Love Is A Battlefield
jake “hangman” seresin x aviator!reader (callsign: siren)
song inspo: love is a battlefield by pat benatar
masterlist
word count: 6.7k
summary: you hoped to never meet the human personification of a headache; even worse, you fell for him.
warnings: switching pov bc im a sucker for that, mentions of alcohol, some innuendos, moonknight reference, jake being into mean women (and they’re not so secretly in love with each other), your last name is morales bc why not, tbh this is kinda real messy, it took me three years to write, I don’t even know my own timeline anymore, I just got out the psych ward last week so let’s just say it’s a bunch of vignettes
SIREN:
Truth be told, you didn’t hate Hangman. You wish you did though.
You had heard of Jake and his reputation at Top Gun. He was in the graduating class the year before and you prayed that you’d be fortunate enough to never meet the man.
No such luck.
With everything you heard: how he was a prick with an ego higher than Everest, how he left his wingmen to fend for themselves, how he could get any woman with a cocky grin and a wink; you just knew that you’d hate him. And you tried your best, you really did. He had a way of getting under your skin, and he annoyed the hell out of you, but underneath it all, you actually liked him. Though you’d never give him the satisfaction of that knowledge.
Really, the worst thing about Jake was the flirting. He was persistent. From the day you met him, he’d been all over you. You dismissed it, of course, a man like Hangman flirted with anything with a heartbeat. The only way to deal with the dreadful feeling of your affection for him was to make it clear that you weren’t interested.
JAKE:
Jake started planning his wedding just mere moments upon meeting Siren. Which shocked him far more than anything else he’s ever experienced in his lifetime.
Of course, he’d heard of her before, though all he really knew was how she got her callsign.
And he saw it as a challenge.
Jake was sipping a beer at the Hard Deck, chatting with his buddies in the squadron when one of them brought up a new graduate from Top Gun:
Siren.
His ears perk up at the mention of her callsign. He's never heard of her before, but the way they were talking about her piqued his interest. Fritz goes on to say that they call her Siren because of the way she lures men to their demise. Sure, it was a compliment to her skills as a pilot, but it had a bitter double meaning since every pilot and navy man that ever made a move on her was swiftly rejected.
Jake internalizes this, and by the time he leaves the Hard Deck, he was determined to meet her and find out for himself what the fuss was all about.
As luck would have it, a couple of years later, she was transferred into his unit. There was a buzz of excitement the day of her arrival, and Jake took extra precautions to make sure that he made a good impression (Javy told him he overdid it on the cologne; Jake said there was no such thing as “over-doing it”).
The moment she walked in through the door, he felt his heart skip a beat. Siren were breathtaking, carrying herself with an air of confidence that made her oh-so captivating.
He was about to make a remark, try to get into Siren's good graces, but he didn’t miss the way her nose scrunched slightly when she passed him by, letting out a huff. It was then that he realized he probably should’ve listened to Javy.
Siren continued past him, shoulders squared back, head held high, until she reached the front of the briefing room and stood side by side the squadron leader as he introduced her to the rest of the group.
“Lieutenant Morales—callsign Siren—graduated Top Five of her Top Gun class,” Cyclone announced, pacing in front of the assembled pilots. “Highest marks in air combat maneuvering, exceptional tactical instincts, and one of the best reaction times we’ve ever recorded. She’s logged over eight hundred flight hours across Super Hornets and Growlers, and she led a two-ship during a live intercept last year that earned her a Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal.”
Jake blinked.
That alone would’ve impressed him. But the commander wasn’t done.
“She also completed an advanced electronic warfare course at Whidbey, cross-trained as a backup WSO, and received command commendation for a successful emergency recovery under low-visibility conditions.”
Phoenix let out a low whistle. Bob muttered, “Holy crap.”
Jake’s interest—a spark when he first heard her callsign at the Hard Deck—now roared into a fire.
But the squad leader continued.
“And finally,” he said, turning slightly toward her, “Siren is known for her discipline. She does not tolerate nonsense, does not indulge distractions, and maintains a professional record clean enough to frame. I expect you to treat her with the same respect she’s earned. Lord knows she has earned mine.” He ends with a curt nod in Siren’s direction, an air of admiration hanging between the two.
“Thank you, Admiral,” She returned his nod before turning to face the squad, “I look forward to serving with all of you.” She added, looking across the room with a barely perceptible twitch as her gaze crossed over Hangman.
Siren took her seat beside whom Jake can only assume is her WSO.
By the time the briefing wrapped, he wasn’t just intrigued. He was captivated.
SIREN:
As the briefing ended, you barely had time to blink before your assigned WSO turned to face you and introduce himself.
“Lieutenant Marc Spector —Callsign Oracle,” The dark curled man extended his hand out to yours, “It’s an honor to be flying with you.”
You took his hand in yours, grip firm, “Oracle,” you paused for a moment, the gears turning and clicking, “You were at the academy a few years before me, right? You’re a legend in the WSO world, your accuracy rating is unbeatable, the honor’s all mine.” You can’t help but beam at him, your hard-shell cracking in show of your admiration.
He flushes slightly under your praise, withdrawing his hand from yours and your eyes don’t miss the silver band that flashes under the fluorescent lights.
Married, noted. Too bad, he’s handsome. You think to yourself, shunning any thoughts you had earlier in respect of his spouse.
“Well shoot, thanks. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve always been a sharpshooter.” He jokes with you as he gathers his things, prompting you to do the same.
A laugh bubble up from your chest, your eyes shining, enjoying the company of your WSO and knowing it’ll be the start of a great partnership.
The moment is quickly soured by that overpowering cologne you had the misfortune of passing by earlier. Your eyes shoot up, noticing that tall blonde with an immovable smirk. He looks like he came straight out of a Cowboys Monthly catalogue instead of the Naval Academy.
“Hey darlin’”, you hear a southern drawl in his voice, “name’s Hangman, best pilot ‘round these parts, even better than you believe it or not.” His smirk widens at his words, toothpick shifting to the other side of his mouth.
You shoot a sideways glance to Oracle, not believing what you’re hearing. He gives you a look that says that this is just the type of man he is. An arrogant jaggoff that just spews whatever nonsense falls off the top of his dome.
“Listen here Old Spice,” Your shell coming back up, gaze hard on his as you notice a slight twitch on his lips, “I’m not here to compete, I’m not here to prove anything to you, and I’m not here to entertain you. We have a duty, and I’m here to perform. You got a different agenda? Then stay out of my way.” Your words are punctuated as you move past him, adding a slight shove to his shoulder as you continue on your way, hearing a low whistle behind you, a holler in the distance from the man that you know is gonna get under your skin.
JAKE:
Jake Seresin wasn’t the kind of man who got caught off guard. Not in the air. Not in the briefing room. And definitely not in Penny Benjamin’s bar, where he practically had home-field advantage.
But then Siren walked in.
Hair down. Sundress swaying just above her knees, catching the warm San Diego breeze. Heels clicking on the old wooden floor.
He actually felt his heartbeat stutter.
Everyone else noticed too—Rooster’s pool cue paused mid-shot, Phoenix mouthed “oh boy,” and even Fanboy straightened like he’d just witnessed a civilian celebrity appearance. Siren, of course, didn’t seem to notice the ripple she sent through the room. She was taking everything in with a careful, assessing gaze, Oracle at her side like the world’s smuggest bodyguard.
Jake swallowed hard, pushing off the bar and trying to look normal. Casual. Not like his entire brain had short-circuited because apparently Siren owned silk-smooth waves and a little smirk that felt like a gut punch.
Finally letting her hair down, he thought. Maybe now she’ll give me a chance.
She caught him staring. Her brows lifted.
…And she promptly looked away.
Fantastic. Off to a great start.
Phoenix sauntered by, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t drool, Bagman. It’s embarrassing for everyone.”
“Didn’t say a damn word,” Jake muttered. “Just being friendly.”
“Yeah, friendly. That’s what we’re calling it now.” She smirked. “Try not to scare her off.”
“Oh, I’ll charm her,” Jake said confidently.
“Someday you’ll go far," Phoenix snorted, "and I really hope you stay there.”
Jake muttered something impolite and made his way toward Siren.
She stood by the jukebox, pretending to read the song list but very clearly avoiding him. Oracle noticed Jake approaching and sighed like a long-suffering parent.
“Please behave,” Oracle murmured.
“No promises,” Jake said, flashing his trademark grin.
Siren didn’t even pretend to be impressed.
“So,” Jake drawled, planting a hand against the wall beside her, “what’s Siren stand for anyway, hm? Is it because of how annoying you are? Everyone winces the second you open your mouth?”
Without hesitation, she fired back, “Y’know, Bagman, that’s a perfect explanation of you.”
Oracle tried (and failed) to hide his laugh.
Jake ignored him. “Cute.”
Turning to finally face him, she crossed her arms. “You think you’re hot stuff, huh?”
“Oh, I know I am, baby.”
Before he could double down, Phoenix reappeared with a beer, leaning against the jukebox beside Siren.
“C’mon, Jake, lay off her. I don’t want the only other woman in this unit requesting a transfer just because you can’t keep it in your pants.”
“Oh dear God, has that actually happened before?” Siren gasped dramatically, hand on her chest.
Jake’s eyes flicked to her hand before he dragged them up again. …Bad idea. Very bad idea.
He threw up his hands. “I am capable of behaving around a lady.”
“Mhm, sure you are,” Phoenix said, looping her arm through Siren’s. “I just don’t think you can behave around this one.”
With that, she whisked Siren away to the pool table with Oracle, leaving Jake staring after her like a man watching the last lifeboat leave the Titanic.
He eventually retreated to darts with Javy, though his attention kept drifting back to the woman who had him so thoroughly, stupidly enamored.
Later, when the noise softened and the crowd shifted, Siren slipped past him toward the back patio. He followed...because he was a man with poor impulse control and even worse instincts where she was involved.
She caught him again, eyebrow raised. “What’s that look for?”
Jake shrugged, adjusting slightly. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous for you.”
He chuckled. God, she was quick. “You know, Siren, for someone who pretends to hate me, you sure spend a lot of time paying attention to me.”
“I don’t have to pay attention,” she replied coolly. “You’re loud enough to make it impossible to ignore you.”
She walked off again, hair swaying, sundress brushing her thighs.
Jake exhaled slowly.
Yeah.
She was definitely going to be the death of him.
And he couldn’t wait.
SIREN:
Ever since you had been assigned to the same unit as Jake months ago, every day started out the same way. He’d keep it professional during the briefings, but the moment you were dismissed to head to your respective jets, he was on your heels like a lost puppy.
Walking down the hall towards the tarmac, Jake kept in step beside you while he bothered you with the first words of the day:
"Y’know, Siren, I think you're just afraid to admit that you secretly love me." He had that same cocky smile plastered on his face with a toothpick casually kept between his teeth. That stupid toothpick. God, you swear that Jake kept a box of them by his bed and grabbed a new one everyday just to flaunt it and flick it at you at the end of each day.
You rolled your eyes at him, "Oh please, Jake. I wouldn't love you even if you were the last man on earth." An utter lie, but you had to keep his ego in check.
With a wince he uttered, "Ouch, darlin’. That hurts." His Texan drawl was always more evident when he said that pet name.
"Good. Maybe it will finally knock some sense into that thick skull of yours." You knew it wouldn’t, but maybe if you kept this up long enough, it would knock him down just a smidge.
"Hey now, my skull is just fine. It's my heart that's the problem. It beats too fast whenever I'm around you." The wink he sent your way after that was comical, and you hated how it made you feel.
With faux concern, you added, "Well, maybe you should get that checked out. It sounds like tachycardia which I’m pretty sure could turn into a serious medical condition."
"Ha ha, very funny, Siren. You're lucky I find your sarcasm endearing." That was the problem, you’re pretty sure that your decision of being mean to him just made Hangman like you even more.
Teasing him slightly, you joked, "Yeah, I'm sure that's the only reason you like me."
"Well, that, your stunning good looks and your kind, pure heart." He smirked as he shifted his toothpick to the other side.
You scoffed at him, "Save the compliments, Bagman. I know you're just trying to butter me up, so I'll let you win in the next dogfight."
"Who, me? Never."
"Right, because you always play fair."
"’course I do sweetheart. But you know what they say, all's fair in love and war." With that he left you alone to get into his F-18. You wish you had a snide remark left because you hated it when he got the last word in. But to no avail, he had gotten in your head with that simple comment.
JAKE:
Hangman couldn't resist a challenge, especially when it came to Siren. He had been trying to win her over for a few months now, but she always seemed to be one step ahead of him, shutting down his advances with a quick retort or a dismissive wave of her hand. If he was lucky, banter would ensue, and he’d replay it in his head all day long.
But Jake was nothing if not persistent. He was determined to win Siren over, no matter how long it took or how many times he had to try.
As she walked out into the hangar, Jake couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. He leaned casually against the nearest fighter jet; his arms crossed over his chest.
"Hey there, gorgeous," he called out as she approached. "Looking good as always."
Siren rolled your eyes, but Jake could see a hint of a smile on her lips. He grinned to himself, feeling encouraged. "What do you want, Jake?" she asked, voice tinged with annoyance.
Jake shrugged nonchalantly. "Just wanted to see if you were up for grabbing a drink with me after our training session today. You know, relax a little bit."
Narrowing her eyes at him, clearly not buying his smooth talk. "No thanks, Old Spice. I've got better things to do than hang out with you."
Jake's grin didn't falter. "Oh, c’mon, sweetheart. You know you want to. We could have some fun together. Who knows what could happen?" He understands what that sounded like. In reality, the only think Jake was hoping would happen was to talk to her. A real conversation. That was something few and far between when it came to Siren, but he cherished them.
She shook her head, expression hardening. "I don't have time for games, Jake. So why don't you just leave me alone and focus on training?"
Jake's smile faded slightly, but he refused to give up. "I'm not playing games, Siren. Really wanna see ya at the Hard Deck tonight." Maybe she'd grace him by wearing a sundress like the one she had on the first day she was there. That is, if she ended up going. Most likely not.
Siren raised her brow, clearly skeptical. But there was a hint of something else in her expression, something that gave Jake hope.
As she walked away to her own jet, Jake felt a pat on his shoulder. "Good effort, bud." Oracle offered the shyest bit of comfort as he headed off, "but y'know how she is." He hollered at him with a wink as he trailed behind to follow Siren.
Jake knew that she was a tough nut to crack, but he was up for the challenge. He would win Siren's heart, no matter what it took.
SIREN:
The mess hall was unusually quiet for midday: just the low drone of conversation, the clatter of trays, and the hum of the industrial AC fighting the relentless San Diego heat. The flight tablet was open in front of you, a page of telemetry glowing against the metal table.
Were you supposed to be reviewing patterns? Technically. But it couldn’t keep your usual sharp focus, eyes kept drifting to the edge of the table.
To the stupid red packet sitting against your elbow like a smug little beacon.
Contraband. Contraband you had once mentioned, once, in casual conversation about comfort snacks. Contraband Jake Seresin had somehow procured, smuggled, and dropped off with all the ceremony of a dog delivering a trophy slipper.
You nudged it again, harder. It didn’t disappear.
Phoenix dropped her tray into the seat across from you. “Alright,” she announced, pointing her fork with all the precision of a missile lock, “what the hell was that little scene with Hangman earlier?”
You didn’t bother to lift your eyes. “Which one?”
“The one where he walked by just to leave you a snack and strutted out like he’d just delivered a baby on a commercial jet.”
Your jaw tightened.
Eyes flickering to the gummies.
Traitorous, bright red gummies.
Clearing your throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Phoenix stared at you like you’d just announced the earth was flat. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“He brought you gummies,” Phoenix emphasized slowly. “Your gummies. Your favorite gummies.”
“So?” You say, trying to shrug away the discomfort that was taking residence in your shoulders. “Maybe he brings everyone snacks.”
“Oh yeah,” Phoenix deadpanned. “Hangman. Patron saint of generosity.” She tapped your tablet like she was checking stats. “The list of living creatures he’d willingly feed is—yep—exactly one. Himself.”
“Please,” You remark, forcing your face to remain neutral and not show just how much you were burning up inside. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of me. That’s all he does.”
“No, sweetie.” Phoenix’s voice dropped. “He’s trying to impress you.”
“He is not, he’s just been… weird,” you muttered.
Phoenix perked up. “Weird how?”
“Well…” Hesitatating, because acknowledging this out loud felt it made it real. “He just...shows up.”
Phoenix’s brows shot up. “Shows up?”
“Yes. Everywhere.” Listing off fingers. “My morning run. The hangar bay. The sim hallway. The pilot lounge. He just appears with some dumb comment or” gesturing helplessly at the gummies “this.”
Phoenix let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Jake Seresin is orbiting you like a lovesick satellite.”
Your whole body rejected that statement. “He’s just being annoying.”
“No,” Phoenix corrected, “I annoy you. Rooster annoys you. Hangman makes you” she made a small circular gesture over your face “react.”
“I do not react,” Snapping at Nat, which definitely showed he does make you react.
You groaned, sliding down in the seat and pressing your palms over your face. “This is humiliating.”
“No,” Phoenix said softly, nudging your foot under the table. “This is adorable. And also prime entertainment for the squad, so thank you.”
Peeking through your fingers with a glare. “Nat—don’t.”
Phoenix grinned like a devil and pushed the gummy pack toward you. “You’re keeping them.”
Straightening, you scoffed. “Absolutely not.” just as a familiar presence brushed the edge of your awareness.
Movement in your peripheral vision.
Hangman. Walking in with that loose, arrogant stride that said he knew he looked good. Posture relaxed. Eyes scanning.
Until they found yours.
Hangman approached like he was walking out of a commercial; slow, confident, like the air itself made way for him.
You didn’t look up from your tablet. You didn’t need to. You could feel him coming like a weather change.
He stopped right at your table.
“Afternoon, ladies.” His eyes flicked to the gummy pack beside your elbow.“Treatin’ you alright, darlin’?”
You nudged the pack an inch away, gave him a flat stare that could’ve curdled milk.
“Oh, they’re perfect,” you said lightly. “I keep ’em for emergencies. Like when you start talking.”
Phoenix choked. Actually choked. She had to pound a fist over her chest.
Hangman’s smile twitched before resetting into something self-satisfied and annoyingly warm.
“Well,” he murmured, leaning against the table, “lucky for you, I’m always around if you need a refill.”
Hangman’s eyes dipped to the gummy pack, like he was pleased with himself, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and then he straightened up again.
Then he walked off.
Just like that.
Phoenix grinned and leaned in, resting her chin on her hands. “So. When’s the wedding?”
You let your forehead drop onto your tablet with all the force of a dying jet. “Never. Happening.”
“Mmhmm,” Phoenix hummed, “sure, Jan.”
You lifted your head just enough to glare at her—sharp, warning, a full nuclear threat—when you felt it.
That tiny tug in your chest.
That awareness.
Against your better judgment, you looked toward the exit.
Hangman paused in the doorway. Turned. Glanced back at you.
You forced your face into neutrality immediately, but Phoenix still inhaled sharply like she’d witnessed a proposal.
“Nat,” you warned, pointing a finger at her, “if you make one more comment, I’m filling your shampoo bottle with aircraft degreaser.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, hands up. “I’m done.”
You shoved the gummy pack under your tablet, out of sight, out of mind, out of reach.
You didn't throw it out.
You told yourself it was because the trash cans were across the room.
It had nothing to do with him.
Nothing at all.
And you’d keep telling yourself that until it stuck.
JAKE:
A year had passed since Jake laid eyes on the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Many a men have told him to move on, that he’s wasting his time, that it’ll “never happen”. He paid them no mind. Jake was a man who knew what he wanted.
And he wanted Siren.
He’d make it clear this time. No jokes. No teasing. No beating around the bush.
He basically counted this date as his one year anniversary of meeting Siren and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way.
He was a man in love, a man who desperately wanted his woman to know how much he truly loved her.
The mess hall was depleting, the final pilots and sailors piling out after finishing their last meal.
Jake wasn’t hiding per se, he just knew Phoenix liked her privacy and chose to eat near the ending hours. So he waited, patiently, as his plan was crowning off the top of his head.
The second he saw the side of her slick back bun, he reached out, grabbing her arm.
Bad move.
He should’ve accounted for Nat’s sharp reflexes and how she finished top ten in fitness at the academy. Because pretty soon Hangman was doubled over, trying not to be so obvious that he wanted to cry out in pain.
“Jesus dude what the hell! What’re you doing out here, thought you’d be at the hard deck already.” Phoenix’s gaze is wild, still amped up from the moment of adrenaline.
Huffing out a breath, trying to regain his composure, Jake straightens back up, trying to hide the wince that wants to escape. “God, Pheonix, can’t a man just sneak up on ya in peace?”
“You know better than to ask stupid questions like that.” She bites.
“Okay, fair enough,” He breathes out sharply, getting back on track to why he was looking for her in the first place, “I need your help with something, just between us.”
SIREN:
You glance back up at the clock. It’s unlike Pheonix to be late, especially when you have your girl talk.
Your thoughts return back to Jake.
Jake.
God you wish he didn’t affect you so much. You wish you didn’t dream about him before you drifted off to sleep. You wish you didn’t hear his stupid drawl when you were all alone. You wish you weren’t so wrapped up in your thoughts about him that you didn’t even notice that Nat already made her way into your room.
“Someone’s in loveee” She croons as she makes her way into your quarters.
“I’m not in love.” You bite out, worrying she may have seen the way you were definitely lost in your thoughts of a certain blonde.
“Who says I meant you,” Phoenix raises her brow to you, “I meant Hangman is head over heels for you”
Rolling your eyes at Nat’s comment about how he’s fallen for you. "Oh please, Jake just likes the thrill of the chase. He's like a dog with a bone, he won't let it go until he gets what he wants," You retort as you put away your gear for the day.
She just shakes her head, "No, really Siren, he's into you. I mean, he doesn't do this with any other girl."
“Yeah right.”, you scoff, “It doesn’t matter anyways, nothing would ever happen between us.”
Phoenix smirks, “Keep telling yourself that. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. There’s definitely something there.”
Siren scoffs. "And you're an expert on Jake's inner feelings now?"
Phoenix shrugs. "I'm just saying, you two have chemistry. I can see it."
You narrowed your eyes at her. "Chemistry? More like oil and water." You expected a laugh, much to your disappointment you got a deadpan look.
“C’mon Siren, stop beating around the bush. I get it, he’s an ass, but Bagman actually loves you. So put your big girl pants on and do something about it because I’m tired of hearing the same thing from the both of you.”
“Both?” You perk up at that simple four letter word and the weight that it holds.
Pheonix offers no extra information except: “Just come to the Hard Deck tonight, you’ll see.”
JAKE:
When it came to Siren, it’s like Jake had a sixth sense. He was just throwing darts with Javy, and he could feel her presence without even seeing her. Turning around, he watches as Siren walks into the Hard Deck with Phoenix.
He must’ve been staring longer than he realized because Coyote nudged his side to signal it was his turn.
“Y’know man, you should just throw in the towel because you and Siren are never happening” Javy knew his words were falling on deaf ears; Jake had never been the type to give up.
Jake just grins. "Hey, you never know. Maybe the 146th time is the charm." It might be creepy that Jake has kept track of all the times he’s made a move, but he couldn’t care less.
"You say that every time," Javy chuckles. “I mean c’mon, how many times can you keep trying before it becomes pathetic?"
Jake shrugs. "I don't know, Javy. I just can't help it. I’m telling you, she’s the one for me."
SIREN:
The Hard Deck is buzzing tonight, music a little too loud, lights a little too warm, that familiar mix of salt air and stale beer wrapping around you like a well-worn jacket. You’re leaned against the bar with Nat at your side, Penny polishing a glass in front of you while you sip something that’s just shy of strong.
You’re mid-story, something about Oracle, a cue ball, and a near fistfight with a very offended pool shark, when Penny’s gaze flicks over your shoulder. She doesn’t say anything at first, just tilts her chin the slightest bit, that knowing glint in her eyes.
“Incoming,” she murmurs, like she’s calling out a traffic pattern, and her mouth curls into a wicked grin. “Oh, this I gotta see, I can’t wait to see how you shut him down this time.”
Normally, that would make you smirk. You’d already be gearing up your next insult, mentally sharpening the knives.
But tonight… you just shake your head.
You feel the start of a smile tug at your lips, small and stubborn, like it’s trying to sneak past your defenses. “I’m not gonna turn him down this time,” you say casually, taking another sip.
Silence.
You glance up to find both women staring at you.
Penny’s eyebrows shoot up, and then that slow, triumphant smirk spreads across her face. You can practically see the thought; she’s just won some long-standing bet with Mav, and he’s never going to hear the end of it.
Nat just grins wider. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you two some privacy.” She pats your shoulder and pushes off the bar, heading toward the pool table. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she calls over her shoulder.
“That leaves nothing off the table!” you shout back.
Penny snorts, turning to grab a couple of fresh glasses as another cluster of patrons approaches the bar. “I’ll, uh, give you kids some room,” she says under her breath. “Just remember—I reserve the right to throw you both out if you start making out on my bar.”
You choke. “That’s not going to happen.”
Penny just smiles, that annoyingly knowing, bartender-who’s-seen-it-all smile. “We’ll see.”
And then he’s there.
You don’t have to look to know. His presence brushes across your skin like static before you even hear him. Hangman steps up to the bar beside you, one hand braced on the edge, the other sliding into his pocket as if he’s posing for a recruitment poster.
“Evenin’, darlin',” he drawls smoothly, his eyes already locked on you. “Hard Deck’s lookin’ real good tonight.”
You don’t turn right away. You let him wait half a beat, then glance over with your best unimpressed expression. “Wow. Starting off strong with the generic line, Seresin. You try that one on everyone, or am I just special?”
He grins, that slow, familiar curve that usually makes you want to throw something at him. Tonight, it twists a little differently in your chest.
“Aw, c’mon, Morales,” he says. “You know you’re special. I even left Javy to play darts with Rooster for this. That’s sacrifice.”
“Pretty sure that just means you hate losing,” you say, turning to fully face him now, elbows on the bar. “Don’t make it sound romantic.”
He laughs, low and warm. “Depends on your definition of romance. I gave up a guaranteed win to come get rejected by you for the...” he pauses, eyes flicking upward as if actually counting, “hundred and forty-sixth time, give or take.”
You arch a brow. “You’re keeping score now?”
“Sugar, I’ve been keepin’ score since day one.”
You huff out a short laugh in spite of yourself. Of course he has.
He leans in just enough that you can hear him over the music, but not enough to crowd your space. “So,” he says, “what do you say? I buy you a drink, you insult me a little, we argue about who’s the better pilot, and I pretend I don’t like it when you roll your eyes at me.”
Normally this is the part where you’d shut it down. Quick, efficient, a precise kill shot to his ego.
Instead, you let your gaze wander over his face, too handsome for his own good, the faint sun lines near his eyes, the way his hair curls just slightly at the ends when he’s been out in the heat all day. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth noticing.
Dangerous.
And yet.
“Alright,” you say lightly. “Buy me a drink.”
For once, it’s his turn to blink.
“Yeah?” he asks, almost cautiously.
You shrug, playing it off. “What? You gonna stand there and gape, or are you actually getting my drink?”
A slow, disbelieving smile spreads across his face, bright and brilliant. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, recovering fast. “What’ll it be?”
You give him your usual order and watch as he relays it to Penny, who raises a single eyebrow at you over his shoulder. You ignore her. Barely.
When he turns back, he leans an elbow on the bar, mirroring your posture. “So,” he says, “what’s the occasion? You finally realized resistance is futile?”
You snort. “Don’t flatter yourself, Old Spice. I just figured if you’re gonna keep harassing me, I might as well get a free drink out of it.”
“Oh, so I’m an investment now,” he says, smirking. “I can work with that.”
“You’re a tax write-off at best.”
He laughs, head tipping back, crinkles around his eyes, genuine, and something about it warms your chest more than the alcohol ever has. He drops his gaze to you again, softer now, like he can’t help it.
“Y’know,” he says, tone dropping just a fraction, “you’re in a surprisingly good mood tonight. I was kinda lookin’ forward to you threatening bodily harm.”
“Don’t worry,” you reply. “Night’s still young.”
“Promise?” he teases.
You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betray you. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” he says simply.
For a moment, the noise of the bar fades. It’s just the two of you, standing too close, pretending this is still just a game.
You break eye contact first, picking up the drink Penny sets in front of you. “Careful, Hangman,” you say, bringing the glass to your lips. “Keep talking like that and people might start thinking you actually like me.”
You mean it like a joke.
It doesn’t land like one.
“Maybe I do,” he replies, too quick, too honest.
You swallow, the burn of the drink mixing with something else you refuse to name. “Tragic,” you manage. “Sounds like a you problem.”
He grins, that soft, stupidly fond one you’ve been trying not to see. “Has been for a while, sweetheart.”
You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The fact that you’re still standing here, still trading jabs, still letting him buy you drinks and look at you like that, that’s answer enough.
JAKE:
As the night wore on, the other pilots at the Hard Deck gradually began to filter out, heading back to their respective homes or barracks. Siren and Jake were the last ones left, still deep in conversation while nursing their drinks.
Finally, she stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "I think it's time to call it a night," she sighed, glancing over at Jake.
He nodded, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Sounds good to me. You want me to walk you back to your place?" It was a long shot given that you never accepted these advances in the past, but he was feeling lucky after tonight.
Siren hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Stepping out together into the cool night air, the waves from the beach having a calming effect. Jake fell into step beside her, his hand hovering close but never quite touching.
"So," he said after a moment. "You're finally starting to come around, huh?"
Siren rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Don't get too excited, Bagman. I still think you're an arrogant ass."
Jake chuckled. "And yet, here we are. Walking home together." Hopefully, something that he’ll get to do every night. And maybe, even more hopefully, he’ll be walking with her to a shared home.
She shoots him a sidelong glance, a faint smile gracing her face. "Don't read too much into it, Seresin."
Jake shrugged, his grin widening. "Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?" And he was dreaming. Or, more accurately, has been dreaming. He couldn’t wait to get home, call his ma and tell her that he’d made progress in his relationship with her future daughter-in-law.
For now, they walked in comfortable silence, the tension between you slowly easing. Basking in the company of each other and finally realizing just how easy it is to be side by side. Like she was his missing puzzle piece all this time. Nearing her building, Siren turned to face Jake, a sweet smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"Thanks for walking me home, Jake," she voiced softly.
Jake shrugged, his own smile matching hers. "Anytime, darlin’."
Standing by the doorway in silence, taking each other in, neither wanting to be the one who ends the night. Jake’s eyes flittered down to her lips, a question on the tip of his tongue, when he met Siren's gaze again.
Jake’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper as he asked, “Can I kiss you?”
He knew the question was a risk as he took in the way her eyes ever so slightly widened in shock, but when Jake saw her nod of confirmation, he didn’t want to waste another second.
The moment your lips touched, Jake felt himself go weak in the knees. His imagination hadn’t done her justice; she was far more intoxicating than he could’ve ever anticipated.
He also hadn’t expected her to deepen the kiss. But, by God, he was eternally grateful for it.
Wrapping a hand around her waist and the other resting gently on her cheek, he felt like he could live the rest of his life with Siren in his arms.
The moment she pressed closer to him, fingers tangled and pulling at his hair, he knew he was a goner. It took everything in him not to take it further. But he needed to be patient. Show Siren that she actually meant something to him. That he didn’t just want to use her.
With every bit of self-control he could muster, Jake pulled away, eyes immediately falling to her now swollen lips. I did that. He thought.
You two stayed separated, the moment of silence punctuated by your pants, finally taking in what just happened.
Jake kissed you. Jake actually got to kiss you. You had wanted him to kiss you. You pulled him closer. You’re not slapping him or slamming the door in his face or looking away with regret.
Hallelujah!
As much as Jake wanted to break out in song and celebrate, the only thing he could bring himself to say was:
“I guess we can’t call you Siren anymore, huh?”
With her signature eye roll and a light slap to his chest, she scoffed, “Oh, shut up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A/N: WHAT THE HELLLLLL THIS TOOK ME THREE YEARS IM DYINGGGG - ngl to yall i have a whole universe in my head of jake and siren so if you ever want more drabbles just say the word!! mwah hope you enjoyed these two lovebirds!
tags: @hangmanapologist @rae-gar-targaryen @fanboygarcia @aescapisms @dearwalker @floydsglasses @joaquinwhorres @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @ofstarsandvibranium @bubblebuckys @rhettabbotts @sunmoonandeddie @siempre-bucky @sebs-daybreak @the-omni-princess @viperbarnes @withahappyrefrain @pagesfromthevoid some moots😛