'Bradley's long-time crush might end up having eyes for someone else.'
Word Count: 4,200
Read on AO3
Notes: Can be read as a reader insert or an unnamed AFAB OC. No use of y/n. Will be multi-chapter.
Chapter 1
Bradley should’ve been in a sour mood. He had performed poorly today - everyone had - but his positivity lit up the locker room as the other men licked their wounds and babied sore muscles.
“What the hell could you possibly be so giddy about?” Jake growled, rolling his shoulders.
“Nat just confirmed that a certain someone will be in town this weekend,” Bradley announced. “And she’s meeting us tonight at the bar.”
The men exchanged confused looks with one another.
“Her friend, from college?” Bob probed, curious. “The one you’re always talking about?”
“Oh, so she actually exists?” Fanboy interjected as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Not gonna lie, Rooster, we thought you had made her up.”
“Yeah it was definitely giving a ‘my girlfriend lives in Canada’ vibes,” Payback sniggered to his backseater’s delight.
“I just thought you were in the closet and this was your excuse for not hitting on girls,” Javy added with even more laughter from the group.
Bradley, unphased, confirmed Bob’s question. “Yeah, that’s the one. Haven’t seen her in almost a year but I’m telling you, we had a thing going. Gonna pick up right where we left off.”
“You’re pathetic Rooster,” Jake replied. “Waiting around for some chick. She better be an incredible lay at least.”
“We’ll find out,” Bradley smiled.
“Wait..you haven’t even banged this girl and you’re acting like this?!” Jake barked, exchanging looks with the other equally surprised pilots.
“She’s not some tag chaser, Hangman. She’s a lady.”
Bob smiled to himself at Rooster’s dreamy demeanor juxtaposed to the disgusted scowls of his incensed comrades.
“Sounds like a prude,” Jake huffed. “You’d never catch me simping for some chick who doesn’t put out.”
Bob nearly made the fatal mistake of commenting about the value of getting to know a person before jumping into bed with them, but quickly remembered the company he was currently keeping and kept his mouth shut.
Fortunately, he had a fellow romantic in his midst who wasn’t afraid to voice his unpopular opinion.
“Call me crazy, but I actually respect women,” Bradley said over the groans of the peanut gallery. “And this one is something different. You’ll see when you meet her tonight.”
“Great, can’t wait to meet your cold fish, Rooster,” Jake sighed. “Sounds like she’s barrels of fun.”
“Looking forward to meeting her Bradley,” Bob added with a bit of positivity that was rewarded with a smile from his friend. “She sounds like an interesting person from what you and Natasha have said about her.”
Bradley patted him on shoulder as he passed by, heading to the showers.
“I expect you all to be on your best behavior!” he said, pointing at the other men before disappearing behind the swinging door.
“Yeah, we’ll show her what a real man looks like,” Jake shouted after him, pumping the air with his hips as the others bellowed in hilarity.
Bob discreetly rolled his eyes. He knew none of the other guys would stand a chance at stealing Bradley’s girl despite their posturing. From the little that Bob knew about her, she seemed like a respectable, accomplished woman, not unlike Natasha. It was no mystery why the two women were such close friends and Natasha had nothing but good things to say about her.
Bob first became aware of Bradley’s girl -or rather, Natasha’s friend - several months ago when he was showing his frontseater some photographs he had taken of the sunrise while they waited in the ready room before training.
“Wow,” she commented. “Those are great. Too bad we can’t have professional photography equipment up there. My friend is a photographer and I’d love to take her up in the jet so she can get some unreal shots.”
“Is it her hobby or does she make a living off it?”
“Oh, she’s the real deal,” Nat said, pulling out her phone and tapping through to an Instagram profile with thousands of followers. “She’s worked with National Geographic, the BBC, tons of stuff. Wildlife and nature photography.”
Bob took Natasha’s phone and scrolled through a stream of breathtaking shots of the furthest reaches of the planet. Colossal glaciers, craggy sea cliffs, endless deserts. Exotic animals from every biome.
“She’s very talented,” Bob commented in awe, “and very well traveled.”
“Yeah, that is one of the best parts about her job,” Natasha said. “We’re both all over the world at any given time and it’s great when the stars align and we can meet up when I’m on leave and she’s in the same region so we can get up to our usual shenanigans.”
From there Natasha recounted how they had met in college and kept up their friendship even after Natasha had gone off to flight training and eventually active duty with the Navy. Natasha had even introduced her to some of her Navy friends over the years, including Bradley.
While Natasha had never mentioned it, apparently Bradley and her friend had hit it off and now he had eyes only for her. He spoke of her often. Bob was legitimately looking forward to meeting the woman he had heard so much about in passing and he was happy for Bradley at having found someone so intriguing. He hoped the relationship would work out despite the competing responsibilities of both their professions.
So, a few short hours later, at the Hard Deck, Bob was finally going to be able to put a face to the name he had heard so much about.
It was like any other Friday night at their local haunt. Everyone in their service khakis, letting off some steam after a hard week. The competitiveness, the shit talking, the good natured teasing, the only difference being that Natasha was absent and Bradley was a bundle of nerves, glancing at the door every few seconds.
“Looks like you’ve been stood up,” Jake remarked, lining up a shot on the pool table and taking full advantage of Bradley’s frayed nerves.
“Nah,” Bradley dismissed, still checking his phone for the umpteenth time. “Pheonix would’ve texted if they weren’t making it.”
Bob nursed his coke, hoping Bradley was right.
“Maybe she met a guy on the way here who actually has some balls,” Jake teased.
“Or maybe Phoenix knows she’s not actually into you and doesn’t want to make it awkward,” Javy joined in with a swig of his beer.
“You assholes can talk all you want,” Bradley snapped back. “Our connection was unreal. I’m telling you, she’s the one.”
Bob smiled in agreement and glanced over his shoulder just as his frontseater walked through the door with another woman. His smile faded to a slack-jawed expression as the two made their way through the crowd toward the pool tables.
“See!” Bradley said, stepping forward. “Told you she’d be here.”
Bob and the rest of the group watched as Bradley met the two women by the bar. He gave Natasha’s friend a hug and a kiss on the cheek before gesturing back toward Bob and the others.
The three approached as Natasha introduced her friend to each of the aviators in turn.
The instagram profile that Nat had shown him hadn’t included any personal photos so Bob was unaware of what Nat’s friend looked like. He had assumed, of course, that she was attractive. The female equivalent in looks to Bradley, who, Bob wasn’t too insecure to admit, was a very handsome man.
But Bob was not expecting her to be, well…quite so his type.
The thought jarred him. He had no right to be looking at another man’s love interest and rating her on his own preferences. She couldn't be his type because she wasn’t his in the first place.
Over the months of being in the company of the dagger squad Bob had seen no shortage of drop-dead-gorgeous women pursue and be pursued by the pilots and flight officers he called friends. He was a man, he could appreciate the beauty of women, but he never coveted the attention those women had paid to the other men nor resented those same men for receiving it.
For whatever reason, this was different. Bob suddenly felt the sickening twinge of envy.
When his turn came, Bob hopped off his stool to shake her slim hand, introducing himself as calmly as he could manage.
“Oh! You fly with Nat!” she exclaimed with a bright smile. “I recognize you from her photos.”
“You do?” Bob asked, gobsmacked. He didn’t know Phoenix posted any photos of him, but he was also social media illiterate so he shouldn’t be too surprised either.
“Yeah, I’ve posted a few photos here and there,” Natasha confirmed. “Nothing embarrassing, don’t worry Bob.”
“He’s embarrassing enough in real life,” Jake said, stepping to his side. “Hi, I’m Jake. Nice to meet you. I’m sure Nat and Rooster have told you all about me.”
“They haven’t actually,” she remarked, killing Jake’s grin and making Bob’s grow. “Are you new to the team?”
Bob watched her deadpan delivery matched with the barest crinkle of amusement at the corner of her eyes and knew immediately that she was trolling Jake.
Jake, missing the small cues entirely, recoiled in offense. “Sweetheart, I am the team,” he postured. “Really? You never mentioned me?” Jake looked at Natasha with something between hurt and annoyance.
“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Natasha replied with a coy glance at her friend.
“Anyway,” Bradley interrupted, eager to get his girl away from Jake before he could sabotage the reunion. “We’ve got some catching up to do. Come on Nat, you can buy us a round.”
The three made their way to the bar as Bob’s gaze trailed after them.
“You got to admit,” Javy said once the trio were out of earshot. “She’s kind of hot. I can see why Rooster is obsessed with her.”
The other men nodded in agreement as they got back to their game of pool, save one.
“Yeah, she’s hot but she’s not that hot,” Jake said, dismissively. “Wouldn’t kick her out of bed but I wouldn’t be taking an oath of celibacy like he has.”
Bob had to disagree. He’d take all kinds of oaths for a woman like that…
He had to internally chastise himself again for having inappropriate thoughts about a woman he barely knew and who was already ear-marked for another man. She was none of his business.
“Well, I hope he’s able to seal the deal while she’s in town,” Fanboy remarked. “Dude’s been waiting long enough.”
The typical bullshitting continued, Bob only leaving his stool to take his shot before retreating back to his perch to continue half-listening to Fanboy rattling off on his ranking of various streaming services. When he knew nobody was looking, he cast glances over at the bar where Natasha and her friend laughed alongside Bradley, no doubt recounting some mischief that they had all gotten into overseas. Bradley had an arm flung casually over the back of her chair.
“So have you watched it?” Fanboy’s voice suddenly came back into Bob’s orbit.
“Sorry…have I watched what?” Bob apologized, turning back to his fellow wizzo.
“Dude, I’ve just been telling you about that new prison drama on Netflix for the past five minutes. Where the hell have you been?”
“Sorry, yeah,” Bob pretended to know what Fanboy was talking about. “Um, not really a genre that I follow. I usually watch other stuff on Netflix.”
“Like what?” Fanboy asked, interested, and Bob suddenly felt bad for having ignored their entire conversation.
“Uh, I don’t know…documentaries and things like that…”
“Jesus,” Jake cut in as he waited for Javy to make his shot. “And here I thought you couldn’t be any more fucking lame.”
Fanboy ignored Jake and asked, “Cool, which ones have you watched? I’ll add them to my queue.”
Bob kicked his brain back into gear and listed a few programs that he could think of off-hand. Fanboy tapped away on his phone as he spoke.
“What was that last one?”
“Our Planet, similar to the others. I think they’re all produced by the same studio.”
“They are,” a female voice interjected.
Bob and Fanboy both jumped in their stools. Bob sat up straight and alert when he saw who was speaking to them.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Natasha’s stealthy friend apologized. Unnoticed by Bob and Fanboy, the trio of friends had rejoined the group at the pool table. “I just heard you speaking about Our Planet. I actually shot for them for a few weeks a couple years back.”
“Really?!” Bob said, impressed. “I must have watched that series a hundred times. Where did you film?”
“Iceland, for the episode about coasts,” she answered, clearly delighted to be speaking with someone who was familiar with her work. “There’s actually a post credit scene about us filming nesting puffins using a drone. I’m in it. I don’t speak but you can see me on the film crew.”
“I remember that episode,” Bob said in wonder. “I’ll have to look back and see if I can spot you.”
“Check for my name in the credits too. Probably the highlight of my life will be having my name on the same list of Sir David albeit many many lines further down,” she laughed.
“If I were ever credited alongside Sir David I’d be printing them out and wallpapering my house,” Bob confessed, matching her laughter.
“Who’s Sir David?” Bradley asked, coming up to stand beside them.
“Sir David Attenborough, the broadcaster and naturalist,” Bob replied, a bit stunned that he had to explain who the man was.
“Even I know that,” Fanboy laughed. “He’s been in a million documentaries and shows about nature for decades.”
“Not really into that science shit,” Bradley shrugged before turning to his friend. “Want another drink?”
“Sure, why not,” she replied.
Bob and Fanboy waved off his similar offer before Bradley made his way back to the bar. Natasha took his place beside her friend.
“Not surprised to see you found your way to the backseater section,” Natasha winked. “Wizzos are the fucking nerds of Naval aviation. You’ll have a lot in common.”
“We’re the brains to the frontseaters’ brawn,” Fanboy proclaimed. “They’re all just good looks and adrenaline.”
Natasha narrowed her eyes at Fanboy in mock reproach while her friend considered him and Bob.
“I don’t think good looks are restricted to the front seat,” she said as she took a sip of the dredges of her cocktail.
“Ah, stop it,” Fanboy said. “You’re gonna make us blush.”
Bob was acutely aware that he was starting to do just that.
“Flying isn’t everything,” Natasha added.
“True,” her friend agreed. “Penguins don’t fly and I’ve never met a penguin I didn’t like.”
“Have you met many?” Fanboy asked, mystified.
“A few. Mostly the smaller species outside of Antarctica. I recently saw some fairy penguins in New Zealand.”
“No way, really? Those are my favorite,” Bob blurted out before he could stop himself. “I mean, from photos. I’ve never had the honor of meeting one.”
“I like the big ones,” Fanboy said. “King penguins? Is that what they’re called?”
“Kings are big but Emperors are bigger,” Bob replied.
“Damn, didn’t know penguins had a whole ass dynasty!” Fanboy laughed.
“I’m partial to the macaroni penguin myself,” Natasha’s friend said as Natasha shook her head in mirth at the direction of the conversation.
“Great haircuts,” Bob commented. “Hard to top that.”
The small laugh and genuine smile that she rewarded him with nearly made Bob’s heart stop.
“What are we talking about?”
Everyone turned to Bradley as he arrived with drinks for the girls.
“Penguins. What’s your favorite type?” Natasha asked as she took her drink.
“There’s different types?” Bradley asked, confused.
“About 20,” his friend informed him. “That’s the dream; go to Antarctica to see as many different species in one trip as possible.”
Bradley quirked an eyebrow. “Antarctica is the dream?”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“I don’t know, man,” Bradley grimaced. “I’ve been to Afghanistan and that was enough rocks and nothingness for me. Can’t imagine going to a place that’s even worse on that front.”
His friend shrugged. “I think it would be fascinating.”
Bob was about to agree that he too thought it would be fascinating but he decided it was wiser to keep his opinions to himself. Bradley’s indifference took the wind out of the sails of the conversation and the group busied themselves with watching Jake and Payback bicker over a technicality on the pool table. Bob was keenly aware of the presence of the woman standing next to him. He wanted to engage her again, pester her with questions and - if he was being honest with himself - bask in her attention. If she was any other woman at the bar he might do just that, but Bradley was a constant reminder that Bob had to maintain a polite social distance.
To sever the urge he excused himself to get another coke at the bar. He should probably just leave, he thought, as it was getting late and there really wasn’t any reason for him to stay. But a stubborn part of him quelled the thought. There’s no harm in conversation, he reminded himself. Especially if he didn’t force it.
By the time he returned to the dagger’s territory at the back of the bar the conversation between the three friends and the rest of the group had started to flow again and a new game was set. He took up a cue and got into the fun of it. Natasha’s friend was a terrible shot, but she was a good sport about it, and Bob appreciated having another individual present who wasn’t so hyper competitive. Bradley tried his best to tutor her but his efforts didn’t pay off, which seemed to bother him more than it did her.
Before they knew it the bell for the last call rang.
“I can just get a taxi.”
“No,” Natasha said to her friend, who apparently was staying a bit away from North Island. “You’ll be waiting here forever at closing. Just stay in my room. The couch is…well, it’s not comfortable but it’s a place to sleep.”
“I can drive you,” Bob offered as both women looked up at him. “Sorry, I just overheard your conversation…but I drove tonight and haven’t had a drink. I can drop Nat and some of the guys off at the base down the street and then go wherever.”
Natasha exchanged a look with her friend. “I’d kind of like to sleep in my own bed,” she laughed. “I’m sure your couch is great, Nat, but…”
“Go on!,” Natasha permitted. “You can trust that Bob won’t steal you. Right Bob?”
Natasha gave Bob a pointed look that reminded him that sometimes his frontseater had the uncanny ability to read his mind.
“Yeah, no, I never steal,” Bob said awkwardly, making the two women laugh.
They went about collecting their group and before long Bob and the others were piling into his car, elbowing each other for space.
“Turn on the radio,” Bradley asked from the backseat. He was already three sheets to the wind and wanted his karaoke moment.
Bob flipped through the stations until Bradley commanded him to stop on classic rock. Before Bob even left the parking lot Bradley, Natasha and Fanboy were happily shouting out the lyrics to a Bon Jovi ballad from the backseat. Bob gave an apologetic smile to Natasha’s friend but she smiled back and shrugged as if to say ‘I’ve seen this all before’.
Bradley leaned over the center console to turn up the volume and shouted, “I can’t hear you two singing!”
“Trust me,” his friend said. “You don’t want to hear me sing!”
“And I’m trying not to crash this car!” Bob laughed, eyes on the road.
Bradley groused but retreated to the backseat to take up the chorus with the rest. Over the ruckus Bob heard his passenger say “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this!”
He laughed again, understanding completely. Mercifully, the drive back to base was short and soon the majority of his passengers were falling out of the backseat, ready to call it a night.
“Drive safe,” Natasha said. “And text me if you want brunch this weekend!”
“Will do!” her friend responded.
Bradley, drunk and dreamy eyed, squeezed her shoulder as he exited the vehicle. “Don’t be a stranger. You’ve been away too long.”
“I won’t. Night Bradley,” she smiled. “Nice meeting you Mickey.”
The three made their way back to their housing as Bob turned his car about. His passenger turned down the radio to a whisper of what it had been before. He was grateful for the change; there was only so much dad rock he could handle at 2 a.m.
“Thanks again for driving me home,” she said. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to be doing at this time of night.”
“No problem at all,” Bob replied sincerely. “I’m used to it. I’m usually DD by default anyway.”
“You never drink?”
“I do sometimes,” he explained, “but not usually at Navy bars and not with a bunch of other aviators. It’s just a recipe for disaster for me.” Bob didn’t want to elaborate, but had been burned one too many times letting his guard on a night out with other Navy guys.
“I know what you mean about Navy bars. Nat and I usually end up in at least one wherever we happen to meet up in the world and it’s usually a shitshow,” she laughed. “Don’t get me wrong - it can be fun, but good lord do some of you guys go hard.”
Bob laughed in agreement as he navigated his way onto the freeway. “Is that how you met Bradley? When you and Nat met up abroad?”
Bob didn’t look but he knew she was nodding.
“Natasha was on tour in the Mediterranean and took leave with some other officers in Malta. I met her there, just as a little vacation before we both had to get back to work. Bradley was in her group.”
Bob knew that he shouldn’t needle the topic but he couldn’t help himself. “He talks about you a lot,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Yeah?” her voice was equally neutral, much to Bob’s surprise. “He’s a good guy and it ends up that we have some common ground with our upbringing. Sometimes it’s nice to meet someone who just gets it.”
Bob wasn’t sure what to make of that information but he certainly wasn’t going to urge her to share more if she wasn’t willing to volunteer it.
“You seem like you’re all really close,” she commented. “Despite the ragging - which I guess is typical. And I’ve never known Nat to actually like her backseater so much.”
Bob laughed at that. “We’ve been through a lot together. And I’m glad to hear that Natasha isn’t complaining about me behind my back!”
“No, she has nothing but good things to say about you.”
“Well, I have nothing but good things to say about her too,” Bob smiled. “I know some guys give her flack for being a woman in the cockpit of a fighter jet but she’s hands down the best pilot I’ve ever flown with.”
She was pensive for a moment. “I’ve heard some of the comments other Navy men have made about her over the years and there’s more than a few that wouldn’t want her or any woman as their pilot.”
“They’re idiots,” Bob replied with zero humor. “Their egos won’t let them admit that a woman might be better than them at anything. You find a lot of that in the Navy unfortunately, and aviation is the worst for it. But that didn’t stop Nat from becoming the best of the best.”
“That would make you the best of the best too. As her backseater, right?”
Bob, while willing to espouse the talents of his frontseater all day every day, still had a bit of difficulty acknowledging his own aptitude.
“Well, maybe,” he stumbled. “I guess, kind of. I’m up there.”
She huffed with amusement, “You have to be the most humble fighter pilot I have ever met.”
Bob shrugged. “Well, I’m not a pilot. I’m just a flight officer.”
She hummed and Bob heard her shift in the seat beside him. He glanced over and her tired eyes met his for a brief, intense moment.
“She’s right. You really aren’t like the others, are you?”
If Bob’s reflexes weren’t honed so sharp by his profession he would’ve swerved off the road. The words themselves said little, but the way she said them… he felt like she saw him, and for someone who was so often overlooked, it was an intoxicating feeling.
He did his best to compose himself back to neutrality.
“I…I just try to be who I am, I suppose, and nothing else.”
Bob could hear her smile and the tired sigh that followed as she relaxed into his passenger seat. He did his damndest to regulate his heartrate as he pulled into her neighborhood and parked in front of her apartment.
“Thanks again,” she said, collecting her things. “I really mean it. This was way better than sleeping on Nat’s couch.”
“I didn’t mind at all,” Bob replied. “Hopefully I’ll see you around.”
“I hope so too,” she said, jumping out of his car and giving a little wave.
He returned the wave and waited until she made it safely into her apartment. He pulled his car into the nearest driveway and turned around, knowing he was totally, completely and unquestionably screwed.
I've been through the ringer lately with school shit and back-to-back submarine deployments (someone please tell the Navy that I'd really like extended time with my husband; I'm tired of him being on the boat); needless to say, this has been on the backburner for a minute and it was high time I get this written for y'all's enjoyment. Thanks so much for your patience; I can't wait for you guys to read this. <3
Things start heating up for Bob and Katie.
BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl
Word count: 7.2K
MAJOR WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY. SMUT. MINORS DNI.
MINOR WARNINGS: colorful language, not beta-read (we die like men)
***
Week 6, Monday. It’s been barely a minute since the morning portion of instruction finished, and Fanboy is already accosting Katie. Well, not accosting - more like sidling up alongside her with his arms folded and his eyes glimmering with… something. She wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘accusing’, but whatever it is, it comes pretty damn close to it.
“All right, spill - what happened this weekend?”
Boy, nothing gets by you, does it? “What do you mean ‘what happened this weekend’?”
“Oh girl, don’t even,” Fanboy retorts with a snort as they wander out into the hallway. “You and Bob have been staring and smiling at each other alllll morning, which leads me to believe that something happened between you guys. So, what happened?”
Despite Fanboy being rather annoyingly perceptive about her love life (damn him), Katie can only chuckle. “Really hell-bent on winning that five bucks, huh?”
“I mean, it’s an easy win for me; it’s obvious you two have something going on.”
“Either that, or you’re seeing things. Speaking of seeing things, what’s this I hear about you seeing a girl in Los Angeles? Halfpint said you were gone all weekend with someone-”
“Ah ah ah, we’re not talking about me; stop avoiding the question-”
“Oh my god - we went to the aquarium and looked at fish. Happy now?” In her defense, she is telling Fanboy the truth - she just fails to mention the kiss they shared in the kelp forest exhibit, the hours of conversation, and the secondary kiss she gave him after he walked her back to her room. It’s not like it’s important for him to know the details right now.
Fanboy knows she’s lying - or, at the very least, he looks at her like he knows she’s lying, complete with his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed, just the tiniest bit. “You’re not telling me something. I dunno what it is yet, but I’ll figure it out - and you’re in trouble when I do.”
Katie heaves a sigh. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”
Fanboy sounds almost affronted when he scoffs at her. “I’ve got five dollars on the line; of course I’m not letting it go.” He sets his garrison cap squarely on his head and lines it up with the bridge of his nose, then starts for the front door - only to double back and lean in towards Katie. “Her name’s Gianna, by the way.”
He’s already walking by the time Katie thinks to respond. “You better gimme details on her, Garcia!”
“Only when you gimme details on you and Bobber!” he yells as a final farewell, just as the front doors cut him off with a loud clang!
Katie can’t help but groan. Can’t he at least give her the courtesy of some privacy before divulging the details of her love life? Apparently not. Nosy-ass.
“Boy, Fanboy’s in fine form today, isn’t he?” Bob’s come up behind her, hand brushing her shoulder blade to let her know that he’s there.
She ignores the tingling she gets from his hand brushing against her and sighs. “You heard all that, huh?”
“Yeah… What was that all about?”
Katie blows a raspberry with her lips, shakes her head. “He’s being nosy about this past weekend. He’s got money riding on you and me getting together.”
“Wait…” Bob’s eyebrows furrow. “There’s a bet going?”
“Five dollars that you and I become a thing in a matter of weeks,” Katie explains. She doesn’t even try to hide the wince on her face. “In my defense, I didn’t do shit to encourage him. He made the bet all on his own.”
“Sounds like something he’d do,” Bob replies with a hum as he’s positioning his garrison cap.
They’re outside now, making their way towards Katie’s 4Runner. The sun’s hanging directly overhead, beaming down and hitting Bob’s hair in a way that turns it to gold in the light. For a second, it’s all Katie can focus on, all she wants to focus on. Christ, he’s handsome…
She coughs after a moment. She hates to end it so soon. “Yeah, well, his competitiveness is making him badger me for money. He’s pretty well convinced you and I are a sure thing.”
“Well, what do you think? Are we a sure thing?”
Katie’s breath stops mid-inhale. Oh boy. She should’ve known that it was going to come up; she just wasn’t expecting it to come up as soon as it did.
She forces the air out in a small exhale, purses her lips as they climb into the 4Runner. “I think…” Choose your words carefully Katie… “I think we only just realized we have feelings for each other,” she says slowly. “And… while we’re figuring out where we wanna go with those feelings, I think I want to take things slow with you.”
She’s half-expecting Bob to hang his head in disappointment, or to say something passive-aggressive in response - anything to suggest she’s in the wrong for trying to set boundaries and manage expectations. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to her.
To her surprise, though, Bob nods. “That’s more than fair. Certainly makes things a little less intimidating.”
When he says that, Katie’s not sure if he’s speaking for her, or for himself.
In any case, she hums in agreement as she starts the car up - then smirks. “If last weekend was any indicator, though, I’d say things are heading in a good direction.” She reaches over, slips a hand into Bob’s, squeezes softly as her eyes meet his. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Bob gives her a grin and his own squeeze of her hand as a reply. Wholeheartedly, it seems to say.
She smiles, cranks her music volume, and points them in the direction of downtown San Diego.
Likewise, Bob.
Likewise.
***
Tuesday morning is a timeframe like most others these days - early rise, quick rinse, fresh flight suit…
And coffee with Bob in his lodge room.
At 0730 he’s in his usual spot behind the kitchen bartop, hand-grinding coffee beans and keeping a casual eye on the kettle on the stove, watching for steam. Equally, Katie is in her usual spot too, elbow on the counter, propping up her head resting in her hand, eyes on Bob, lazy, sleepy half-smile on her face. She likes watching him make coffee for the both of them. It’s soothing, a balm for the unpleasantness of waking up early in the morning.
Beans sufficiently ground, Bob pops the cap on the grinder and dumps them into his French press. “This stuff smells phenomenal. Where did you get it from again?”
“Y’know James Coffee over on India Street?”
“Oh yeah, those guys. Been meaning to check ‘em out sometime. How’s their coffee?”
Katie nods. “It’s really good - kinda’ fruity. At least that’s what the guy who sold it to me said.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Bob takes the kettle in one hand, wets the grounds with some water before giving them a stir. “You can smell the berries and chocolate in the beans.” He pours the rest of the water into the press, all the way to the top, then sets the plunger. “It’s gonna make a helluva cup of coffee, I can tell you that much.”
He splits the resulting liquid between two white mugs, and hands one off to Katie, who takes a single long sip and hums serenely. Warm, toasty, and chocolatey. Bob’s right - this is a damn good cup of coffee.
“Dude, can I just, like… Take you back to Virginia with me when this is all over? Have you make me coffee everyday or something? Like goddamn.” She takes another sip of coffee, revels in the rich, fruity taste, the heat warming her insides, the caffeine flowing through her. “Seriously, I don’t think I can go back to my Keurig after this,” she says with a laugh.
Bob chuckles as he comes around the bartop and takes the seat to Katie’s left. “I dunno. Big daddy Navy might have something to say about that, but” - he takes a long sip - “I’m sure we could figure something out.”
“Eh, it’s nothing an SRC can’t take care of.”
A shrug and a lip-curl of agreement. “SRC’s do take care of a lot of things.”
“See? Problem solved.” Katie takes another pull of coffee. Right now she can’t get enough of it, it’s so good. “Just say that you’re, I dunno… establishing a coffee mess detachment in Norfolk. Y’know, something that says ‘mission critical’ and makes upper leadership happy.”
“Spoken as if it’s actually gonna work,” Bob replies with a snicker.
“Oh what, you think it won’t?”
“Trust me, I wish it would.”
“Oh, it definitely will. I mean, it’s gotta; I’ve got cute guy-supplied coffee on the line here.”
Bob’s cheeks color, and there’s just the tiniest hint of bashfulness in the smile that crosses his face. “Cute, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” She leans into him, hand running feather-light down his forearm before resting atop his free hand. “Very cute.”
Her heart still pounds in her chest when she leans in further and kisses Bob. She may be the picture of cool and collected on the outside, but there’s no controlling the anxious shriek of her nerves, the too-fast rush of her blood through her veins as her lips brush his, taste him. Kissing a man certainly isn’t a novelty for Katie, but…
This is Bob Floyd she’s kissing now, and Bob, he’s… Well, where the hell does Katie begin? He’s…
Unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.
She pulls back, surveys his face for a moment. Bob is blank-faced - dumbstruck, even. Clearly he wasn’t expecting a kiss this morning.
“What about what you said yesterday?”
Despite the hammering in her ribs, she sidles up next to Bob, leans until her lips are just close enough to brush the shell of his ear. Bold of her. VERY bold of her. “Just because we’re taking it slow, doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you,” she whispers.
Katie can practically feel the heat coming off of Bob all of a sudden, can feel the goosebumps prickling across his skin. Hell, his breathing hitches for a second. So. Close proximity definitely has an effect on him. It’s a bit of a mean thing to do this early in the morning, but she’s definitely got his attention with that. She’s also fairly certain he’s not going to complain much about it, if he even complains at all.
A moment later, Bob replies. “Well,” he says around a thick swallow, “thank god for that, because I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since Saturday.”
He hasn’t?
He turns back towards Katie, and picks up where she left off, nice, easy, no pressure. Unlike Katie, though, he doesn’t pull back after the one kiss. No - he stays there, wanting more, giving more. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, so nice and tender, and suddenly Katie’s the one with goosebumps. It’s so… intimate. It’s closeness that she hasn’t had, not in a long, long time.
And it’s closeness that she wants more of.
Her hands move of their own free will, creeping up to cradle Bob’s jaw, every bit as tender as the embrace he has her in, more more more please more -
And then the soft rattle of a doorknob turning has them breaking apart and shoving away faster than they have time to process. Dashed is the moment of closeness, the moment of bliss that Katie was all too happy to let herself sink into - like a bubble bursting and fizzing into the ether.
The door to the left-side bedroom swings open, and out comes Rapture, swiping a hand down his sleep-riddled face, the very picture of ‘I’m up too early against my will’ as he all but stumbles into the shared space.
He’s utterly oblivious to his WSO having kissed their fellow aviator all but two seconds ago, to the flushed pink tinting both their cheeks, their lips.
And dare Katie even think it for a second, but she’s… annoyed by the sudden appearance of Bob’s front-seater. Very annoyed.
“Pre-class coffee?” Rapture mumbles, to which Bob nods in answer. “Smells good.”
“Man, you have no idea. This stuff is amazing. You want a cup?”
Rapture all but moans. “Please.”
It’s a fight to keep a scowl from creeping across her face. Goddamn it Rapture, you couldn’t have done this earlier?
Bob seems to sense the thought running through Katie’s head, because his eyes dart to hers as he stands and goes to fix a cup of coffee for his front-seater - and if she’s reading the glimmer in them correctly, it’s definitely saying “I hear you.”
Perhaps he also had other things in mind before Rapture showed up.
In an attempt to be conversational while waiting on the coffee, Rapture turns to Katie. “How’re you doing this morning?”
“Not too bad. Enjoying my one moment of peace for the day before other people see fit to destroy it.” The smile on her face is polite, but tight. Very tight. Pointedly tight.
“Christ, that’s a mood,” Rapture mutters before taking the coffee Bob’s just passed to him and drinking, seemingly unfazed by the wording and stiff expression - and heaves a long sigh of bliss. “Y’think anyone’ll care if I take the mug with me off lodge property?”
“Uh… No?”
“Good. This is coming with me then. Fuck, this is good.” He takes another sip, smacks his lips, starts for the front door. “I’ll see y’all at the schoolhouse.”
Then, Rapture’s gone, breezing through the front door, leaving Bob and Katie to slump in the kitchen. Universe: one. Two romantically involved aviators: zero.
“God bless my front-seater, but he has terrible timing sometimes,” Bob all but groans.
“Yeah, tell me about it. S’pose we oughta’ follow his lead though and get moving; muster is in 15 minutes.”
“Yeah, you’re right; we should go. You driving or am I?”
“Eh, I’ll drive.”
“All right. Just leave your mug on the counter; I’ll wash it later.” Bob scoops up his notebooks and study material, dumps it into the black Navy-issued backpack resting against the kitchen floorboards, loops his arms through one of the straps, grabs his garrison cap off the counter. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
“‘Kay. Let’s go.”
They march down the hall towards the stairwell at the opposite end, strides long and purposeful, minds clear and focused now. At least, Katie’s mind is, no thanks to Rapture and his sudden interruption. It’s definitely for the best though; being half-dazed and delirious from a kiss while learning rigorous combative flight technique is probably not the best state to be in.
They’re making their way down the stairs, boots all but thundering as they hit the steps, when Bob comes to a standstill right at the bottom. Katie’s lucky she catches herself in time; one more step forward and she would be tumbling over him.
“You good there?”
“Fine. Just forgot something, is all.”
Katie’s eyebrow shoots up. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Bob says nothing else - just turns and leans into Katie and kisses her, right there at the bottom the stairwell, one second, two seconds, three. When he pulls away, there’s a grin - a self-satisfied, mischievous one - on his face. “That. We’re good now.”
“You’re so ridiculous.” Even though her eyes roll and her voice scoffs, her lips still curl upwards in a smile.
“Can’t help it that I like kissing you - and that I’m gonna take every chance I get to do it.”
And with that, Bob smiles broadly, nudges Katie in the shoulder, and pushes through the door into the lobby, leaving Katie to follow with her mouth in a silly grin and her face flushed.
So much for having a clear mind today.
***
The outdoors call to Katie today, more than usual. It probably has something to do with today’s lecture and hop being on the more hellish side, but by the time everyone’s released for the day and she’s made it back to her room to change, the initial reason doesn’t matter all that much. She just has to get outside, and soon.
She texts Bob and Fanboy as she’s swapping over to shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. “Going hiking, y’all wanna come with?”
Bob’s answer comes through almost immediately. “Sure. Where to?”
“No idea,” Katie texts, shrugging as she does, as though Bob can somehow see her reacting to the message. “You wanna pick?”
As Bob takes time to ponder, another message chirps through - Fanboy this time. “Fuck it, why not?” his message reads. “Where we going?”
“No idea. Bob’s picking a spot.”
“Cool cool. Bobber, where to?”
“Uhhhhhh thoughts on Bayside Trail? Two and a half mi roundtrip and it’s right along the ocean.”
Ah, a nice, quick oceanside hike. More importantly, a nice, quick oceanside hike at golden hour. How pretty - and romantic, Katie realizes a second later.
Shit. Fanboy is definitely going to read into this now.
She swears to herself, threads her braided hair through the back of the ball cap Bob bought for her, pulls it down tight on her head. She suddenly finds herself praying to the higher powers that be, asking them to please, for the love of all things holy, let her (and Bob, for that matter) have a nice afternoon without any prying questions from their friend, or (Christ) even so much as a sly sideways glance at the two of them.
HA, she thinks, then groans. Who the fuck am I kidding?
Much to Katie’s surprise, though, he doesn’t. In fact, Fanboy hardly says a damn word the whole time they’re together. Even when it’s an hour and a half later and she and Bob are drifting and talking to each other a good deal closer than most friends would, he doesn’t say anything.
Maybe he doesn’t notice, Katie thinks briefly, right before shaking her head. No way. He’s noticed and he’s just choosing not to say anything.
She all but confirms this when they reach the trail’s terminus and she snaps a picture of the three of them, standing high above the ocean in all its blue- and gold-hued glory, and goddamn it if Fanboy doesn’t smirk in the picture - smirk at her, more specifically.
Yep, he definitely noticed.
And he makes as much clear when he knocks shoulders with her on the return trip and murmurs to her, “Still think you’re not paying me that five bucks?”
“Yeah, when hell freezes over.”
“Y’know, that day might be coming a lot sooner than you think.”
“Fanboy, I’m gonna kill you.”
“Yeah yeah, only after you pay me.”
Insufferable, that one. Really and truly insufferable.
And yet, Katie doesn’t have it in her to resent Fanboy. For as much as he pokes at and pesters her about it, for as much as it drives her damn nuts, they both know that there’s a point being made:
Something is brewing between her and Bob, something big, and to continue to deny it is a fool’s errand. Fanboy’s right, and not only does he know it, but Katie knows it too.
…She’s still not giving him the money, though.
***
She hasn’t stopped thinking about Tuesday morning.
It’s been two days since then and her face still feels warm where Bob had laid his hand - tingly warm, good warm. A man caressing her face the way he did isn’t a novel experience to her - at least, it shouldn’t be; past boyfriends and flings have made similar moves in similar situations, but none of them affected her the way this one, this man, did.
It’s made Katie realize lately how badly - how very, very badly - she wants Bob to touch her like that. To touch her in general. To run his hands over her face and her body and…
Her cheeks go from pale and freckled to burning and flushed in a matter of seconds. It paints a wonderful image in her head, but she scolds herself. They’ve only just started figuring things out; she doesn’t need to be having those thoughts just yet.
But here she is, having them anyway. And she’s not in much of a rush to stop them.
Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them.
Oh god, she’s in trouble. She’s supposed to be meeting up with him in five minutes for some studying, and in his room, no less. How the hell is she supposed to manage that with the thoughts, the images racing through her head?
Katie groans, tips forward and lets her forehead smack against the mirror in her bathroom. “Please, I am begging you,” she moans to herself, “get your shit together. You’re supposed to be taking this slow, remember?”
If only it were so easy to keep that in mind.
She splashes some water on her face, wills her brain to stop racing and the flush in her face to disappear. The flush proves easy to dispel. The thoughts? Not so much. They circle and circle, over and over, and goddamn it, this is so not helping.
It’s only when she forces herself to think of the most unsexy things in the world - namely, UCMJ articles and the Navy code of ethics - that she’s able to feel calm enough to handle things. She’s in control. She can do this.
…Right?
Turns out that’s a lie - a big, fat one, because when Bob greets her in his doorway five minutes later, wearing a USN hoodie with the sleeves bunched up to reveal the tone of his forearms, Katie’s body goes hot and all thoughts of calm and control go flying out of her head.
Did he have to wear something that shows off one of the best parts of him?
Thinking those thoughts about a friend of yours… Have you no shame?
For once, Katie doesn’t wince at the nagging little voice in the back of her head.
“All right, I’ve got Thai food on the counter,” Bob says without a moment of hesitation. “I say we eat first and then dive into studying.”
It’s enough to snap Katie out of her momentary stupor. She nods in agreement and follows him through the doorway. “What’ve you got?”
“Summer rolls with peanut sauce, pork pad kee mao, and green curry with chicken. The pad kee mao’s good but if you’re not a fan of spicy, I’d skip it.”
“Well,” Katie asks as she takes a plate from him, “how spicy are we talking here?”
“Like a five, maybe a soft six out of ten.”
“Am I gonna be doubled over in your bathroom in twenty minutes if I eat it?”
“Eh, I don't think so. If you can handle last week's Chinese food, you'll handle this just fine."
Katie’s first response is to purse her lips in thought - then to take the spoon nestled in the noodles and dump a big scoop of them onto her plate. “Guess we’ll see how I’m doing in twenty minutes then.”
Luckily for her, twenty minutes go by without any issue (fire-coated throat and tongue notwithstanding). She makes a mental note to order from this place sometime after going for her second serving of pad kee mao and green curry. Or, better yet, to just have Bob make all her food decisions from now on. He hasn’t steered wrong yet and the food he’s picked out only seems to get better.
“Lecture was pretty dense today…” Bob flips open one of his many notebooks, eyes scanning through line after line of bullet points and side notes. “Wanna start with radar?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
And so it goes. Books are flipped open, old notes are thumbed through, new notes are scribbled down in the margins. For Bob and Katie, it’s the heaviest use of their brain power outside of the schoolhouse.
Three hours later, at 2100, they sit side by side on the sofa in Bob’s living space, dialed into their studies while vaporwave drones in the background, poring over pages and pages of notes and analysis, over papers that lay scattered across the coffee table, over… Well, who really knows at this point?
Katie traces a line of text with the tip of her pen, willing the words to, one: make sense; and two: stick in any way possible. Whether it’s due to the late hour or her own subconscious desire to stop learning for the day, none of what she’s reading is making much sense to her.
Seems like there’s only one thing to do at this point.
She sighs, turns to Bob, whose eyes seem to rove over the same paragraph repeatedly in his book. “Is your brain as soupy as mine or…?”
Bob snorts. “Katie, if you tipped my head to one side, I’m pretty sure it would fall out of my ear.”
Noted.
“So we’re calling it for the night then?”
A nod. “Yeah, we’re calling it.”
“Fair enough.” Katie flips her guidance book shut, tosses the pen onto the coffee table with a curt sigh. “Now what?”
“Dunno - we relax, I guess.”
“As if we don’t relax together every weekend?” Katie says wryly.
“Ah, that’s different. That’s ‘morale is high and we have a whole day to ourselves’ relaxing. This is ‘stare at a wall and contemplate our life choices’ relaxing.”
“Seems a little sad, but I suppose you’re right.” Katie sinks back into the couch, blows a strand of hair out of her face. “I am kind of wondering what I got myself into here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, y’know, wondering why I said ‘sure’ to my boss when he told me I was going to TOPGUN, that sort of thing. All it’s done for me is get my ass kicked.”
“Well, even if it is getting your ass kicked, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Glad someone is,” Katie replies with snark.
“Hey, c’mon now, I am. You’re one of the few people keeping me sane here.”
“Oh, is that why you’re so interested in me?”
Bob only gives Katie a look that can be described as withering, but it’s hard to call it that when he can barely keep a smile from spreading across his face. “You know it’s for more than that.”
“I know. I’m just teasing. Oh man…”
Katie tips to the side, into Bob, her temple knocking into the curve of his shoulder. Bob, meanwhile, stacks himself on top of Katie with a sigh, cheek pressing into the crown of her head. His hand comes to rest on the inside of her leg, by her knee, but he doesn’t dare inch it up any further than that.
It doesn’t matter. Even in a spot so unassuming, his hand on her knee is enough to send lightning ripping up her spine.
Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This man is going to be the death of her.
“Guess it’s my turn to be the nervous wreck now,” she comments wryly, voice bordering on a rasp.
She can feel Bob frown against the crown of her head. “Why do you say that?”
“Y’know how you weren’t able to stop thinking about kissing me? Guess it’s my turn now.”
“…Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm. Your hand on my knee is, uh, having quite an effect.” As if emphasizing her words, her knee gives a twitch beneath his hand.
“If it’s making you uncomfortable I can take it off-”
“No, no. It’s…” Oh man, why are words suddenly hard? “I want you to keep it there. It’s… It’s nice.”
“Yeah?”
She manages a nod, the words failing her this time. All she can think about - all that really matters - is his hand on her leg - that closeness between them.
Oh, they’re playing a dangerous game now. Katie realizes it the second the thought goes through her head. After that first kiss in the aquarium, she’s realized just how starved for physical contact she’s been, and with Bob being more than willing to give it to her…
Oh yes - a dangerous game, indeed.
And Katie can’t bring herself to care all of a sudden.
She turns, curls into him with a long, soft sigh, face pressing into the curve of his neck. He’s warm - so warm, and it radiates through, soaks into her, and it damn near makes her hum. This. This is nice. Real nice.
She drapes an arm loosely across him, nuzzles into Bob, seeking the heat of him.
Bob is utterly still beneath her.
…To hell with it.
Katie removes her face from the crook of his neck - only to lean in, mouth slanting over Bob’s in a soft, questioning kiss. Do you want this?
His hand slides up her shoulder, rests on her neck, pulls her closer, ever so gentle. Please.
She obliges. More than that, actually; she pushes in hard, steals the breath from his lungs and replaces it with her own. She needs to be close to him, as close as humanly possible - needs to feel him in some way.
And Bob? Bob meets her halfway every time she dips in, meets Katie touch for touch, kiss for kiss, sigh for sigh. His teeth prick down on her lower lip and tug it into his mouth, and it’s all Katie can do to clamp down on the heat surging between her legs. The thoughts from earlier resurface. She can’t get enough of the way he feels against her.
She needs more.
She threads her fingers into Bob’s golden-brown hair, nails digging ever so gently into his scalp. It’s been a long time since she’s done this - shamelessly made out with a man, lost herself in the fog of lips and teeth and tongue. Lips that burn hot against her own. Teeth that pull her in close, into him. Tongue that tastes her. And god, is Bob good with them - better than she would’ve guessed.
It makes Katie wonder what else he’s capable of…
Makes her wonder where else he could make her burn and feel utterly breathless.
Before she’s even fully aware of it, her leg is thrown over Bob’s lap and she’s half straddling him, body going through motions she hasn’t been through in ages, motions she’s all too happy to surrender herself to - that is, until Bob groans beneath her, and suddenly her brain catches up with the rest of her body and it all comes to a screeching halt. In an instant she’s pulling back, her breath frozen in her throat and her eyes wide in mortification.
“Oh my god-” She shoves herself off, puts some desperately-needed space between the two of them. “I’m so sorry, I got totally carried away-”
“Katie-”
“I’m not trying to give you mixed signals or force you into something-”
“Katie-”
“I swear I wasn’t trying to-”
“Katie!”
Katie freezes, a deer caught in the headlights. Did she just royally screw things up?
Her heart is hammering in her chest as Bob, with his mussed hair and flushed cheeks and full lips, reaches over and takes her face in both his hands, thumbs brushing over the lines of her cheekbones. “Look at me, look at me - it’s okay. You did nothing wrong.”
“But- But you groaned and-” Why, why, why does she sound like a nervous high-schooler? Christ - she really is out of practice with this…
Bob chuckles, and a bit breathlessly at that. “I can’t help it when I’ve got a girl practically on top of me, doing some real nice things to me…”
“I, uh… don’t know if that helps.”
“Katie, it’s fine. I’m having the time of my life here. I mean…” His eyes travel downward, and Katie follows them, and…
It’s the first time she’s looked at him since they started this whole thing - really looked at him. And now that she’s here, in this moment, there’s no missing the stiffness in Bob’s jeans. It’s a total rush of blood to the head, seeing how she’s affected him.
Katie lifts her head, light blue gaze meeting Bob’s newly dark blue gaze. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“Oh god, more than anything, but…” He’s gentle as he takes her hands in his. “Do you wanna keep going?”
The warmth pulsing between Katie’s legs all but screams ‘yes’ - but she finds herself sighing and drawing back. “Maybe we should hold back a little, or… I dunno. I think if we’re trying to take it slow and figure things out, this kind of isn’t the way to do it… Y’know?”
“Yeah, you do have a point there.”
She’s waiting for the 180, the moment when he tells her that he is, in fact, disappointed in her for stopping and guilts her into changing her mind. Only it never comes. Of course it never comes, because it’s Bob, and why on earth would he do that? He’s not one of the boyfriends of days past.
And he’s certainly not her.
“D’you want me to walk you back?”
Yes, and lock us in my room and pin me to my bed and- “I appreciate the offer, but uh, there’s that slight risk of getting handsy again and uh…”
Bob’s lips quirk up in a smirk. “Well, who says that’s a bad thing?”
The heat in Katie’s core flares like a sunburst. Whether or not Bob knows it, he’s making it damn difficult for her to want to slow this down.
“I think I’ll walk myself back,” she answers softly - then smiles. “But thank you.”
She doesn’t give Bob a chance to convince her to stay, or even to reply; to do so would be to invite trouble - tempting, fun trouble, yes, but trouble all the same.
She stands, gathers up her instruction binders and notebooks into her arms, her pens clasped in one hand, key card clasped in the other. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you.” His eyes remain locked on her, smoldering despite the easygoing, sweet smile on his face. It’s a look that sends heat blazing through Katie’s body.
Yes, time for her to go.
She turns, makes for the front door, slips through it, her steps silent.
She’s certain she can feel Bob’s eyes on her long after the door shuts behind her.
***
The walk back from Bob’s room to Katie’s own is a long one.
At least, she tries to make it that way. She makes her steps slow and measured, takes the stairs down to the first floor, then all the way back up to the third, and makes her steps even more slow and measured going down the hallway…
All in an effort to quell the burning of her body, the burning between her legs.
Something that makes Katie want to turn on her heel and march right back to Bob’s room.
To finish what they started.
She approaches her room, heart thumping, pounding in her rib cage, body aching - aching in ways it hasn’t in a long time. Christ, everything in the realm of intimacy hasn’t happened in a long time. It’s been years between partners - hell, flings - and now she seemingly has one again and everything in her just… aches. Yearns.
Needs. Needs needs needs.
There’s only one light on in the living space of her room. In the bedroom to the right, it is mercifully black, quiet - the perfect environment to help quiet the storm roiling within her.
Hopefully.
Her study materials are tossed into the living space without a second thought, the single light shut off with a paw of her hand against the wall. She slips into the bedroom, closes the door, takes the one, two, three, four steps to her bed before twisting and falling back-first into it. It takes minutes for her to adjust to the darkness surrounding her, to the stillness that comes with it.
To the thoughts, the feelings it seems to invite.
Katie knows full well that she is alone in the room, but the darkness seems to conjure shadows, figures. Figures that can move. Figures that can do things. Things to her.
Things she had half a mind to do with Bob earlier.
Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them.
They were definitely going somewhere before her thoughts had stalled her and pulled her out of the fog, somewhere heated. Katie had felt one of his hands trailing down her side, coming to rest on her hip, fingers flexing, gripping firm yet gentle. Bob had wanted her there, just as much as she’d wanted to be there, and…
The ache is back. And it’s between her legs again, warm and pulsing and wanting. She squeezes her thighs together, bites her lip at the pressure it creates.
And it does nothing to alleviate the burning she feels. In fact, it intensifies it.
She needs more.
She needs release.
Somewhere in the five seconds it takes her to figure out what her body is desperate - screaming - for, Katie’s heartbeat goes erratic, off-sync and shaking in her rib cage. This. She really hasn’t done this in a long time.
Her breath stutters out of her mouth in shallow breaths as she reaches down and undoes the button and zip of her jeans, pushes them down to a bunch around her knees. The cool air from the air conditioning nips into the skin of her thighs and she twitches, presses her legs together again, writhes when it gives her that sweet, warm pressure, those goosebumps prickling across her skin. They’re featherlight, almost like the barest brush of a hand.
What Katie imagines Bob’s hands feel like, brushing ever-so-gentle across her bare skin.
She can envision it: the long, delicate fingers, the soft tips, the veins running along the back, those beautiful, beautiful hands just… touching, tracing, whispering along her.
Her hands move along the same trail he would take with his. They skim up the length of her quad muscles, drift up and across her hip bones, her stomach, the sensation like small bolts of lightning and heat on her skin. They continue upwards, nudging up the hem of her t-shirt, the band of her bralette, up and up and up, and they whisper across the swell of her breasts, now pebbled and sensitive in the chilled air of her room. Then, imagination has them moving back down, across the planes of her stomach, across her pelvis, and then her fingers alight along the lace edge of her underwear and…
She contemplates leaving them on and simply pushing them to the side, or even just dipping her hand beneath and forgoing the extra movement. She has no need for it, for all the suspense and built-up tension and thrill.
But what would Bob want? What would he do?
Bob, Katie decides, would pull them down - not all the way, just to around her thighs, just enough to give him full view, full access. He would want to see all of her; Katie’s sure of it.
So, she inches her underwear down, grants herself that openness, that exposure. The cold air breathes across her, across the wetness of her, and she shudders at the sensation and fuck, she needs to touch herself now.
Her fingers go low and drag upwards through her folds, arousal wetting the tips, and it’s bliss as they circle her clit, nice and slow and steady. She imagines it’s Bob doing it, that it’s his fingers circling her, rolling across her most sensitive parts. It could’ve been his fingers, his hands doing this, if she hadn’t let her brain catch up and she’d just let them feel, lose themselves to the pleasure, she thinks.
No matter now. She’s in the dark, and here, anything is possible. Here, Bob can give her the touch, the pleasure, the release she so desperately craves.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, deep in the recesses, a voice - a shitty, cutting one - hisses at her that what she’s doing is the height of crass, the height of disgusting, masturbating to someone she knows but isn’t quite involved with. She gives the thought maybe a half-second of consideration - and then decides that she doesn’t care, not as her fingers tease and touch and stroke softly. She finds that the voice deadens to a whisper the more she does it.
Of course, Katie finds that it disappears entirely when she drops her hand fully between her legs and slips her middle and ring fingers inside, palm pressing against her clit as she curls into her own velvet softness, breath leaving her lungs in a gasp, because oh good god, she forgot how good this feels…
And then she thinks of Bob doing it and suddenly her body blazes.
He had a gentleness to him when he touched her earlier in his room. The way his hands ran over her, sure and warm and soft… It’s that same gentleness she pictures, feels in the hand between her legs, that same soft touch that she writhes and arches against.
Hands on her face. Hands on her body. Hands everywhere she can think to put them.
It’s not long before heat, sinful and borderline unbearable, is pooling low in her stomach and her cunt is fluttering around her fingers, desperate for one more touch, one more stroke that will send her over the edge. It’s an effort to keep her moaning contained; she has to bite down hard on her lip to keep it from floating through the walls - but god, she can’t help herself. The things that run through her head, that she feels… In the dark, it’s Bob’s hand that Katie rides, his fingers that clench her bare breast, pinch and roll her peaked nipple…
And in the dark, it’s his thumb that drags up and presses into her clit, rolling and stroking across it, and it feels so good that it makes Katie want to sob, and… and…
It’s enough. She comes hard, a ragged cry tearing from her mouth as her body bows and spasms against the bed, against the hand still sliding into her, drawing out every last little bit of pleasure, until she finally collapses against the mattress, chest heaving with the intensity of it all. For something so… one-sided, it’s left her feeling spent - utterly mindless.
A feeling she hasn’t had in a long while.
Haze quickly fills her, the sleepy, sated kind. Katie doesn’t even bother redressing, or crawling into bed properly. She shucks off her half-removed clothing and flings them into the darkness of her bedroom, to be dealt with in the early hours of the morning. Then, she pulls the nearest edge of the covers over her, and wraps, swaddles herself within them, warmth immediately seeping into her naked body and lulling her, easing her into sleep.
Burning blue eyes are the last thing her mind conjures before she slips off into oblivion, warm, black, and depthless.
Omg!!! Well worth the wait and sorry it took me just as long to get around to commenting 😖😖😖
Firstly, we love a content warning, under 18 do not engage. Never have I felt more honoured to be a legal adult ❤️
Fanboy is me pestering for sneak previews into this fic. I respect the energy and his dedication into trolling these two into the sex. But he really did screw himself over on $5. He could've gotten way more. A guaranteed payout bet 🤷♀️
I need at least 5000 more words describing Bob's hair in the light. Due next Friday.
"Let's take things slow"
K... Sure... Let's.
"I'd say things are headed in a good direction"
😏😏😏😏😏😏😏
How do I order a Bob to make me coffee??? GOOD coffee too. And I hope this reality of MOVING IN TOGETHER in VA comes to fruition 🤔
Fuckin Rapture. Don't you know these two were just in the process of "taking it slow"??!?!?? I swear if this prick is around later in the evening....
I love this school romance of sneaking off into a corner to make out. ❤️❤️❤️
The absolute willpower of Fanboy in controlling his inner troll during this hike. What an absolute inspiration. I'm sure Katie will hear all about his observations later....
Speaking of school romance.... What study session doesn't start with imagining your study partners hands all over you??? Certainly only good ones.
Never thought I'd buy into the Bob as feeder fantasy but here we are 🤷♀️ Feed me, Bob.
🚨 BOB'S HAND ON LEG.. BOB'S HAND ON LEG 🚨
Yes, quiet unassuming Bob is good at making out, just as we have all suspected.
Umm, this scene is too hot even though it's still PG. BOB'S TIGHT JEANS. EXCUSE ME????
'Let's take things slow'. STOP. DON'T DO THAT. DON'T RUIN THIS WITH THINKING.
And omfgmkkkokombjongginbvg.... That last scene. Can't blame her. Really really appreciating the smut tag 🥵🥵🥵
I'm dying for the full Bob PIV, erm....I mean POV scene of his own... reaction to all this. Absolutely brilliant. What a bunch of horn dogs and I'm LIVING for it.
All in all, WELL worth the wait on this one. Can't wait for these two clowns to give in fully omg. As always, I will take whatever bread crumbs you're willing to give 😉😉😉😉
Got nothing to say, other than schoolwork is the biggest time-suck in existence. Oh, and hold onto your butts - after this part things are going to get REAL interesting REAL fast. This is a long time in the making and I'm so excited for the stuff that comes after it ;)
Bob takes a gamble.
BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl
Word count: 5.2K
WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men)
***
“What are your thoughts on aquariums?”
It’s Wednesday, and the question comes on the way to the schoolhouse at seven in the morning. At first, it’s innocent and innocuous, enough for Katie to reply and not give much thought to it.
That all changes when Bob asks his follow-up question.
“Would you wanna come with me to one on Saturday?”
After the events of last weekend, things are different between the two of them. Katie’s still not sure what exactly it is, but something has shifted and the pull towards Bob is only getting stronger. Part of her wants nothing to do with it, wants desperately to cling to the ‘capable single female’ persona she’s worked hard at and not let feelings interfere with her goals. Few things torpedo aspirations faster than emotional connection, and with everything she’s already been through, Katie is hard-pressed to let them affect her. Very, very hard-pressed.
And yet… another part of her is curious. The pull is compelling, and perhaps against her better judgment, she wants to see what might be in store for her - hell, the both of them.
So, Katie agrees, with a hesitant but smiling ‘sure’ that has Bob grinning like he just won the lottery. The whole thing is enough to raise an eyebrow at, sure, but nothing to worry about, right?
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Of course, it isn’t until Saturday rolls around that Katie realizes that, oh shit, this is a lot more serious than she might’ve thought.
She knows she’s in trouble when it takes her well over a half-hour to decide on what she’s wearing. Outfits that she normally wouldn’t give a second thought to are all of a sudden not good enough, or convey too much of one thing and not enough of another. Comfy old t-shirt and jean shorts? Way too casual. Linen button-down and a crop top? Nope. Leggings and Birkenstocks? Absolutely not. Each outfit proves more unworthy than the last, and it’s all Katie can do not to curl up in a ball and scream. If things are already this nerve-wracking, what’s the rest of the day going to be like for her?
Eventually, she manages to settle on an outfit, opting for a light gray t-shirt, mom jeans, and a well-loved pair of sage-colored sneakers, but then… Should I opt for jewelry? It all looks kinda’ plain without it - but what if it looks like I’m trying too hard? Oh my god, this can’t be happening…
One moment later and Katie is donning a pair of small gold hoops, but it’s not without its fair share of anxious butterflies. This is so stupid, she thinks. No one is going to care how much or how little effort she puts into what she’s wearing. And why should they? It’s not a big deal. It’s literally just another hangout with Bob, no different from the countless others they’ve had over the last few weeks.
Only it’s not, not by a long shot.
Sure, the hangout on Saturday was casual, easy, devoid of any sort of emotional tension - about as far away from a date as a person could possibly get. But then Sunday happened, and now everything is suddenly a mess of confusion, complicated emotions, and unanswered questions. Today’s hangout is different. After last weekend, this one now feels an awful lot like a real, no-shit date - and as much as she hates to admit it, it freaks Katie out. Whether it’s because she’s out of practice and refuses to admit it, or because it involves Bob and there is something pulling the two of them together, her heart is pounding frantically in her ribcage, and for a while, she’s not sure how to make it stop.
She ruminates on the current state she’s in while she fiddles with her hair in the bathroom, fingers twisting it up, pulling it down, twisting it up, pulling it down. Most likely she’s the only one freaking out here, and if that’s the case then she needs to stop. She doesn’t need to be making Bob feel weird because she can’t regulate her emotions - but god, if only she knew where she stood with him. It would make dealing with her feelings - and her nerves - so much easier.
She heaves a heavy sigh, pulls some of her hair back into a low half-pony. It doesn’t matter. They’re friends, and good ones, at that. That should certainly be enough for Katie - and for the most part, it is.
Still, the ‘more’s’, the what-if’s… they nag at her, make her wonder and ponder and panic, because what if?
“Oh for fuck’s sake - enough,” she hisses at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You’re going to an aquarium with a good friend of yours; that is all you’re doing today. You’re not getting married, you’re not pledging eternity with him, you’re not making a long-term dating pact - you are going to a fucking aquarium.” She closes her eyes, breathes deep, musters up more courage for herself. “You may have feelings for him, but you don’t have to let them complicate things. Just… don’t make it weird. Please don’t make it weird.”
Don’t make it weird, because I can’t bear the thought of losing him like that.
Katie heaves a long sigh, tucks a strand of loose hair behind one ear - and smiles at her reflection in the mirror, almost bravely. She looks nice - and that’s what she’s going to focus on. That, and just enjoying the day. There’s no telling how today’s going to go (if it’s even going to go in any direction), but she’s not about to let her nerves, or her feelings, or the fear of the unknown, or anything compromise today. She can do this. This’ll be no sweat.
Hopefully.
***
Bob Floyd is certain he’s going to have a heart attack today.
For the last five minutes, he’s been fighting the urge to pace back and forth across the lobby, something that - for whatever reason - his brain is telling him is critical for his survival today. Not that it would do him a lot of good. If anything, it would probably worsen the anxiety gnawing at him.
It had been such a good idea on Wednesday, inviting Katie to tag along with him to the Birch Aquarium over the weekend. They’d been spending so much time together already; inviting her to come along had been a no-brainer.
Of course, only now does Bob realize that maybe this isn’t such a great idea. After the events of this past Sunday, something is different. There’s something going on between the two of them, and while Bob can’t necessarily put his finger on what it is, he knows it’s there, and it’s making him nervous. He shouldn’t be doing this right now. He should be laying low, trying to figure out what’s going on, and trying to make an appropriate plan of action.
And yet, here he is, sticking to his plans with his hands clasped and a tight but pleasant smile on his face. Of course, whether or not he’s an idiot for it remains to be seen.
He doesn’t wait very long for Katie. He’s leaning forward, stretching his legs when she appears in his line of sight, dressed casually with her dark hair half down and spilling softly over her shoulders. That’s new, he thinks - Bob can’t recall a time recently that Katie’s worn her hair down… or a time ever, for that matter. It’s…
Pretty.
It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she looks nice, that he likes seeing her with her hair down, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The words stick miserably and stubbornly in his throat.
If only things were easy.
He stands and smiles, still tight but gradually loosening. “Ready?”
Katie nods, trails behind him out of the Navy Lodge and into the parking lot. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Well,” he says as he jangles his keys in one hand, “I was thinking we grab something for lunch before we head over. After that, just… wander around the aquarium and hang out, I guess.”
“Sounds good to me… What’re you thinking for lunch?”
“Chinese food sound good to you? I’ve had a craving for chili dumplings and mapo tofu lately.”
“Ooh, I’d be down for some dumplings. Let’s do it.”
“Sweet.” They clamber into Bob’s car, Katie seated somewhat primly in the passenger seat, Bob settled behind the driver’s wheel, his hands flexing in nervous anticipation. Keep it calm, guy, he tells himself sternly as he turns the key in the ignition and starts the car up. There’s no telling what’s gonna happen today, but right now, you’re just getting lunch with her. That’s it. Just keep it calm.
He swings out of the parking lot, steers them off-base and onto the freeway, fingers gently tapping the steering wheel in time with his music. Not much is said between the two of them; they’re each lost in their own heads - and even if they weren’t, what’s there to say right now?
Of course, Bob can only hope that this is the limit of it all. He’s not sure how he’ll get through the afternoon if they wind up not speaking to each other the whole time.
About twenty minutes later, the two of them are seated inside a small Chinese restaurant, one couple out of three occupying the space. It’s much quieter here than Harry’s Coffee Shop was last weekend, not to mention more subdued and serious. Bob can’t help the thought that his choice of lunch spot might not have been the right one today. Then again, Bob’s convinced that every decision he’s made for today has been a wrong one, but such is the nature of anxiety. Logically, he knows that this is not true - but to his annoyance, the thought persists.
Save for some small talk in between bites of food, they spend almost the whole meal in silence. Bob’s head is a whirl of thoughts and questions as he eats, eyes carefully watching the woman sitting across from him. In some ways it feels like the lunch they had the first time they met. However, unlike the first time they met, Bob knows Katie now, has spent considerable time with her and learned things about her. He doesn’t need to guess if she likes being around him, or wonder if they have anything in common or if she’s just humoring him - at least, until now he hasn’t needed to. The fact that he suddenly feels like he does leaves a pit in his stomach, a large one.
Did things really change that drastically between them last weekend?
“So why the aquarium?” Katie asks out of nowhere. It’s nearly the end of the meal, and not including the moments of small talk, it’s the first time she’s spoken to Bob since they left the lodge. “Got something planned or are you just a big fan of sea life?”
Bob shrugs before spooning the last of his mapo tofu into his mouth. “I guess it’s the second one. Uh” - c’mon Floyd, keep it together - “I’ve been going to aquariums since I was a kid, and, well… I like checking out the ones I haven’t been to before. Y’know?”
“That’s fair. God… I honestly can’t remember the last time I went to an aquarium…”
Bob’s not entirely sure how to respond to that, but he manages a partial smile. “Well, hopefully you like the one we’re going to. Birch Aquarium’s supposed to be really nice.” Christ - maybe this is more like the day they met than he thought; he can’t remember any other time their conversations have been this stiff and awkward. God, I hope it doesn’t stay this way.
They finish their lunch quietly, then head back out to Bob’s car and crawl their way through downtown San Diego to the aquarium. When they get there, it’s packed, pulsing with the energy of young children out with their families for the weekend. Bob, though initially taken aback (if not a bit overwhelmed) at the chaotic busyness of the place, finds himself relieved at its presence. His interactions with Katie have been far more enjoyable and relaxed in places like this, where the noise and energy are good distractions from the thoughts racing through his head. They take up enough of his time and attention as it is. All he wants right now is to enjoy his day out with Katie.
“Looks like all of San Diego decided today was a good day to head to the aquarium,” Katie quips wryly after they buy their tickets, right as a gang of children whizzes by them in a shriek of laughter.
Bob chuckles. “Sure does. You’re okay with the crowds and kids, right? I probably should’ve asked before we got here, but uh…”
“Oh yeah, I’m good. Honestly it’s a good thing there are a ton of kids here on the weekend; I’d be kinda’ concerned if there weren’t.”
“Fair enough… So… Whaddaya wanna look at first?”
Katie looks over at Bob with a grin on her face, her gaze landing on his in a way that makes his heart stutter, just the tiniest bit. “You’re the aquarium guy here,” she replies amusedly. “I’ll let you lead the way.”
“Okay… Hope y’know that means we’re looking at everything then.”
“Buy me a snack halfway through and it’ll be no problem,” Katie snarks.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They venture into the first of many exhibits, a large atrium with penguins on display, which fly off the rock shelf and shoot through the water, their speed and precision almost reminiscent of the jets they fly around in. Then, it’s on to the next atrium, a room full of sharks and stingrays and “other big beasties,” as Katie calls them, swimming languidly in their never-ending loops and figure-eights. About an hour later, it’s the seadragons and seahorses exhibit, followed by the tide pools, a peek into the oddities area, and - as promised - a small snack for Katie.
Speaking of Katie… She’s still quiet, but not the awkward, conversation-devoid kind she was at lunch. In here, she’s studiously quiet, eyes and attention intently focused on the sea life swimming before her, lips curled up in a permanent, happy smile.
How wonderful it is when she smiles, Bob thinks.
Of course, her smile is even bigger and brighter when they make their way into the coral reef exhibit and the world explodes into aquatic color. Fish of all kinds peek through the crevices, flashing across the glass before darting out of sight once more. At the sight of them, Katie’s eyes practically sparkle.
“The coral reef tanks were always my favorite,” she says, voice warm and filled with fondness. “I didn’t really do the whole aquarium thing much, but anytime I did, this was always my favorite part.”
“Mine too. Well, that and the open ocean tanks. I like watching the shoals.”
She’s watching a yellow tang swim to and fro in rapt interest when he says it. “...The shoals?”
“Yeah, the uh… the big groups of fish that kind of… move as one, I guess? Like they do this kind of tornado or helix movement in the water-”
“Oh, those things!” Katie exclaims. “I love watching those. It’s kind of like watching fish ballet. D’yknow if we can see them here?”
“Y’know, I’m not sure. Lemme look at a map real quick.” Bob pulls a twice-folded map from his back jeans pocket, scans it for signs of the exhibit in question. Unfortunately for them, this aquarium doesn’t seem to have one, something of a mild disappointment for Bob (and Katie too, if the slightly crestfallen look on her face is any indication). He does, however, notice something else that might be of interest. “Any interest in checking out the kelp forest? It’s a couple rooms over. If this map’s any indicator it’s also the biggest one here.”
“I’m down. Let’s do it.”
They make their way through the winding hall of tropical reefs and brilliant fish, past families and oohing-aahing gangs of children, into an area that grows darker and darker until, suddenly…
Katie gasps when they find themselves walking into a blue-tinged atrium with easily the largest tank either of them has ever seen. Bob’s not that far off, releasing a long, low whistle at the sight before him. This is unlike anything he’s seen before - and he’s been to a lot of aquariums in his lifetime.
“This might’ve just become my new favorite part. God, look at this…” Katie positions herself front and center before the tank, blue eyes bright and glittering in the low light of the room. “I love it.”
By some miracle, it’s quiet in the exhibit room. No families or massive groups of kids and teenagers, no yelling and shrieking, no buzz of conversation - just Bob, Katie, and the massive kelp forest before them. Peace at last, and the beauty is theirs alone to enjoy. And oh, it really is beautiful. Fish of all kinds drift languidly amongst the leaves, riding the currents that rock them gently from one side to the other. Light shimmers down into the water and filters through the kelp, scattering soft shards of gold through the otherwise blue exhibit room. And the bright, crystalline blue radiating out from the tank softens, then fades into the darkness of the room it’s contained within. It is… otherworldly.
“Have you ever seen something so beautiful?” Katie breathes, utterly mesmerized by the view before her.
It is, it absolutely is - and yet Bob can’t bring himself to care about it. His focus is on one thing and one thing only: the woman standing beside him. Katie is already pretty to begin with, but in here? She’s ethereal. The soft wave of her hair down her back, the blue light of the water on her face, the gleam of awe and fascination in her eyes…
Bob would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for Katie Garland - strong feelings. Hell, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that he’s in love with her. He’s been in love with her, ever since the day they went hiking together at Pyles Peak. He may not have been entirely sure of those feelings before, but in here, in this room, after four weeks of morning coffee and classes and quiet (and not-so-quiet) moments together, he realizes two things - just how sure he is of his feelings, and equally how screwed he is.
Surely there has to be a way to tell her.
That’s the thing, though. There is a way, and Bob knows it - but it involves physical contact, and Bob’s not sure if that’s a gamble he should take. He’s lucky enough just to be friends with Katie; the thought of doing something that might compromise that friendship, that might push her away from him… It scares him. It scares the living shit out of him. After everything they’ve been through and done together in the last five weeks, it would be the worst damn thing to lose her like that.
So why does the thought persist?
He breathes deep, watches a leopard shark glide past him. What he’s thinking of doing is risky - really risky, and if there is one thing that Bob doesn’t like doing, it’s taking risks. As a WSO, he can’t afford to take them; he needs to be sharp and on the money at all times, needs to know everything about everything and all their little in-betweens. Anything less than that will get him burned, and badly. He can’t take risks. He just can’t.
But he also knows that if he doesn’t do this, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life.
Now or never, Bob. Now or never.
Bob breathes, mumbles to himself, resigned but resolute - “Fuck it.”
And then he does the unthinkable: he reaches over, turns Katie gently towards him with his hand on her cheek, and leans in.
He feels her go stiff beneath him the instant he kisses her, and for a second, it’s all Bob can do not to panic, because oh fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck, did he miscalculate the whole thing?
But then, another second passes, and just when Bob thinks he’s destroyed this relationship beyond all recognition, Katie leans into him and returns the kiss, and…
It’s as if the world just disappears around them. In seconds, the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters, is the feeling of her lips on his own, and suddenly Bob’s almost mad that he didn’t think to do this sooner. They’re soft, warm, gentle - her, in every way possible. It’s as close to a dream come true as Bob thinks he’s gotten in a while.
When Katie finally pulls away, there’s no missing the blown-out appearance of her eyes, nor the way her chest stutters as she breathes. Surprised? Taken aback? Boy, both of those would be a hell of an understatement.
“Well,” she says quietly. “That certainly changes things, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, um… I guess it does.” Bob’s heart is racing, pounding in his chest as he watches emotions and the most miniscule of expressions fleet across Katie’s face. What is she thinking right now? Hopefully not that I’m a creep. The anxiety of all this might actually kill him.
But, if there’s one thing that the smile that blooms on Katie’s face makes clear, it’s that she’s not angry or upset. In fact, as she slips her hand into his, Bob realizes that she’s quite the opposite. It’s all he can do not to heave a sigh of utter relief.
Risk calculation: successful. Very successful.
“So… We gonna check out the rest of the aquarium or what?”
Bob blinks. “Hm?”
“I mean, you did say something about looking at everything earlier - unless you’ve changed your mind and just wanna stare at me holding your hand now…”
Heat floods Bob’s cheeks as he realizes that he has, in fact, been staring at Katie’s fingers interlaced with his own for far longer than he probably should. Smooth, Floyd. Real smooth.
He smiles sheepishly at her. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m kind of in awe right now.”
“Yeah?”
“Pretty girl like you returns a kiss I give her, and wants to hold my hand?” His bottom lip curls up and he nods, underscoring the point he’s trying to make. “Yeah, I’d say I’m in awe.”
“Keep saying things like that and I might give you another one,” Katie jokes, eyes twinkling.
Oh, I’d be the damn luckiest man if you did.
“C’mon.” She squeezes his hand, draws him closer to her. “We’ve got more fish to look at.”
Bob doesn’t even try to subdue the grin that splits across his face. He leaves it there for all the world to see, big, bright, and utterly filled with joy. This is quite possibly the best day of his life.
He’s never been so goddamn happy to have taken a risk.
***
Not once does Katie let go of Bob’s hand the rest of the time they’re at the aquarium. She’s certain that if she does, she’s going to float away, drift off on a current of pure euphoria.
Or shock. Especially shock.
Katie may be all smiles and laughs and bright eyes, but inside she’s a mess, a shaking, heart-pounding, slack-jawed mess. Bob Floyd kissed her. Bob fucking Floyd kissed her. She might’ve had the tiniest inkling that something was going to happen (after last weekend, how could she not?), but still…
Color her fucking surprised.
Is she, though? Is she really that surprised that something happened?
Or is she more surprised that Bob beat her to it?
Because truth be told, she had been contemplating doing the same thing to him back in the kelp forest exhibit.
In hindsight, for as compelled as she was to do it, Katie doubts she would’ve been able to; her body had turned to lead and her feet had rooted themselves to the floor the moment they’d set foot in the exhibit room. No amount of resolve, bravery, or desire could’ve overcome that. No… In hindsight, Katie’s relieved that Bob acted first. No doubt he was just as nervous as she was, but… he did it. And she’s never been so glad for it.
Now, here they are, one kiss later, holding hands and strolling shoulder to shoulder, wandering ‘round the aquarium as if they’re the only two people in existence… And what a grand feeling it is. It feels…
Right.
Hours go by - hours that feel like minutes. By the time they stop to think about it, it’s almost 1700 and closing time. They’re being all but herded out of the aquarium by staff, but they manage to convince someone to let them poke around the gift shop for five minutes. “In and out,” Bob tells them. “Promise.”
Sure enough, he makes good on his promise, doing one quick orbit around the gift shop before confidently picking out a t-shirt and a baseball cap. “You planning on getting anything?” Bob asks Katie as he’s making his way to the front to pay.
“Eh, I thought about it, but probably not.”
“Good.” He pays for his things, folds up and tucks the t-shirt under one arm before turning and handing the baseball cap to Katie. “This is for you. New gear to wear next time you go hiking.”
The cap is dusty blue, emblazoned with ‘Birch Aquarium’ in white block lettering with a shark below it - nice and simple, definitely something she’d get for herself. Hell, she’d looked at it and considered buying it before making up her mind not to. Bob must have noticed her looking at it, because he’d plucked it out of the dozens of other hats on display without a second thought. For him to do that…
Katie has never had anybody do that for her before.
Her words are quiet as she takes the cap and attaches it to the strap of her purse. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but…” He smiles. “Seemed like a good way to wrap up a nice day.”
This man. Good god.
She feels the blush creeping across her face at his words, and on instinct, she ducks her head away - only to have her face turned back towards him.
“You don’t have to do that, y’know. It’s cute when you blush.”
Forget blushing. Scarlet rips across Katie’s face at that comment.
“Jesus Bob,” she hisses with a giggle, “didn’t realize you were trying to kill me in public here.” She slips her hand into his, and pulls him out of the gift shop and the aquarium before anyone else has a chance to see how thoroughly red-faced he has her.
And Bob? Bob laughs the entire way out.
A few more hours later, they’re back at the Navy Lodge, bellies full after an impromptu dinner at In n’ Out, smiles on their faces after all kinds of conversation and not-so-subtle flirting. The day might not have started out as a date, but it did eventually turn into one, and Katie has to admit, after everything that’s happened today, she’s really fucking glad it did. No doubt Bob’s on the same page, she thinks briefly.
They make it a point not to hold hands or have any sort of physical contact when they walk through the lobby and ride the elevator up to the third floor; they’re in new territory and need time to figure out how exactly to tread in it. That, and god forbid Fanboy or someone else in their class turns a corner and sees them doing that. There would be no end to the sly comments and innuendo from the others.
But that doesn’t mean that they don’t hover as close to each other as humanly possible.
Bob escorts Katie back to her room in relative silence, hand near the small of her back, body turned just the tiniest bit towards hers. He radiates warmth and it’s all Katie can do not to curl into him.
“I know I took you by surprise earlier, but I hope you didn’t mind,” he says quietly when they arrive back at her room and she unlocks the door.
Katie shakes her head. “Not at all.” When she tells Bob why, she’s certain she sees small stars fly across his eyes.
“Man, my luck’s been real good to me lately… Would you, uh, want to meet up and do something tomorrow? I’m not sure what yet, but, uh… something.”
Oh Bob, do you even have to ask at this point?
“I’d love that.” She’ll happily do anything with Bob if it means getting to spend time with him in this capacity from now on. She likes this - what they have, whatever it is. She likes it a lot.
Bob says nothing - simply smiles at Katie, nods his head once. He then turns to leave and head back to his room, but before he’s even taken a step, Katie’s hand around his wrist stops him, draws him back to her. Not yet, you.
“Wait - is there anyone in the hall?”
“Uh” - Bob leans back, swings his head from one side to the other - “no, there isn’t, wha…”
Katie says nothing. She glances down the hall to her left, then to her right - then raises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to Bob’s, right palm cupping his jaw, fingertips curling gently into the soft blond hair on the back of his head. It’s a short, simple kiss, barely three seconds long, but it reaffirms the one they shared earlier in the afternoon, the one that changed… well, everything.
She gives him one more, just for good measure, then steps back. “There,” she beams. “Now that’s how you wrap up a nice day.”
Bob says nothing; he simply stands there, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Katie, who has to cover her mouth with one hand to stifle her laughter. If she had known that initiating a kiss was all it would take to short-circuit Bob, she would’ve done it a lot sooner.
When he’s able to collect himself a moment later, he coughs. “S’pose that’s fair payback for the comment I made earlier,” he mumbles sheepishly.
“Yeah, I’d say so.” Her laughter soon dies away and her face softens. There’s one last thing she needs to say before they end things for the night. “Today was probably the nicest time I’ve had with someone in a long time.”
A pause - a long one. “...Really?”
Katie nods. “Yeah.”
Another pause. Then… A smile, the brightest, sweetest one he’s given her yet. “I’m glad.”
If a smile could send her straight to heaven, this one absolutely would.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bob,” Katie all but whispers.
He reaches out, gives her hand a single squeeze, then turns and strolls off down the hall, steps light and springing. It’s the last thing she sees before she closes the door and heads straight to her bed, ready to fall onto it in a mess of giggles and happy, dopey smiles.
Of course, the last thing she sees has nothing on the last thing she hears - a single hissed “Yes!” from the farthest end of the hallway, a restrained cry of triumph.
She laughs, curls herself around a pillow. That, right there. That is her favorite part of today.
Finally, the day has come where we get some Bob POV!!! Worth waiting for all 7 chapters, let me tell you, especially THIS chapter.
Bob so smooth and he doesn't know it;segueing into a date in stealth mode so deep he doesn't even detect it. But if you're going somewhere to look at fish and you actually think twice about what you are wearing...it's a date.
"You’re not getting married," [why not?] "you’re not pledging eternity with him," [again, why not???] "you’re not making a long-term dating pact" [JUST DO IT].
"Don’t make it weird." [DO IT, DO IT, MAKE IT WEIRD].
Bob simping over Katie wearing her hair down...Just tell her she's pretty! Stop being a coward (jk, he's the bravest boy).
"Keep it calm, guy, he tells himself sternly as he turns the key in the ignition and starts the car up. There’s no telling what’s gonna happen today, but right now, you’re just getting lunch with her. That’s it. Just keep it calm." His internal dialogue is SOO FUCKING CUTE!!!! I need more to inject into my veins!!!
My God does it kill me to read about Bob being socially awkward over a plate of ethnic food.
Baby Bob going to aquariums and now wanting to share that with Katie...🥰🥰🥰
"he can’t remember any other time their conversations have been this stiff and awkward. God, I hope it doesn’t stay this way" 😏😏😏
"How wonderful it is when she smiles, Bob thinks." Fucking kill me. I can't take this.
and finally, FINALLY we get this confirmation, straight from Bob's brain: "Bob would be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for Katie Garland - strong feelings. Hell, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that he’s in love with her. He’s been in love with her..."
💀Dead. I'm dead.
And then the kiss in the kelp forest. I can't die again, I'm already dead. Love our risk taking Bob! Love that they keep holding hands like sea otters for the rest of the chapter. And the hat!!! How is he so perfect??
I am shook that they didn't run into Fanboy the moment they returned to the lodge. How did he let that happen??
The goodbye kiss? so wholesome and I'm living for Bob's giddiness.
I'm just so happy that they finally got past the second guessing, and listen, i know the angst is coming and I'm all for it, but I love the sickeningly sweet (soon to be spicy???) bits. I live for it!!!!
As always, going to be hitting refresh repeatedly until i get Fanboy's reaction to all of this...
Holy Mother of GOD you guys. This part was literal hell to write. It's definitely a lot closer to the material I WANT to write, but good god, there was a LOT of it to write for this part. You'll see what I mean. Anyway, thanks for your patience for the last 4 months. I hope you guys enjoy this latest update!
Two casual weekend outings lead to some fairly interesting encounters.
BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl
Word count: 9.6K
WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); discussion of toxic family dynamics; anxiety attacks
Recommended soundtrack: Sweetness and Light - Lush; Peace Frog - The Doors
***
Week four of training begins in earnest with the section unit, and as expected, it’s more in-depth and mind-boggling than the previous one. Katie - and everyone else, for that matter - was already anticipating the coming units being more challenging than the last. She wasn’t, however, expecting it to be the brain melt that it actually is.
She’s fully convinced she’s in over her head (way, way over her head) when she gets back to her hotel room Friday afternoon, head absolutely scrambled after a day of dense lecture and lab work, and collapses in the armchair by her window with an exhausted groan. Activities with little-to-no brain function are going to be an absolute must tomorrow - and likely Sunday too, if she wants to give her brain a chance to recuperate before Monday.
Luckily for Katie, the universe has just that in store for her.
Mostly.
It’s just past 08 the next day when she awakens to the chirp of her phone on the nightstand. Well, sort of awakens. She can barely crack her eyes open as she reaches out and slaps her palm against the hard surface, nor as her fingers curl around the phone and bring it to within inches of her face.
Turns out, it’s a text from Bob - nothing too out of the ordinary, considering how often they spend time together these days. She wonders what he could be up to at this hour.
She taps open the message, squints at the gray bubble on her screen. “Planning on getting breakfast in downtown SD,” it reads. “Wanna come with?”
Hm. Katie could go for a full breakfast plate. Yet…
Her fingers fumble their way across the keyboard. “I thought you weren’t a breakfast person tho.”
“I mean normally I’m not, but if it means I get to spend time with a friend like you, then I can be persuaded otherwise.”
Well then.
The flush is creeping across Katie’s face before she’s fully processed the message. Thank god he isn’t in the room with her; she’s pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he saw just how crimson-faced she is after reading that text.
But why is she, though? It’s an invitation to get breakfast with Bob. Breakfast with a member of the opposite sex is a total non-issue. Hell, it’s not like she hasn’t done this sort of thing dozens of times in the last couple of weeks with him. Granted, those ‘dozens of times’ are short mornings sipping coffee in his hotel room, but what does it matter?
It’s not a date. It is 100% not a date. In fact, as far as she’s concerned, as far as she’s forcing herself to be concerned, it’s the opposite. It’s a shared outing, something as casual and noncommittal as the hike they went on during their first week here. There’s no need for her to freak out and turn red like this. She needs to calm down, and right now.
Closing her eyes, Katie takes a deep, steadying breath, gives herself a moment to recompose before opening her eyes and tapping out a reply to Bob.
“Can I dress like a bum or do I have to put in some effort with my outfit?”
“Dress however you want. If it helps, I’m wearing jeans and a tshirt.”
Shit. No sweatpants for her then. “Put in some effort with my outfit, got it. See you down in the lobby in 10?”
“Yeah, that works.”
“Cool cool. Who’s driving?”
“Uhhhh, you know what I will. Least I can do to say thanks for driving me everywhere most days.”
“Works for me.”
Katie doesn’t give herself much time to think; she just sets herself in motion and goes. She quickly settles on jean shorts, an oversized worn green shirt with ‘FEAR THE DUCK’ scrawled across the chest, and her Birkenstocks. Then, it’s on to the bathroom. Teeth? Brushed and flossed. Face? Moisturized. Hair? Loosely French-braided. All things to suggest she made somewhat of an effort this morning, but not too much. Besides, why should she make a big fuss over how she looks? It’s breakfast, not a red carpet event.
Heaving a sigh, she grabs her phone, wallet, and sunglasses, and makes her way down to the lobby, where Bob’s waiting for her on one of the side couches. True to his word, he’s wearing jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. However, it’s a t-shirt that hugs his biceps just a little too tightly, and it’s all Katie can do not to outright ogle. Holy Christ, has he always had those?
C’mon idiot, say something - “You ready to go?” she asks with a bright - if not somewhat forced - smile on her face.
“Always.” Bob stands, palms his car keys, motions for her to follow. “You hungry?”
“Starving. Where are we going for breakfast anyway?”
“You ever heard of Harry’s Coffee Shop?”
Katie shakes her head. “Don’t think I have.”
“It’s this little diner-type place out in downtown. I’ve heard nothing but good things about it so I thought I’d go and check it out, y’know?”
“Fair enough.”
“Yeah. They’ve supposedly got really good cinnamon rolls.”
“So you’re a sweets for breakfast guy,” Katie says with a wry smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed that with the way you drink coffee.”
Bob snorts, almost as if it’s an obvious revelation. “Of course. It helps balance out the bitterness.”
The two are now making their way down the far right aisle of the parking lot, towards the nose of a dark gray car - a Subaru, Katie realizes when they draw closer. It’s one of the sporty hatchback models, complete with carbon-black rims and what’s sure to be its own bite under the hood, but it’s… small. Granted, Katie wasn’t sure what to expect (with Bob, she hardly ever knows these days), but she’s not entirely sure she expected this.
“A Subie, huh?” Katie’s lips curl into a gentle smirk as she ducks into the passenger seat. “Not really a big truck type?”
“Nope,” Bob replies, lips popping on the ‘p’. “I make a living flying around in a massive multimillion-dollar aircraft, but take comfort driving a little hatchback. Ironic, huh?”
“I mean, I guess.”
“End of the day, the less machinery I have to operate, the better.”
“Considering your car’s a manual, I’d call that ironic.”
“Oh har-har.” He sticks the key in the ignition, turns the car on. “Do you know how to drive stick?”
“Only in theory,” Katie says with a sigh. “I’ve tried so many times to learn from different people but I have the worst time trying to get-”
“-TOO MANY DOSES AND I’M STARTING TO GET AN ATTRA-”
Bob’s immediately slamming his hand on the audio power button with a grimace and a hissed ‘Jesus Christ’. Katie, though startled (more like scared shitless) by the sudden blast of music coming from Bob’s speakers, frowns, letting the lyrics roll around in her head like a ball in a roulette wheel. She’s heard those lyrics before, she knows it…
After a moment of contemplating, she glances over at Bob, brows furrowed. “…Was that Avenged Sevenfold?”
Bob cringes. “Teenage Bob was a big fan,” he replies sheepishly. “…You were saying, though?”
“I was saying that I have the worst time trying to get moving in first. Honestly, I think I’m just destined to drive automatic for the rest of my life.”
Bob scoffs as he maneuvers the car out of the parking lot with practiced ease. “Oh please - not like you’re much worse than I was. First few times I drove, it took me twenty minutes just to get moving in first gear. Twenty.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Yep. It was bad.”
Katie can’t help herself. A snicker bubbles from within her. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”
“Glad we agree on that,” Bob snickers back. “Anyway, um… If you ever wanna get better at driving stick, I’d be happy to help you practice.”
“You risk me breaking your transmission.”
“This baby can handle it. She’s sturdier than she looks. Seriously though, let me know. Your issue is nothing that practice can’t fix.”
“If you say so.” Katie pauses, contemplates, chuckles after a moment. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything too strenuous this weekend, ‘cause, y’know, this past week in class was hell, but uh, I guess… if you’re not doing anything tomorrow and are cool with me stalling your car a bunch of times, maybe…?”
Bob grins. “Let’s do it.” He wheels the car left, right, left, right, shifts seamlessly between the low gears as they drive off-base. “So, what are we listening to?”
Katie shrugs. “I mean, it’s your car; it’s your call.”
“Well, considering I stole your aux cord and played my music last time we went somewhere, I think it’s only fair that you get to do it this time.”
“Hmm…” Katie pulls up her Spotify playlists, thumbs through her myriad of songs while she chews on her bottom lip. Song-wise, there’s any number of directions she can go in - there’s Milo Korbenski and the Hot Garbage album; there’s My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless album (actually, on second thought, maybe not that one - the ‘noise’ aspect might be a bit too much this early in the morning); there’s copious amounts of Swervedriver and Catherine Wheel and Echodrone.
And then she scrolls past one song and suddenly, she knows what she wants to listen to.
“You ever heard of the band Lush?” she asks as she hooks her phone up to Bob’s soundsystem.
Bob shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“Okay… How do you feel about shoegaze or dream pop-type music?”
“I mean, I’ll listen to anything once. Usually wind up liking whatever I listen to. And honestly, I’ve liked whatever you put on when you drive.”
“Good,” Katie smirks, “that makes me feel better about putting this on.”
And with that, she hits the ‘play’ button, and out comes the opening chords for Lush’s Sweetness and Light, ringing out in hazy, perfect harmony and glory. It’s a song she’s heard many times over the last several years, but it never gets old. There’s beauty in the lyrics’ sweet nothings and warm sentiments - and it’s beauty she’s all too happy to revel in, and to share with others willing to listen.
“I like it,” Bob muses over the music’s heightening volume. “Very spacey.”
“Yeah, that’s shoegaze for ya.” She settles back in the passenger seat, closes her eyes, smiles blissfully. “This is what happiness sounds like to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” She swirls her hand through the air, loosely matches the rhythm of the song. “Love, adoration, and… sweetness and light.”
“Well, whaddaya say we play it good and loud?”
Katie’s eyes slide open, and Bob’s looking at her with a smirk on his face and his eyebrows quirked as he’s reaching for the volume knob.
He’s getting to know her quite well now, isn’t he?
She grins. “Crank that shit.”
Bob obliges, turning the dial up high just as the intro crescendos, spins into the main verses, the sound of saturated guitar and endless dreamy reverb soaking into them as readily as the morning sun does.
And Katie? Katie just grins, and grins, and grins. This. This is what makes her happy.
What a wonderful way to start things off today.
***
Harry’s Coffee Shop on Girard Avenue is a veritable time capsule of the ‘60s. Big and white with red lettering adorning its roof, its outside appearance serves as a small taste of its overall retroness. Inside, it’s tenfold, with walnut-colored wood paneling running the whole perimeter of the restaurant, two-tone leather-covered booths, schoolhouse pendant lights hanging over the diner counter, green carpeting, and framed photos of various sizes hanging on the walls, telling the restaurant’s nearly 60-year-old story in shades of faded color and black and white.
The restaurant is buzzing with activity when Bob and Katie walk in through the double doors. Customers occupy every other booth and table. Waiters breeze from spot to spot, customer to customer, carrying various elements of each person’s breakfast. Somewhere through the din of conversation and hustle-bustle, the Doors’ Peace Frog beats out a jaunty, keyboard-laden rhythm that sets the tone for the morning. Every inch, every movement, every sound contained within the space screams ‘busy Saturday morning’ - and yet, that only makes the restaurant all the more inviting.
Katie and Bob quickly find themselves seated in a small booth at the front, right beside a window that looks out at the street and surrounding neighborhood. It’s the ideal place for people watching that maintains some semblance of privacy, of anonymity, and normally, that would be a big draw for two people like Bob Floyd and Katie Garland.
But neither of them are here for that.
Bob’s in the middle of regaling Katie with tales of past OCS instructors when they’re seated, and he hardly misses a beat as they take their spots opposite each other. “I had this one RDC when I went through; still not entirely sure what I think of him,” he says. “He always had this blank, borderline-bored look on his face, and it stayed that way the whole damn time we were going through it. He’d be absolutely beating our asses in the compartment and it would just be” - Bob passes his hand over his face, which immediately relaxes into the blank look he speaks of - “completely flat.”
“By any chance, was it Lieutenant Reynoso?”
“Yeah, actually, it was.”
Well, boy howdy.
“Reynoso was one of my RDC’s when I went through,” Katie smiles wryly. “That guy honestly scared the shit outta me for a while.”
Bob’s face instantly splits into a grin as a laugh bubbles from him. “Scared? Why?”
“I didn’t know what he was thinking! He always had that blank look in his eyes, AND major resting bitch face; I didn’t know if he was contemplating murder or playing the Mii Channel theme on loop!”
“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!”
“Oh bullshit - tell me you weren’t intimidated as hell by him that first week.”
“...Okay, maybe a little.”
Katie giggles. “See? Reynoso was fuckin’ scary. Probably would’ve stayed scary if he’d let the other RDC’s do the talking. Oh man… Who else did you have?”
“Let’s see…” Bob holds up his hand, counts off instructors with his fingers. “There was Gunny Haltermann, MMSC Stennis-”
“No fucking way, you had Stennis?!” This conversation keeps getting better and better. “He was one of the RDC’s for my brother div!”
“No kidding.”
“Oh my god, this is wild - did he play Tupac during your div’s PT sessions?”
“Sure did. Had the lyrics to Ambitionz az a Ridah practically memorized after a few weeks with him.”
“Oh my god, yes, same.” Katie is practically giddy with excitement over the new information; after all, what are the odds of knowing someone who had virtually the same training experience as you, the same mentors and instructors? “He played that shit all the time during our sessions with brother div. It was kind of nice, actually. Like, nice in the sense that we got to hear music other than cadence during training.”
“Honestly, nice that we got to hear music, period,” Bob comments.
“I’ll take a black coffee, thanks - yeah, true. Y’know I made a list of music I was gonna listen to the second I finished training?”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. I had, like, somewhere around 75 songs on that list,” she laughs.
“Make that two black coffees, ma’am - what was the first one?”
Katie snickers. “Highway Tune - Greta Van Fleet. Specifically so I could blast it as I was leaving base and yell ‘see ya fuckers’ out the window.”
“Sounds about right,” Bob snickers back. “Kinda figured you’d have shoegaze at the top with how much you listen to it.”
“Oh trust me, there was plenty of it there. If I remember correctly, song number two was a My Bloody Valentine song.”
“Hell of a band name.”
“It belies the dreamy acid trip vibe.” With their coffee having been delivered by their waitress, Katie takes a sip, proceeds to doctor it with a packet of creamer. “Enough about me though - I wanna hear more about you.”
“The La Jolla Scramble, cinnamon roll on the side please - uh, not really much to tell. Got orange-carded once for screwing up facing maneuvers. Listened to a lot of Tupac and Childish Gambino when Stennis was leading things. Honestly, you’d have gotten a better answer if you’d asked me about college.”
“I’ll have the Mediterranean omelet and a cinnamon roll on the side, please - well, I guess this is me asking you about college then.”
Bob purses his lips, ponders for one, two, three seconds. “Well, I went to the University of Georgia, graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. In and out in four years.”
“Definitely weren’t in NROTC while you were there, if the, uh, OCS bit was any indication.”
“Nope,” Bob replies with a shake of his head and a sip of his pitch-black coffee. “Honestly, the Navy wasn’t even a thought in my head until after I graduated.”
“Wasn’t in mine either.” Katie pauses - then smirks. “Did you have a raging hard-on for your college football team?”
Bob scoffs, and loudly at that. “Hardly. Couldn’t care less about football.”
“Isn’t college football a big thing where you’re from, though?”
“It is - but you forget this is me we’re talking about,” Bob replies wryly. “Only reason you’d really catch me saying ‘go ‘dawgs’ was so I didn’t get the shit beat outta me, y’know?”
“Mmm. So not much of a football guy, got it.”
“Eh, not much of a sports guy, really. I like hiking though. And biking. Shit, put my happy ass on a bike and I’ll ride it ‘til the cows come home.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you like anything that gets you outside and exploring the world around you.”
“Exactly.” Another sip of coffee, then Bob sets his hands one on top of the other. “Your turn now. I think I know what you’re gonna say, but where’d you wind up for school?”
“U Oregon. Go Ducks and all that, woo woo, rah rah.”
“Kinda sounds like you weren’t much of a sports person either,” Bob comments with a chuckle.
“Sports, no. School pride, yes. I loved it there.”
“Very well then. Whadja major in?”
At that, Katie snorts out a laugh. “Political science,” she says around the rim of her coffee mug. “I had this convoluted - and I mean really convoluted - reasoning that it would be useful for working in nonprofit - something about ‘understanding how our laws and policies work and using that knowledge to help nonprofits with their missions’.”
“Yeah, how’s that working out for you now?”
“I dunno,” Katie laughs, “ask the Navy.”
“Man, I’m one to talk, though. All this ‘ooh and ah’ with a mechanical engineering degree and you don’t see me putting it to good use eith-”
“No, you cut that out; you actually have a useful degree. Mine’s a glorified scrap of paper that’s going to sit in my important files and collect dust for the rest of my life. And clearly, I’m putting my knowledge of U.S. and foreign policy to good use as a pilot in the Navy, right?”
“I mean, just because you’re not using it now, doesn’t mean it’s useless for the rest of your life. Pretty sure all the three-letter agencies would go nuts for someone like you. They’d be worth considering when you’re done doing barrel rolls and shooting things out of the sky.”
Yeah, I suppose.” An amused smirk makes its way across Katie’s face. “I could go to work for the NSA and do some spooky government stuff. That would be pretty neat.”
“See? That’s the spirit. Just gotta consider the possibilities.”
It’s not long before their waitress comes ‘round with their breakfast, fluffiest of omelets loaded with filling, lustrous scrambled eggs, and hand-sized cinnamon rolls painted with white icing, and goddamn, does it look good.
More than that, it tastes good. Katie takes a bite of the massive cinnamon roll she’s been presented with and her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. Yeah - Bob definitely knew what he was doing when he picked this place out.
He’s in a similarly rapturous state with his plate of scrambled eggs, Katie sees when she regains (some of) her senses and looks across the table at him. “Remind me to come here every weekend for breakfast from now on,” he all but groans. “Christ, this is good.”
“If the food I get is this good, honestly, I’d trust you to take me anywhere.”
“Good,” Bob snarks around a mouthful of eggs, “there’s a lotta places I wanna try while we’re here.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Katie snarks back.
Silence soon fills the space between them, the easy kind borne of mutual understanding and comfort with one another. Katie tucks into her omelet and cinnamon roll in turns, pondering the state of things. It’s… strange. Good strange, to be sure, but still. She’s not really the type to sit comfortably in silence with another person. People have expectations for her, for the interactions between them - expectations that usually don’t involve silence. Anything contrary to that is… unnatural.
But not here. Not with him.
With Bob, it’s different. Katie doesn’t have to worry about filling the empty spaces with talking and constant noise. She can just be, exist in the quiet moments. Hell, they both can. It’s nice, being this kind of comfortable with each other - and no doubt Bob has been thinking the same.
She’s cutting off a piece of omelet to eat when Bob breaks the silence between them. He sips his coffee, clears his throat. “So, uh… Not to bounce around or anything, but… What made you decide to join the Navy?”
There it is - the question that everyone inevitably asks her. Oh boy.
Katie takes the bite of her omelet, chews thoughtfully, shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I was ‘unfulfilled’ or anything. I went home, got a job at a nonprofit for homeless veterans, and it was great and all, being a part of my hometown in that capacity, but…”
The truth. It lingers on the tip of Katie’s tongue, waiting to make its appearance in the conversation. And god, does she want to let it out, but…
“It didn’t… I dunno, add up. Job wasn’t really going anywhere and I felt stuck. Trapped, actually.”
“Yeesh, don’t I know that feeling.”
“Like, it was at work and at home. Practically everyone I’d gone to school with had up and left Portland and started living their lives, and I was just… home, suffocating. Tethered to my house like I’d been for the last eighteen years, and… I didn’t want to be that anymore.”
“So you joined the Navy.”
Yeah, pretty much. “Walked into the nearest recruiting office and asked what was available for someone with a degree,” Katie says. “The AO2 I talked to basically told me I could do anything, buuuuut he also told me that he’d personally kick my ass if I came in and tried to pick a rate without putting in a package for OCS. Told me it’d be a waste of my degree if I went enlisted.”
“You actually had an AO tell you to go officer? Man, I had a CTIC at my recruiting office and he was hell-bent on trying to get me to go enlisted.”
“Thank god you didn’t; you make a lot more sense as a WSO.”
“And you make a lot more sense as a pilot.”
Heat and blush (seriously, what is with you?) creep their way across Katie’s cheeks. “Took me until BFT to realize it, but I’m glad we agree on that.”
She’s about to slip another piece of omelet in her mouth when her phone vibrates and chimes from her pocket. She pops the piece into her mouth, pulls it out to look at the message that’s come through - most likely from Fanboy, she thinks. No doubt he’s dying to know what she and Bob are up to (nosy bastard he is).
Only it’s not from him.
No - it’s from someone much worse.
“Katherine, we need to talk,” the text reads. “Your behavior last week was absolutely unacceptable and needs to be addressed immediately.”
Carrie. It’s all Katie can do not to groan out loud, not only at the timing of the text, but at the sheer audacity of it. Her behavior was unacceptable? Was she being serious?
Keeping her face smooth and neutral proves to be difficult as she types out a reply. “Pretty sure I told you not to contact me. AND to give Naomi her phone back.”
Carrie’s response is almost immediate. “What gives you the right to talk to your mother like that?” she seems to snap through the phone. “Call me NOW.”
The reaction is almost instantaneous - stomach in knots, shakes radiating outwards from within. No, not this, not now. She doesn’t need this woman barging back into her life and bullying her.
Tightness in her chest is starting to set in. Anxiety. Strong anxiety. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.
Katie stands abruptly, shuffles out of the booth with a mumbled “gonna use the head” and takes off in a brisk march towards the bathroom. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bob and the entire restaurant have their eyes on her, she would be running. She doesn’t want people - especially him - seeing her on the verge of an anxiety attack.
She shoves through the restroom door in the back of the restaurant, trudges to the nearest sink and curls her body above it, hands gripping the edges white-knuckle tight and breath coming in shallow shudders. God damn it. God fucking damn it. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Two texts from her mother and it’s enough to reduce Katie to a near mess in a diner bathroom. It’s as if the last four years of silence and purposely missed calls and texts never even existed. Worse still, it’s as if she’s back in college and her mother is down the road from her, ready and waiting for her to do something, anything to snatch her away and prove that she is helpless without her.
That she is nothing without her.
Katie swallows thickly, grips the sink edge so hard that her hands ache. She’s wrong. She’s a fighter pilot in the world’s finest navy, a warrior, an angel of death and savior of people. She is all of these things and more, a real powerhouse of ‘something’ - and she did all of it without her mother. Carrie can go fuck herself. After all the shit she’s put her through, Katie owes her nothing.
She lifts her head, stares down her reflection in the mirror. “I owe her nothing,” she utters in a low voice, steeling it against the shaking wracking her body. “I owe her nothing. Not a phone call, not an explanation text, not a single goddamn thing. I owe her nothing after everything she’s put me through, and I will not let her guilt me into anything else.” She repeats the words, over and over and over again, wills them to stick. I owe you nothing. I owe you nothing. I owe you absolutely NOTHING.
Eventually, the words do stick, and she’s able to calm down enough to suck in a deep breath and steady herself. She can do this. Carrie can rage and harass her daughter all she wants, but she has no power over her. Katie won’t let her have it.
She takes another big breath in, blows it out nice and slow. She’s ready. She can face the world again.
With a final breath, Katie turns and makes her way back out into the restaurant, mind working its way back to the point before Carrie interrupted her and Bob. She was having such a nice time with him before she had to show up… She just wants to go back to that point and forget that the last 5 minutes ever happened…
Unfortunately for her, there are other plans in store.
When Katie makes eye contact with Bob, there’s no missing the gleam of concern in his eyes. Oh no. “Hey, uh, your phone’s been ringing nonstop for the last five minutes.”
Oh fuck me, she didn’t - “Has it now?”
“Yeah. Same person too, from the looks of it.” Bob’s face colors as the implication that he might’ve done something stalkerish dawns on him. “Not that I was going out of my way to get in your business, you left your phone facing up and I could see the name on caller ID-”
“No no, you’re fine; I get what you’re trying to say.” Katie slides back into the booth and takes her phone in her hands, stifling another groan when she sees the never-ending list of missed calls from her sister. Only it’s not Naomi, she thinks, her thoughts edged with a growl. Christ, Carrie’s in fine form today.
No sooner does the thought pass through her head than her phone starts ringing again, ‘Naomi’ scrolling across the top of the screen, the damn thing playing that stupid marimba ringtone while it buzzes expectantly in her hand. It has to be the 11th time her mother’s tried to call her now.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. She clicks the power button to decline the call, switches it to silent mode, and all but whips it to the far end of the table, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in a death grip. Stepping out to fend off an anxiety attack was bad enough, but this… She does not need this today. She absolutely does not need this today.
“…You’re not gonna take that?”
Katie doesn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”
“You sure? Whoever’s calling must really wanna get a hold of you if they’ve been going like that.”
“Yeah, well, she can choke.” Katie stabs her fork into the piece of cinnamon roll she’s just cut up, sticks it in her mouth and chews stiffly. Christ, she can’t believe this is happening right now.
“Oh.” Bob’s gaze shifts down, blinks as he contemplates his next move, if it’s even appropriate to have one at this point. Katie’s hoping he drops the subject and moves on to something different, but she can’t say she’s surprised when his eyes steel and he looks back up at her, trying to understand. “What’s, um… What’s the story with” - he steals a glance at the list of missed calls - “Naomi?”
“She’s my little sister,” Katie replies around a sip of coffee. “Problem is that she’s not the one spamming my call log.”
“Oh? Who is then?”
“My mother,” she mutters.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence falls between them again, permeates the air for one, two, three, four, five seconds. This silence, however, is uncomfortable, uneasy, heavy. It’s not often that Carrie and her bullshit make their existence public. In the four years she’s been in the Navy, Katie has worked hard to keep it that way. Now? She’s being forced to acknowledge it (in public, and to one of her friends, no less), and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it.
“I don’t…” Katie closes her eyes, takes a long, deep, steadying breath. No one wants to hear this. Why the fuck am I doing this? “I don’t have a good relationship with my mom.”
She pauses, looks at Bob, wills him to say something, anything in reply. But he doesn’t. He just stares, gives her that intent look that tells her he’s listening and that he’s not saying anything until she’s good and done, REALLY good and done.
Fuck. Not the reaction she was hoping for.
Well then. Looks like brevity is about to be her best friend for this conversation.
“It took a long time for me to realize it, but she’s… damaged. Like, really fucking damaged. And she’s done stuff that’s messed me and my sister up over the years.”
“Like what? Um, if you don’t mind me asking.”
So much for keeping this brief. Fuckity fuck.
Katie licks her lips, sucks her teeth in thought. “Well… A lot, really, but uh… Gaslighting, emotional abuse, manipulation… You uh, you name it.” Her chest aches from the truth and the rawness of it all straining against it, but she forces it back, forces it deep inside her where it can’t see the light of day. She doesn’t want to talk about it with Bob anymore, not right now, not when things are going as nice as they are and he thinks she’s a good person to be around. He certainly wouldn’t think that if he knew, would he, Katherine Mae? You’re not damaged. You’re worse than damaged; you’re categorically shattered-
“…Katie? You okay?”
Katie blinks, punches Carrie and her noxious words deep into the recesses of her brain. She really needs to stop having moments like these.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles. “It’s, um… It’s a tricky thing for me to talk about.”
“It’s all right; I shouldn’t have asked about it in the first place. I’m sorry.” Bob takes a long, ponderous sip, eyes following the people strolling on the other side of the window. “Guess that explains why you joined after college.”
“Yeah. Shitty circumstances, but definitely the best decision I could’ve made.” Katie’s mouth curls upwards in a soft smile. “I have a job I love, I’ve already been to a few cool places, and I’m basically in an honors program for fighter pilots… I’d say I’m doing pretty okay these days.”
“I’d agree with you.”
“Bonus points for some of the people I’ve met recently, too,” she adds, the smile growing just the tiniest bit larger. “I haven’t known them long but they’ve made a pretty big difference in my life.”
At that, Bob’s cheeks go pink and he grins sheepishly. He still can’t quite smoothly take a compliment, but at this point Katie doesn’t care and she chuckles to herself. If anything, she finds it rather endearing.
They soon return to the silence of before, tuck into their breakfasts amidst the din of the restaurant and with a renewed sense of ease and contentment. There’s beauty in being comfortable with silence. The simple pleasure of their company is enough for them; there’s no real need to speak.
Until…
“We’re being watched.”
Bob’s buttering a piece of toast when he says it, and he says it so nonchalantly and with such a calm face that at first Katie thinks he’s joking. But, she follows the line of his gaze, and sure enough…
She’s not really noteworthy, the old lady sitting by herself at a nearby table. She nurses a cup of coffee that’s far more milk than it is coffee, and picks slowly at a raspberry danish on a small white plate. If she’s not holding the coffee in her veined right hand, then it’s a weathered copy of some old romance book. So absorbed is she in her little routine of coffee, pastry, and reading that Katie wonders if Bob’s imagination might be playing tricks on him.
However, all of that goes out the window when the lady looks up and catches Katie’s gaze with her own. She grins at her, and suddenly, inexplicably, Katie has a bad feeling about where this is heading.
“Y’know,” she says, “I’ve had dozens of boyfriends in my time, and none of them ever treated me the way he treats you. You’ve got yourself a good one there!”
Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.
Katie’s not sure who turns beet-red first: her, or Bob. She’s also not sure who starts coughing first. Oh my god. That actually happened.
She can’t believe it. First there’s Fanboy making jokes during PT. Then there’s Halfpint making snide comments whenever he sees them together. Now there’s some old lady mistaking them for a couple at a diner. Holy Christ, Katie’s inner thoughts moan, what is going on here?
“Oh no,” Bob coughs, “no no no, we’re just friends, ma’am.”
Katie’s quick to voice her agreement with Bob (albeit around a massive wheezing fit), but she gets the sense that the lady isn’t buying it. She nods politely and smiles at them before returning to her book, but there’s no missing the twinkle in her eye, the one that clearly says ‘you’re in denial’.
Christ - if Katie didn’t know any better, she’d say that this little old lady is a damn Cupid in disguise, trying to bend the universe and push her and Bob together.
Whoo boy. She doesn’t want to dedicate even a second of thought to that. Breakfast has already been complex enough without adding that in.
Thank god for the both of them, their remaining time in the restaurant is short-lived. Bob has them rung up and checked out in less than two minutes, and they slip out of the booth and through the front doors with hardly a word exchanged between them. The last thing Katie sees before they leave is the old lady grinning at them, twiddling her twisted fingers in farewell.
It’s only when they’re outside that they fully react to the exchange that’s just taken place, and while Katie heaves a heavy breath and stares up at the sky with her hands on her hips, Bob damn-near doubles over with laughter.
“Well, that turned into a real interesting breakfast, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, sure did… God, I can’t believe she thought we were a couple…” Katie’s head is spinning and her insides are burning. The universe, it seems, is really trying to pull something with her and Bob, and with each passing day, with each shared moment and second-too-long glance at one another, she’s beginning to question whether she even has a choice in the matter.
We’re friends and nothing more. We’re friends and nothing more. WE’RE FRIENDS AND NOTHING MORE.
But, as they start making their way back to the car, Katie looks down at Bob’s hand, veined and strong and relaxed beside his leg, and two thoughts pass through her head. They’re thoughts so… out of left field, so dubious and unlike her, she wonders if it’s really even herself: what if? What if she were to reach out and take his hand in hers?
And… what if they were ‘something more’?
***
A day and some change later, Katie has effectively put Bob’s Subaru through its paces and thensome. They spend close to four hours in the car, doing everything from going forward and backwards in one empty aisle of an isolated lot, to puttering around one of the on-base neighborhoods, to making full laps around North Island.
At first, it’s rough - really rough. Seeming to follow in Bob’s footsteps, Katie stalls out multiple times and struggles to make the car move in first gear. There’s frustrating, and then there’s what Katie feels, and it’s borderline agonizing. She knows how to drive, and goddamn it, she’s good at it; why is she suddenly so categorically unable to now?
She’s certain Bob’s going to boot her out from behind the wheel and take over driving, is certain that this is the worst attempt anyone’s ever made to drive manual, is certain that she’s a lousy driver and that everyone, Bob and the entire on-base population included, knows it. After all, she’s long since lost count of how many times the car has jerked forward and shut off, has lost count of the number of times she’s sworn out loud every time she’s slammed them back in their seats. Bob’s car has to be the damn finickiest piece of machinery she’s ever sat behind, but good god, it REALLY doesn’t help that she can’t get her shit together and just drive the car. She’s making an ass of herself and at this point, she’s waiting, waiting, waiting for Bob (Christ, practically begging him in her head) to just heave a sigh and tell her to stop.
But he doesn’t. Quite the opposite. He sits calmly in the passenger seat, bears each violent jolt and jerk with an understanding smile, tells Katie that she’s doing great in a way that makes her stomach flutter and her cheeks threaten to burn crimson. There it is again, that calm, quiet kindness of his. It’s like a pressure valve loosening within her.
Katie grits her teeth, pushes onward. Goddamn it, she has to nail this - if not for herself, then for the man sitting beside her.
And she does. For as awful as it is subjecting him to her inexperience, the numerous attempts and spiteful reattempts do finally pay off. She’s not perfect, but she does manage two laps around base without stalling or any significant lurching. And that? That is a victory she’ll take.
Hours later, it’s closing in on 8 p.m. and the two of them are occupying their usual corner of the Hard Deck, accompanied tonight by Fanboy, Halfpint, and a rather hefty pitcher of Coors (at Katie’s insistence because, even with her earlier success behind the wheel of Bob’s car, holy Christ, does she need a drink).
“So what’s this I hear about you learning stick with Bobber earlier?” Fanboy asks as he’s pouring himself a glass.
It takes all of Katie’s strength not to roll her eyes at the barely-there sly smirk on his face. Still trying to imply shit. Of course he is.
“It was more putting the theory into practice, but yeah,” Katie shrugs, just as a wince flashes across her face. “Pretty sure I tortured Bob’s car doing it, but I guess it all worked out.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Did a couple laps around base with little issue, so I’d say I did pretty good.”
“Sheesh,” Fanboy says with a whistle, “maybe I’ll let you start driving my car when we get back to Virginia-”
“Nah, I had my fill driving Bob’s today; I think I’m good for, like, the rest of my life.”
“Wise choice,” Halfpint mutters around the lip of his beer glass. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get behind the wheel of that thing.”
“Bro, why you gotta be like that?”
“Because your car’s a death trap and the last thing you wanna do is put a newly-minted manual driver in it!”
“Oh my god, it’s not that bad.”
“What do you drive, Fanboy?” Bob asks.
“An ‘09 370Z.”
“What, like a Nissan?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a shitbox,” Halfpint cuts in, much to the annoyance of his WSO, who throws his arms up in exasperation.
“It is not a shitbox! It gets from point A to point B with no issue, and it sounds cool doing it!”
Halfpint snorts. Loudly. “My dude, you put more emphasis on that trash can exhaust mod than on, like, anything else in that car - y’know, like safety, or what actually makes the car run.”
“Oh what the fuck would you know, huh?”
“More than you, apparently.”
“First of all, if I’m gonna go anytime soon, then it’s gonna be in a blaze of glory. Second, bitch, have you heard my car? If it don’t sound like I have a hive full of angry fuckin’ bees under the hood, then it’s not a proper tuner!”
“Well if you’re going for loud, then you’ve definitely got that down, because Jesus… You’re worse than the fuckers who blast down the highway at two in the morning.”
“Well” - Fanboy swills the last of his beer and clanks the glass down hard on the tabletop - “I’m clearly being attacked here, so I’m just gonna go home now.” He stands up, and makes like he’s actually going to walk out and head out, but allows himself to be swung back to the table by Katie, who loops an arm through his with a laugh and a promise not to bully him anymore.
“We’re literally just giving you shit. Promise we’ll stop.”
“Yeah girl, you better,” Fanboy scoffs. “I know where you work.”
“Yeah, I know where you work too, dumdum,” Katie shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Enough about shitboxes though - how was y’all’s weekend?”
“Couldn’t tell you a damn thing about Halfpint’s weekend, but mine was pretty good - hit up Coronado Beach yesterday, then spent the rest of it catching up on Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen-”
“Nerrrrrrrd-”
“Fuck off, Kozer! At least I left my room this weekend!”
As the pilot and his WSO launch into another spat of arguing and name-calling, Katie leans over towards Bob. “I swear, it’s like hanging out with a married couple with these two,” she murmurs to him around a sip of beer.
“Tell me about it… Do we break ‘em up or let ‘em keep going?”
“Eh,” Katie shrugs, “let ‘em bitch. Think they’ll notice if we drink all the beer?”
“Dunno. Let’s find out.”
Katie merely clinks her glass with Bob’s, then swills down the remains of her drink and pours a fresh one. To no one’s surprise, neither Fanboy nor Halfpint notice their classmates quietly kill the pitcher of Coors between them. When Bob orders them a second pitcher, it’s much of the same: more drinking, more people watching, more quiet laughing. For a Sunday evening, it’s a good way to pass the time.
Eventually, things wind down for the night. When the Hard Deck closes things down at 10, the two of them are among the last to leave. Fanboy and Halfpint have long since headed back to the Navy Lodge, and there are maybe four other patrons occupying the bar with them, all paying their tabs and shuffling off to their cars or loping their way back to their quarters. Despite Bob’s protesting, Katie pays for the pitchers.
“Gotta let me pay for something sometime, Bob,” she says with a wink as she’s scribbling her signature on the receipt.
“Do you realize I have a Georgia-based mother to deal with?” Bob groans (albeit jokingly). “She’d kick my ass if she found out I didn’t pay for a lady.”
“Well, guess it’s a good thing you’re all the way on the other side of the country in California,” she grins. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
“You wanna drive or do you want me to drive?”
“Oh dude, that’s all you. I put you and your car through enough today.”
“You sure?”
Katie nods with a tight smile. “Oh yeah.”
They push through the front doors into the warm, salt-tinged air of the night, chatting casually amongst themselves, ready to end the evening with a nice, easy drive home...
“Hey, you’re gorgeous.”
Katie whips her head around to the source of the comment, and finds herself looking at a man propped up against one side of the walkway railing. Judging by the way his words slur, he’s drunk - very drunk. Katie pays him no mind, continues on her way to the parking lot with Bob.
“Damn, I give you a compliment and you can’t even be bothered to say ‘thank you’? Th’ fuck’s amatter with ya?”
Oh Christ, I SO don’t need this right now - “Well,” Katie huffs as she turns on one heel to face the guy, “I’m a little hard-pressed to when I don’t even know you.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy to fix.” He pushes himself away from his spot on the railing, stumbles over to Katie, body lurching to a stop when their chests are practically touching. Only they aren’t. Katie’s eye-level with his collarbone, and the realization of this twists her stomach. This guy is a fucking giant compared to her, and something tells her he knows it and is using it to his advantage.
Shit. She already doesn’t like how this is going.
“Gimme your number and we’ll get to know each other better sometime.”
She tries to play things cool, plays the noncommittal angle. “Maybe,” she sighs. “They keep us pretty busy at TOPGUN. Doubt I’ll have time to get away from all that-”
“Oh, you’re one of those snobby pilot bitches, aren’t ya?” The guy leans down, leers in her face, sour beer breath curling across her nose. “Think you’re too good for me, huh?”
“Seriously? You’re the one acting like an asshole and getting all up in my personal space,” Katie bites.
“Wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just gimme your number - so how ‘bout it?” Inch by inch, he’s moving forward, and inch by inch, Katie’s moving backward, closer and closer to the wood railing behind her, closer and closer to trapping and being trapped. “Make this easy for the both of us, huh?”
“C’mon man, she’s not interested” - Bob makes to step between Katie and the nameless guy harassing her - “leave her alone-”
It’s like Bob’s not even there. The guy shoulder checks him out of the way and continues on with Katie as if nothing happened. Undeterred, Bob makes another attempt to shield her - and is shoved off with a laugh and a ‘get lost bitch’.
Katie’s vision immediately goes red. Enough of this. It’s bad enough that this guy’s harassing her - but putting hands on her friend and calling him names? Absolutely not.
“You want my number? Here.” She snatches the guy’s phone out of his hand, punches in a series of numbers, and all but throws it back at him. “There’s my number. Now can you leave me the fuck alone?”
“All right, all right, damn, don’t need to be a bitch about it! I’ll hit you up later, yeah?”
In your dreams, asshole- “Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Katie mutters before taking Bob’s hand and leading him down the ramp to the parking lot. She doesn’t even care that she’s being rude or putting herself in a risky position anymore; she just wants to leave and never see this asshole again.
“Better be ready for me when I do!”
Katie doesn’t even dignify that with a response - just stomps off for the car with Bob in tow. She’s fairly certain that if she did, it would be an aggressively physical one - and she definitely doesn’t need the kind of trouble that would bring. Neither of them do.
The instant they’re out of earshot, Bob’s got an arm around her shoulders and he’s pulling her tight to his frame, sheltering her from the two pricks they’re fast leaving behind. Were this a normal situation, Katie would be a blushing mess right now, but after the last five minutes, she’s too rattled and on-edge to be flustered. She wordlessly accepts the pull into him, snakes her own arm around his waist - and he jumps, just the tiniest bit. He must not have been expecting reciprocation from her. No matter.
His voice is soft, low. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine… Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine…” He pauses, purses his lips. “Please tell me you didn’t actually give that guy your phone number.”
“Wha- no. I gave him a bunch of randoms. I don’t even know if what I gave him is a phone number.”
“Good…”
“Believe me, I want nothing to do with that asshole.”
“Yeah, neither do I.”
Bob says nothing else beyond that. At least, he doesn’t at first. He’s far too focused on putting distance between them and the harasser - but it’s clear that he’s got something on his mind, something to say.
“...Bob?”
No response. Just step, after step, after silent step.
“C’mon Bob, talk to me.”
Still no response. Step, after step, after silent step. Katie exhales in disappointment and goes to drop the subject, but before she can, he speaks.
“That’s why my callsign’s Bob.”
“…What?”
“You asked me three weeks ago why my callsign’s my first name. That’s why.”
There’s no missing the hard edge in Bob’s voice. He’s angry - a rare thing, given his usually easygoing, soft spoken disposition. It’s not just in his voice, though. It’s in the way he stares straight forward, even when he’s speaking directly to Katie; it’s in the stiffness of his walking; it’s in the tautness of his arm around her shoulders. This is a full-body, full-brunt feeling - and quite honestly, it unsettles Katie.
“Wait, hold on-” She steals a quick glance over her shoulder, turns back and looks up at Bob as she juts a thumb back. “What does he have to do with it?”
“It’s guys like him,” Bob replies stiffly.
Katie’s brow furrows but she says nothing. She’s not entirely sure where he could be going with this, but she’s not so sure she wants to find out - or, rather, that she should be finding out.
“All my life, I’ve been pushed around and counted out by guys like that. It happened every three, four years when dad would haul us with him to a new duty station; it happened when he retired and we settled in Georgia; it happened when I went to college.” He pauses, inhales deeply through his nose, presses on. “I joined the Navy because I thought things would be different - y’know, that I’d get to prove myself and show people I’m someone to be taken seriously. You know what it actually was? Same shit. More pushing around, more laughing, and more forgetting.”
“Bob-”
“Guys like that who look at me and don’t think I’m even worth the dirt on their boots, much less their time and consideration? They’re everywhere in the Navy, but I picked the one community that’s absolutely infested with them.” He barks out a laugh, a mirthless one. “God, what was I thinking?”
“You were thinking you were gonna end that cycle of bullshit.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I tried to, but… Nope. I wound up being an afterthought all through OCS and primary flight training. I didn’t even get a callsign until well over six months at Lemoore, and when I did, it was a matter of ‘who are you and why don’t you have a callsign? I guess it can be Bob, whatever.’” When Katie looks up at him again, Bob’s gaze is glazed over, distant - and while the rest of his face is smooth and neutral, there’s no missing the shame, resentment, and hurt in his eyes. “They gave me that name because I’m forgettable and don’t mean much. And… And what you saw just now proved what I am and what people think of me.”
Oh, Bob.
Katie’s throat closes and she thinks she might actually start crying. So that’s why Bob never told her. That’s why he’s kept that story so close and tight to him. And it makes perfect sense, but god, if it doesn’t rip her heart into little pieces.
“Do you really think that?” she asks him quietly.
Bob sighs, shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what everyone else thinks.”
In an instant, the hurt and sadness is replaced with anger of her own, a burning, snarling anger.
The words that come out of Katie’s mouth bite the air around them. “Fuck them,” she spits. “Fuck all of them. They don’t know a damn thing about you. And for the record, I don’t think that about you.”
“Katie, you don’t have to-”
“No, lemme finish.” She shushes Bob with a single pointed glance. “You’re genuinely one of the nicest, smartest, coolest guys I know, not to mention you’re pretty terrifying in a Super Hornet. I think you’re fucking incredible, okay? I could never forget about you - and quite frankly, I don’t wanna forget about you.”
Bob is silent, staring at her with a gleam of awe in his eyes. One would think he’s never heard reassurance like this before; judging by the way he was talking earlier, he hasn’t. Well, enough of that. He deserves better and Katie knows it.
“Seriously, fuck that guy back there, and people like him. I doubt you’ll ever run into him again, but even if you did, he doesn’t matter in the long run, and neither does his opinion of you.”
“I know. Just…” Bob exhales, long and exhausted. “I’m tired, Katie. I’m so tired of it.”
“I know you are, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with that shit for so long.” She’d give anything to reach over and just wipe away the tired, defeated look on his face. She hates seeing him look like that.
“Gonna have to put up with it as long as I’m in the Navy…” The look lingers for one second more, then in an instant it’s gone, replaced with one of resolve, of steel. “You’re right, though. He doesn’t matter.”
“No, he doesn’t - and I’ll tell you what, if that guy had put his hands on you one more time, I would’ve turned around and decked him.”
“…Really?”
Katie nods. “Really. You matter more to me than he does.” Her cheeks are burning bright and she’s certain that Bob can see it, but she doesn’t care. It needs to be said.
When Bob speaks again, his voice is soft, softer than anything it’s been in the last five minutes, so soft that she has to strain to hear him - but she does, and oh.
“You matter to me too, y’know. A lot.”
It’s no different than what she just said to him a moment ago, but coming from him this time around? It hits differently. There’s something there, something peculiar, something hanging between the two of them; Katie can feel it. She’s certainly not one to read too much into situations or energy, but there’s no ignoring the something between them, not after the last few weeks. Hell, the last 24 hours. She can’t.
And, with one look into the cerulean blue eyes walking beside her, Katie is certain that Bob can’t, either.
“C’mon, let’s go home.”
And off they go, Bob’s arm around Katie’s shoulders, her arm around his waist, their steps synched with the other’s…
And god, if it isn’t the most natural feeling in the world.
GAH I am so sorry it took me this long to respond with a comment but trust me I've been returning to this fic ALL WEEK and now I have THOTS
Every morning walking up without a text from Bob asking ME to breakfast is such a mad disappointment. Guess I'll just need to live vicariously through Katie.
"I get to spend time with a friend like you" I see Bob is still in denial about them being sexual soul mates.
"It's not a date.. It's 100% not a date." It's a DATE.
You need a trigger warning for these descriptions of Bob's arms. You know how many times I woke up on the floor after having fallen unconscious after reading about his arms/hands in this fic? At least five.
I'd make Bob his sweet breakfast in bed every god-damned day 😏😏😏😏
Not sure if I've said this before but I'm so happy your Bob isn't over the top country boy with a massive truck. It's just...ugh. Not my cuppa. This manual hatchback *chef's kiss*
Bob so kind to let her play around with his stick
A reference to teenage dirtbag Bob. What a cameo.
Imma be honest and admit I don't know shit about music, but I love their bonding over mutual interests nonetheless. Truly perf for each other.
Sweetness and Light [Leonardo DiCaprio pointing at TV meme]
Is it even possible to fall more in love with Bob after finding out he didn't give a shit about college football? I went to a Big 10 and couldn't care less either.
"there's a lot of places I want to try while we're here" DEFINITELY NOT FUTURE DATES
Then we have fuckin Carrie. Haven't even 'seen ' the bitch and she ruins everything. And all in front of Bob this time. Yeesh. He must've thought Katie had some crazy ex but no, just a crazy mom.
Meanwhile I cannot believe I made an appearance in this fic as WITHERED OLD CRONE LIVING VICARIOUSLY THROUGH FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. This bitch knows exactly what's about to go down. Don't worry grandma, only one more chapter.
"We're friends and nothing more". Lying is a SIN.
Bob's hand veins 🤤🤤🤤🤤
Fanboy would definitely appreciate all my stick innuendos.
Okay, I have a lot of feels in this last segment. Our poor Bobby. I just want to wrap him in a blanket and take care of him 😭😭😭 how could these people have been so mean for so long and NO ONE have him reassurance. What a fucking crime! I'm livid!
His words about the Navy though really tie this into the movie and how meaningful that scene on the beach would have been for him and the camaraderie he will eventually have with the rest of the pilots on that mission 🥲
But ho boy... there's no turning back now! "You mean a lot to me"...they should just get married already. Damn.
WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN BACK AT THEIR APARTMENT?!?!?! SEXY CLIFFHANGER NOOOOOOOOOOO.
Holy Mother of GOD you guys. This part was literal hell to write. It's definitely a lot closer to the material I WANT to write, but good god, there was a LOT of it to write for this part. You'll see what I mean. Anyway, thanks for your patience for the last 4 months. I hope you guys enjoy this latest update!
Two casual weekend outings lead to some fairly interesting encounters.
BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl
Word count: 9.6K
WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); discussion of toxic family dynamics; anxiety attacks
Recommended soundtrack: Sweetness and Light - Lush
***
Week four of training begins in earnest with the section unit, and as expected, it’s more in-depth and mind-boggling than the previous one. Katie - and everyone else, for that matter - was already anticipating the coming units being more challenging than the last. She wasn’t, however, expecting it to be the brain melt that it actually is.
She’s fully convinced she’s in over her head (way, way over her head) when she gets back to her hotel room Friday afternoon, head absolutely scrambled after a day of dense lecture and lab work, and collapses in the armchair by her window with an exhausted groan. Activities with little-to-no brain function are going to be an absolute must tomorrow - and likely Sunday too, if she wants to give her brain a chance to recuperate before Monday.
Luckily for Katie, the universe has just that in store for her.
Mostly.
It’s just past 08 the next day when she awakens to the chirp of her phone on the nightstand. Well, sort of awakens. She can barely crack her eyes open as she reaches out and slaps her palm against the hard surface, nor as her fingers curl around the phone and bring it to within inches of her face.
Turns out, it’s a text from Bob - nothing too out of the ordinary, considering how often they spend time together these days. She wonders what he could be up to at this hour.
She taps open the message, squints at the gray bubble on her screen. “Planning on getting breakfast in downtown SD,” it reads. “Wanna come with?”
Hm. Katie could go for a full breakfast plate. Yet…
Her fingers fumble their way across the keyboard. “I thought you weren’t a breakfast person tho.”
“I mean normally I’m not, but if it means I get to spend time with a friend like you, then I can be persuaded otherwise.”
Well then.
The flush is creeping across Katie’s face before she’s fully processed the message. Thank god he isn’t in the room with her; she’s pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he saw just how crimson-faced she is after reading that text.
But why is she, though? It’s an invitation to get breakfast with Bob. Breakfast with a member of the opposite sex is a total non-issue. Hell, it’s not like she hasn’t done this sort of thing dozens of times in the last couple of weeks with him. Granted, those ‘dozens of times’ are short mornings sipping coffee in his hotel room, but what does it matter?
It’s not a date. It is 100% not a date. In fact, as far as she’s concerned, as far as she’s forcing herself to be concerned, it’s the opposite. It’s a shared outing, something as casual and noncommittal as the hike they went on during their first week here. There’s no need for her to freak out and turn red like this. She needs to calm down, and right now.
Closing her eyes, Katie takes a deep, steadying breath, gives herself a moment to recompose before opening her eyes and tapping out a reply to Bob.
“Can I dress like a bum or do I have to put in some effort with my outfit?”
“Dress however you want. If it helps, I’m wearing jeans and a tshirt.”
Shit. No sweatpants for her then. “Put in some effort with my outfit, got it. See you down in the lobby in 10?”
“Yeah, that works.”
“Cool cool. Who’s driving?”
“Uhhhh, you know what I will. Least I can do to say thanks for driving me everywhere most days.”
“Works for me.”
Katie doesn’t give herself much time to think; she just sets herself in motion and goes. She quickly settles on jean shorts, an oversized worn green shirt with ‘FEAR THE DUCK’ scrawled across the chest, and her Birkenstocks. Then, it’s on to the bathroom. Teeth? Brushed and flossed. Face? Moisturized. Hair? Loosely French-braided. All things to suggest she made somewhat of an effort this morning, but not too much. Besides, why should she make a big fuss over how she looks? It’s breakfast, not a red carpet event.
Heaving a sigh, she grabs her phone, wallet, and sunglasses, and makes her way down to the lobby, where Bob’s waiting for her on one of the side couches. True to his word, he’s wearing jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. However, it’s a t-shirt that hugs his biceps just a little too tightly, and it’s all Katie can do not to outright ogle. Holy Christ, has he always had those?
C’mon idiot, say something - “You ready to go?” she asks with a bright - if not somewhat forced - smile on her face.
“Always.” Bob stands, palms his car keys, motions for her to follow. “You hungry?”
“Starving. Where are we going for breakfast anyway?”
“You ever heard of Harry’s Coffee Shop?”
Katie shakes her head. “Don’t think I have.”
“It’s this little diner-type place out in downtown. I’ve heard nothing but good things about it so I thought I’d go and check it out, y’know?”
“Fair enough.”
“Yeah. They’ve supposedly got really good cinnamon rolls.”
“So you’re a sweets for breakfast guy,” Katie says with a wry smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed that with the way you drink coffee.”
Bob snorts, almost as if it’s an obvious revelation. “Of course. It helps balance out the bitterness.”
The two are now making their way down the far right aisle of the parking lot, towards the nose of a dark gray car - a Subaru, Katie realizes when they draw closer. It’s one of the sporty hatchback models, complete with carbon-black rims and what’s sure to be its own bite under the hood, but it’s… small. Granted, Katie wasn’t sure what to expect (with Bob, she hardly ever knows these days), but she’s not entirely sure she expected this.
“A Subie, huh?” Katie’s lips curl into a gentle smirk as she ducks into the passenger seat. “Not really a big truck type?”
“Nope,” Bob replies, lips popping on the ‘p’. “I make a living flying around in a massive multimillion-dollar aircraft, but take comfort driving a little hatchback. Ironic, huh?”
“I mean, I guess.”
“End of the day, the less machinery I have to operate, the better.”
“Considering your car’s a manual, I’d call that ironic.”
“Oh har-har.” He sticks the key in the ignition, turns the car on. “Do you know how to drive stick?”
“Only in theory,” Katie says with a sigh. “I’ve tried so many times to learn from different people but I have the worst time trying to get-”
“-TOO MANY DOSES AND I’M STARTING TO GET AN ATTRA-”
Bob’s immediately slamming his hand on the audio power button with a grimace and a hissed ‘Jesus Christ’. Katie, though startled (more like scared shitless) by the sudden blast of music coming from Bob’s speakers, frowns, letting the lyrics roll around in her head like a ball in a roulette wheel. She’s heard those lyrics before, she knows it…
After a moment of contemplating, she glances over at Bob, brows furrowed. “…Was that Avenged Sevenfold?”
Bob cringes. “Teenage Bob was a big fan,” he replies sheepishly. “…You were saying, though?”
“I was saying that I have the worst time trying to get moving in first. Honestly, I think I’m just destined to drive automatic for the rest of my life.”
Bob scoffs as he maneuvers the car out of the parking lot with practiced ease. “Oh please - not like you’re much worse than I was. First few times I drove, it took me twenty minutes just to get moving in first gear. Twenty.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Yep. It was bad.”
Katie can’t help herself. A snicker bubbles from within her. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”
“Glad we agree on that,” Bob snickers back. “Anyway, um… If you ever wanna get better at driving stick, I’d be happy to help you practice.”
“You risk me breaking your transmission.”
“This baby can handle it. She’s sturdier than she looks. Seriously though, let me know. Your issue is nothing that practice can’t fix.”
“If you say so.” Katie pauses, contemplates, chuckles after a moment. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything too strenuous this weekend, ‘cause, y’know, this past week in class was hell, but uh, I guess… if you’re not doing anything tomorrow and are cool with me stalling your car a bunch of times, maybe…?”
Bob grins. “Let’s do it.” He wheels the car left, right, left, right, shifts seamlessly between the low gears as they drive off-base. “So, what are we listening to?”
Katie shrugs. “I mean, it’s your car; it’s your call.”
“Well, considering I stole your aux cord and played my music last time we went somewhere, I think it’s only fair that you get to do it this time.”
“Hmm…” Katie pulls up her Spotify playlists, thumbs through her myriad of songs while she chews on her bottom lip. Song-wise, there’s any number of directions she can go in - there’s Milo Korbenski and the Hot Garbage album; there’s My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless album (actually, on second thought, maybe not that one - the ‘noise’ aspect might be a bit too much this early in the morning); there’s copious amounts of Swervedriver and Catherine Wheel and Echodrone.
And then she scrolls past one song and suddenly, she knows what she wants to listen to.
“You ever heard of the band Lush?” she asks as she hooks her phone up to Bob’s soundsystem.
Bob shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“Okay… How do you feel about shoegaze or dream pop-type music?”
“I mean, I’ll listen to anything once. Usually wind up liking whatever I listen to. And honestly, I’ve liked whatever you put on when you drive.”
“Good,” Katie smirks, “that makes me feel better about putting this on.”
And with that, she hits the ‘play’ button, and out comes the opening chords for Lush’s Sweetness and Light, ringing out in hazy, perfect harmony and glory. It’s a song she’s heard many times over the last several years, but it never gets old. There’s beauty in the lyrics’ sweet nothings and warm sentiments - and it’s beauty she’s all too happy to revel in, and to share with others willing to listen.
“I like it,” Bob muses over the music’s heightening volume. “Very spacey.”
“Yeah, that’s shoegaze for ya.” She settles back in the passenger seat, closes her eyes, smiles blissfully. “This is what happiness sounds like to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” She swirls her hand through the air, loosely matches the rhythm of the song. “Love, adoration, and… sweetness and light.”
“Well, whaddaya say we play it good and loud?”
Katie’s eyes slide open, and Bob’s looking at her with a smirk on his face and his eyebrows quirked as he’s reaching for the volume knob.
He’s getting to know her quite well now, isn’t he?
She grins. “Crank that shit.”
Bob obliges, turning the dial up high just as the intro crescendos, spins into the main verses, the sound of saturated guitar and endless dreamy reverb soaking into them as readily as the morning sun does.
And Katie? Katie just grins, and grins, and grins. This. This is what makes her happy.
What a wonderful way to start things off today.
***
Harry’s Coffee Shop on Girard Avenue is a veritable time capsule of the ‘60s. Big and white with red lettering adorning its roof, its outside appearance serves as a small taste of its overall retroness. Inside, it’s tenfold, with walnut-colored wood paneling running the whole perimeter of the restaurant, two-tone leather-covered booths, schoolhouse pendant lights hanging over the diner counter, green carpeting, and framed photos of various sizes hanging on the walls, telling the restaurant’s nearly 60-year-old story in shades of faded color and black and white.
The restaurant is buzzing with activity when Bob and Katie walk in through the double doors. Customers occupy every other booth and table. Waiters breeze from spot to spot, customer to customer, carrying various elements of each person’s breakfast. Somewhere through the din of conversation and hustle-bustle, the Doors’ Peace Frog beats out a jaunty, keyboard-laden rhythm that sets the tone for the morning. Every inch, every movement, every sound contained within the space screams ‘busy Saturday morning’ - and yet, that only makes the restaurant all the more inviting.
Katie and Bob quickly find themselves seated in a small booth at the front, right beside a window that looks out at the street and surrounding neighborhood. It’s the ideal place for people watching that maintains some semblance of privacy, of anonymity, and normally, that would be a big draw for two people like Bob Floyd and Katie Garland.
But neither of them are here for that.
Bob’s in the middle of regaling Katie with tales of past OCS instructors when they’re seated, and he hardly misses a beat as they take their spots opposite each other. “I had this one RDC when I went through; still not entirely sure what I think of him,” he says. “He always had this blank, borderline-bored look on his face, and it stayed that way the whole damn time we were going through it. He’d be absolutely beating our asses in the compartment and it would just be” - Bob passes his hand over his face, which immediately relaxes into the blank look he speaks of - “completely flat.”
“By any chance, was it Lieutenant Reynoso?”
“Yeah, actually, it was.”
Well, boy howdy.
“Reynoso was one of my RDC’s when I went through,” Katie smiles wryly. “That guy honestly scared the shit outta me for a while.”
Bob’s face instantly splits into a grin as a laugh bubbles from him. “Scared? Why?”
“I didn’t know what he was thinking! He always had that blank look in his eyes, AND major resting bitch face; I didn’t know if he was contemplating murder or playing the Mii Channel theme on loop!”
“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!”
“Oh bullshit - tell me you weren’t intimidated as hell by him that first week.”
“...Okay, maybe a little.”
Katie giggles. “See? Reynoso was fuckin’ scary. Probably would’ve stayed scary if he’d let the other RDC’s do the talking. Oh man… Who else did you have?”
“Let’s see…” Bob holds up his hand, counts off instructors with his fingers. “There was Gunny Haltermann, MMSC Stennis-”
“No fucking way, you had Stennis?!” This conversation keeps getting better and better. “He was one of the RDC’s for my brother div!”
“No kidding.”
“Oh my god, this is wild - did he play Tupac during your div’s PT sessions?”
“Sure did. Had the lyrics to Ambitionz az a Ridah practically memorized after a few weeks with him.”
“Oh my god, yes, same.” Katie is practically giddy with excitement over the new information; after all, what are the odds of knowing someone who had virtually the same training experience as you, the same mentors and instructors? “He played that shit all the time during our sessions with brother div. It was kind of nice, actually. Like, nice in the sense that we got to hear music other than cadence during training.”
“Honestly, nice that we got to hear music, period,” Bob comments.
“I’ll take a black coffee, thanks - yeah, true. Y’know I made a list of music I was gonna listen to the second I finished training?”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. I had, like, somewhere around 75 songs on that list,” she laughs.
“Make that two black coffees, ma’am - what was the first one?”
Katie snickers. “Highway Tune - Greta Van Fleet. Specifically so I could blast it as I was leaving base and yell ‘see ya fuckers’ out the window.”
“Sounds about right,” Bob snickers back. “Kinda figured you’d have shoegaze at the top with how much you listen to it.”
“Oh trust me, there was plenty of it there. If I remember correctly, song number two was a My Bloody Valentine song.”
“Hell of a band name.”
“It belies the dreamy acid trip vibe.” With their coffee having been delivered by their waitress, Katie takes a sip, proceeds to doctor it with a packet of creamer. “Enough about me though - I wanna hear more about you.”
“The La Jolla Scramble, cinnamon roll on the side please - uh, not really much to tell. Got orange-carded once for screwing up facing maneuvers. Listened to a lot of Tupac and Childish Gambino when Stennis was leading things. Honestly, you’d have gotten a better answer if you’d asked me about college.”
“I’ll have the Mediterranean omelet and a cinnamon roll on the side, please - well, I guess this is me asking you about college then.”
Bob purses his lips, ponders for one, two, three seconds. “Well, I went to the University of Georgia, graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. In and out in four years.”
“Definitely weren’t in NROTC while you were there, if the, uh, OCS bit was any indication.”
“Nope,” Bob replies with a shake of his head and a sip of his pitch-black coffee. “Honestly, the Navy wasn’t even a thought in my head until after I graduated.”
“Wasn’t in mine either.” Katie pauses - then smirks. “Did you have a raging hard-on for your college football team?”
Bob scoffs, and loudly at that. “Hardly. Couldn’t care less about football.”
“Isn’t college football a big thing where you’re from, though?”
“It is - but you forget this is me we’re talking about,” Bob replies wryly. “Only reason you’d really catch me saying ‘go ‘dawgs’ was so I didn’t get the shit beat outta me, y’know?”
“Mmm. So not much of a football guy, got it.”
“Eh, not much of a sports guy, really. I like hiking though. And biking. Shit, put my happy ass on a bike and I’ll ride it ‘til the cows come home.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you like anything that gets you outside and exploring the world around you.”
“Exactly.” Another sip of coffee, then Bob sets his hands one on top of the other. “Your turn now. I think I know what you’re gonna say, but where’d you wind up for school?”
“U Oregon. Go Ducks and all that, woo woo, rah rah.”
“Kinda sounds like you weren’t much of a sports person either,” Bob comments with a chuckle.
“Sports, no. School pride, yes. I loved it there.”
“Very well then. Whadja major in?”
At that, Katie snorts out a laugh. “Political science,” she says around the rim of her coffee mug. “I had this convoluted - and I mean really convoluted - reasoning that it would be useful for working in nonprofit - something about ‘understanding how our laws and policies work and using that knowledge to help nonprofits with their missions’.”
“Yeah, how’s that working out for you now?”
“I dunno,” Katie laughs, “ask the Navy.”
“Man, I’m one to talk, though. All this ‘ooh and ah’ with a mechanical engineering degree and you don’t see me putting it to good use eith-”
“No, you cut that out; you actually have a useful degree. Mine’s a glorified scrap of paper that’s going to sit in my important files and collect dust for the rest of my life. And clearly, I’m putting my knowledge of U.S. and foreign policy to good use as a pilot in the Navy, right?”
“I mean, just because you’re not using it now, doesn’t mean it’s useless for the rest of your life. Pretty sure all the three-letter agencies would go nuts for someone like you. They’d be worth considering when you’re done doing barrel rolls and shooting things out of the sky.”
Yeah, I suppose.” An amused smirk makes its way across Katie’s face. “I could go to work for the NSA and do some spooky government stuff. That would be pretty neat.”
“See? That’s the spirit. Just gotta consider the possibilities.”
It’s not long before their waitress comes ‘round with their breakfast, fluffiest of omelets loaded with filling, lustrous scrambled eggs, and hand-sized cinnamon rolls painted with white icing, and goddamn, does it look good.
More than that, it tastes good. Katie takes a bite of the massive cinnamon roll she’s been presented with and her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. Yeah - Bob definitely knew what he was doing when he picked this place out.
He’s in a similarly rapturous state with his plate of scrambled eggs, Katie sees when she regains (some of) her senses and looks across the table at him. “Remind me to come here every weekend for breakfast from now on,” he all but groans. “Christ, this is good.”
“If the food I get is this good, honestly, I’d trust you to take me anywhere.”
“Good,” Bob snarks around a mouthful of eggs, “there’s a lotta places I wanna try while we’re here.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Katie snarks back.
Silence soon fills the space between them, the easy kind borne of mutual understanding and comfort with one another. Katie tucks into her omelet and cinnamon roll in turns, pondering the state of things. It’s… strange. Good strange, to be sure, but still. She’s not really the type to sit comfortably in silence with another person. People have expectations for her, for the interactions between them - expectations that usually don’t involve silence. Anything contrary to that is… unnatural.
But not here. Not with him.
With Bob, it’s different. Katie doesn’t have to worry about filling the empty spaces with talking and constant noise. She can just be, exist in the quiet moments. Hell, they both can. It’s nice, being this kind of comfortable with each other - and no doubt Bob has been thinking the same.
She’s cutting off a piece of omelet to eat when Bob breaks the silence between them. He sips his coffee, clears his throat. “So, uh… Not to bounce around or anything, but… What made you decide to join the Navy?”
There it is - the question that everyone inevitably asks her. Oh boy.
Katie takes the bite of her omelet, chews thoughtfully, shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I was ‘unfulfilled’ or anything. I went home, got a job at a nonprofit for homeless veterans, and it was great and all, being a part of my hometown in that capacity, but…”
The truth. It lingers on the tip of Katie’s tongue, waiting to make its appearance in the conversation. And god, does she want to let it out, but…
“It didn’t… I dunno, add up. Job wasn’t really going anywhere and I felt stuck. Trapped, actually.”
“Yeesh, don’t I know that feeling.”
“Like, it was at work and at home. Practically everyone I’d gone to school with had up and left Portland and started living their lives, and I was just… home, suffocating. Tethered to my house like I’d been for the last eighteen years, and… I didn’t want to be that anymore.”
“So you joined the Navy.”
Yeah, pretty much. “Walked into the nearest recruiting office and asked what was available for someone with a degree,” Katie says. “The AO2 I talked to basically told me I could do anything, buuuuut he also told me that he’d personally kick my ass if I came in and tried to pick a rate without putting in a package for OCS. Told me it’d be a waste of my degree if I went enlisted.”
“You actually had an AO tell you to go officer? Man, I had a CTIC at my recruiting office and he was hell-bent on trying to get me to go enlisted.”
“Thank god you didn’t; you make a lot more sense as a WSO.”
“And you make a lot more sense as a pilot.”
Heat and blush (seriously, what is with you?) creep their way across Katie’s cheeks. “Took me until BFT to realize it, but I’m glad we agree on that.”
She’s about to slip another piece of omelet in her mouth when her phone vibrates and chimes from her pocket. She pops the piece into her mouth, pulls it out to look at the message that’s come through - most likely from Fanboy, she thinks. No doubt he’s dying to know what she and Bob are up to (nosy bastard he is).
Only it’s not from him.
No - it’s from someone much worse.
“Katherine, we need to talk,” the text reads. “Your behavior last week was absolutely unacceptable and needs to be addressed immediately.”
Carrie. It’s all Katie can do not to groan out loud, not only at the timing of the text, but at the sheer audacity of it. Her behavior was unacceptable? Was she being serious?
Keeping her face smooth and neutral proves to be difficult as she types out a reply. “Pretty sure I told you not to contact me. AND to give Naomi her phone back.”
Carrie’s response is almost immediate. “What gives you the right to talk to your mother like that?” she seems to snap through the phone. “Call me NOW.”
The reaction is almost instantaneous - stomach in knots, shakes radiating outwards from within. No, not this, not now. She doesn’t need this woman barging back into her life and bullying her.
Tightness in her chest is starting to set in. Anxiety. Strong anxiety. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.
Katie stands abruptly, shuffles out of the booth with a mumbled “gonna use the head” and takes off in a brisk march towards the bathroom. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bob and the entire restaurant have their eyes on her, she would be running. She doesn’t want people - especially him - seeing her on the verge of an anxiety attack.
She shoves through the restroom door in the back of the restaurant, trudges to the nearest sink and curls her body above it, hands gripping the edges white-knuckle tight and breath coming in shallow shudders. God damn it. God fucking damn it. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Two texts from her mother and it’s enough to reduce Katie to a near mess in a diner bathroom. It’s as if the last four years of silence and purposely missed calls and texts never even existed. Worse still, it’s as if she’s back in college and her mother is down the road from her, ready and waiting for her to do something, anything to snatch her away and prove that she is helpless without her.
That she is nothing without her.
Katie swallows thickly, grips the sink edge so hard that her hands ache. She’s wrong. She’s a fighter pilot in the world’s finest navy, a warrior, an angel of death and savior of people. She is all of these things and more, a real powerhouse of ‘something’ - and she did all of it without her mother. Carrie can go fuck herself. After all the shit she’s put her through, Katie owes her nothing.
She lifts her head, stares down her reflection in the mirror. “I owe her nothing,” she utters in a low voice, steeling it against the shaking wracking her body. “I owe her nothing. Not a phone call, not an explanation text, not a single goddamn thing. I owe her nothing after everything she’s put me through, and I will not let her guilt me into anything else.” She repeats the words, over and over and over again, wills them to stick. I owe you nothing. I owe you nothing. I owe you absolutely NOTHING.
Eventually, the words do stick, and she’s able to calm down enough to suck in a deep breath and steady herself. She can do this. Carrie can rage and harass her daughter all she wants, but she has no power over her. Katie won’t let her have it.
She takes another big breath in, blows it out nice and slow. She’s ready. She can face the world again.
With a final breath, Katie turns and makes her way back out into the restaurant, mind working its way back to the point before Carrie interrupted her and Bob. She was having such a nice time with him before she had to show up… She just wants to go back to that point and forget that the last 5 minutes ever happened…
Unfortunately for her, there are other plans in store.
When Katie makes eye contact with Bob, there’s no missing the gleam of concern in his eyes. Oh no. “Hey, uh, your phone’s been ringing nonstop for the last five minutes.”
Oh fuck me, she didn’t - “Has it now?”
“Yeah. Same person too, from the looks of it.” Bob’s face colors as the implication that he might’ve done something stalkerish dawns on him. “Not that I was going out of my way to get in your business, you left your phone facing up and I could see the name on caller ID-”
“No no, you’re fine; I get what you’re trying to say.” Katie slides back into the booth and takes her phone in her hands, stifling another groan when she sees the never-ending list of missed calls from her sister. Only it’s not Naomi, she thinks, her thoughts edged with a growl. Christ, Carrie’s in fine form today.
No sooner does the thought pass through her head than her phone starts ringing again, ‘Naomi’ scrolling across the top of the screen, the damn thing playing that stupid marimba ringtone while it buzzes expectantly in her hand. It has to be the 11th time her mother’s tried to call her now.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. She clicks the power button to decline the call, switches it to silent mode, and all but whips it to the far end of the table, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in a death grip. Stepping out to fend off an anxiety attack was bad enough, but this… She does not need this today. She absolutely does not need this today.
“…You’re not gonna take that?”
Katie doesn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”
“You sure? Whoever’s calling must really wanna get a hold of you if they’ve been going like that.”
“Yeah, well, she can choke.” Katie stabs her fork into the piece of cinnamon roll she’s just cut up, sticks it in her mouth and chews stiffly. Christ, she can’t believe this is happening right now.
“Oh.” Bob’s gaze shifts down, blinks as he contemplates his next move, if it’s even appropriate to have one at this point. Katie’s hoping he drops the subject and moves on to something different, but she can’t say she’s surprised when his eyes steel and he looks back up at her, trying to understand. “What’s, um… What’s the story with” - he steals a glance at the list of missed calls - “Naomi?”
“She’s my little sister,” Katie replies around a sip of coffee. “Problem is that she’s not the one spamming my call log.”
“Oh? Who is then?”
“My mother,” she mutters.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence falls between them again, permeates the air for one, two, three, four, five seconds. This silence, however, is uncomfortable, uneasy, heavy. It’s not often that Carrie and her bullshit make their existence public. In the four years she’s been in the Navy, Katie has worked hard to keep it that way. Now? She’s being forced to acknowledge it (in public, and to one of her friends, no less), and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it.
“I don’t…” Katie closes her eyes, takes a long, deep, steadying breath. No one wants to hear this. Why the fuck am I doing this? “I don’t have a good relationship with my mom.”
She pauses, looks at Bob, wills him to say something, anything in reply. But he doesn’t. He just stares, gives her that intent look that tells her he’s listening and that he’s not saying anything until she’s good and done, REALLY good and done.
Fuck. Not the reaction she was hoping for.
Well then. Looks like brevity is about to be her best friend for this conversation.
“It took a long time for me to realize it, but she’s… damaged. Like, really fucking damaged. And she’s done stuff that’s messed me and my sister up over the years.”
“Like what? Um, if you don’t mind me asking.”
So much for keeping this brief. Fuckity fuck.
Katie licks her lips, sucks her teeth in thought. “Well… A lot, really, but uh… Gaslighting, emotional abuse, manipulation… You uh, you name it.” Her chest aches from the truth and the rawness of it all straining against it, but she forces it back, forces it deep inside her where it can’t see the light of day. She doesn’t want to talk about it with Bob anymore, not right now, not when things are going as nice as they are and he thinks she’s a good person to be around. He certainly wouldn’t think that if he knew, would he, Katherine Mae? You’re not damaged. You’re worse than damaged; you’re categorically shattered-
“…Katie? You okay?”
Katie blinks, punches Carrie and her noxious words deep into the recesses of her brain. She really needs to stop having moments like these.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles. “It’s, um… It’s a tricky thing for me to talk about.”
“It’s all right; I shouldn’t have asked about it in the first place. I’m sorry.” Bob takes a long, ponderous sip, eyes following the people strolling on the other side of the window. “Guess that explains why you joined after college.”
“Yeah. Shitty circumstances, but definitely the best decision I could’ve made.” Katie’s mouth curls upwards in a soft smile. “I have a job I love, I’ve already been to a few cool places, and I’m basically in an honors program for fighter pilots… I’d say I’m doing pretty okay these days.”
“I’d agree with you.”
“Bonus points for some of the people I’ve met recently, too,” she adds, the smile growing just the tiniest bit larger. “I haven’t known them long but they’ve made a pretty big difference in my life.”
At that, Bob’s cheeks go pink and he grins sheepishly. He still can’t quite smoothly take a compliment, but at this point Katie doesn’t care and she chuckles to herself. If anything, she finds it rather endearing.
They soon return to the silence of before, tuck into their breakfasts amidst the din of the restaurant and with a renewed sense of ease and contentment. There’s beauty in being comfortable with silence. The simple pleasure of their company is enough for them; there’s no real need to speak.
Until…
“We’re being watched.”
Bob’s buttering a piece of toast when he says it, and he says it so nonchalantly and with such a calm face that at first Katie thinks he’s joking. But, she follows the line of his gaze, and sure enough…
She’s not really noteworthy, the old lady sitting by herself at a nearby table. She nurses a cup of coffee that’s far more milk than it is coffee, and picks slowly at a raspberry danish on a small white plate. If she’s not holding the coffee in her veined right hand, then it’s a weathered copy of some old romance book. So absorbed is she in her little routine of coffee, pastry, and reading that Katie wonders if Bob’s imagination might be playing tricks on him.
However, all of that goes out the window when the lady looks up and catches Katie’s gaze with her own. She grins at her, and suddenly, inexplicably, Katie has a bad feeling about where this is heading.
“Y’know,” she says, “I’ve had dozens of boyfriends in my time, and none of them ever treated me the way he treats you. You’ve got yourself a good one there!”
Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.
Katie’s not sure who turns beet-red first: her, or Bob. She’s also not sure who starts coughing first. Oh my god. That actually happened.
She can’t believe it. First there’s Fanboy making jokes during PT. Then there’s Halfpint making snide comments whenever he sees them together. Now there’s some old lady mistaking them for a couple at a diner. Holy Christ, Katie’s inner thoughts moan, what is going on here?
“Oh no,” Bob coughs, “no no no, we’re just friends, ma’am.”
Katie’s quick to voice her agreement with Bob (albeit around a massive wheezing fit), but she gets the sense that the lady isn’t buying it. She nods politely and smiles at them before returning to her book, but there’s no missing the twinkle in her eye, the one that clearly says ‘you’re in denial’.
Christ - if Katie didn’t know any better, she’d say that this little old lady is a damn Cupid in disguise, trying to bend the universe and push her and Bob together.
Whoo boy. She doesn’t want to dedicate even a second of thought to that. Breakfast has already been complex enough without adding that in.
Thank god for the both of them, their remaining time in the restaurant is short-lived. Bob has them rung up and checked out in less than two minutes, and they slip out of the booth and through the front doors with hardly a word exchanged between them. The last thing Katie sees before they leave is the old lady grinning at them, twiddling her twisted fingers in farewell.
It’s only when they’re outside that they fully react to the exchange that’s just taken place, and while Katie heaves a heavy breath and stares up at the sky with her hands on her hips, Bob damn-near doubles over with laughter.
“Well, that turned into a real interesting breakfast, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, sure did… God, I can’t believe she thought we were a couple…” Katie’s head is spinning and her insides are burning. The universe, it seems, is really trying to pull something with her and Bob, and with each passing day, with each shared moment and second-too-long glance at one another, she’s beginning to question whether she even has a choice in the matter.
We’re friends and nothing more. We’re friends and nothing more. WE’RE FRIENDS AND NOTHING MORE.
But, as they start making their way back to the car, Katie looks down at Bob’s hand, veined and strong and relaxed beside his leg, and two thoughts pass through her head. They’re thoughts so… out of left field, so dubious and unlike her, she wonders if it’s really even herself: what if? What if she were to reach out and take his hand in hers?
And… what if they were ‘something more’?
***
A day and some change later, Katie has effectively put Bob’s Subaru through its paces and thensome. They spend close to four hours in the car, doing everything from going forward and backwards in one empty aisle of an isolated lot, to puttering around one of the on-base neighborhoods, to making full laps around North Island.
At first, it’s rough - really rough. Seeming to follow in Bob’s footsteps, Katie stalls out multiple times and struggles to make the car move in first gear. There’s frustrating, and then there’s what Katie feels, and it’s borderline agonizing. She knows how to drive, and goddamn it, she’s good at it; why is she suddenly so categorically unable to now?
She’s certain Bob’s going to boot her out from behind the wheel and take over driving, is certain that this is the worst attempt anyone’s ever made to drive manual, is certain that she’s a lousy driver and that everyone, Bob and the entire on-base population included, knows it. After all, she’s long since lost count of how many times the car has jerked forward and shut off, has lost count of the number of times she’s sworn out loud every time she’s slammed them back in their seats. Bob’s car has to be the damn finickiest piece of machinery she’s ever sat behind, but good god, it REALLY doesn’t help that she can’t get her shit together and just drive the car. She’s making an ass of herself and at this point, she’s waiting, waiting, waiting for Bob (Christ, practically begging him in her head) to just heave a sigh and tell her to stop.
But he doesn’t. Quite the opposite. He sits calmly in the passenger seat, bears each violent jolt and jerk with an understanding smile, tells Katie that she’s doing great in a way that makes her stomach flutter and her cheeks threaten to burn crimson. There it is again, that calm, quiet kindness of his. It’s like a pressure valve loosening within her.
Katie grits her teeth, pushes onward. Goddamn it, she has to nail this - if not for herself, then for the man sitting beside her.
And she does. For as awful as it is subjecting him to her inexperience, the numerous attempts and spiteful reattempts do finally pay off. She’s not perfect, but she does manage two laps around base without stalling or any significant lurching. And that? That is a victory she’ll take.
Hours later, it’s closing in on 8 p.m. and the two of them are occupying their usual corner of the Hard Deck, accompanied tonight by Fanboy, Halfpint, and a rather hefty pitcher of Coors (at Katie’s insistence because, even with her earlier success behind the wheel of Bob’s car, holy Christ, does she need a drink).
“So what’s this I hear about you learning stick with Bobber earlier?” Fanboy asks as he’s pouring himself a glass.
It takes all of Katie’s strength not to roll her eyes at the barely-there sly smirk on his face. Still trying to imply shit. Of course he is.
“It was more putting the theory into practice, but yeah,” Katie shrugs, just as a wince flashes across her face. “Pretty sure I tortured Bob’s car doing it, but I guess it all worked out.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Did a couple laps around base with little issue, so I’d say I did pretty good.”
“Sheesh,” Fanboy says with a whistle, “maybe I’ll let you start driving my car when we get back to Virginia-”
“Nah, I had my fill driving Bob’s today; I think I’m good for, like, the rest of my life.”
“Wise choice,” Halfpint mutters around the lip of his beer glass. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get behind the wheel of that thing.”
“Bro, why you gotta be like that?”
“Because your car’s a death trap and the last thing you wanna do is put a newly-minted manual driver in it!”
“Oh my god, it’s not that bad.”
“What do you drive, Fanboy?” Bob asks.
“An ‘09 370Z.”
“What, like a Nissan?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a shitbox,” Halfpint cuts in, much to the annoyance of his WSO, who throws his arms up in exasperation.
“It is not a shitbox! It gets from point A to point B with no issue, and it sounds cool doing it!”
Halfpint snorts. Loudly. “My dude, you put more emphasis on that trash can exhaust mod than on, like, anything else in that car - y’know, like safety, or what actually makes the car run.”
“Oh what the fuck would you know, huh?”
“More than you, apparently.”
“First of all, if I’m gonna go anytime soon, then it’s gonna be in a blaze of glory. Second, bitch, have you heard my car? If it don’t sound like I have a hive full of angry fuckin’ bees under the hood, then it’s not a proper tuner!”
“Well if you’re going for loud, then you’ve definitely got that down, because Jesus… You’re worse than the fuckers who blast down the highway at two in the morning.”
“Well” - Fanboy swills the last of his beer and clanks the glass down hard on the tabletop - “I’m clearly being attacked here, so I’m just gonna go home now.” He stands up, and makes like he’s actually going to walk out and head out, but allows himself to be swung back to the table by Katie, who loops an arm through his with a laugh and a promise not to bully him anymore.
“We’re literally just giving you shit. Promise we’ll stop.”
“Yeah girl, you better,” Fanboy scoffs. “I know where you work.”
“Yeah, I know where you work too, dumdum,” Katie shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Enough about shitboxes though - how was y’all’s weekend?”
“Couldn’t tell you a damn thing about Halfpint’s weekend, but mine was pretty good - hit up Coronado Beach yesterday, then spent the rest of it catching up on Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen-”
“Nerrrrrrrd-”
“Fuck off, Kozer! At least I left my room this weekend!”
As the pilot and his WSO launch into another spat of arguing and name-calling, Katie leans over towards Bob. “I swear, it’s like hanging out with a married couple with these two,” she murmurs to him around a sip of beer.
“Tell me about it… Do we break ‘em up or let ‘em keep going?”
“Eh,” Katie shrugs, “let ‘em bitch. Think they’ll notice if we drink all the beer?”
“Dunno. Let’s find out.”
Katie merely clinks her glass with Bob’s, then swills down the remains of her drink and pours a fresh one. To no one’s surprise, neither Fanboy nor Halfpint notice their classmates quietly kill the pitcher of Coors between them. When Bob orders them a second pitcher, it’s much of the same: more drinking, more people watching, more quiet laughing. For a Sunday evening, it’s a good way to pass the time.
Eventually, things wind down for the night. When the Hard Deck closes things down at 10, the two of them are among the last to leave. Fanboy and Halfpint have long since headed back to the Navy Lodge, and there are maybe four other patrons occupying the bar with them, all paying their tabs and shuffling off to their cars or loping their way back to their quarters. Despite Bob’s protesting, Katie pays for the pitchers.
“Gotta let me pay for something sometime, Bob,” she says with a wink as she’s scribbling her signature on the receipt.
“Do you realize I have a Georgia-based mother to deal with?” Bob groans (albeit jokingly). “She’d kick my ass if she found out I didn’t pay for a lady.”
“Well, guess it’s a good thing you’re all the way on the other side of the country in California,” she grins. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
“You wanna drive or do you want me to drive?”
“Oh dude, that’s all you. I put you and your car through enough today.”
“You sure?”
Katie nods with a tight smile. “Oh yeah.”
They push through the front doors into the warm, salt-tinged air of the night, chatting casually amongst themselves, ready to end the evening with a nice, easy drive home...
“Hey, you’re gorgeous.”
Katie whips her head around to the source of the comment, and finds herself looking at a man propped up against one side of the walkway railing. Judging by the way his words slur, he’s drunk - very drunk. Katie pays him no mind, continues on her way to the parking lot with Bob.
“Damn, I give you a compliment and you can’t even be bothered to say ‘thank you’? Th’ fuck’s amatter with ya?”
Oh Christ, I SO don’t need this right now - “Well,” Katie huffs as she turns on one heel to face the guy, “I’m a little hard-pressed to when I don’t even know you.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy to fix.” He pushes himself away from his spot on the railing, stumbles over to Katie, body lurching to a stop when their chests are practically touching. Only they aren’t. Katie’s eye-level with his collarbone, and the realization of this twists her stomach. This guy is a fucking giant compared to her, and something tells her he knows it and is using it to his advantage.
Shit. She already doesn’t like how this is going.
“Gimme your number and we’ll get to know each other better sometime.”
She tries to play things cool, plays the noncommittal angle. “Maybe,” she sighs. “They keep us pretty busy at TOPGUN. Doubt I’ll have time to get away from all that-”
“Oh, you’re one of those snobby pilot bitches, aren’t ya?” The guy leans down, leers in her face, sour beer breath curling across her nose. “Think you’re too good for me, huh?”
“Seriously? You’re the one acting like an asshole and getting all up in my personal space,” Katie bites.
“Wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just gimme your number - so how ‘bout it?” Inch by inch, he’s moving forward, and inch by inch, Katie’s moving backward, closer and closer to the wood railing behind her, closer and closer to trapping and being trapped. “Make this easy for the both of us, huh?”
“C’mon man, she’s not interested” - Bob makes to step between Katie and the nameless guy harassing her - “leave her alone-”
It’s like Bob’s not even there. The guy shoulder checks him out of the way and continues on with Katie as if nothing happened. Undeterred, Bob makes another attempt to shield her - and is shoved off with a laugh and a ‘get lost bitch’.
Katie’s vision immediately goes red. Enough of this. It’s bad enough that this guy’s harassing her - but putting hands on her friend and calling him names? Absolutely not.
“You want my number? Here.” She snatches the guy’s phone out of his hand, punches in a series of numbers, and all but throws it back at him. “There’s my number. Now can you leave me the fuck alone?”
“All right, all right, damn, don’t need to be a bitch about it! I’ll hit you up later, yeah?”
In your dreams, asshole- “Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Katie mutters before taking Bob’s hand and leading him down the ramp to the parking lot. She doesn’t even care that she’s being rude or putting herself in a risky position anymore; she just wants to leave and never see this asshole again.
“Better be ready for me when I do!”
Katie doesn’t even dignify that with a response - just stomps off for the car with Bob in tow. She’s fairly certain that if she did, it would be an aggressively physical one - and she definitely doesn’t need the kind of trouble that would bring. Neither of them do.
The instant they’re out of earshot, Bob’s got an arm around her shoulders and he’s pulling her tight to his frame, sheltering her from the two pricks they’re fast leaving behind. Were this a normal situation, Katie would be a blushing mess right now, but after the last five minutes, she’s too rattled and on-edge to be flustered. She wordlessly accepts the pull into him, snakes her own arm around his waist - and he jumps, just the tiniest bit. He must not have been expecting reciprocation from her. No matter.
His voice is soft, low. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine… Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine…” He pauses, purses his lips. “Please tell me you didn’t actually give that guy your phone number.”
“Wha- no. I gave him a bunch of randoms. I don’t even know if what I gave him is a phone number.”
“Good…”
“Believe me, I want nothing to do with that asshole.”
“Yeah, neither do I.”
Bob says nothing else beyond that. At least, he doesn’t at first. He’s far too focused on putting distance between them and the harasser - but it’s clear that he’s got something on his mind, something to say.
“...Bob?”
No response. Just step, after step, after silent step.
“C’mon Bob, talk to me.”
Still no response. Step, after step, after silent step. Katie exhales in disappointment and goes to drop the subject, but before she can, he speaks.
“That’s why my callsign’s Bob.”
“…What?”
“You asked me three weeks ago why my callsign’s my first name. That’s why.”
There’s no missing the hard edge in Bob’s voice. He’s angry - a rare thing, given his usually easygoing, soft spoken disposition. It’s not just in his voice, though. It’s in the way he stares straight forward, even when he’s speaking directly to Katie; it’s in the stiffness of his walking; it’s in the tautness of his arm around her shoulders. This is a full-body, full-brunt feeling - and quite honestly, it unsettles Katie.
“Wait, hold on-” She steals a quick glance over her shoulder, turns back and looks up at Bob as she juts a thumb back. “What does he have to do with it?”
“It’s guys like him,” Bob replies stiffly.
Katie’s brow furrows but she says nothing. She’s not entirely sure where he could be going with this, but she’s not so sure she wants to find out - or, rather, that she should be finding out.
“All my life, I’ve been pushed around and counted out by guys like that. It happened every three, four years when dad would haul us with him to a new duty station; it happened when he retired and we settled in Georgia; it happened when I went to college.” He pauses, inhales deeply through his nose, presses on. “I joined the Navy because I thought things would be different - y’know, that I’d get to prove myself and show people I’m someone to be taken seriously. You know what it actually was? Same shit. More pushing around, more laughing, and more forgetting.”
“Bob-”
“Guys like that who look at me and don’t think I’m even worth the dirt on their boots, much less their time and consideration? They’re everywhere in the Navy, but I picked the one community that’s absolutely infested with them.” He barks out a laugh, a mirthless one. “God, what was I thinking?”
“You were thinking you were gonna end that cycle of bullshit.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I tried to, but… Nope. I wound up being an afterthought all through OCS and primary flight training. I didn’t even get a callsign until well over six months at Lemoore, and when I did, it was a matter of ‘who are you and why don’t you have a callsign? I guess it can be Bob, whatever.’” When Katie looks up at him again, Bob’s gaze is glazed over, distant - and while the rest of his face is smooth and neutral, there’s no missing the shame, resentment, and hurt in his eyes. “They gave me that name because I’m forgettable and don’t mean much. And… And what you saw just now proved what I am and what people think of me.”
Oh, Bob.
Katie’s throat closes and she thinks she might actually start crying. So that’s why Bob never told her. That’s why he’s kept that story so close and tight to him. And it makes perfect sense, but god, if it doesn’t rip her heart into little pieces.
“Do you really think that?” she asks him quietly.
Bob sighs, shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what everyone else thinks.”
In an instant, the hurt and sadness is replaced with anger of her own, a burning, snarling anger.
The words that come out of Katie’s mouth bite the air around them. “Fuck them,” she spits. “Fuck all of them. They don’t know a damn thing about you. And for the record, I don’t think that about you.”
“Katie, you don’t have to-”
“No, lemme finish.” She shushes Bob with a single pointed glance. “You’re genuinely one of the nicest, smartest, coolest guys I know, not to mention you’re pretty terrifying in a Super Hornet. I think you’re fucking incredible, okay? I could never forget about you - and quite frankly, I don’t wanna forget about you.”
Bob is silent, staring at her with a gleam of awe in his eyes. One would think he’s never heard reassurance like this before; judging by the way he was talking earlier, he hasn’t. Well, enough of that. He deserves better and Katie knows it.
“Seriously, fuck that guy back there, and people like him. I doubt you’ll ever run into him again, but even if you did, he doesn’t matter in the long run, and neither does his opinion of you.”
“I know. Just…” Bob exhales, long and exhausted. “I’m tired, Katie. I’m so tired of it.”
“I know you are, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with that shit for so long.” She’d give anything to reach over and just wipe away the tired, defeated look on his face. She hates seeing him look like that.
“Gonna have to put up with it as long as I’m in the Navy…” The look lingers for one second more, then in an instant it’s gone, replaced with one of resolve, of steel. “You’re right, though. He doesn’t matter.”
“No, he doesn’t - and I’ll tell you what, if that guy had put his hands on you one more time, I would’ve turned around and decked him.”
“…Really?”
Katie nods. “Really. You matter more to me than he does.” Her cheeks are burning bright and she’s certain that Bob can see it, but she doesn’t care. It needs to be said.
When Bob speaks again, his voice is soft, softer than anything it’s been in the last five minutes, so soft that she has to strain to hear him - but she does, and oh.
“You matter to me too, y’know. A lot.”
It’s no different than what she just said to him a moment ago, but coming from him this time around? It hits differently. There’s something there, something peculiar, something hanging between the two of them; Katie can feel it. She’s certainly not one to read too much into situations or energy, but there’s no ignoring the something between them, not after the last few weeks. Hell, the last 24 hours. She can’t.
And, with one look into the cerulean blue eyes walking beside her, Katie is certain that Bob can’t, either.
“C’mon, let’s go home.”
And off they go, Bob’s arm around Katie’s shoulders, her arm around his waist, their steps synched with the other’s…
And god, if it isn’t the most natural feeling in the world.
Love when writers do an insane amount of unnecessary research for their fics. I follow an author that did like 8 months of intense research into 14th century Scotland so they could write smut about it, and guess what. It was some fucking incredible porn AND I learned about old Scottish politics
Notes: 18+ NSFW. Can be read alone or as part of work. Sorry for the loooong delay on this finale!
You weaved through the throngs of people waiting pierside at North Island as thousands of sailors and airmen disembarked the newly returned carrier. You were warned that the spectacle could take hours, and while you were never a fan of crowds, you had to admit you were charmed by the images of families reunited after a loved one had been away at sea. Parents greeting daughters, fathers meeting their infant children for the first time, spouses reuniting with little concern for who may be watching. It was impossible to be unaffected by the infectious joy of long-awaited reunions.
By the same token you felt like an intruder. You had asked Bob to be there, not the other way around, and now you were wondering whether you overstepped his boundaries. Surely, he wouldn't consider you on the same level as family and leave it to Bob to be too polite to tell you that your offer was a bit much. You looked down nervously at your phone where you had shared your location to make it easier for him to find you in the crowd. It might've been too forward but there was no turning back now.
You were standing on the balls of your feet trying to see over the heads and shoulders of the families around you when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning around, any doubts you may have had about Bob wanting you to be there were swept aside when he gathered you up in a tight hug, lifting you clear off your feet. Your gasp of surprise was quickly replaced by laugher as he spun you around once, nearly tripping over his own duffle bag. When he set you down you could hardly formulate a greeting before his lips where on yours in a heated, albeit brief, kiss.
"God, I missed you," he exhaled with another smile, his hands still cupping the sides of your face.
You felt your cheeks get warm in a way that had nothing to do with the San Diego sunshine. "I've missed you too," you admitted, your eyes drinking in his features, noticing the freckles on his cheeks and the slight sunburn at the tip of his nose where the visor of his flight helmet must end.
He grew shy under your gaze and leaned his forehead against your own.
"Thanks for your letters," he murmured closely, enveloping you both in a bubble or privacy and drowning out the buzz of reuniting families. "I mean it. You should have seen me pushing people out of the way at mail call."
You laughed lightly. "I always saved yours for when I was off work and had time to enjoy them. Had to hide them so Emily wouldn't go snooping for them while I was out of the house." Your eyes closed as Bob's thumbs kept brushing the skin below your ears.
"I was so happy when you said you'd be here. I haven't had anyone pierside since my first deployment. It's nice to know there's someone waiting for you."
Your arms tightened around his shoulders in response, but your illusion of privacy was ruptured when Bob's fellow officers spotted him in the crowd with you.
"Heeeeey Bobby!"
Your eyes popped open, and Bob looked up with a quiet sigh and a smirk.
"Here we go..."
You suppressed your laughter as you were surrounded by a group of aviators materializing from the crowd, some you knew from hanging out with Bob at the Navy bars and some you had never met. The few you had met greeted you by name with knowing looks that made your blush from earlier come creeping back.
"Well, if it isn't the pen pal," the green-eyed Lieutenant with the shit eating grin took in the sight of you and Bob, newly reunited. "You sure kept Bobert here entertained at sea. The way he ran at mail call. Must've been some interesting letters."
"Or pictures," his friend replied, earning a cackle from Jake. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, preparing for further humiliation, when Bob replied with the lightning-fast reflex of a seasoned Naval officer.
"I already get enough nudes in the mail from your mom, Seresin."
Your mouth dropped open at Bob's unexpected retort, along with the mouths of half the officers present before everyone joined in a barrage of laughter at Jake's expense.
"Hey, fuck you Bob," he replied with a little impressed smirk at Bob's rudeness.
Bob gave you a sideways look of apology for everyone's behavior, including his own. <i>It's just the Navy</i> his eyes said, even though you knew he was a bit proud to have put Jake in his place so quickly.
"Hey Bob," one of the other Lieutenants cut in with the obvious intent of poking the bear, "a few of us are going to The Hard Deck if you and your friend want to join. Unless you have something else going on?"
You opened your mouth to protest the offer when Bob spoke. "Sure, we'll meet you there," Bob agreed immediately, to the dismay of his scheming shipmates. "Just have to drop my bag off at the car."
With that, Bob took his duffle and your arm and ushered you through the crowd in a quick escape from the other officers.
"The Hard Deck, really?" you laughed as Bob dragged you along. "It's going to be a zoo, with the carrier just in."
"Oh, don't worry. I have no intention of going there," he smiled down at you reassuringly. "It's just easier to get them off my back if I say I'll be there. Otherwise, they'd be asking where we're going and what we'll be doing...it would be a whole thing."
When you were free of the thickest part of the crowd, he took your hand in his as you lead him toward your parked car.
"Besides, I've been stuck on a ship with them for months," he said. "They'll live without me for an evening."
"Good," you replied, "because I wasn't planning on sharing you."
It was time for Bob to blush as you approached your car and he threw his duffle into the trunk. Inside the car you both gave an involuntary sigh of relief, as you both finally had some semblance of privacy. For Bob, it must have been especially cathartic after months at sea on a floating city. You reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, looking down at your entwined fingers.
"Where to?" you asked.
"I have a place to stay on base until I fly home to see my parents, but..."
"Not feeling the base housing right now?" you smiled, understanding.
"I just want some normalcy," he admitted with a long exhale, "and a shower...a real shower with hot water. I want the stink of the carrier off me."
You laughed and nodded, not fully knowing what a carrier smells like, but imagining that thousands of people and aircraft on a ship for endless months can't be particularly pleasant.
"We can drop your stuff off at my place, you can take a shower and then figure out what to do from there," you offered.
"Sounds good to me," Bob replied.
"Okay," you said, suddenly a bit nervous, shifting your car into gear.
On the drive to your apartment, whenever your right hand wasn't needed on the wheel or the gearstick, it slipped back into Bob's hand. You could hardly believe he was back, just beside you. The prospect of his physicality made you both excited and anxious in equal measures. As much as you wanted to jump his bones as soon as he entered your apartment, you had to remind yourself that he was just back from a long deployment, and that you should let him get settled in to being back on shore. He was probably exhausted and more interested in sleeping than...well, other things. You could be patient.
At your apartment, Bob deposited his duffle beside the couch where your sister had caught you making out all those months ago while you went looking for a clean towel in the linen closet.
"Where's Emily?" Bob asked conversationally.
"At a music festival up in NorCal for the weekend," you replied as you returned with a towel. "She won't be back until Monday night."
You handed Bob the towel as he smiled his thanks and took in the meaning of your words - you'd have the apartment to yourselves for the weekend. No one to barge in at inopportune moments.
"Bathroom's all yours," you said. "Take as long as you like. Use all the hot water."
"Thanks," Bob said with a soft lingering look before retreating to the bathroom.
When the door closed you released a breath you hadn't known you were holding. For months you had been thinking of this moment - having Bob in your home with no possibilities of distractions or interruptions - and now you were sweating it. As soon as he was out of that shower there would be no more hiding. You no longer had the excuse of time or distance or uncertain feelings or pesky sisters. If Bob made the move, you knew you'd be putty in his hands.
Unsure of what to do with yourself while Bob showered (other than visualize Bob in the shower which was very very distracting), you undertook some unnecessary panic tidying of your living room before darting to your bedroom to make certain everything was in order there. Not that it mattered, you had no idea if he was going to be staying the night, you chided yourself. Of course, he will. He's your boyfriend and he has been gone for months. He'll want to. Unless he'd rather have time to settle back into what you had before he left. It'd be awkward otherwise, right? He won't even see this room or maybe you'll both be naked in here within the hour.
You felt a quiver in your belly and your heartrate picked up. You couldn't stay in there staring at your bed like a mad woman.
You scampered back to the living room and nearly collided with Bob. Shirtless Bob with damp hair and a towel around his waist. Bob wearing only a towel, standing in your living room.
"Sorry!" you said, backing off and giving him room. "Didn't know you'd be out already"
"Oh, um, yeah," Bob blushed a pinkness that spread all the way down to his bare chest. "I just wanted the grime off."
You could smell your own shampoo in the hair that fell in damp wisps against his forehead. Before you could stop yourself, you let your eyes wander from his hair to the droplet of water under his chin that threatened to fall on to his naked chest. Your sightline fell further to his navel and the dusting of blonde hair that trailed below it and disappeared beneath his towel.
You hadn't seen Bob without a shirt on since he was a child, back when he was scrawny like a twig. The years and puberty had blessed him with a wiry, fit physique that had been well hidden beneath both his uniform and civilian clothes. With nothing but a towel for Bob to hide behind you found yourself thanking your lucky stars for testosterone and the US Navy.
Your mouth was suddenly very dry.
"I, uh, forgot my bag out here," Bob's words snapped you back to reality, your eyes wide in panic at having been caught ogling his body.
"Oh, shit sorry," you apologized again as you realized you were standing between Bob and his duffle. He seemed amused or maybe even charmed at your near incapacitation in the presence of his not quite nakedness. You stepped out of the way so he could access the bag beside your feet.
Bob bent to reach for his bag and your eyes followed the reach of his long fingers and up along the vein of his hand that extended the length of his forearm. Without fully knowing how, you realized your hand was now softly wrapped around that forearm, stalling Bob from reaching his bag.
He slowly stood upright as your hand travelled up to just above his elbow, watching in interest as his skin broke out in goosebumps where your fingers touched. Your eyes drifted up to Bob's and an apology died in your throat as he leaned forward to kiss your upturned face.
The kiss was more hesitant than the one you had shared pierside despite being in the privacy of your home. Your eyes closed as you felt Bob's lips travel lightly over yours and along the line of your jaw. Your hands finished their journey up Bob's arms and settled on his shoulders as his own cupped your face like before. Hesitation gave way to impatience when you lightly nipped Bob's lower lip, which was all the encouragement he needed to open his mouth to yours.
Sighing against your lips, Bob took a step closer, hands firmly along your jaw as his tongue explored your own. Your fingertips traced the muscles of his shoulders when your own contented sigh was cut short by the feel of damp terrycloth dropping on your bare feet.
You and Bob both froze mid-kiss, your breath warm on each other's cheeks. A moment later Bob pulled away a fraction, his eyes locked with your own. You wouldn't dare look down while he was watching you.
"I should get that," he breathed, more a question than a statement.
As he began to slowly bend you stopped him again with a hand to his chest. Mustering all the bravery you had, you let your eyes drop slowly from Bob's face and trail down his uncovered body. You audibly swallowed as you admired him, wanting to touch every surface you were currently raking over with your eyes. Your breath was coming quick with arousal and there was more than enough visual evidence to prove Bob was feeling just as affected by your proximity as you were his.
"I really don't-" you managed with a husky voice before having to swallow your words once again.
"You really don't, what?" Bob asked, a rasp in own voice.
"I really don't want you to put your clothes back on," you admitted, eyes trailing back up Bob's body to meet his own gaze dead on.
Bob blinked before pulling you flush against him, his lips once again locked on yours. All pretense of politeness vanished as your frenzied kiss was matched by wandering hands; yours exploring the planes of Bob's body as his tangled in your hair and in the fabric of your shirt on your lower back.
Your hand snaked its way between your bodies, finding the object of your earlier admiration. A heated moan erupted from Bob as you lightly stroked him. "Holy shit," he whispered, eyes slammed shut in fierce concentration as you continued your exploration. There was something intensely hot about having Bob in your living room without a stitch on while you remained fully clothed, milking whatever noises you could get out of him. It was well worth the months long wait; you mused in that moment.
When your grip tightened a fraction, Bob cursed and stilled you with a hand to your wrist. "I...wait," he managed to choke out, causing you both to momentarily break out into a fit of nervous laughter at Bob's obvious dilemma. He pressed his forehead to yours as he sobered. "It's been a while. I don't want this to be over before we have even started."
You smiled up at him and allowed your hand to retreat. "Sorry, got a bit carried away," you murmured,
Bob released a contented sigh and looked you up and down. "Besides, it's a bit unfair," he mused.
You quirked a brow at him, inviting him to elaborate.
"I have nothing on, and you're still dressed," he teased with a playful grin.
You bit your lip, grabbed his hand, and finally dragged him to your bedroom. Inside, Bob helped you remove your own clothes with desperate shaking hands. He sucked a mark onto your neck as you both worked to push your underwear off. Before you knew it you were just as naked as Bob and he took a moment to step back to admire what stood before him.
His eyes took you in hungrily, a half-smile of wonderment on his face as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Wow," he breathed. "You're perfect."
You blushed even redder than you already were, his eyes still roaming your body.
"Better than Jake Seresin's mom?" you joked lightly.
Bob huffed with amusement. "Well, I don't have my glasses on, so..."
You gasped in mock outrage and gave a solid push to Bob's chest, knocking him back on to the bed. Grabbing your arm, Bob pulled you down onto the mattress with him, rolled over on top of you and quickly smothered both of your laughter with another kiss. Even though you had never been naked with him before, being with Bob in this way felt like the most natural thing in the world. There was none of the apprehension or insecurity that you typically felt with a new partner. Even when Bob trailed kisses down your body and settled his face between your legs you felt no need to hide yourself.
"This okay?" he asked, peering up at you.
You answered Bob with a quick nod and parted your legs just a bit further to allow him to settle between them. You sucked in a sharp breath when Bob delved in, clearly feeling no inhibitions on his end either. You briefly wondered where the hell he had learned <i>this</i> but your thoughts soon turned to goo between your ears as you surrendered to the liquid heat of Bob's mouth.
Your thighs began to tremble with building release, but Bob made no sign of letting up. "Good?" he managed to murmur around his work, blue eyes glancing up to check in.
"Yes," you groaned. "Did they not feed you on that boat?"
He huffed in amusement against your core, earning a whine from deep in your throat. "Better than anything they served in the wardroom," he mumbled before doing something with the tip of his tongue that sent you over the edge.
Your back arched off the bed and your hand tangled in Bob's still damp hair, earning a grunt from the mouth that worked you through your climax. When you were nothing more than an overstimulated and panting mess, Bob crawled back up your body to inspect the results of his labor.
You blew the hair off your face as you took in the self-satisfied smirk that Bob wiped with the back of his hand. You playfully batted his face away before he grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist.
"You're full of surprises," you sighed with a satisfied grin.
Humble as always, Bob just shrugged. "Maybe it is better that we hooked up now rather than back in the day when I didn't know what the hell I was doing."
You brushed the damp, dangling curls aware from his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have minded," you smiled, imagining yourself and a younger, clumsy Bob exploring your bodies together.
"What else you got?" you asked coyly.
Bob's face settled into a determined frown as he inspected your surroundings. You watched as he reached for one of your thicker pillows, letting him maneuver it under your hips. Ever the strategist, he placed your legs exactly where he wanted them while you happily complied. He looked at you like a man half-drunk, eyes heavy lidded and hungry.
"Well?" you teased, inviting his next move.
Bob snapped out of his daze for a quick moment of responsibility.
"Are you, uh, on the pill?"
Why that frank but polite question had your blush returning you couldn't say but you assured him you were.
All preliminaries out of the way, Bob stretched himself on top of you. You found yourself marvelling again at how much bigger he was just as you had the night you reunited at the Hard Deck. He kissed you as he braced weight on his arms, careful not to crush you.
"Ready?" he asked. You answered by reaching down between your bodies and guiding him through to that last step.
You sighed as he sunk in, his own groan muffled into your neck. It was now your turn to ask, "good?"
His gentle huff of laughter ticked your clavicle. "Almost too good," he confessed, and your heart clenched a bit seeing how hard he needed to concentrate to control himself. You gave him a moment to collect, your hands skimming down his back as a shudder ran through his shoulders.
When he was ready, he began to move slowly, but deeply and with purpose. You whimpered, adjusting to all of him and briefly wondered how many women must have underestimated him before finding themselves in this position.
He expertly hit some spot far back, nearly too far, just brushing your physical limit. You bit your lip and dug your nails into the muscles of his shoulder wavering between asking for more and telling him to pull back. Ultimately, the unrelenting-almost-nearly-too-much had you digging your heals into the dimples on his lower back and your toes curling.
He certainly knew his anatomy, you thought in a moment of clarity, or maybe his geometry...whatever the case he was a man who could strike a target. You almost cracked a joke relating to how proficient he must be at his job but any quip you might have made died in your throat as a moan ripped through you.
"Don't stop," you gasped, "keep going." Where most men would take that as a cue to go faster or harder, Bob could follow a direct order and kept on with his steady, unyielding pace.
Your orgasm began as a quick twitch in your lower belly, piqued by Bob's movement deep inside you. Your thighs were soon trembling and your hips bucking up against his. Your back arched and from your mouth tore the most animalistic noise you had ever heard yourself emit. It quickly bubbled into something euphoric and somewhere far away you heard yourself laughing.
Coming down from your high you felt Bob's thrusts becoming sloppy and urgent; his careful and consistent rhythm ruined by the wet warmth brought on by your climax. In his own state of ecstasy, he gasped and cursed against your temple stuttering to a halt, his sweat slick chest heaving against your own.
It took you both a long moment to recover, your labored breathing filling the quiet room.
Bob was the first to move, raising himself up on his elbows just high enough to see your face. You kept your eyes closed but you could almost hear him smile.
"Do you always laugh when you come?"
You scrunched your eyes closed even further, running a hand over your face. "No, that's something new," you admitted. "Hope it didn't ruin the mood."
You felt him shake his head. "No, I kind of liked it."
You cracked your eyes open to see Bob staring down at you in a blissful state. His own eyes were still half-hooded, and his already damp hair was now clinging to his forehead from perspiration. His breathing had settled but he looked well spent.
You pulled him down into a lazy, hot kiss, enjoying the pleasant feel of his full weight on your body.
Eventually he settled just beside you. With the sexual tension sated for the moment, you enjoyed each other's calm familiarity.
"I wanted to ask you something and you can say no if it's too soon," Bob said after a while, his voice deep and a bit vulnerable.
Your sex-dampened mind suddenly whirled with activity, your sister's voice ringing he'll probably propose immediately after he-
"What's that?" you asked, trying to sound composed.
Bob propped himself on his elbow, looking sheepish in a way that had nothing to do with his current nakedness. He scratched the back of his neck as he mulled over his words; a nervous tick he had had since he was a child.
"I was wondering if - and only if you want to - if you maybe wanted to come with me when I go to see my parents?"
The exhaled the breath you hadn't know you were even holding, relieved but strangely also a tiny bit disappointed Emily's prediction of a post-coital proposal wasn't correct.
"I...I know it's not your home anymore and you probably haven't been back since you left, but I thought maybe you'd like seeing the neighborhood again, and of course I'd like you to be there and this is only if you can take the time away from work-"
"Yes," you interrupted his nervous rambling, taking his hand in yours. "Yes, of course! I'd love that."
A genuine smile of giddy excitement spread across Bob's face. "Really?"
"Yes!" you assured him again, this time with a kiss. "As long as you are okay with both of our families conspiring behind our backs once they find out we are together together."
Bob shook his head with amusement. "I'm fine with that. It means my mom will let you stay in my room."
"Are the Star Wars posters still on the wall?" you giggled.
"You know it," he winked. "Can't set the mood without them."
After another draw out kiss you got up to use the bathroom and grabbing your phone from the living room. You checked the screen and saw a notification from your sister containing only eggplants and question marks. You sighed and placed it face down on your nightstand as Bob returned from his own trip to the bathroom, now wearing only his boxers and his own phone in hand.
He too sighed when he settled onto the bed beside you and looked at his notifications.
"Well, the penny dropped, and they all know we aren't coming to the Hard Deck," Bob lamented.
"Oh?" you leaned over and peered at his phone as Bob scrolled past the dozens of messages of mock concern and overt speculation.
"Are you going to respond?"
Bob leaned over you to place his phone face down next to yours before lowering his face to kiss your neck.
"Nah," he murmured against your ear. "Let them wonder."
There’s fanfiction…. And then there’s FANFICTION. The kind of shit you happen upon at like 3am or some other ungodly time because you were trying to find a fix for ur fixation at the time and you are just SUCKED IN and every sentence feels like a line of cocaine and it has quotes and imagery that permeate your brain and it’s the shit that sticks around in your consciousness forever and it never goes away and it’s always going to be one of Those Fics.
Fun Easter egg. Apparently both Bob Floyd and Maverick's father (Duke Mitchell) were in the same squadron, VF-51 Screaming Eagles ⭐🦅. This squadron doesn't exist anymore and hasn't since the 90s so Bob being in this squadron is likely a tribute or just an error.
I mean, you probably already know what I'm going to ask; 🥺 and 🤲.
Oh boy oh boy oh BOY
1. 🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
Anytime character A doubts themselves/feels they don’t measure up in some way/considers themselves broken or a failure for something, Character B gives them gentle but firm reassurance and reminds them that they are loved and wonderful in every way possible. Second to those are any moments of deep introspection and healing from trauma. I’ve had a lot of experiences in life like this (a LOT more of them since I separated from military service, but that’s a story for another time), and these particular moments carry a lot of emotion for me. As you can imagine, writing some of these scenes and moments can be a bit… intense.
2. 🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?
Well, because you asked so nicely… 😉 You’re getting two because I’m indecisive as shit
I'm very happy to see we both share the same taste for a fine vintage of angst 🍷. Please bring on the full bodied feels with subtle notes of generational trauma and imposter syndrome (all washed down with a shot of high-proof UST *cough*).
As someone who had to learn manual transmission later in life, I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to know that these (fictional) F-18 pilots also had difficulty not stalling out the first few times they attempted to drive standard. I'm looking forward to Bob teaching Katie how to use his stick 👀👀👀
F*cking dead at that last snippet. How am I supposed to live after reading that? A gleam of awe in Bob's eyes??? Excuse me???! I'll need at least 6000 more words about this gleam, please and thank you. Also, fuck em all indeed. Bob is incredible ✨
This piece is requested by the legendary yellow_crayon - check out Teeth if you want more goose/roos/mav goodness! <3<3<3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/43088886
Well hot damn, it's been long enough - and speaking of 'long enough' this part totaled out at 22 pages. Told y'all it's only gonna get longer from here on out.
Week two and week three go by, each with its high - and low - points.
BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl
Word count: 8.1K
WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); mentions of toxic family behavior
Recommended Soundtrack: Go! - Public Service Broadcasting; Kick the Tragedy - Drop Nineteens; Crank - Catherine Wheel
***
Week 2. PT does, indeed, suck on Monday.
Everhardt decides that his class’s first PT session of the week is going to involve endurance conditioning at the base track - a lot of it.
When he utters the dreaded words “caboose runs,” Katie groans (as do probably 5 other people, but that’s beside the point). As if it wasn’t bad enough that she and Bob kicked their asses hiking on Saturday, now she’s got 20 minutes of staggered sprints on shit legs to worry about.
“It had to be caboose runs,” Katie mutters under her breath as she falls in line behind Fanboy and trots off for the next 20 minutes of hell.
At least she’s not alone in her misery. Bob says nothing as he slips into line behind her. He does, however, pass her a grin of pained solidarity as he sprints his way up to the front of the train when his turn comes.
It’s a grin she returns when it’s her turn to bolt to the front.
It’s also a grin that Fanboy catches notice of, and one that he finds himself asking questions about when the run ends 20 minutes later.
“Am I missing something here?” he wheezes to Katie when they’re all clustered on the side of the track, taking a much-needed water break.
Katie, propped up beside Bob against a row of bleachers, shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe if you’d tagged along with us instead of spending all morning in bed on Saturday, you’d be in the loop.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How was the hike, anyway?”
“Long,” Bob winces. “And steep.”
“Hm. Explains the faces of agony.”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Katie mutters with a snort, which Bob underscores with a nod and chuckle of agreement.
Fanboy says nothing else beyond that - at least, not while Bob is within earshot. When everyone starts making their way to center field for calisthenics and Bob follows along with the others, Fanboy pulls Katie aside, leans in close. “So uh, like I was saying earlier… Am I missing something here?”
There’s no missing the sly, knowing glimmer in his eyes when he speaks. Oh Christ Fanboy, what are you insinuating?
She plays dumb. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says airily.
“Hell you don’t,” Fanboy retorts with a roll of his eyes and a smirk. “I saw you guys vibing together. Being all smiley and shit. Y’all got real friendly with each other on Saturday, didn’t you?”
“If by ‘got real friendly’ you mean ‘hiked up the side of a mountain and OD-ed on pancakes and hashbrowns shortly thereafter,’ then yeah, we got real friendly.”
“Cute, cute. There gonna be a second date?”
“Oh my god Fanboy-”
“Ooh, that sounds like a yes-”
“Fuck off,” Katie giggles as she gives Fanboy a small shove. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with me and Bob. We’re just friends.”
“Five bucks says that changes in a couple weeks.”
“You ready to lose that bet?”
Fanboy shrugs. “I dunno, I’m feeling pretty good about this one.” The waggling of his eyebrows earns him an exasperated groan.
“You are absolutely ridiculous.” Despite the nature of the words she just spoke, Katie can’t help the grin that splits across her face. “C’mon, before Everhardt bitches at us.”
He laughs, but says nothing more as he jogs off to join the others for the rest of PT - and thank god he does, otherwise he would definitely have words to say about the disgruntled scowl curling across Katie’s lips. Making bets about her love life… As if she even has one. She and Bob are friends and nothing more.
At least, that’s what she tells herself. What she’s currently hell-bent on telling herself.
She steals a glance at Bob, then at Fanboy - and the scowl deepens. Bastard, she thinks.
This is going to be a long 3 months.
***
Instruction picks up right where it left off on Friday, with two-man hops and simulated bombing runs and death by classroom lecture. The first half of the day sees Fanboy and Halfpint paired with Airbud, a single-seater pilot, and their hop goes as well as it’s expected to.
Where it all goes to shit is during the second half of the day, when Katie finds herself paired with Melendez.
Melendez isn’t a team player; she made that much clear during the first week. Of course, nobody really realizes it until one person or the other is paired up with her for flight ops. Nobody knows which is worse: the fact that she’s maliciously cocky in and out of the cockpit, or that she peppers her shit-talking with musings of being a TOPGUN instructor. She’s not making friends with anyone here - and it seems like everyone else is happy to keep it that way.
So why Katie finds herself jogging after her on the tarmac and calling out to her is completely beyond comprehension.
“Melendez!” she yells over the whistling roar of their jet engines.
She doesn’t hear her. Either that, or she ignores her. It doesn’t matter to Katie. She jogs after Melendez, reaches a hand out to touch her shoulder.
And damn-near gets decked with a fistful of equipment.
“What?” Melendez snaps. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Whoa, hey-” Katie’s hands are up instantly, and she takes a step back, opens up the space between them. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea… “I just wanna talk, that’s all.”
“Yeah? About what?”
Katie closes her eyes, sucks in a deep breath. She’s gonna have to make this quick.
“Look - things got off on the wrong foot last week. I was hoping maybe we could reset and try again.”
“‘Reset and try again’?”
Melendez is mocking her, or getting ready to do it, at least. Fuck, Katie knew this was a bad idea.
She stands tall, gives a single, curt nod. “Yeah.” This conversation may be going south faster than she would’ve hoped, but she’s not about to tuck tail.
Laughter bursts from Melendez's mouth, a loud, raucous guffaw of… Disbelief? Amusement? Katie’s not sure - but the laughter all the same can’t be a good sign, not when she’s trying to extend an olive branch.
It starts with a smile, a malicious one. “Look, blanquita, I dunno what you’re on right now, but let’s get somethin’ straight. We’re not friends; we’re competition - and even if we weren’t competin’ there’s no fuckin’ way I’d wanna be friends with you.”
Her response doesn’t really shock Katie. At least, the first part of it doesn’t.
It’s the second part that throws her.
“You little white girls are all the same,” Melendez says, voice laced with poison. “You try to be friends with everyone so no one calls you out for being trash. Make me look like the bad guy for callin’ you out on your shit.”
“I don’t-”
“Shut the fuck up, yes you do. Grow up, blanquita. Stop tryin’ to be everyone’s friend and do your fuckin’ job, if you even can. They can’t help you if you suck.”
And with that, Melendez pivots on one heel, and continues her march to her jet. She spares no second glance at Katie, who stands stock-still for a moment, blinking and staring at the spot she previously occupied.
She didn’t think it was going to go that bad, but… yikes. That was pretty fucking bad.
And the worst part of it? Maybe Melendez has a point.
It’s a thought that plagues Katie as she climbs into the cockpit of her F-18, and takes off for an exercise that sees Melendez push her around and leave her feeling like shit about her flying. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she does suck and is trying to distract from it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told Katie that she doesn’t measure up and that she’s only lying to herself.
You know you’re not cut out for this. Why do you insist on embarrassing yourself?
No. No, no, no. Fuck that.
Whether or not Melendez is right, it doesn’t matter. Katie can’t let that get to her. She’s worked far too hard and for far too long to be derailed by some little Brooklynite trying to pick a fight with her.
Melendez wants competition? Fine then. Competition is what she’ll get.
She’s gonna wish she hadn’t, though.
***
The next day is much better - Katie’s relegated to an observer position while two other teams are sent up in the air. The two teams in question? Bojack and Wolverine, and Bones, Bob, and his front-seater Rapture.
Now, everyone at TOPGUN knows as well as the next person that each pilot and NFO has their own distinct magic, that little bit of something that sets them above and apart from their peers in the aviation community. Katie’s knack for quick absorption is unparalleled. Fanboy and Halfpint are fast, efficient, precise. Hell, even Melendez has her magic; her doggedness and tenacity in the air make her one hell of a pilot.
And then there’s Bob.
Bob is a goddamn crack shot. His rate of accuracy is so near-perfect that it’s almost a little frightening to watch him and his front-seater rain destruction down below them. Of course, Rapture is plenty accurate and deadly on his own - but with Bob? Their targets don’t stand a chance. Rapture’s WSO is sharp and laser-focused and on the money every damn time, a deadeye of epic proportions.
Katie can’t help but smile as she listens in on the radio chatter in the ready room and hears Bob and his front-seater slam-dunk the exercise. They’ve got their targets zeroed and smoldering within minutes, a far cry better than most of the others in class.
Certainly a far cry better than her and Melendez yesterday. It stings, just the tiniest bit, but she tries not to let it bother her. Besides, why should it bother her that someone who’s clearly meant to be here just killed their bombing run?
This boy is gonna be the one to blow them all out of the water. Katie just knows it.
“Jesus - remind me never to cross you,” she murmurs to Bob after debrief. “You were like fuckin’ Annie Oakley out there.”
Bob’s mouth screws up in a small grin. “Yeah, well, Annie Oakley appreciates that. It’s nice when your peers tell you how lethal you are.”
“Oh, you. Still wanna grab Chipotle with me, Fanboy, and Halfpint?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Bob matches his pace with Katie’s, sets his garrison cap upon his golden-brown head. “I’ve been dreaming of a double-protein bowl since Fanboy brought it up this morning.”
“You earned it, that’s for sure.”
He smiles again, wider and happier, and it sends a flutter through Katie’s chest. “I aim to please.”
And he certainly does. Bob Floyd is an incredibly gifted aviator. There’s no doubt that he will take top spot in their class. No doubt at all.
And, quite frankly, Katie thinks, it couldn’t happen to a better person.
***
“Do you drink coffee?”
It’s barely past 0630 on Wednesday, and Katie is already receiving texts - and from Bob, no less.
At first she’s confused. She’s in the Navy; of course she drinks coffee. Caffeinated beverages are practically her lifeblood.
Her brow furrows as she picks up her phone to respond. “Yeah? Lol. Why do you ask?”
A bare 10 seconds pass before a response is shooting into her inbox. “I’m brewing some in my room,” the text reads. “Happy to make you a cup if you’d like one.”
Hm. An impromptu coffee date with Bob Floyd. Even if it is ridiculously early in the morning, Katie has to admit, that sounds quite nice.
“Sure, I’ll swing by. What’s your room number?”
“224. Just a heads up, I split the room with Rapture and he might be here when you come down. Sorry for that btw.”
“No worries. Be down in a minute.”
Thankfully, neither of them have to worry about Bob’s front-seater when she appears at his front door moments later. He’s stepping out as she’s coming in, heading off for breakfast in the lobby.
Which leaves Katie quite alone with Bob in his room.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small ripple of excitement passes through as she steps into the hotel room and shuts the door behind her.
Living spaces, no matter how temporary, have always been an interesting thing for Katie. They paint a picture of the person occupying it, shed light on the parts hidden by polite social interactions and facades.
Bob’s living space is simultaneously everything Katie figured it would be and absolutely nothing like what she thought. Frank Herbert’s Dune rests on the coffee table in the living room area, but so too does a battered, oft-read copy of Robert Jordan’s The Eye of the World and Pathfinder’s Core Rulebook. A sticker-emblazoned gaming laptop with a pulsating rainbow-colored keyboard rests on the kitchen counter, but it’s streaming soft, soothing coffeehouse jazz. And the coffee that Bob offered earlier? He has a whole setup for it, complete with a hand-cranked coffee grinder, water boiling on the stove in a lodge-supplied tea kettle, and a small French press. Whatever images or preconceived notions Katie had about Bob’s living space have been all but obliterated at this point.
It’s more than that, though. The contents of the hotel room prove that things are nowhere near as simplified as she would’ve thought. There are layers to Bob; that much has been apparent since the moment they first met. Still, Katie didn’t think she’d ever really get to see them. The fact that she’s now standing here, seeing these parts of him - hell, that he’s letting her see these parts of him…
She might actually have butterflies in her stomach right now.
Bob putters around the small kitchen space with his flight suit half-zipped and the sleeves tied tight around his waist, one hand gripping the coffee grinder while the other cranks the handle. His face holds an expression of calm, collected concentration, almost like an artist’s. It’s a creative process for him, Katie realizes. How very him.
“Do you take anything in your coffee?”
Katie makes a noise of indifference as she seats herself at the countertop. “Not really. I kind of just drink it how it’s presented to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Why the double-check?”
“Well,” he replies as he dumps the freshly ground beans into the French press, “I ask because some people don’t like how I present coffee to them. I drink coffee black because it lets me taste the flavors and undertones better, but I know a lot of people who think drinking black coffee is like drinking charcoal, so…”
“So give it to me black then.” When Bob makes a noise of protest, Katie rolls her eyes but smiles endearingly. “I’m a big girl, Bob. I can handle a little bitterness.”
Bob only nods as he pours hot water into the press, then presses the grounds to the bottom with the plunger. When he pours the resulting liquid into a mug and slides it towards Katie, he does so with a look of nervous anticipation on his face, almost like her reaction determines how the rest of the morning - maybe even the day - plays out.
Lucky for him, Katie’s reaction when she takes her first sip of coffee is a highly positive one. She’s no connoisseur; she can’t taste any flavors or notes or undertones, but she knows for damn sure that it’s a good cup of coffee. It’s smooth, warm and roasty, but not burnt. Clearly, Bob has good taste in the stuff.
She smirks around the brim of her mug. “Well, it’s definitely not Maxwell House,” she says before taking another sip, a bigger one.
“God, I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a special place in my heart for the cheap shit, but sometimes I want a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like dirt.”
“Well then,” Bob replies as he seats himself beside her, “I’m happy to give you that second cup.”
“I’m happy to have it with you.”
She says it before her brain can catch up with her mouth. It’s hardly that loaded of a statement, and somewhere in the back of her head, Katie knows that - but it doesn’t stop her from blushing, and damn-near crimson at that. Where did that come from?
What’s funny, though, is that Bob is blushing too, and just as red as Katie, if not more. It makes her wonder what’s going through his head in that moment.
He takes a long, drawn-out sip of coffee, likely to help steady his nerves. “Uh, you know… I do this every day. Brew up some coffee, sit down, take some time to relax before class…” He takes another steadying sip of coffee, and the mug trembles in his hand, just the tiniest bit. “It’d be nice to have some company. Y’know, whenever.”
The words hang in the air, and Katie contemplates them. It’s not like Bob asked her to marry him, but she can tell that even asking for something as low-key as a shared coffee before class is out of his comfort zone. That he’s putting himself out there like this, that he’s doing it for her, no less…
Katie would be lying if she said her heart didn’t flutter in her chest.
A small smile graces her face. “Happy to come by whenever,” she finally replies.
She’s never been so glad to have accepted an invitation.
***
Thursday rolls around with another round of paired hops and simulated bombing runs. Katie’s up first this time, paired with Fanboy and Halfpint. She’s had time to get her head on straight after Tuesday’s less-than-stellar hop with Melendez - and now? Her head’s more than screwed on straight; it’s a steel trap, a loaded spring ready to explode and execute. She’s pissed at how Tuesday went, and she wants that feeling of competence back.
She can feel Melendez’s eyes boring into her as she passes by the ready room, can feel her smirking and sneering at her. No doubt she’s thinking there’s going to be a repeat of Tuesday’s hop. Like hell.
The run winds up being everything Katie expects it to be and hopes for - her, Fanboy, and Halfpint all working together seamlessly and efficiently, zeroing their targets and raining ultra-precise hellfire down on them, getting in and getting out with not a second wasted. It’s everything Tuesday should’ve been, and everything the rest of her time here at TOPGUN will be.
Needless to say, Melendez is no longer smirking when they all come out of debrief an hour later.
And that is enough to put a smile on Katie’s face.
***
It’s Friday night, and all Katie wants to do is have a beer. A Deschutes beer, specifically. Something that she knows the Hard Deck doesn’t have on tap - not that she’s really complaining. She’s not in much of a mood to “go out” tonight.
She could, however, wrangle up a friend or two to occupy the covered patio out back. That has the makings of a good time tonight.
All she needs to do is grab a six-pack.
It’s multitasking at its finest as she grabs her wallet and taps out a quick text to Bob. “Any interest in drinking tonight?” she asks him casually. “I’m about to head over to the NEX to get some beer.”
The reply comes back sooner than Katie thought it would. “Funny you mention that; I’m actually at the NEX right now. What do you want? I can grab it for you.”
Huh. Well how about that.
“Do they have Deschutes there?”
“I’ll take a look. What’s your plan b if they don’t?”
“Uhhhhhh Kona beer? If they have Longboard or Hanalei then that’ll work.”
“On it. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back.”
“Sweet, sounds good.”
Well, that was easy enough. All Katie needs to do now is wrangle up some more company.
She swaps over to her chat thread with Fanboy, begins to type. “Feel like drinking on the back patio tonight? Bob’s grabbing beer at the NEX; if you want anything I can text him and tell him to grab it for you.”
She’s slipping an old red hooded flannel over her t-shirt when she gets a reply back from Fanboy - a picture, says the notification. When she opens the message, laughter bursts from her. Fanboy’s sent her a picture of himself jutting his thumb over his shoulder - and who happens to be standing behind him, holding up a six-pack of Shiner Bock and making a face for the camera?
None other than Bob.
“Wayyyyy ahead of u fam,” he replies in a second text. “Also Bob says they got deschutes here. They got fresh squeezed IPA and squeezy rider IPA.”
“Ooooooooh definitely Squeezy Rider. Please and thank you.”
“Bet. Grab us a spot downstairs? We’ll be back in 10.”
“Will do.”
Without another word or text sent, Katie trots off for the elevator and makes her way downstairs, shuffling through the lobby to the back patio area, which is lit by the soft glow of brass torches. Coupled with several cushy seats in the area and the soft crash of the tide in the near distance, it provides just the right amount of relaxation and ambience for an easy Friday night in.
She folds herself into one of the lounge chairs, starts up one of her quieter shoegaze playlists, smiling to herself. Yeah, this was definitely a good call for tonight.
True to their word, Fanboy and Bob come waltzing through the door ten minutes later, each with beers in one hand and what looks like a bag of snacks in the other. For Fanboy, it’s Takis and mini pretzels. For Bob, it’s cool ranch flavored sunflower seeds and smoked mini sausages. Sure, it’s not the most inspired bunch of snacks - but food is food, and Katie is glad they at least had the thought to get some.
“You’re a peach,” Katie beams when Bob comes over and hands off the coveted six-pack to her. “How much do I owe you?”
Bob waves the question off and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, c’mon, lemme pay you back-”
“Sand Trap, seriously, it’s fine.” He grins at Katie as he takes the lounge seat opposite hers, all nice and easygoing and good-natured, but the glint in his eyes makes it clear that the issue is no longer up for discussion.
Well. Bob might not have taken very well to growing up in the South, but he sure as hell has the ‘southern gentleman’ mannerisms down pat. Isn’t that nice.
Still, Katie can’t help but grumble. “Fine, but I’m buying next time.” She settles back in her seat, twists off the top on beer number one. She doubts he’ll let her pay for whatever it is they buy next time, but damned if she’s not going to try.
“Yeah,” Bob hums around his first bottle of Shiner Bock, “we’ll see about that.”
“I’m sure we will.” Yep, she was right about that one. Not giving it up that easily. Not that it’s a bad thing. Katie likes a guy with a sense of chivalry. “Pass me some of those sausages.”
Bob obliges, holding out the open bag to her, and she grabs a handful and fastens one between her lips. It’s punchy, full of minced hatch chilis and spice, a nice counter to the languid citrus haze of her beer. Not bad for cheap snack food from the NEX.
“These are good,” she murmurs after a bite of sausage and a swallow of beer. “I’m gonna have to start buying these.” A snicker bubbles out of her mouth after a second. “Maybe that’s how I’ll repay you, Bob - just buy you a giant bag of hatch chili sausages.”
“Sand Trap-”
“Oh, c’mon Bob, I gotta repay you somehow! Lemme be nice!” Katie laughs, giggles tremoring in her chest as she takes another swill of beer. “Lemme be your friend and repay the favor.”
“You’re a plenty good enough friend without having to buy me stuff.”
And so the banter circles, and circles, and circles again. Katie’s not going to lie, it’s tiresome - but she keeps it up all the same. After all, it’s nice seeing Bob relax, nice seeing him engage in the dumb antics and arguments most others get themselves into.
It’s nice seeing him comfortable.
Speaking of being comfortable…
“Hey Bob?”
“Mmm?”
“You can call me Katie.” She can feel Fanboy’s amused side-eye boring into her the second she says it, but she doesn’t give a damn. Bob’s been her friend long enough; he’s certainly earned the privilege.
His blue eyes glimmer behind his glasses, and the corners of them crinkle in time with the grin that spreads across his face. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to - the look on his face says everything.
“What about me? Can I call you Katie?”
“Loser - we literally established this the day we met!”
“I know, but I wanted to get in on the moment! It was too cute to pass up!”
“You are the absolute worst,” Katie snickers before flicking a bottle cap in Fanboy’s direction.
And there the three of them sit, drinking well into the wee hours of the night, snarking and poking fun at each other, vibing, laughing, living, basking.
Few things truly are better than drinking with one’s fellow aviators.
***
Week 3. Coffee with Bob in his hotel room at 0630 is a fairly daily occurrence now. Katie makes a note in her head that Monday morning to get her hands on some good coffee beans later in the day. It seems like the only proper ‘thank you’ for the man who’s been sharing his small supply of caffeine with her this past week.
They’re sitting at his counter, scribbling their last little bits of homework before the day starts, sipping from their mugs while the usual coffeehouse jazz streams from his computer. Katie should be kicking herself for not having this done the night before, but she can’t be bothered to care too much. If anything, doing it now gives her a chance to cross-check things afterwards with Bob.
Or so she says.
“Y’know, it really is fascinating, what you can accomplish when you procrastinate,” Katie muses.
“If stress and anxiety weren’t side effects of it, I’d do it more often.”
“Agreed. Although I’m not sure what you have to be stressed or anxious about. You’re easily the smartest guy in our class. If anything, I feel like this whole thing should be a slam dunk for you.”
Bob shrugs. “It’s only easy because I have my setup to worry about, nothing else. Point, shoot, done. You, on the other hand, have my ultimate respect because you do that AND fly at the same time.”
“I don’t think I’m very good at it, though. I’m doing my damnedest to prove my worth, but… I dunno.” Katie’s lips purse as she looks down at her work, scribbles in her final notes. “Honest truth? I dunno how I even wound up here. There are definitely way better pilots out there. They’d be more deserving of a spot here than me.” She’s stopped writing at this point, gaze downcast and jaw clenching tighter and tighter. God, how it pains her to admit that, but she knows it’s true. She’s been told that her whole life; it’s not like she can just wipe it from her mind, her entire existence. Hell, she heard it from Melendez last week. No amount of anger, hard work, or successful hops can erase that.
Why do you bother? You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough for them, Katherine Mae… They don’t know you like I do…
They don’t love you like I do.
“Well, I think that’s a crock of shit,” Bob declares, voice cutting through the poison swirling in Katie’s head. “You’re a hell of a pilot, Sand Trap; someone clearly thought you deserve to be here. And I know that whoever sent you here, they’re not the only one thinking that.”
“Oh yeah? You one of those other people?” Katie mutters.
There’s a beat of silence. Then…
“Yeah, actually, I am.”
Katie blinks, looks over at Bob, finds herself looking into his eyes, that endless stretch of cerulean. There’s an earnestness in them that makes her stomach clench and her breath hitch, just the tiniest bit. It’s not often that she hears serious reassurance like that. In fact, it’s rare, so rare that Katie finds herself at a bit of a loss for words. Or proper response. Or anything, really, because not only is it coming from a colleague of hers, it’s coming from him, from Bob, and how the fuck is she supposed to react to that, to someone like him actually giving a shit?
She feels her face growing hot, burning red. She drops her head down, low enough so that he can’t see the embarrassment scorching across it. “Thanks,” she mumbles.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bob smile. “I’d fly with you any day of the week and twice on Sunday, Sand Trap.”
Her whole body is burning now, and whether it’s with pride, pleasure, or shame, she’s not sure. Whatever the case may be, it’s a first for her.
She needs to speak. That’s what she needs to do.
It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell Bob ‘thank you’, to say some sort of one-and-done pleasantry - but all she can think to say, in that exact moment, is…
“Thought I told you to call me Katie, Bob.”
Though he seems momentarily taken aback by the answer (maybe he was anticipating her saying ‘thank you’ too), Bob chuckles, his cheeks tinted with the barest hint of red.
“I’ll keep that in mind from now on, Katie.”
This time, Katie doesn’t even try to hide her face when heat tears across her cheeks. Something about Bob using her first name the way that he does, so innocent and personal… It does something to her. What the hell’s happening to her?
She coughs, cobbles her things together and tosses them into her black backpack. “We don’t, um… have that much time left before class. I’m just - I’m - um, I’m gonna go-” It’s abrupt, out of nowhere, and certainly nowhere near the calm, cool, and easygoing responses she usually gives, and all she wants to do immediately after saying it is kick herself, because Jesus Christ, could she look like any more of a psychotic dweeb?
Bob, poor thing, seems just as confused. “Okay… Um… Guess I’ll see you in class then.”
Katie’s bolting out of the room and shutting the door behind her before ‘yep’ has even passed her lips. She doesn’t want to stick around long enough for him to see the internal meltdown she’s about to suffer. He definitely doesn’t need to see that.
“Seriously, Katie?” she hisses to herself as she marches down the hallway to the elevators. “What the fuck was that? He used your first name - after you LITERALLY told him to! Could you have reacted any more weirdly to that?”
Well, I don’t know - when was the last time you let yourself entertain ANY sort of male attention? Especially from someone that you, oh, I don’t know, MIGHT HAVE AN INTEREST IN?
Could she, though? Could she really?
No, Katie decides - no, insists - in the elevator ride down to the lobby. She and Bob are friends, nothing more. That’s the way it will be - the way it has to be.
Anything more than that and she risks opening wounds and exposing truths that should never see the light of day.
She shakes her head with a quiet snarl, makes her way out of the lodge and off to her car.
She’s gonna have to have a long conversation with herself when she’s done with everything for the day - a very fucking long one.
***
It’s Tuesday evening, a late one. Katie’s been staring at the same piece of instruction on aerial bombing maneuvers for the last half hour now and none of the information has absorbed into her brain. Whether it’s due to the late hours or the fact that it’s fairly complex material, it’s refusing to stick - and Katie is rapidly losing her patience with it.
With a huff of exasperated resignation, she tosses the paper away with no concern about where it lands, and thumps back against her bed’s headboard. What use is there in trying to force memorization? At this point she’s been reading and rereading the same three sentences with no clue of what they’re saying. Better to just say ‘fuck it’ for the night and pick up where she left off tomorrow, when her brain - and patience - is refreshed.
She lets her eyes slide shut with a sigh, thoughts tapering off into nothingness, welcoming the call of a peaceful night’s sleep…
Until the sound of her phone buzzing, rattling on the nightstand jars her awake again.
The phone continues to buzz on the nightstand, her sister’s name and number scrolling across the screen. Katie frowns. Naomi’s talkative, sure, but she’s not really the type to reach out with a phone call - not unless there’s something going on. What could be going on at close to 2230 on a Tuesday, Katie’s not sure, but she hopes it’s nothing too serious.
She rolls over, grabs the phone off the nightstand, accepts the call. “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”
“Katherine.”
Katie’s stomach lurches and her blood runs cold. Her. Oh god, her.
It’s a fight to maintain composure, to not fly into a seething, furious rage at the mere sound of her voice. Four years since she last saw her and Katie’s still licking the wounds from her last encounter with her. This bitch is the last person she wants to talk to.
“Carrie.”
She makes a sound on the other end - a ‘tut’ of disdain, Katie realizes. Jesus - is she actually thinking of scolding her, of shaming her?”
“‘Carrie’? Is that any way to address the woman who gave birth to you? I-”
“You lost that ‘mom’ title a long time ago and you know it,” she hisses before immediately closing her eyes and clenching her jaw. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, she can’t be snapping like that. It’s how she pulls her into her bullshit; it’s how she’s always done it. Katie needs to calm down, and fast.
She inhales through her nose, exhales forcefully, grips the phone tight in her hand, evens her breathing and pitch. “What do you want?”
“Well, I want to talk to you,” Carrie replies, as if the answer is obvious. “I just found out that my oldest daughter’s on the West Coast; why else would I be calling?”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” No, of course not, Katie thinks. This is her mother; the only person she’s ever paid close attention to is herself. The feelings and boundaries of her kids don’t matter to her. They never have.
“Why would you say something so horrible? What have I done to deserve that?”
Katie doesn’t even try to swallow her cackle of incredulity. “Are you serious? Do you want a list of all the shit you’ve done? I mean Jesus Carrie, you stole Naomi’s phone to get to me!”
“Let me remind you that I pay the bills in this family, and that includes the one for your sister’s phone. I may allow her to use it, but this is MY phone, understand?”
She’s pulling her into her bullshit already; Katie can feel it. Her immediate response should be to cut her off and end the conversation right here, just like she’s done countless times before - and yet, she can’t. It’s been a long week and it’s not even over yet. She’s tired, her guard is down, and after the last two minutes, her blood pressure is climbing and threatening to spill over. If anyone should know how pissed off and exhausted she is, it’s Carrie.
“Do you hear yourself? What kind of fucked up ‘no privacy’ bullshit are you on?”
“Oh, don’t you lecture me, Katherine Mae. I do what I do to keep this family together. And if this is what I have to do to keep my other daughter from abandoning it like you did, then so be it.”
Oh, that’s it. That’s fucking it. Katie’s not doing this anymore.
“Well, you clearly haven’t changed, so I no longer feel compelled to keep this conversation going.”
“Katherine, don’t you dare-”
“I’m done, Carrie. Give Naomi her phone back and don’t call me again.”
Katie then disconnects the call before Carrie has the chance to protest, the action decisive, unwavering, final. She should’ve ended that call a long time ago, and she knows she’ll be kicking herself for it later, but she’s out of it now and that’s all that matters. That bitch isn’t getting to her anymore tonight; she won’t let her.
But goddamn, did she come close to it.
Worse still, Katie knows it probably won’t be the only time that it happens - that Carrie finds ways to pull her back into her lies and abuse. This is only the start. And though she might’ve had the strength to shut Carrie down this time, there’s no guarantee that she’ll have it for the next run-in with her.
And that? That scares Katie. It scares the living shit out of her.
She needs an escape. Now. Before the memories threaten to consume her.
She slips in her Airpods, puts on Drop Nineteens’ Kick the Tragedy, cranks the volume to drown out the voices and nightmares swirling in her head, and pulls her knees tight to her chest, trembling.
It’s a position she stays locked in for the rest of the night.
***
“Does this instruction make any sense to you or am I just stupid?”
Katie’s currently sitting at a corner table in the buffet area with Bob, surrounded by notebooks, scattered sheets of paper, and small stacks of flight manuals. The piece of instruction Katie’s currently focused on is the same one from the night before, but she’s reading and poring over it with a renewed sense of determination (and spite, if she’s being honest) - or, at least, she’s trying to. It’s still as dense and heavy as when she last read it and it’s still not willing to stick in her brain.
She groans loudly when Bob glances over at the paper and shakes his head, thumps her head into her forearms. “I’m so fucked for this test on Friday,” she moans. “This is 65 percent of what we’re being tested on and I can’t” - thump - “fucking” - thump - “understand it.”
“Maybe put it down then, focus on something else?”
“I dunno. Maybe. My brain’s soup at this point.”
“Hm.” Bob drums his fingers contemplatively on the tabletop, seems to rack his brain for a solution. It isn’t until he glances down at the watch fastened around his wrist, though, that he comes up with something - and that ‘something’ involves him packing up all their study materials, rising to his feet, and gently pulling Katie to her feet by her elbow.
At first, she’s confused. “What are you doing?”
“Stopping for the night. We’ve been at this for the last four hours and it’s almost 11.”
“So?”
“So, that would explain why you’re having a hard time absorbing material,” Bob explains. “You’re tired; your brain’s not gonna absorb much when you’re tired.”
He says it so calmly, so simply. Fuck, it is simple, and Katie knows it. But, somewhere in the back of her mind… she can’t bring herself to go along with it. She’s a fighter pilot. More importantly, she’s a 1% fighter pilot in arguably the most challenging course the Navy has to offer. She should be soaking this material up, not getting stuck on the particulars of two-man air-to-surface strikes, literally the simplest shit. What kind of pilot is she if she can’t even figure this out? A lousy one, that’s what-
“Katie.”
Bob’s voice seems to melt through the nagging in her head, rendering it to little more than a whisper. She blinks, slowly, drifts back into reality, her very tired, very sleep-deprived reality.
Okay. Maybe he has a point. Exhaustion is definitely doing a number on her.
But hell if she’s going to admit it out loud.
Somewhat thankfully, Bob seems to pick up on that reluctance and speaks for her. “Here, I’ll walk you up.” He reaches a hand out, as if to touch her, but seems to think better of it after a second and pulls it back, choosing instead to nod in the direction of the elevators. “C’mon.”
They’re quiet as he escorts Katie up to the third floor and down the corridors to her room. When they finally come to a stop at her door, the exhaustion has set in with a swiftness and intensity she hasn’t seen since she was in OCS. She wonders briefly how she ever managed to power through it.
Bob takes her key card, swipes it across the reader and opens the door for her. “Get some sleep,” he tells her, voice soft. “I’ll hit you up in the morning, ‘kay?”
Katie nods mutely, steps over the threshold, allows Bob to pull the door closed. The exhaustion is weighing on her so heavily now that she doesn’t even react when it thuds shut more loudly than she’s used to.
Bob’s right - she really does need to sleep.
She trudges into her bedroom, fingers fumbling as she sets an alarm for 0600, then tosses the phone on the nightstand and falls face-first into the bed. She’s asleep seconds after her head hits the pillow, but not before her thoughts give a final whirl ‘round the study material, her pride in being a pilot, and her soft-spoken, bespectacled WSO classmate - the one who will be there for her in the morning.
And sure enough, he is, for when Katie wakes up the next day at 06, there’s a single-word text waiting for her in her messages:
“Coffee?”
***
Two days later, after an extended study session with Bob and Fanboy the night before, Katie walks out of the test on Friday with two errors shy of a perfect score. The ironic part? The errors were on material completely unrelated to what she’d been stressing over two days ago.
When she tells Bob and Fanboy as much on their way back to the lodge, they each respond with a shake of their head and a quiet laugh.
“See, smartypants?” Fanboy says. “Told ya you’d be fine. Gotta learn to trust yourself more.”
“Yeah, I’m working on that. Celebratory beer at the Hard Deck later?”
“Don’t have to convince me.” Fanboy looks over at Bob, raises a questioning, but friendly eyebrow at him. “You tagging along or are you laying low?”
“I mean, I gotta take a nap and catch up on the sleep I lost last night,” Bob replies casually, “but, uh… I could be persuaded.” He looks directly at Katie when he says the last part, making it abundantly clear that if anyone’s going to persuade him, it’s going to be her.
And goddamn, if that doesn’t set the butterflies afrenzy in her stomach.
“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll let you know what’s going on.” Katie’s attempt at replying in equally casual fashion is damn-near a failure; the pitch of her voice squeaks higher with each word she speaks. She’s not sure why it’s happening, but speaking or replying to Bob these days seems to be doing a number on her nerves. “Honestly, I’m probably gonna take a nap too; I’m feeling kinda’ dead.”
“How late did you guys stay up after I left?” Fanboy asks them quizzically.
Katie shakes her head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.” She herself is running on five hours of sleep; nerves and stress made it difficult for her to rack out at her usual time, wiring her awake well into the wee hours of the morning. A nap is an absolute necessity at this point if she has any desire to socialize later. “Meet up in the lobby in a couple hours?”
Bob nods. “Works for me.”
The three of them pile into Katie’s 4Runner and putter their way back to the lodge, Catherine Wheel thrumming from the speakers as the mid-afternoon sun brightens the world around them. Were it not for the fact that she wants to be horizontal for her nap, Katie would be damn tempted to put her seat back and catch up on sleep in the warmth of her car.
Bob splits off from Fanboy and Katie in the parking lot, leaving the two of them to stroll into the lobby together and ride an elevator up to their respective floors. For the most part, it’s quiet, comfortably shared silence between two friends. It’s short-lived, however; just before the elevator dings to a stop at his floor, Fanboy leans in towards Katie, eyebrow quirked inquiringly, smugly.
“So, not a whole lotta sleep between you two… Was that all code for something and I just completely missed it, or-”
“Fanboy, I swear to God-”
Fanboy only snickers before splitting off for his room on the second floor, leaving Katie alone and red-faced in the elevator. Jesus Christ - if he keeps making comments like that, she might actually have to kill him.
“‘Code for something’...” Katie mutters when the elevator reaches the third floor and she stomps off to her room. “Fucking menace.” If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that Fanboy was actively trying to push her and Bob together.
Whatever. She’s not going to dedicate anymore thought to it, no sir - especially when she’s tired and still coming down from the stress of their test earlier.
She loosens her laces and kicks off her flight boots, falling into the mattress with her hair still bunned and flight suit still zipped, settling in for some sleep that practically blacks her out for the next few hours.
Later, after a nice, long, well-deserved nap and some dedicated relaxation time, the three of them are clustered around a high-top table at the Hard Deck, a small bowl of salted peanuts in the middle, beers of various brands in hand as they muse about their first three weeks at TOPGUN. They decide that, for as hard and as break-neck fast as it’s been going, all in all, it hasn’t been a bad experience so far. They’re conditions befitting their jobs - and lord knows, it hasn’t been boring.
“Kinda’ makes me worry, though,” Bob murmurs. “We’re only three weeks in and it’s already been a helluva challenge. What are the other ten gonna be like?”
Fanboy snorts, takes a swill of his pilsner. “You’re not telling me you’re scared, are you?”
“Apprehensive is more like it.”
“Eh, same difference. Not like you need to be scared though. It’s obvious you’re top brain in the class. You’ll get through this shit just fine.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Bob’s eyes dart over to Katie for the briefest moment, holding her gaze for an even briefer moment before returning to the bottle in his hand. “I’m just waiting to see where Everhardt takes us next, and, y’know, trying to prepare myself for it.”
“Understandable.”
“I mean, if the next ten weeks are anything like the last three, just assume he’s gonna try to run us into the ground and proceed from there,” Katie shrugs. “I’ve already resigned myself to getting my ass handed to me; you might as well do the same.”
“Says the girl who aced her test earlier,” Fanboy scoffs.
“Almost aced her test earlier.”
“Oh whatever. You’re smart. You’ll be fine. Fuck, you’ll both be fine; you guys’ll probably take the top two spots.”
“Well, I’m certainly gonna try,” Bob murmurs with a bashful smile. “Can’t be helped if I get bested by this girl over here though.”
Fanboy shakes his head and sighs, but he does it with a smirk on his face. “This guy…”
“Nah, you’ll definitely best me, Bob; there’s no question about it.”
“We’ll see about that,” he replies. “May the best aviator win.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Katie raises her bottle. “While we’re at it, here’s to making it through air-to-surface.”
“And the first three weeks,” Fanboy chimes in as he raises his.
Bob’s the last to raise his, and his accompanying sentiment really rounds the evening out. “Onward to the next and best.”
writing fanfiction is just. i’m being so creative and original. i’m plagiarizing everyone by accident. i’m a genius. i’m cringe. i’m too angsty. i’m too cheesy. this is not in character. it doesn’t matter that it’s not in character because these are my characters now. i love my hobby. this is the worst possible use of my time. i’m seeking validation. i’m projecting my own personal problems onto this story and i’m barely hiding it. i know so many words and i’m using all of them wrong. im on tumblr posting about it instead of writing it.
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