disappear, they weren’t always red, but the deep marks were always present.
You reached up, threading your fingers through the short strands of light brown hair on the back of his head, gently tugging on the dishevelled locks that had fallen out of place from the night before, and tugged him into a kiss. He moaned against your mouth, letting out a harsh breath that gusted out over your cheek as his cock twitched inside you, only heightening the need for him to move. He deepened the kiss, opening his mouth against yours to slip his tongue inside, tasting the morning staleness that had settled there, letting out a grunt as you pushed back against him, rolling your hips in a small, needy circle that made the tip of his cock rub on your cervix, massaging the soft tissue that cushioned him–eliciting a grunt from him.
When you broke the kiss your breathing was ragged, and your skin felt like the sun was beaming directly on it. Every nerve ending in your body was attuned to the moment–to how good he felt even when he wasn’t moving inside you–and you nudged your nose against his, your bottom lip quivering like you were on the brink of tears from the stillness.
It was tortuous, and you couldn’t imagine how it felt for Calvin–typically he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he was inside you like this, and it was evident from the way his muscles were twitching against your back and how his hand kept hypnotically massaging your breast that the effort he was putting into controlling himself was slowly weaning away.
You unravelled your fingers from his hair and slowly dragged your touch down his body until it settled on the hard bone of his hip, digging into the thin flesh there, gripping it so tight that you knew you were probably going to leave little rounded bruises in the shape of your fingers that he would notice later.
“Move…Move please.” You begged, feeling the words breaking in your dry throat. He pressed slow kiss to your cheek then trailed his lips along your jaw, humming low enough that you felt the vibration in your own teeth.
“What if I just wanted to stay buried in you like this until I needed to go to work? How frustrated would you be at that?” The question made your stomach churn, and you made a broken, desperate sound as you tried to rock back onto him, attempting to give yourself a little bit of friction–just a fraction of relief–but he stopped you, tightening his arm around your body and putting the dead weight of his leg on yours.
“You can’t tease me like that Cal…You know I can’t handle it.” You replied softly, feeling him shift behind you so he was able to keep his eyes on yours. The arm that was banded in front of you moved, and he brought his hand to your throat, resting his thumb against your frantic pulse, counting each rapid thump that met his skin. A small, fond smile came up onto his mouth and he shook his head at you, almost like he was jokingly disapproving your desperation.
“I would never be that cruel.” He said, as you dug your nails harder into his hip, feeling him flex inside you again in response. Then finally, he shifted back just a fraction and pushed forward, watching as your lashes fluttered closed at the brief relief he gave you, seeing the way your mouth fell open at the sensation. He adjusted the hand at your throat, keeping you positioned towards him so he could see every reaction that drew up on your face, and when he pulled out a little further you moved yourself back to bring him into you again. He let out a shaky breath, leaning down to kiss your cheek, leaving an imprint of his lips on your skin, withdrawing almost to the tip before sinking back in to the hilt, punching the air out of your lungs with a thready gasp.
“God, Calvin.” You whined, your voice cracking around his name, feeling every inch of him filling you up again, taking the space that was rightfully his, letting out a moan of his own when he pressed right against your cervix.
“Love those sounds you make.” He murmured, his breath sticking to your skin in a hot sheen. His lips found yours again, crushing them to his in an all consuming kiss as he slowly set a rhythm, measuring the strokes so you could feel everything–the prominent veins along his length, and the flared head that caught and stroked all the places you could never reach on your own. There was a wet sound of skin meeting skin, and you could feel the combined mess of last night spilling out onto your thighs as he continued to push into you. His hand flexed around your throat, lightly pressing down on your carotid artery which sent a wave of numbness through you while he kept your head angled toward him, refusing to let you turn away.
He broke the kiss just enough to speak against your lips.
“So beautiful taking me like this.” The praise sank into you as he ground his hips forward in a slow circle, feeling you arching your back into him as your stomach clenched at the way the head of his cock rubbed against the rigid spot inside you.
“How does it feel, Sweetheart?” He asked, coaxing you to answer just so he could hear your voice. Your breathing had picked up, your chest rising and falling against his hand on your breast, and you opened your eyes to look at him, showing off the glistening film of tears that had drawn up over your irises.
“Amazing...So amazing.” You moaned, dragging your nails down to his thigh as you brought your other hand up to rest on his, weaving your fingers together tightly. You began to squirm against him, meeting his thrusts with a simple arch of your back, pushing into him every time he drove in. His heart was racing against your spine as your walls fluttered around him, pulsing while heat began to burst over your flesh.
“You’re gonna cum already, hmm? I can feel how close you are.” He purred, as he moved his hand off your breast and slid it down between your legs to rub against your clit. It was like a rush of pleasure wrapped around you completely, like your spirit had left your body and you were looking down at yourself, as a broken gasp escaped your throat.
“Fuck! Calvin!” You exclaimed, feeling his fingers shifting against yours while he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. God, it was overwhelming, and it was as if your mind had blacked out completely. All you could think about was how close you were and how his cock felt as he picked up the speed of his thrusts to match the rhythm of his fingertips. Your moans were falling freely from you now, growing louder and less controlled, and your movements became stiff–like someone had tightened a rope around your muscles, cutting off the circulation until you were practically numb.
“Come on, baby, I got you…” The words were breathless, urgent even, pressing into the skin of your cheek as he kissed along your face–at your temple, right at the corner of your eye where he could taste the saltiness of the tears that flooded there, the curve of your jaw. His own brows were drawn tight in concentration, mirroring the way yours had knit together against the rising pressure that wounded in your belly. You were so hot that you could feel the trails of sweat dripping down your back, but you couldn’t even think about the discomforting slick when he kept burying himself in you harder and harder, grunting as your walls clamped down around him in erratic pulses. The pleasure kept cresting and your end was so close that you could taste it on your tongue–it was inevitable, and unavoidable.
When everything came to a head, the tightness in your belly finally released in an array of spasms, as your body locked around him, your thighs shaking and clenching to close over your joined hands to stop him from rubbing your clit–even though the effort was useless. Your cries echoed off the walls around you, feeling streaks of tears falling down your cheeks as your orgasm invaded every inch of your body. Your vision blurred and the morning light fractured into soft halos as Calvin continued to thrust through the frantic pulsing of your core, his hips snapping forward roughly until he buried himself fully into you and stilled, not being able to withhold his own release any longer.
His muscles clenched and a deep, guttural groan tore from his chest as he came, and you could feel the warmth of his cum flooding you. His cock throbbed, twitching every few seconds, while he clung to you to keep you still, knowing that he was going to lose his mind if you started moving–feeling the brink of overstimulation teasing his senses. His breathing was shaky, and the faint sounds he was making sunk into your mind and burrowed itself into your body, until he finally relaxed behind you and sighed.
The two of you laid together, wrapped up and trapped in one another as you allowed yourselves to come to your senses and regain the thoughts you had lost to your releases. He pressed kisses along your shoulder, nuzzling into your overheated flesh, gently easing his hand off your throat before pulling you closer to him.
“Are you with me, Y/N?” He asked, tracing small shapes over your chest before resting his palm over your heart, pulling you out of your euphoric state immediately. You tilted your head back and looked at him with a pleased gleam in your eye.
“I’m with you, Cal.” He smiled at that, and gave your fingers a squeeze.
“Good…Thought you fell asleep on me again.” You let out a little laugh and shook your head, leaning up to give him a quick peck on his lips.
“I wouldn’t even think of doing that, especially not after waking up to you being so insatiable.” He hummed, and gave you a longer kiss, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling away.
“How about I call into Hastings and tell them I’m going to be a bit late today…I wanna treat you to breakfast in bed.” You smirked, knowing that the breakfast in question would be a few slices of toast and some overcooked eggs, but nodded anyways.
Summary: The San Diego Padres are saluting the U.S. Navy during their upcoming game, and the Dagger Squad has been invited to attend. Hangman's only goal for the game? Get you and Bob to finally act on your feelings and confess to each other.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY (I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume), fluff, friends to lovers, pining, language, female reader, language, maybe some incorrect descriptions of the Navy, suggestive and steamy but no smut, some suggestive and steamy PDA that's borderline not appropriate for public spaces, Padres don't do a kiss cam but lets pretend, I'm a Pirates fan (please pity me) so maybe some incorrect descriptions of Padres games and Petco Park and San Diego
“There’s something about a Padres jersey that has our own last names on the back that’s kind of really cool,”
You’d shot Natasha an eye roll from across the room, catching the specially made Padres jersey with your last name stitched into the back when she’d tossed it your way. In turn, you’d grabbed the one lying on your bed, ‘Trace’ stitched into the back, and tossed it over to where she sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor. You tugged your tank top down over the pink, lacy floral bra you wore before plopping down on your bed with your jersey in hand.
“Is it bad that I kind of hate them?” Nat raised her eyebrow as you held out your jersey in front of you, examining the dark brown fabric and gold stripes, before laying it down on the bed next to you. “Not the jersey itself, but that it has our names. Kind of wanted to wear my Bogaerts jersey to the game.”
Nat hummed, dragging herself off the floor and throwing herself down on the bed beside you. You cast a glance down at her, just to see a cheeky grin on her lips.
“Dying to wear Bogaerts’s name on your back-”
“Please, Phoenix, we all know she’s dying to wear the last name ‘Floyd’ on her jersey,”
Hangman’s unexpected voice was not a welcome one, as he came strolling into your bedroom to lean against the doorframe with that signature smirk of his. His presence only garnered a groan out of you as Nat sat up, laughing at the comment.
“Right, almost forgot about her undying love for our teammate-”
“I don’t remember saying you could come in,” you interjected, sending Jake a pointed look, ignoring Natasha’s comment the best you could with red creeping up your neck. His grin only widened as he lifted his hand, dangling his truck keys in the air with a little shake.
“Perks of having the spare key to the ladies’ apartment. Your fault, you entrusted me with it. Best friend perks, and whatnot,” he waved his hand dismissively, before giving you a pointed look in return to your own. “I’m also your five-minute warning that the Bradshaw Bronco just picked up the pizza and beer for lunch and should be here soon, since neither of you likes checking the groupchat. Sometimes I wonder if you two have muted it.”
“I’m terrified that they somehow shoved Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in the back of that thing,” Natasha chimed in with a fake shiver, shooting Hangman a sly middle finger for his groupchat comment. Her actions made you laugh, nudging her shoulder with your own.
“True, those three are the most brutal during dogfight football. Lord knows what happens when they're in close proximity to each other-”
“Ladies, we have more pressing things to discuss!” Hangman interrupted, clapping his hands as he stepped toward the bed, standing directly before the edge with his hands resting on his hips. That alone had you and Nat sharing a look of amusement, but Jake Seresin was all business. “I’m determined to take ‘Operation Peob’ to the next level tonight…and by next level, I mean get you, our little flower, laid.”
You weren’t entirely sure if your brain was short-circuiting or if you’d actually heard your best friend right. Truly, though, knowing Jake as long as you had, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been speaking total nonsense. Judging by the pained groan that Nat let out at your side, you knew you’d heard him right.
“Operation Peob-?”
“It’s his stupid 1000-step plan to get you and Bob to fess up that’s not working,” Nat explained with a shake of her head. “He’s been at it for months. I’ve helped, obviously, because I’m sick of seeing you two pining after one another, but the mashup of ‘Peony’ and ‘Bob’ is just terrible.”
“That time we invited you guys out for drinks, but we both canceled last second, so it was just you and Bob? My plan,” Hangman grabbed your desk chair, wheeling it over in front of the bed to sit backwards on it, that shit-eating grin on his face that you just wanted to smack off. “Or when I started that childish game of seven minutes in heaven to lock you guys in a closet? Or when I blamed that screwed up pre-flight checklist on you and Bob so you’d be held later together-”
“I’m sorry, you did what-?”
“Point is,” Jake quickly interjected, cutting you off midsentence. “I’ve tried every single trick in the book, everything I could think of, and you two are dense. Hell, it’s like trying to talk to two brick walls, you refuse to act on shit! So, I’ve got a foolproof plan in line tonight, even Nat thought it was a good idea.”
“True, might be his best one yet,”
You looked between them as they both looked at you expectantly. Natasha Trace, your best friend and roommate, one of your closest confidants. Jake Seresin, your childhood best friend, whom you, for some reason, followed straight into the Navy because you couldn’t bear to be without him. Two people you adored more than life…who sounded certifiably insane right now.
“Guys, I’m not in love with Bob-”
“You are,” they both cut in simultaneously.
There was no reason to argue. These two people knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, so of course they’d picked up on it.
Robert “Bob” Floyd, the bane of your existence. Not really, because you knew if he wasn’t in your life, you’d probably spend your entire life somehow searching for him. Your other best friend, who had somehow claimed that title in the few short weeks leading up to that Uranium mission. The man who, when you started sobbing as you held him in the hospital hours after the bird-strike during training, you realized you were falling head over heels in love with.
But that was months ago, before your special detachment became a permanent squadron in San Diego. You weren’t falling anymore, you were in love, and if you had to watch him do another round of push-ups during Maverick’s drills while his arms strained and sweat in the California heat, you were going to, quite literally, gnaw the bars off the enclosure you’d closed yourself into in your mind.
“It’s not my fault he’s so hot in such a fucking nonchalant way,” Nat and Jake laughed the second you dramatically threw yourself backward on your bed. “Seriously! Sure, he stutters when he’s nervous, and he’s got those stupidly cute glasses, but Jesus Christ, if he’s not the most adorable man. But, then you, Hangman, manage to piss him off and he gets this-this fucking air of slight confidence around him, he gets so quick and witty with his comments and I’m, like, two seconds from climbing his tall, slender ass like a fucking tree.”
Word-vomit, but you didn’t care. There was no use lying anymore. Jake and Natasha were silent for only a moment before Nat’s laughter finally managed to escape her.
“Wow, you have it worse for Floyd than I thought you did!”
“I seriously don’t even think he realizes how hot he is,” you shouted, completely exasperated as you threw your arms out toward the ceiling. “He thinks girls don’t pay him any attention, meanwhile I feel like a total ass the way I’m eyeing him like a piece of meat everytime his shirt rides up on the beach. Then–the worst part–he’s out here holding doors for me, brought me a bouquet of flowers for my birthday, texts me good night and good morning every day–a thing that COUPLES DO–even makes sure he walks on the outside of the sidewalk when we’re all in downtown. He’s, quite literally, driving me insane because he’s the definition of the perfect man. As if he crawled straight out of my childhood diary.”
No one else could get a word in before the doorbell rang, and you froze. Natasha laughed again, grabbing onto your arms and tugging you back into a seated position on the bed before climbing off of it herself. Jake had already put your desk chair back across the room and was halfway to the door before he shot you a wink over his shoulder.
“No, you’re driving yourself insane by not just jumping the man’s bones, given that he’s clearly just as obsessed with you as you are with him. But have no fear. Trust in Phoenix and me, and Operation Peob will go just perfectly tonight-”
Nat gave him a shove to the back, pushing him out of your bedroom.
“Give her a damn minute, I think she’s still processing the fact that she just finally owned up to her crush. Just go get the door…and think of a new name for this dumb operation of ours on the way there, too,”
They were gone in seconds, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Rooster announcing himself the second they opened the front door. You? You were stuck in place, thinking back over all of those moments Jake (and subsequently Natasha) had thrust you into over the last few months.
That dinner hadn’t been awkward in the slightest with just you and Bob. Honestly, you’d stayed there for upwards of four hours just talking and laughing about anything and everything like you usually did. He’d let you drink, picked up the bill without letting you even reach for your purse, and drove you home. That childish seven minutes in heaven game wasn’t even awkward. They’d shoved you both into a hallway closet in Rooster’s apartment, you’d wrapped Bob in a hug, and just laughed about your friends' antics in the dark of the closet. No one was even surprised to see you wrapped around one another when the door finally opened: the second Bob had gotten comfortable around you, the pair of you were attached at the hip like that all the time.
You loved him, but you could never tell where he was at when it came to your blurry relationship, so you always danced on the edge of wanting to say something and biting your tongue. But if Hangman was this insistent, could he see something you couldn’t? Did he know something you didn’t?
“Any chance I could get some help with these pizzas?”
And suddenly, there he stood. Tall, lean, sandy blonde hair still perfectly swept to the side on top of his head, balancing three boxes of pizza in his hands, along with the box of garlic bread and mozzarella sticks (a special request from you). Your eyes betrayed you, straying from his face and down his body.
Shorts, an item you didn’t get to see quite often on him, but man, did he look good in them. A white t-shirt that clung to him just enough to drive you insane, his dog tags lying directly in the center of his chest. Overtop of that was his own personally designed Padres jersey, gifted to the entire team for Navy appreciation night at the ballpark, but unbuttoned in the front so that it lay at his sides…and, god, were you having thoughts about running your hand down his chest and over those abs you knew he was hiding-
Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you glanced back up to meet Bob’s eyes and caught sight of the blush clearly embedded into his skin, and shot out of bed.
“Jesus, Bob, were they not going to help you at all?” you asked incredulously, taking two of the boxes from him as you tried to rid yourself of the inappropriate thoughts you were having of your best friend. He only laughed, shaking his head at your question.
“I mean, they at least took the beers,”
“Of course they did,” that comment got another laugh out of him. Easily, you joined in on the laughter, kicking his shin lightly. “Let’s go, dork, you know where the kitchen is.”
Like it usually was once a week, you and Natasha’s Southcrest apartment were overrun by the loud sounds of the men you called family, your squad, all gathered in the living room. This time, it wasn’t for game night or movie night, but instead in preparation for the San Diego Padres game later that afternoon, one the organization had personally invited your squadron to be recognized at for their Navy appreciation night at the ballpark. An opportunity to stand on the field during the pre-game festivities, the chance to watch Maverick throw the first pitch, lower-level seating on the third baseline, and your own custom Padres jerseys to wear to the game. A sweet deal, all around, that your squad was more than happy to accept.
“So, a baseball game,” Bob managed to speak, standing at your side in your tiny galley kitchen that two people could barely fit in. You were taking boxes from his hands, laying them out on the small bit of counter space you did have. “I-Is this a bad time to say…I’ve never been to a baseball game?”
“Never?” you questioned him, raising an eyebrow at him as you took the final pizza box from his arms. You couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know Montana doesn’t really have a team, unless you just root for the Rockies, but you never went during basic? Not a White Sox game, or a Cubs game?”
“Nope,” Bob accentuated his word with a little pop of his mouth, leaning back against the sink behind you while you squeezed past him, grabbing the plastic plates you and Nat had picked up for today the last time you went grocery shopping. “I’m relying on you to show me the ropes.”
“Depends what I have to work with here, baby-on-board,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a gleam in your eye as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “You know anything about the game at all, or did you really grow up under a rock?”
With everything laid out, you flipped around, leaning back against the counter behind you with Bob directly across from you. A mistake, in that tiny galley kitchen, the lack of space making the position feel more intimate than it needed to be. Bob’s legs seemed to instinctively spread slightly without a word, allowing you to stretch out your own between them.
“If you’re in the field, don’t let the other team score. If you’re hitting…score,” Bob smiled as you laughed at his explanation. “Pretty basic stuff, but I get the gist of it, Peony.”
“Yeah, it’s a very basic understanding of the fundementals, but I can work with it,” you assured him with a grin of your own, catching your eyes flicking down for just a moment to those dog tags resting against that white shirt that had no reason to look as hot as it did on him. “Should take you home with me sometime to a Rangers game, that’s where I really shine. And it's how I ended up with my callsign-”
“Your favorite flower,” Bob chimed in immediately before you could finish your sentence, your eyes catching on the way his Adam’s apple throbbed for just a moment after he said it, his eyes averting from yours and instead to the fridge, as it was the most interesting thing in the kitchen. “How Hangman started dragging you along to games, and you fell in love with the game. But then, every time you went together, they won, like you were the secret good luck charm of the team. And when he learned that peonies just happened to represent good luck…it all fell into place.”
You desperately tried to fight off your blush when he looked back at you. You and Jake had told that story about your callsign months ago, way back during the start of training for the Uranium mission. You didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that he remembered every detail of it, instead choosing to clear your throat with a very over-exaggerated nod.
“Yeah, see…you know the story. Promise you, though, Rangers games are a thousand times better. You’ll have to come home with me sometime, when we get time off,”
“Would…your family like me?”
Yeah, in your rant to Natasha and Jake, you’d forgotten to mention moments like this. He held the door, he bought you flowers, walked closest to the road on sidewalks, texted good morning and good night, and then sometimes he just…said things. Things that just came out of left field. Comments that felt like they were straddling the line of friendship and something more, too afraid to commit to one side or another fully, as if afraid to make the leap.
His eyes held something in them you couldn’t place; you could only describe it as uncertainty. Your eyes betrayed you once again, glancing at his lips where he was just barely biting into his bottom lip, before glancing back to those blue eyes you adored so much, hidden behind those glasses that were just so him that the thought of them kept you awake at night.
“Yeah. Too much, probably,” you settled on, though there was an unmistakable air of nervousness in your tone. The air in the entire kitchen had shifted with just a single sentence, the heaviness tangible, and you felt like you were going to suffocate looking into those piercing, soft blue eyes. “They’d probably never let you leave. You’d be stuck with us.”
“I-Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” your response came quickly, still laced with nerves, just as his was. But the whole time, neither of you looked away. “I’d choose you to be stuck with.”
He’d straightened slightly at that comment from you, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms in front of his chest, the jersey lying around his shoulders tightening around him at the movement. Your eyes watched, tracked every little movement as a pang of heat flashed through you at just the sight of the muscles strewn through his biceps and forearms stretching with the movement. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. You followed suit, then stopped yourself. An invisible line was still drawn in the sand between you both, no one quite sure enough to take the leap and talk about it all. To talk about the tension, or the heated stares, or even the softer looks exchanged when you both thought the other wasn’t looking.
“Hey, my two favorite brick walls! You two somehow making love in a 75 square foot kitchen against the fridge, or can we eat some pizza with these beers?”
If there was anything that could break a moment, it was Jake Seresin. His over-confident tone shouted out from the living room, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Natasha hitting him and the rest of the squad laughing.
With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you looked back at Bob. He wordlessly passed you the paper plates you’d set down on the counter, avoiding your eyes, even as his fingers brushed yours for a moment longer than they needed to.
The moment might’ve been ruined, but the ‘what ifs’ still hung heavy in the air like they had been for months.
“Shut it, Seresin, before I call your mother! Come get food, you hooligans, I know what you’re all like hangry and I’m not in the mood for it today,”
With pizza and beer distributed around the group, everyone found themselves seated around the limited seating that you and Natasha had in your living room. Rooster and Coyote were already taking up two-thirds of the couch, Payback and Fanboy were fighting over the beanbag, Nat had taken her favorite spot on the floor in front of the coffee table, while Bob took his usual place on the loveseat. With a beer in hand and pizza loaded up on your plate, you made your way over to the last spot on the couch. Hangman, being his typical annoying self, practically vaulted over the backside of the couch, almost knocking Bradley’s beer out of his hand as he let out an indignant ‘hey!’ at the action.
The wink Jake gave you, and the laughter that Natasha tried to cover up, were enough to tell you that this was definitely planned.
Without even sparing a glance at Bob, you took a seat on the other end of the loveseat, as far away as you could given that little moment in the kitchen not long before. You ignored the wiggling eyebrows that Jake was sending your way as Rooster scrolled through the various streaming services on your living room TV, trying to find something to watch to fill the time.
“We’ve got time for one movie; my turn, since Javy picked last week on movie night,” there was a collective groan through the room at Bradley's choice, ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ simply because it was his usual choice during movie nights. “First pitch is at 4:10, but Mav told me they need us ready to go by 3:45 for the opening ceremony stuff. He said to meet him and Penny by the home plate gate, and someone from the home office would meet us out there.”
“I’ll take the ladies and Bob in the truck,” Jake threw in, with a sly wink sent your way. “The rest of you boys can ride with Rooster. Figured we could park in that garage off Tenth Ave since we wanted to hit up Tom’s Watch Bar after the game. Hope you ladies are cool with us crashing here tonight, because I’m not in the mood to drive home later.”
“Ah, yes, I’m sure our landlord will love a noisy, drunk group of fighter pilots staying here,” you’d shot back at your best friend, garnering another round of laughter from the group. “Nat and I aren’t sharing our beds, and we’ve only got the one air mattress, so fight amongst yourselves for sleeping arrangements. Now start the damn movie before we run out of time.”
With how often Bradley chose Shawshank during his pick on movie nights, there was barely any watching of the movie actually occurring. Payback and Fanboy had taken to giving dramatic renditions of the dialogue in terrible accents, leading to laughter throughout the room for every second of the movie.
Barely half an hour in, with pizza and sides finished off, your phone buzzed. A notification that you were added to a new group chat called ‘Operation Peob’ was the last thing you were expecting to get.
At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Especially with Jake. He’d been this way since high school, always butting into anything that had to do with your love life and trying to give you a push, so his meddling here wasn’t surprising. Natasha’s willingness to help and agree with Hangman, of all things, had you thinking that maybe this pining had gone on for far too long.
You and Bob were close; you sat close plenty and had been in enough semi-intimate settings with one another. What could it really hurt?
Tearing your eyes away long enough to glance at Bob for just a moment, you swore you could see his eyes dart away from your legs crossed underneath you and back to his phone in his hand, but chalked it up to seeing something you wanted to see. What you could see was that blush coating his skin. So, with a small boost of confidence, and the knowledge that Nat and Jake were definitely watching with renewed interest out of the corners of their eyes, you swung your legs out from under you and draped them across Bob’s lap without a word, bringing your eyes back to the movie screen to ignore your own skin’s flush.
You weren’t the only people in the room, but god, in those few short moments afterward, did it feel like you were. The movie felt quieter, the laughter of your friends was drowned out, and the only thing you could force yourself to think about was the fact that your bare legs were resting over Bob’s own bare legs. How warm his skin was, how it felt against your own, and you let your mind wander to how you’d give anything to feel any other part of-
Then, Bob’s hands were on your legs.
Holy shit, Bob’s hands were on your legs. And you were frozen in place.
Gentle and yet firm all the same, it was clear just in his touch how big his hands truly were as they seemed to engulf your skin. One found its place just around your knee, skin warm to the touch and igniting a fire under his touch, and what you wouldn’t give for that hand to rest just barely higher above your knee and on your thigh. His other hand rested itself right around your calf, and there only seemed to be a moment of hesitation before his fingers began to knead little circles into your muscle that had you biting the inside of your lip to keep back a noise you’d never utter in the presence of your squad.
You’d spared a quick glance at Bob out of the corner of your eyes, but his gaze never moved from the TV screen. So, you’d averted your own gaze to the movie too, but not before catching yet another obnoxious wink from Hangman and an impressed look thrown your way from Natasha.
Even as the movie had ended, and everyone was putting their shoes back on and unplugging their phones from their chargers in order to head out the door to the game, neither you nor Bob brought it up. Not once as you’d gotten off the couch, or as he’d let you use his shoulder for leverage to slip your beat-up tennis shoes on, or even as he climbed into the backseat of Jake’s truck, taking your hand in his own to help you inside.
Even in that short, barely ten-minute ride to the stadium, that heat hadn’t left your skin, and those thoughts refused to purge themselves from your head. You could only hope the same thoughts and feelings were running through Bob as he kept his gaze focused on the San Diego streets out the window.
“How did we manage to beat Rooster here?” Hangman complained the second that his truck was parked on the third floor of the garage, popping his front seat forward so that Bob could exit, helping you out as well just as he helped you in. “We left at the same fucking time, it’s not that hard to get here.”
Your hand slipped from Bob’s with a grateful, albeit nervous, smile that he reciprocated the second your feet landed on the ground of the garage.
“We took National Ave, they probably took Ocean View and hit some traffic,” Natasha shot back, rounding the truck before setting her sights on you. “You have the sunblock, right? I don’t feel like being burnt to a crisp today.”
You tossed the bottle from the back of the truck over to Nat before it was passed around to all of you, though Hangman swore he ‘didn’t need any’ and that he’d just get even more tan in the sun. He lost that argument when you, once again, threatened to call his mother.
With Rooster arriving just moments later with Coyote, Fanboy and Payback packed into the Bronco, parking beside Jake’s truck, the Dagger Squad was on the move toward the stadium.
It was barely a walk to the stadium, your chosen parking garage not even a street away, as your group made it’s way down the sidewalk in the direction of the home plate entrance. You and Bob brought up the rear, and you were barely a few steps down the sidewalk before his hand found the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine, and easily switching places with you so that he walked along the edge closest to the road.
“Why do you always do that when we’re walking somewhere?” you ventured to ask him, bumping your shoulder lightly with his as you crossed one of the main roads heading toward the stadium. Bob shot you a soft smile as his hand found your back once more, guiding you slightly out of the way as a group of rowdy teenagers went barrelling past you all.
“Roads can be dangerous, just…don’t want you getting hurt is all,” was all the answer he offered, his hand finally leaving the small of your back after lingering for a moment longer than it needed to.
God, he really was a gentleman. That smile seemed to be etched perfectly into your face until your eyes glanced at your teammates in front of you, and the jerseys all bearing their last names hanging from their shoulders.
“Fuck,” Bob glanced over at you as you groaned, rubbing at your face. “I left my fucking jersey back at the apartment. Mav is going to kill me.”
Barely a second later, Bob’s jersey was bunched up in his hands as he presented it out toward you as you walked. Your eyes shot open as you looked at him, shaking your head, but his grin only widened.
“Take mine-”
“Bob, Mav specifically told us to wear our jerseys tonight, he’s going to be pissed at you if you don’t have yours on,”
“He’ll go easy on me, it’s fine,” he tried to assure you, lips quirking up slightly more into a smirk. “He’s still pissed about that argument you and Hangman had mid-flight the other day, he won’t go easy on you.”
Part of you wanted to argue, but there was something in the look in Bob’s eyes and the flutter it sent through your chest that had you taking the jersey from him without another word.
The first thought that ran through your mind was that it was bigger, much bigger than your own jersey that was still bunched up on your bed. You were trying desperately not to think about the fact that those biceps you found yourself distracted by almost every night you guys were at the Hard Deck, in civilian clothes or in your khaki uniforms, had been hugged by this fabric just moments prior.
The second thought was the smell; unmistakably his cologne. Bob never tended to wear a ton of it, but you’d been in close proximity enough to him to pick up on it over the last few months. Cypress, a woody smell that felt like the definition of lying in nature, surrounded by pine trees, and a hint of bayberry, another woody scent that brought a hint of sweetness to the smell.
The final thought that crossed your mind the second it was slipped over your shoulders completely was the fact that you were, quite literally, wearing his name on your back. When you’d turned to look at him again, breathless just from the idea, you swore you could see his pupils almost darken just a touch as he licked at his lips, his eyes flickering away from the back of the jersey and to your face again.
“Thanks,” you’d managed to speak as it felt like heat was coursing straight through your veins. Bob nodded, and you couldn’t help but notice the bob of his Adam’s apple.
“Of course,” the lower tone to his voice had parts of your body that you were not willing to think about in public practically aching with the need to touch him. “It looks good on you.”
Bob could’ve meant the jersey looked good on you, or he could’ve meant the name ‘Floyd’ looked good on you, but boy, were you hoping he meant the latter. Unfortunately, you’d already made it to the home plate entrance without even realizing it, and Maverick didn’t look particularly happy with how long he’d been kept waiting while Penny chatted with the woman from the front office there to lead you through the ballpark.
“I said we needed to be on the field by 3:45, that didn’t mean show up at the gate at 3:40,” Maverick shot at the group, before his eyes found Bob hiding in the back next to you. “Bob…push-ups after the next round of training, I said everyone needed to wear their jerseys today. We’ll discuss how many later.”
The eyes of every single one of your friends seemed to shoot back to both of you. Judging by the smirks on everyone’s faces, they all knew for a fact that you hadn’t been wearing your jersey when you’d all left and Bob had been.
“It’s nice to see you’re all here!” the woman from the front office greeted them all, and you were mentally thanking her for saving you from an embarrassing confrontation with your team. “We’re on a time crunch now, so please quickly follow me so I can get you guys to the field before the opening ceremony begins…”
As you all followed her through the gates of the ballpark and down toward one of the sections that would allow you access to the field, Hangman fell back into step beside you and Bob for just a moment. He leaned in, lips barely grazing your ear so he could speak only to you.
“Step two was to somehow get you in his jersey, but you both beat me to it. At this rate, you’ll be fucking by the fourth inning-”
You attempted to land a punch to Jake’s shoulder, cheeks blaring red, but he’d dodged it with a laugh, falling back into step ahead of you with Natasha and Coyote. It took everything in you to avoid killing him, or looking at Bob, as you made your way through the crowd of Padres fans toward the field.
“So,” Bob chimed in after a moment, his hand catching onto your forearm lightly and tugging you to his side before an already drunk older man could spill his beer on you. “You ever been on a professional field before?”
“Once, back in high school,” you answered him, cheeks still burning as Bob’s hand didn’t leave your arm, keeping you at his side as you squeezed through the crowd of the sold-out, late afternoon game. “Globe Life Field, it’s where the Rangers play. We took a field trip, got to see behind the scenes, and take photos out on the field.”
“I assume there wasn’t a huge crowd of almost 40,000 when you were on the field, though,”
“Not in the slightest,” you laughed, glancing back over to Bob as he laughed with you, though you could hear the nerves in his voice. You raised your hand, placing it over his on your arm with a little squeeze of comfort. “Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine. We just have to stand, listen to ‘God Bless America,’ watch Mav hopefully not mess up the first pitch after the National Anthem, and then we can go enjoy the game.”
Your reassurance seemed to do the trick as you walked through the gate at the end of section 114 and onto the field. The woman who had walked you down was positioning you all in a line around home plate, telling you each where to stand, while entertaining whatever it was that Hangman seemed to be animatedly telling her. You watched as she seemed to think something over for a moment, her eyes flickering toward you, before it looked like she agreed with whatever Jake had said, getting a fist bump out of him.
When you met his eyes with raised eyebrows, he’d only sent you a wink and took his place in line beside you.
Though your squad had just barely made it to the field on time, things had gone off without a hitch. The stadium announcer had introduced your squad to the crowd for Navy Appreciation Night with thunderous applause from the sold-out stadium. The local man singing both ‘God Bless America’ and the National Anthem was perfect and got his own standing ovation. Maverick’s ceremonial first pitch…could’ve been better, given how far in the left-hander’s batters box it ended up. You were all thankful that Penny was standing off to the side to get it on video for blackmail at some point.
“Section 116, row D,” Maverick informed the entire group once everyone was off the field, crowded back near the concessions as the first pitch of the game was thrown, and the Padres versus Mets game was officially underway. “Penny and I will go find seats, one of you bring us back a nice tray of nachos!”
Nat was quickly swept up by Hangman, Rooster, and Coyote, dragged off in the direction of one of the local pizza shops that were set up within the park, while Payback and Fanboy darted in the direction of a local beer company not far from that pizza joint.
“Well, baby-on-board,” you teased, spinning around to stand in front of him with a grin. “Ready to have some real ballpark food?”
Bob laughed, hand once again finding the small of your back even though there was a much small amount of people littering the walkway now that the game was underway, and he set you down a grin that had you ready to kiss him on the spot.
“I’m ready for the full experience, flower,”
That’s how, barely a minute later, you had Bob over at one of the self-serve food stations as you loaded your arms with food. A giant tray of nachos with cheese for Mav and Penny, two footlong hot dogs for yourself and Bob, and two comically large waters balanced on top. Bob was laughing again, trying to hold you steady so you didn’t drop any of the food on the way over to the checkout area.
“The footlong hot dogs are a necessity at any ballpark you visit- don’t laugh at me!” more laughter bubbled out of you as Bob shook his head with a grin, taking items out of your arms and scanning them through the self-checkout. “I’m giving you the true baseball experience, including the over-priced food. Nachos are a staple, too, Mav has good taste. And we can’t forget the water, this San Diego sun is brutal.”
Bob picked up the small packet of peanuts still left in your hands, shaking it with a raised eyebrow in your direction.
“And peanuts?”
“Another ballpark classic…I also know how much you love them, you’re always eating them at the Hard Deck,”
He looked at you for another moment, his smile almost visibly softening, before he shook his head and turned back to the checkout in front of you both.
“God, you’re adorable,”
You weren’t sure Bob had meant to say that as loudly as he did, given the flush crawling up his neck directly after, but he had. And that simple statement had you frozen in place, just watching him as he paid for the food without a complaint. Even as you both moved to the condiment station, slathering ketchup and mustard over both of your hot dogs before gathering the supplies and heading toward your seats, that little comment had you almost on autopilot.
“Finally, you two missed the entire first inning!”
It was Bradley’s voice that finally shook you awake. It was true, the Mets had gone down easily in three batters, just as the Padres did, and the second inning was already well under way. With a fake laugh, you shot Bradley the middle finger that had everyone laughing, before passing the nachos off to Maverick and moving toward the final seats in your row for your team.
They’d shoved you and Bob off on the end of the row toward the middle, placing you right between Coyote and whatever random group had unfortunately been stuck beside you all.
“Okay, I feel like I have to see what’s so damn good about these things now,” Bob announced one you both were seated, leaning over to ‘clink’ his hot dog off the side of your own with a shared laugh with you. You held off on your own, simply watching him and the way his face contorted slightly after a single bite. “It’s…it’s not terrible, but I think I’ve had better just from Bradley on the grill. Not worth the price.”
“No, but you’re paying for the experience,” you reminded him with another giggle. Ketchup and mustard were plastered to the side of Bob’s face from that one bite alone as you grabbed one of the napkins from his lap, reaching up to wipe it away. “Game has barely started, and you’re making a mess of yourself, Floyd.”
It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you froze, realizing how intimate a position that simple action put you both in. Just barely a few inches away from one another, close enough that you could see the faint smudges on the lenses of his glasses and study the exact shade of blue his eyes were. Close enough to, once again, watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, to get a glimpse of that flush in his cheeks that never seemed to leave. Your throat went dry instantly, but you couldn’t look away. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and for once, you didn’t miss the way Bob’s eyes darted down to the action, lingering on your lips for a moment longer than needed, before finding your eyes again. It was hard to miss the way his pupils dilated the second they met your eyes again, or even the slight catch in your breath at that action.
“Hey! Didn’t Mav say something about acting professional today? Ballpark is no place to be eye-fucking each other, you two,”
If Hangman interrupted another moment with Bob today, you were personally going to bury him in the ground. His mother would forgive you; she loved you. Even so, you tore yourself away from Bob and the ruined moment, focusing on the game as you sent a blind middle finger down the row toward him as Mav lectured him about swearing with children around while the others laughed at the antics.
The game managed to go off without another comment from Hangman for a few innings. It was an evenly matched game, for the most part, both the Padres and Mets having some errors that led to runs that shouldn’t have been scored. At one point, on a blown-out call at second base, you jumped from your seat, screaming at the umpires just like many in the stadium were. When they’d finally set it off for review and corrected the call you returned yourself to your seat, shooting Bob a sheepish smile as he watched you in amusement.
“Sorry…grew up going to games with my dad, and with Jake. I get a little intense sometimes when they don’t call things right,”
Bob smiled and seemed to hesitate for just a moment before he stretched his arm over the back of your chair, his fingertips just barely brushing over your shoulder as he focused back on the game.
“It’s okay…it’s cute, seeing you all passionate,”
Bob Floyd was, once again, driving you insane. This time, you had no idea if he realized he was or not.
By the seventh inning stretch and a crowd performance of ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’, your group had participated in three rounds of the wave, Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy had gotten up and given a fantastic rendition of Sweet Caroline along with the crowd that had gotten them projected onto the scoreboard. And Bob? His arm never moved from it’s place, and every so often he’d lean over toward you to mutter a question about the game right into your ear.
“Wait,” he’d leaned over for another question, and you could feel his breath ghost over the shell of your ear. It was hard to tell if you were hot because of the sun or because of Bob’s proximity at this point. The seventh inning had just ended with an out on the Padres runner at first, and they were slowly transitioning over into the eighth inning. “Why did the Mets throw to first to get that runner out when there was a guy on second?”
Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the scoreboard in left field. It’s time for the Petco Park eighth inning…KISS CAM!
“It wasn’t a forced out,” you explained to Bob, ignoring the cheers of the crowd over whatever announcement had just been made as you pointed toward the field to explain. “Since there was only a runner on second, he’s not forced to move because there’s no one behind him. If they want to get him out, they have to tag him with their glove and the ball.”
“So why not do that?” Bob questioned, glancing away from you and toward the scoreboard as the crowd continued to go wild, and you continued to explain.
“It’s not a guarantee that they’ll get him. With only two innings left, plus the score being tied, you want to throw down the runner on first and give yourself the best chance of an out. You want to end that inning as soon as possible, and while the runner is already in scoring position at second base, his chances of scoring increase greatly if he reaches third base, and you give him a chance to do so if you don’t get that runner at first out-”
“U-Uh…Peony?”
You glanced at Bob as he interrupted your explanation, tilting your head quizically at him. He glanced back at you, eyes wide and jaw slack as he pointed to the scoreboard, and you finally followed his gaze.
The Kiss Cam, broadcasted right on the scoreboard for the entire park to see. And the camera? Centered directly on you and Bob.
In a rush, the cheering of the entire stadium came straight back to you as you and Bob sat frozen in your seats, just staring at the screen as the camera stayed locked on you both. You spared a glance down the line at your friends, you squad, and they were all on their feet cheering for you both. Even Maverick and Penny were cheering.
“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”
The entire stadium was cheering and chanting, and it didn’t look like the camera centered just a few rows down from you both was leaving anytime soon. At least, not without what it came for.
Slowly, you turned back to Bob, eyes still wide and words caught in your throat. He was still leaning in toward you, arm still on the back of your chair. But there was a smile on his lips; nervous, but with a faint hint of something else in the quirked edges. Something that felt a lot, in your head, like hope.
You? You were terrified, but knew that you had to make a split-second decision, one that could potentially change everything…for the better or worse.
But one more second looking at those gorgeous blue eyes, or at the way his tongue peeked out to just run over his bottom lip, had you mumbling ‘fuck it.’
Your hand wound around the back of his neck before you could stop yourself, tugging the handsome WSO closer and brushing your lips against his like you had dreamed of for months.
Even though the cheers around the stadium, practically from your friends, got louder in that moment, it was all drowned out in your own ears the second you had Bob Floyd’s lips on yours.
Gentle, polite, even a little unsure at first, was what that kiss felt like. Just the smallest touch, but the biggest leap over that blurry friendship-or-more line you’d been dancing along for so long. But the feeling, the softness of his lips, the leftover taste of vanilla chapstick, and the fluttering in your chest had your hand gripping his neck just the slightest bit harder, tugging him closer as your other hand grabbed onto the armrest between you both as if to keep you grounded. That seemed to be all Bob needed to respond in kind.
His hand left the chair behind you, curling around your shoulder to hold you as close as he could, given the awkward positioning the ballpark seats allowed. You swallowed the groan that left Bob’s lips almost involuntarily with your own mouth as his hand gripped your shoulder as tightly as it could for just a moment. While at once it was gentle and unsure, those insecurities were long gone. Bob’s lips moved against you clumsily, desperately, just trying to memorize the feel of your lips against his.
As quick as it had happened, it ended. The cheering stopped, the camera disappeared, and you and Bob pulled away from one another. A simple kiss, no more than five seconds, broadcasted for the entire stadium to see, but it had wrecked you. Inside and out, that mere moment had solidified that you were hopelessly in love with Bob Floyd, and there was no one else you’d rather be in love with. And, given the blown pupils, the heavy breathing, and the flush etched into Bob’s skin, you were praying it had solidified the same thing for him, too.
“And THAT, Dagger Squad, is how you finally get two brick walls of human beings to figure their shit out!”
You didn’t want to look away from Bob, not at all, even as the baseball game before you finally resumed play for the eighth inning. But you stole a glance behind you to Hangman as he leaned over everyone, ignoring his lecture about swearing from Maverick again, shooting you a wink as the rest of the squad looked toward you and Bob happily.
“The office worker, when you were talking to her earlier…did you plan the kiss cam?”
“I told you I had a foolproof plan for tonight, and it worked! Operation Peob can officially be labeled a success, in my eyes. At least, partially,”
“Operation Peob?”
Your attention was brought back to Bob as he asked that question, a dopey smile on his lips as his fingers kneaded into your shoulder comfortingly. You breathed out a laugh, hang sliding from his neck to rest over his chest, right on top of his dog tags like you’d thought about so many times before.
“Hangman’s terrible nickname for his plan to…get us together,” you dug your phone out, flashing him the groupchat from earlier as he let out a breathy laugh at the contents of the messages. “Nat was in on it, too.”
“Guess, she was playing double agent, then,” Bob dug his own phone out, opening another group message and flipping the phone toward you to read with a grin.
There was nothing you could do, nothing you needed to do, after seeing those messages besides laugh. Bob laughed with you, your forehead falling against his forearm as you both shook with laughter, the game behind you on the field long forgotten.
“Well, if there’s one thing I know for certain now, it’s that our friends suck at coming up with ship names,” you pointed toward his phone incredulously. “I don’t know what’s worse, Peob or Boney!”
“Boney is at least a word, I’d argue that Peob is worse. Given that Hangman came up with it, too, it makes sense,”
You laughed again, before finding yourself just completely lost in those blue eyes you’d fantasized about for so long. Bob was looking at you, too, as if lost in a daze where the only thing he could see was you. That dopey smile that refused to leave his lips was sending yet another flutter through your chest and heat to places that you didn’t need to be thinking about in public.
“So…how long?”
It was Bob’s turn to pause, thinking over your question. His arm moved from the back of your chair as your hand slid off his chest. His hand, though, only found a home right on the skin of your thigh, exactly where you’d wanted it to rest just hours ago. The feel of his skin on such a sensitive part of your body, the pressure of his grip into the muscle under his hand, had another bolt of heat shooting down your spine as your body leaned into his touch, practically begging to be touched by him.
“The first time we met, at the Hard Deck. Hangman was being a dick to me, as he so often can be, and you took his ego down with a single story from your middle school dance. I knew the second you did that…that I was utterly fucked. It only took Phoenix and Rooster a day to figure it out, too,”
If it were possible to love him more, you did in that moment. Your hand came to rest on top of his, squeezing it as the crowd cheered for the home run that had just been hit by Xander Bogaerts. Your entire attention was on Bob, though, just as his was on you.
“I realized it after the bird strike, even though I think I was already feeling something before that. To see you all scratched up, to not know if you were okay until we got to the hospital, and then the way I just broke down crying when I saw you…it was hard to ignore after that,”
Bob’s smile only widened, giving your leg an affectionate squeeze.
“We wasted a lot of time being too scared to do something about this, didn’t we?”
“We did,” you gave him a small nod, thumb tracing circles onto the back of his hand as he gave you another squeeze. “Why did you never tell me?”
“Well, at first, I was sure that you and Hangman were a thing,” he couldn’t contain his laughter as you let out a fake gag at the thought. “Trust me, after one day of training with you guys, I realized that was ridiculous. After that, we became friends, and…I got nervous. You made me nervous, like, beyond comprehension. Still do. I tried sometimes to make it obvious, with the flowers on your birthday or when I’d ask if you wanted to get dinner.”
“And to think, I was just complaining to Jake and Nat this morning that those little moments were driving me insane,” you laughed at yourself, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder as you let your eyes focus back on the ending of the game. “I was nervous, too, you know. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
There was silence between you both for a moment, just the cheers of the crowd around you, before Bob’s lips pressed to your hairline. In that moment, you were cursing yourself for not having said something sooner, for depriving yourself of being Bob Floyd’s for as long as you had.
“I’d wait again if it meant I got you in the end,”
Even in a crowded stadium, it was like you and Bob had found yourselves nestled into your own little world. As the game ended and the crowd dispersed to the streets, your group waiting until you were some of the last few to leave, you still stayed wrapped up in one another. Bob’s hand easily found yours as your fingers intertwined with one another on instinct, tying yourselves to each other as you moved with your friends out of the stadium. While the snide comments from the team thrown back your way had both of you blushing, neither of you dared to let go of one another.
The second you hit the streets outside of the stadium, fully able to observe the fast-setting sun, Hangman was leading the charge around the stadium in the direction of the bar he had mentioned hitting up after the game. He was met with no protests from the group, everyone wanting to celebrate the Padres' 8-6 win in the ninth, and also the ‘culmination of months of pining’ as they’d all glanced back toward you and Bob in the back of the group.
That’s where you both stayed in a comfortable silence with one another, simply watching your friends act like absolute psychos on the sidewalk in front of you. Bob placed himself closest to the road again without even asking, your hands never unlinking as they swung between you both.
“So, since we already kind of beared our souls to each other in those uncomfortable ballpark seats,” your smile only grew at the laugh Bob couldn’t help but let slip over your comment. “Where…does that leave us?”
He glanced over with that adorable smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, and brought your hand up to his lips to leave a gentle kiss right to your skin.
If he wasn’t careful, you were going to get arrested for jumping his bones in the middle of the downtown sidewalk. Bystanders be damned, your need for this man was outweighing just about every single rational thought you had.
“This leaves us at me needing to take you out on a date like a proper gentleman, first,” was his response, letting your hands fall back down between you both. Your eyes didn’t leave the side of his stupidly handsome face, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to those late night thoughts that invaded your mind about him, or the way that white t-shirt looked entirely too good on him right now, or how you wanted to just grab him by the dog tags and tug him closer-
“Does being a proper gentleman mean you won’t fuck me before the first date, too?”
As your cheeks reddened, eyes quickly turning back to your friends ahead of you, you decided that you were going to blame Jake for that little outburst. How was it his fault? No idea, but you’d been blaming things on him since you were a child, so why not continue that trend into adulthood.
There was a yank on your hand, your body spinning until it collided with Bob, who had stopped right in the middle of the almost empty sidewalk. It didn’t take a second for your eyes to meet his, and you swore you could feel your knees wobble just at the look in his eyes: pupils blown and a heat dancing through them. He looked as if he wanted to devour you here, in the middle of the sidewalk, and the feeling was mutual. His large hand slid around your waist to your lower back, dipping under his jersey and barely pulling your tank top up so that his hand could rest against your bare skin. You knew in that moment that you must look absolutely wrecked.
“Yeah, a proper gentleman would at least buy you dinner first,” his tone had dropped incredibly low, a sound that nearly stopped your heart, and his grip right on your hip tightened. “But my patience is wearing a bit thin, especially when you’ve got my name sprawled across your back.”
“Well,” with your hands lying against his chest, you allowed your fingers to curl around his dog tags just like you’d thought about so many times today, tugging him toward you with a smirk on your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing my patience is wearing thin, too.”
Bob’s smile quirked up as he leaned in, just as you leaned up to him- until two arms wrapped around your waist and practically tore you from Bob’s arms, landing you over a broad shoulder with a yelp.
“Baby-On-Board, Peony! I expected more from you two!” Seresin. Of course fucking Jake Seresin had to ruin everything again, holding you over his shoulder like a scolded child as he let out a ‘tsk.’ “Public displays of affection can make people very uncomfortable!”
“Jake, you’re going to be lucky if you ever step foot in an F-18 again when I’m done with you,” there was murderous intent in your tone as he turned on his heel, continuing the walk toward the bar with a laughing Penny, Mav, Coyote, and Payback surrounding you both. You hit him once on the back with your fist, not that it did anything to him, before speaking just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the one who was bitching at me to get laid!”
“Not in the middle of the damn sidewalk, though, little flower,”
“I wasn’t going to fuck him on Park Boulevard, but damn, at least let me kiss him! This is what you wanted!”
“Step one was the legs, step two was the jersey, step three was the kiss cam, and now welcome to step four: more tension. Have some faith in me, and our little baby-on-board is going to be begging to fuck you before you’ve even had a drink,”
You grumbled something along the lines of ‘castrating’ him before accepting that he wasn’t going to put you down anytime soon, at least not until you got to the bar. Resting your chin against your hand popped against Jake’s shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Bob. Rooster was at his side, arm slung around his shoulder as he muttered something that had a blush coating your WSO’s cheeks, Phoenix and Fanboy laughing beside him. When Nat met your eyes, a smirk crawled across her own face.
“Comfortable up there, Peony?”
“Just peachy, Nat. Trying to calculate how hard I have to swing my leg in this position to take away Jake’s ability to breed,”
With more laughter from the group, your eyes found Bob’s, and he was already looking at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen that had your heart racing like it always did around him. Annoying friends or not, as long as he kept looking at you like that, you’d put up with it all.
By the time Hangman had trekked all the way around the stadium and across Gallagher Square to the sports bar he wanted to visit, the sun had set. The inside was already packed from what you could gather through the windows as Jake finally set you back down on your feet.
“We’ll go get a tab started,” Coyote announced, most of the group following in after him. Jake nodded in his direction, holding the door open for your group as he glanced down at you with a smirk. Your glare hadn’t softened at all toward your best friend.
“You ever pull that shit again, and I will tell the story about how you fell off your horse when you were eight,”
“Damn, pulling out the deep cuts,” his tone was indifferent, the cocky bastard just choosing to shoot you a smirk and a wink as he stepped inside the bar door as well. “It’s packed in here, go see if there’s some outdoor seating.”
Yeah right, like you gave a shit what Jake wanted at that point.
An arm snaked it’s way around your waist, hand resting against your stomach as a pair of lips you were slowly growing accustomed to the feeling of pressed to the side of your head. You didn’t hesitate to lean back against Bob, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as he smirked down at you.
“Enjoy your ride?”
You huffed, elbowing him lightly with no malice what-so-ever.
“No, especially when there’s another man I’d rather ride,”
Even as your cheeks flushed at your own confident statement, you didn’t look away from Bob, giving you a full view of the way his eyes darkened at the comment. He glanced to the bar entrance, before behind you both, before his hand wrapped itself around yours and tugged.
“Come on,”
The bar did have an outdoor patio, but given the raging humidity still in the San Diego air as night time set in, everyone at the bar had opted to sit inside with the air conditioning. Bob wasn’t stopping at the patio, though, guiding you around the bar tables and out past the patio to the secluded section behind the bar, hidden from the main walkways with trees blocking the view in from Gallagher Square.
Nervous giggles left you in those moments once you were well and truly along, just barely illuminated by the string lights hanging on the patio just a few feet away. Those giggles ceased, your breath catching, as Bob stalked toward you as if he was the hunter and you were the prey, backing you up until your back was flush with the brick wall of the building covered in darkness.
Then, he was on you.
It’s hot, its messy–its the kiss of two people who have been starving to get their hands on one another for months. You practically unravel, putty in Bob Floyd’s hands, those same hands that are caressing up your bare thighs and to your waist then back down once again, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your fingers were threaded through hsi sandy blonde hair, tugging at the strands with every movement of his lips against yours and every swipe of his tongue just along the edge of your own, leaving his taste lingering in your mouth as you craved more.
One of his hands trailed down the back of your left thigh, gripping into the flesh and tugging it up around his waist, holding it there as he ground his hips toward your core as a breathless moan tumbled from your lips.
“I-In the interest of, uh–oh god–of putting it all out there,” you barely managed to get your words out, fingers tightening their grip in Bob’s hair as his lips trailed across your jawline and down your neck, nipping just enough at the skin that there were sure to be little marks left in the morning. “You…you realize I’m hopelessly in love with you, right?”
“I hope so, because I-I’m in love with you, too,” breathy, wrecked Bob Floyd was testing every ounce of your patience left, his words ghosting over your neck as he nipped at your skin once more, accentuating it with another roll of his hips. “If we’re being completely honest, then…can I say something?”
“As long as you don’t stop touching me,”
His laughter vibrated against your skin, his lips trailing back up your neck until they hovered right in front of your own, giving you the perfect view of his lust blown gaze. If you even had breath left to catch, it did, as the hand on your waist moved to the front of your jean shorts, fingers just barely dipping past the waistline and ghosting over the skin of your lower stomach.
“These shorts,” he snapped them back against your skin, the other hand still holding your thigh tight around his waist squeezing tightly for just a moment. “Have been killing me for hours. The legs on my lap? Nice play by Hangman, I’ll admit. You’ve been driving me insane for hours.”
“You think seeing those biceps and forearms in this t-shirt hasn’t been driving me insane?” your gaze flickered to said shirt and dog tags before returning to his eyes. “But…just hours?”
“No, for months,” he was quick to counter, leaning in an stealing another bruising kiss from you, barley pulling back so that his lips still brushed yours as he spoke. “When it’s hot out on the tarmac and you unzip your flight suit, and I can see the sweat dripping down your chest. Today, wearing my name on your back like it’s your own. But the one that never leaves me…when we all went up to the the Mission Beach Boardwalk. You wore that little maroon sundress, the one that barely comes to your knees. And I don’t know why, maybe you wanted to kill me o-or maybe it was one of Hangman and Phoenix’s stupid plans, but you didn’t wear bike shorts that day. You bent over to look at something in one of the shops, and I saw them clear as day: pink, lacy, covered in flowers, and barely covering an inch of your skin. I haven’t stopped thinking about them since.”
Desire coursed through every inch of you at his words, at the memory of that day. To know that Bob really did think of you in the same depraved way that you did him only had your want–your need–for him increasing tenfold.
The ghost of a smirk crossed your lips as one of your hands left his hair. He watched it as your fingers trailed over his shoulders, down his bicep as your nails dug into the skin just slightly, down his forearm as your nails traced his veins, before settling over the hand still gripping to your shorts. Hooking a finger around his, you dipped it fully below the waistline of your jeans as you heard his breath catch, looping it around the edge of your panties and tugging them upwards until they were just barely visible: pink, lacy, and covered in flowers.
“It’s a matching set,” you whispered in a sultry tone, his eyes finally finding their way back to yours with a newfound heat in them, and you swore you could see a thin layer of fog overtake the lenses of his glasses. Leaning in just barely, you caught his lower lip between your teeth, biting just barely enough for a groan to elicit from somewhere deep in his chest, another shot of heat going straight to your core, espeically as his hips once against ground forward as if they had a mind of their own, and there was no mistaking the size of the rigid bulge pressing against you now. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Floyd.”
“It will be when you’re finally under me,”
“You’ve got me pressed up against a wall,” you managed to joke breathlessly, hand finding it’s way back up to his hair. His fingers stayed dipped past the waistline of your shorts, slowly finding their way around to the back, his whole hand almost dipping lower now as the heat of his hand spread out across your entire ass, squeezing just hard enough for you to stutter out another gasp against his lips. You felt his lips curl into a smirk at the sound. “I-Isn’t that good enough?”
“Baby, I’m not fucking you against a wall with our Captain probably thirty feet away. No, when I finally get to fuck you, I’m taking my time until you’re ruined,”
Yeah, fuck anyone on this team that joked that Bob Floyd must have been vanilla in bed, or that he’d be awkward and stutter his way through any sexual encounter. He had you willing to put your entire career on the line for a misdemeanor just to finally feel him like you did in your dreams.
“Damn…I leave you two alone for ten minutes and baby-on-board looks like he’s two seconds from whipping it out,”
Jake Seresin was a dead man. Worse than a dead man, not that you even knew what could be worse, but the second you could get your hands on him you were going to strangle him. Or beat him. Or hold a pillow over his face until he finally stopped breathing and you never had to hear hid stupid voice again.
Your head fell to Bob’s shoulder, hands still wound in his hair and refusing to leave. He let out a soft, but you could tell embarrassed, chuckle against the side of your head, the hand on your ass slipping back to your waist, his other hand finally letting your leg drop back to the ground.
“Something you need, Bagman?”
“Was just seeing if my hunch was right and you two wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off one another,” you tilted your head against Bob’s shoulder in order to fully look at your best friend, your death glare doing nothing to deter his smirk and wink. “As usual, I was right, given that you were well on your way to a misdemeanor. I think you two should be thanking me, this is all thanks to my brilliant foolproof plan for the day-”
“Seresin, I know you like hearing yourself talk, but if you interrupt me one more time I’m going to ride Bob right in front of you just to make sure you’re scarred for life,”
It was Bob’s turn to laugh, squeezing your waist gently with another kiss to the side of your head. Jake’s smirk only widened as he took his hand out of his pants pocket, tossing something in your direction. You let one of your hands leave Bob’s hair to catch what he’d thrown, both you and Bob looking down at your hand: Jake’s truck keys.
“No scratches, that’s all I ask. And no sex in the truck,” Jake sent another wink in your direction, shuffling backward toward where he’d come from. “Rooster is designated driver, Phoenix and I will just squeeze in with them. I’m sure I can keep them busy here for three…maybe four hours, if that’s enough time for you jackrabbits to get rounds 1 through 5 out of your systems. Just wrap it, please, I don’t feel like calling your mom and informing her that you’re pregnant anytime soon.”
You and Bob could only stare at the place in which Jake had just been standing for a moment in shock, trying to process what had just occurred. Then, you laughed, spinning the keys around in your hand.
“He’s a dick, but I guess he’s a good wingman…at least on the ground. Remind me to thank him-”
Bob’s hand was on your chin, tugging your face back to him as his lips moved headily against yours, swallowing the moan you didn’t even try to suppress as that bulge nudged against your thighs once more. Lust, love, adoration, need, it was all prevalent in the heated kiss as Bob pulled away, hot breath ghosting over your lips.
“Thank him later. I’ve waited long enough to fuck you, flower,”
i block ppl all the time so my blocklist ranges from "actual fucking asshole fascist" n "post that mildly annoyed me because im petty" and if i went thru my blocklist rn i probably would have no idea why i blocked each of them but whatever
Summary: It was just meant to be a sparing session with him and John, Bob didn't mean to go that far. He didn't mean to push John into the wall so hard he cracked the wall. But Valentina was there, with her scrutinizing glare and sighs of disapproval, and it all just got to him. It makes Bob question how can you put up with him, Sentry, and Void.
Warnings: light angst, fluff, Bob's self deprecating thoughts, established relationship, reader is a normal civilian
Word Count: 1.3k
Note: Crossbearers is taking me a lil longer than planned because I need to rework it 😭. I wrote a good chunk of it when I was running on almost no sleep and working a bunch of OT (tysm Luna for putting up with my bullshit ily 😘) but hopefully I'll finish it before the weekend! Anywaaaays, thank you @theboardwalkbody for editing this for me!! Enjoy! Based off this request here!
Masterlists
🐂Part of my 500 Follower Celebration🐂
There is no movement from inside Bob's room as you crack the door open. His black out curtains were closed, blocking out any and all light from the sun. You’d almost think his room was empty if it was for the Bob shaped lump under the blankets and the only part of him you could see was his messy curls peeking out under the covers.
“Bob?”
The body under the blankets shifts slightly and you hear a couple sniffles as you walk closer to the bed.
“Hey,” you sit beside him at the edge of the bed, brushing the hair from his sad eyes. They were red from crying and the bags under his eyes were very prominent. You sigh; he didn’t get much sleep last night.
Bob makes a confused noise seeing you, “What - what are you -”
He’s not used to you just popping by the tower. In fact, you basically never come to the tower besides that day you first met the team. Not that Bob doesn’t want you around, but usually when you guys are together, you go to yours. Your house is nice, quiet, and normal. Plus, less likely of a chance of you having to run into Valentina compared to the tower.
“You didn’t show up for lunch and when you weren’t answering my texts, I got worried.” You cup the side of his face, thumb resting on his check, “Called Lena and she told me what happened with John and Val yesterday. She said you’d been in here for a while.”
Shit. Bob deflates when he hears that. He forgot about your plans. His hands come up to his face and he groans into them, frustrated.
Yesterday had been a bad day for him. He woke up feeling low, getting up and brushing his teeth felt like a chore. He was practically counting down the hours until he could escape with you for a couple days. But Val wanted to see him. Said she wanted an update on his powers' progress, to see if he was still ‘letting’ the void consume him in the aftermath.
Val made him try sparing with John yesterday. And Bob really didn’t mean to push John that hard. But Val’s critiquing glare and muttered words of disappointment got to his head and he pushed the super soldier into the wall, eyes glowing golden as he felt the rush of power surge through his veins. John crumbled with an ‘oof!’, obviously caught off guard.
Then the guilt crept in. He mumbled an apology as he lifted John up off the floor, his eyes glued to the floor as he made a beeline for his room, ignoring Valentina’s shrill call of his name. He’d been wallowing in his room ever since.
Bob just wanted to prove himself. To show he could control it. He felt like such a burden to the team, unable to help on missions because while Sentry was a welcomed asset, Void wasn't. And he couldn't be one without the other. The fact that you continued to date him after learning about his “problems” was astounding to him. And he repaid you by leaving you hanging and forgetting all about your date.
“Fuck- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to forget! I swear, I didn’t, I-”
“It’s alright! It’s alright! That doesn’t matter now, baby, okay?” Bob looked like he still wanted to argue, but you just smiled, still petting the top of his head, “Want company?”
You wanted to leave it open for him. You learned early on in your relationship with Bob that when he got like this, he either wanted to be left alone in bed or for you to slip in cuddle. You were the only person he’d actually want around him when he got bad like this. If he shook his head, ‘no’ it was fine, you’d give him the space he needed and go out into the common room.
He stays silent, but nods, pulling the covers of his bed open so you slide in next to him.
When you get settled in bed, Bob scoots closer to you and his head finds its place on your chest, his cheek pressed against the fabric of your shirt.
You can feel the dampness on his face from the tears he spilled earlier. You pull him close, kissing the top of his head.
“I’m sorry I’m so much to deal with. You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like this.”
“Stop. I love you, Bob. I’m here for you no matter what, I don’t want anyone else.” Bob doesn’t say anything as he sniffles. His hold on you tightens “You don’t need to be afraid, I’m not going anywhere”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I don’t know how you tolerate me, Sentry, and Void. I’m a fucking ticking time bomb because of them.”
“Hey – I love you, okay? I love every part of you. And yes, that means I love all of you, Sentry, void, and most importantly, you Bob. They’re part of you, so why would I love them any less?”
“I just, I worry one day I’ll be too much. You’ll realize how much better you deserve, get tired of me and -” he chokes up and looks away. He couldn’t say those last two words. ‘Leave me’. That’s what Bob was always afraid of. Being too much, driving you away with his issues. That you’d soon realize you deserved better, someone smart, more attractive and didn’t have all these issues.
You tip his chin up, meeting his watery blue eyes, “Believe me, I will never be tired of you Robby.”
He lets out a shaky sigh, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, “I love you, Robby. Always. Even when we’re old and gray, when my memories are gone and I’m asking you where you put the remote and you have to remind me that it’s in my hand or when you start losing your hair and start looking like Professor X.”
You hear a snort, and pull back to face him, "I think I know what that smile means." You proudly smile at the fact when Bob shyly ducks his head down before he kisses you, full on the lips, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just being here. Sticking with me.”
“You never have to thank me for that honey.”
Bob nods as you kiss the tip of his nose, “Wanna stay in bed, or join the rest of the crew for a movie night? Ava said they were watching Airplane.” Bob doesn’t bother answering, instead he just pulls you impossibly closer, brags the remote from his bedside table and flips on your guy’s favorite movie, “A movie night for two then.”
God, this is why Bob loves you so much. You make things lighter, easier. An escape from this superhero life he didn’t want. You make him feel like he can actually live a normal life, a life he didn’t think he’d ever get, one he didn’t deserve. You’re what he cherishes most in this world and he didn’t know how he got so lucky for you to love him back.
Halfway through the second movie, it felt like a mission to keep your eyes open. You were just so comfortable, it was hard not to. The pillow you were laying on smelled so much like Bob's cologne, and his blanket was so plush and soft, it felt like you were wrapped in a warm hug (and the fact Bob was basically your personal space heater helped a lot too).
You were just about to doze off when Bob's voice cut through the air.
“Wait….”
“What?” You sleepily mumble.
“… Do you really think I’ll lose my hair?”
You snort, eyes closed as you pat what you think is his cheek, “Never in a million years babe.”
Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love ya!
Please do not copy or repost. Love and thank you all!
sex is a distraction from your true purpose in life which is to go to the aquarium and look at the fish and go "wooooooaaah.... fishies". cmon guys we all need to lock in.
if i’m scrolling and the mere act of my thumb brushing slightly on the screen where an ad happens to be, opens the app store i’m reporting that ad as broken thank you
I can't do it no more. I can't. I can't do it. Miles. I can't kill no more people. Miles! Help us. I can't kill no more people. How many people have you killed, Miles? 123.
LEWIS PULLMAN as Miles Miller
BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE (2018) — dir. Drew Goddard
