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Every Friday night, like clockwork, Jake Seresin waits for her to show up for her shift at the Hard Deck.
And every Friday night, like clockwork, he finds himself moseying up to the bar to order a round of drinks.
And while he does that, every Friday night, he flirts with her.
And every Friday night, like clockwork, she tells him to fuck off.
This Friday night is no different.
"Hey there, Hurricane," he says, that soft Texas drawl, pulling her attention immediately. She hates that it does, because she hates that she finds him attractive, but she can't help it. Also hates that his stupid nickname for her makes her feel like a part of his life somehow. "A round for the boys, and water for Baby on Board."
"You could stand to be nicer to Lieutenant Floyd, Bagman," she comments, moving to start grabbing the beers from the cooler for him.
“Oh, please —all in good fun,” he reassures, but it doesn’t sound sincere in any way shape or form. He leans on the bar, looking her over slowly. “Why's it matter to you? Gotta thing for Bob?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. There’s no reason to take the bait, because he’s going to keep goading her anyway. Sliding the beers over to him, she holds out her hand expectantly.
“Y’know, usually I get a little more outta ladies before they ask for my wallet,” he teases, fishing it from his pocket and handing her his card to start the tab. As she moves to take it, he pulls it out of her reach with a smirk. That’s the first mistake he makes tonight. “What’re you gonna give me in return?”
“A swift kick in the ass?” She offers with her brow raised, putting her hands on her hips. “Oh, better yet —I won’t have you permanently banned for skipping out on your tab. Fair deal, I think.”
Jake puts his hand over his heart like she’s wounded him, and she just rolls her eyes. His flirtations don’t get very far —they never do, honestly —but now she’s getting annoyed that he’s holding up the bar on a Friday night.
“Just give me your number,” he says, and he makes his second mistake of the night.
His phone, which he’s pulled out of his pocket, is sitting on the bar. He’s too caught up in his flirting to realize his mistake; especially when she puts her hand on his to take the phone. Just barely —just a soft touch, like a caress, to distract him. For a moment, he really thinks she’s gonna give him her number.
But then, just as quick as he snatched the card from her, she rings the bell.
His face falls immediately and he yanks his hand away, groaning. The bar erupts into cheers, but Jake is glaring at her in annoyance. All she does is smile at him sweetly as she snatches his card out of his hand.
“You know, I think I’ll take you up on that drink,” she teases, “Since you’re paying for everyone’s anyway.”
She watches as his jaw clenches, but he takes the beers for his team and walks off without another word. Penny sidles up beside her, smirking lightly as she pours a beer.
“He’s gonna complain about that all night,” the older woman says.
“Oh I fucking hope he does,” she laughs, getting back to work.
She’s worked at the Hard Deck for a little over two years. She’s met a lot of people –creeps, regulars, tourists. You name it, she’s interacted with and served them. And most of the time, none of them give her any issues. Sometimes they’re a little too forward –like Jake, but she knows he’s harmless. Sometimes they’re a bit skeevy, trying to get her to come home with them. But again, usually she can handle it.
Tonight, she thinks, is one of those nights where she gets a weird one.
He’s nice at first; complimenting her outfit and tattoos. Grinning at her like he’s just being nice. And he is nice –not in a creepy way. Younger guy, her age maybe. He talks about his classes and his degree –they go to the same college, and he thinks they have a class together. She offers a half-ass response –maybe they do, but truthfully she wouldn’t know because she doesn’t talk to anyone in her classes –but she’s only half paying attention to him as he continues to speak.
Then he asks about her, even when they get busier. Asks about her schedule for classes, but seems to know a little more than she thinks is normal for someone who has one class with her. Yeah, her program is small and her college classes are small, but this guy says he’s seen her on campus early in the morning getting coffee. Gets a little more pushy when she gives him clipped answers and pays closer attention to other patrons over him. When Jake comes up for his second round, she leans in a little closer to him –maybe giving the pilot some false expectations, but she figures that if this stranger sees her talking to someone like Jake, he’ll back off.
He does not.
He pays his tab, leaves an obscene tip that she’s certain he thinks will get something out of her.
Then he stays.
Even as the night wears down, as regulars slip out and the bar calms down. He just sits there, nursing the last beer that he ordered. Staring at her, watching her movements like he’s trying to understand something about her. Talking about the one class they have together. Guys like this don’t usually make her that uncomfortable, but between the knowledge he has about her school schedule and the knife she notices on his side, she doesn’t like the feeling she gets in her gut as she finishes up her side work.
Luckily, there’s still three people outside this guy –Bradshaw, Javy, and Jake –and she’s confident that if anything happens, those three would be there to help her. She spends the rest of the evening on the furthest side of the bar, closest to the aviators and as far from the stranger as she can. But there’s a tremble in her hands as she wipes out the glasses and wipes down the bar. She glances at the pilots more often than she usually does, hoping that maybe one of them will get the hint.
By the end of the night, it’s just her behind the bar and Jake, Coyote and Rooster playing darts. There’s a few stragglers —regulars who drink too much and are waiting to close out their tab. There’s one guy who’s been sitting at the bar all night though. Jake noticed him the second time he went up for a round —not someone he’s seen before. She hasn’t kicked him out yet, so Jake assumes she knows him somehow.
Except when the guy stays, even after he pays his tab. And when the regulars are leaving. Then Jake is very aware that she stays on the opposite side of the bar, away from him. Actually, he even catches her looking at him several times throughout the night –and while Jake is very confident in himself, he knows that she would rather choke on a cactus than flirt with him. Which is why he’s confused by her glances –until her eyes shift from him to the guy at the bar then back to him.
When Coyote and Rooster both call it night, shoving Jake some as they head out, he lingers. Saunters up to the bar, just him and this other guy, and the pretty Hurricane that he has a soft spot for –not that he’d ever admit it to her.
“Closin’ out finally, sugar,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the bar top.
The guy at the other side is glancing at them, like he’s sizing Jake up carefully. She’s side eyeing the guy, then looks up at Jake, taking his credit card out and sliding it across the bar with his check. And that’s when he sees it clear as day: hands trembling, eyes guarded. She’s afraid of this guy.
Without thinking too much about it, he takes her hand and grins at her. “You ridin’ home with me or we meetin’ back at the house, Hurricane?” He asks, sliding the check back to her.
She swallows hard, but plays along, squeezing his hand. “We can ride together –we can pick up my car tomorrow morning. Just waiting on you two to finish up.”
The guy narrows his eyes at her, but stands slowly. Then he’s leaving, hopefully deciding that whatever he had planned isn’t worth it now that Jake is involved somehow. As soon as the door shuts, she’s letting out a heavy sigh of relief and pulling away from him, crouching down on the floor behind the bar.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathes, clutching the edge of the bar like she’s about to fall over.
Jake stares for a moment before he peers over the bar down at her. “You okay?”
There’s a very uncomfortable laugh that escapes her lips, and Jake realizes that she’s breathing heavily with her eyes shut. There’s a second where he considers if he’s really the one she would want to help with this, but he realizes that there’s not really another option. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t actually leave anyone hanging –especially his favorite bartender, who looks like she’s about to have a breakdown on the floor.
He slips around the bar with ease, kneeling down beside her. Then he eases her to the floor, hand on her back as he leans her against him carefully. For a few minutes, he lets her sort of just sit there and get her bearings. Sits beside her and puts his arm around her shoulders, and she covers her face with her hands as she leans against him. Then he says her name –not her nickname, not some pet name but her actual name –and she looks up at him with tear rimmed and fearful eyes.
Jake can’t remember a time where he’s seen her this shaken –and he’s seen her deal with plenty of creeps.
“Talk to me,” he practically begs and he thinks that he sounds ridiculous –but he shoves the thought away. Reminds himself that he’s allowed to care. “What’d he do?”
“I…I think he knows me,” she explains, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “He said we have a class together, but I…I don’t know who he is. But he kept talking about how he sees me on campus all the time —we have a class together or something, and he saw…he saw that I was wearing my work shirt once and knew I worked here.”
Jake glances up for a moment, listening to make sure the door of the bar isn’t opening. He thinks, briefly, he should have locked it. But if this guy comes back, Jake is certain that he’ll go from two confirmed kills to three.
“I tried to ignore him, like I usually do with creeps,” she continues, and her voice is cracking as she speaks. He rubs her arm gently, pulling her closer instinctively. “But then he wouldn’t leave –just kept talking. Getting snappy if I wasn’t listening to him –I…I didn’t know what to do. And then he had a knife and I think…I don’t know I think he…,” but she didn’t finish speaking, covering her face again and starting to cry.
“What if he’s out there, waiting for me?” She cries, whole body shaking with sobs.
“I’ll handle him if he is,” Jake promises, standing up carefully and pulling her up with him. Then he grabs her bag from under the counter. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? I’m not lettin’ you walk out there alone, and I’m sure as hell not lettin’ you go home alone.”
There’s a shaky, almost painful laugh that escapes her lips as runs her hands through her hair. “I’m sure you’re just…thrilled that this is how you get me alone,” she says, and Jake makes a face as he takes her keys out of her bag. “All your flirting and it takes me being stalked for you to get me to go home with you. Get to play the hero.”
“Stop it,” he practically snaps, turning and looking down at her as he says her name seriously. He gets that she’s just trying to ease whatever anxiety she has; rationally, he knows she’s just trying to cope. But it pisses him off that she thinks so low of him.
She looks up at him with wide eyes and Jake is pointing down at her. “I’m not messin’ around about this –I get you hate me. You make it loud and fuckin’ clear –but this isn’t a joke. I’m not tryin’ to be a hero, Christ –I’m takin’ you home because if I don’t, I will find that guy and I will do something that will make him regret walkin’ into this bar.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but he’s shaking his head, taking her hand. Then he’s pulling her out of the bar. There’s two cars in the lot; his and hers. Which is definitely a good thing, because he’s certain that things would go very badly if that asshole was still there. That doesn’t stop him from looking over his shoulder, or pulling her closer to his side as a precaution, though. There’s no fight from her as he leads her to his truck and opens the door for her.
The drive is quiet. She’s still trembling –not as much, but he can see her hands shaking as she stares at her phone screen that’s lighting up the truck cab. When he pulls into his driveway, they sit there for a few minutes in silence. Like she’s afraid to get out, and she’s waiting for his next move. But he doesn’t move either, white knuckling his steering wheel.
“I don’t…hate you, you know,” she suddenly admits, but she’s not looking at him as she speaks. “You annoy the shit out of me, don’t get me wrong. But…but I don’t mean it when I say I hate you. I wouldn’t put up with your shit if I actually hated you.”
He almost scoffs, but instead shakes his head. “It’s your job to put up with my shit,” he reminds her, moving to open his door.
“Penny has literally offered to ban you from the bar for me, Jake,” she points out, finally looking up at him. Her hand is on his arm, stopping him from leaving. “On several occasions, she’s literally talked to Maverick about not letting you come back if I asked. And I tell her every time that I like arguing with you.”
He hesitates a moment, then slowly turns to look down at her. She looks annoyed with herself, like admitting that she doesn’t hate him is an inconvenience on her part. But something about the way she’s looking at him makes him soften some. Her touch helps, too.
“You like to argue with me?” He teases some, smirking down at her. Jake’s glad she’s back to biting back at him, even if it’s got no real venom behind it. Though, it seems it never did, if what she’s saying is true.
“Truthfully, I think I like pissing you off almost as much as you like pissing me off,” she offers, a small grin on her face in return. “But…I also know that you’re not actually a bad person,” she continues, and her hand drifts down his arm to take his hand. He lets her without argument, though he’s not sure if it’s because he wants to hold her hand or because he wants her to find comfort in him. Maybe it’s both. “I kept looking at you tonight because I knew that…if that guy did do something, you would step in immediately. And you did.”
“I wasn’t sure what his deal was at first,” he admits, glancing out the front window. “Thought you knew him; but when he didn’t leave, I didn’t like it. And when you kept glancin’ at me –I knew better. You don’t look at me like that ever; like you wanted somethin’ from me. Knew somethin’ was off.”
There’s another pause between them, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable this time. Then he pushes his door open, pulling away from her just long enough to open her door next. He’s offering his hand to her, because contrary to what anyone thinks, he’s a goddamn gentleman through and through.
“Let’s get you inside –we’ll figure out how to deal with this shit in the morning.”
She just nods, and takes his hand without argument. Doesn’t let go either, when she’s out of the truck and on solid ground again. He glances down at her for a second, but he knows that even if they’re going back and forth like this –she’s still shaken. Still freaked out by this guy who knows too much about her.
When he lets her into the house –nothing special, just a place outside the base he rents –she stops in the doorway.
“You good?” He asks, looking back at her with concern.
But she just nods, and he motions for her to follow him, leading her down the hall towards his bedroom. When he flicks the light on, she slowly steps inside, like this is some forbidden space she’s not allowed to be in. Jake wants to joke that she’s the first person that’s come in here fully dressed, but decides tonight is not the night to do that.
“I’ll crash on the couch tonight and you can stay in here. Bathroom’s across the hall, and you can borrow a shirt or something to sleep in,” he offers, motioning to the closet that’s half open. “Let me know if you need anything.”
She’s about to say something, but stops herself –instead just nodding and sitting on his bed with her hands in her lap. He’s not used to how quiet she’s being; she’s usually louder than he is, calling over the bar or yelling out orders. Everything she does commands attention, and that’s why he calls her a hurricane –she’s nothing if not a force to be reckoned with. But right now, she’s nothing like the girl he knows from the bar. What’s usually confident and snarky is subdued and tired, almost timid in her movements. It almost breaks his heart, honestly.
Her soft “thank you” doesn’t escape him, and he gives her a reassuring smile before shutting the door behind him. For a minute, he just stands there. Listening to her move through his room, opening his drawers to get something of his to wear. He tries not to imagine her taking her clothes off, or putting his on but it’s hard not to when he’s lingering outside his own bedroom door. Forcing himself to move, Jake drops down onto the couch and covers his face with his hands, groaning.
Halfway through the night, she shoots up out of sleep with a gasp and tears. Heart kicking against her ribcage, she tries to push away the nightmare –the guy from the bar, sitting outside her apartment, waiting for her –but it doesn’t help that in her fear-addled state, she doesn’t know where she is. She wakes up tangled in sheets that aren’t hers and clothes that don’t belong to her, and for a moment, she thinks she might scream.
But then she remembers where she is when she looks around –the uniforms in the closet, the bomber jacket tossed on the end of the bed, the shirt and boxers she wears, all of which linger with his cologne. And it grounds her back in reality; reminds her that Jake gave up his space for her just to feel safe. But even then, she’s near tears from nightmares and the fear of being alone.
Maybe that’s why she gets up and pads out of his room. At first, she considers just going into the bathroom and washing her face. But then television is on in the living room, and she can see him lounging against the arm of the couch instead of sleeping.
She hesitates just a bit before making her way to the living room, sitting on the floor at the end of the couch. He’s awake, and she can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn’t say anything as she focuses on whatever he’s watching —some old eighties flick that's just playing on cable. He sits up, making room for her without question. When she doesn’t move, though, he throws a pillow at her.
“What the fuck?” She complains, throwing the pillow back at him.
“Get off the floor,” he orders, though he has no real bite in his tone. “Why are you up?”
She mumbles under her breath about him being an asshole even now, but slides onto the couch and curls into herself. His eyes are on her still, and she can feel them practically burning through the side of her face.
“Well?” He asks, frowning at her.
“I had a nightmare,” she admits reluctantly, because saying it out loud sounds childish. “Got up, saw you were awake. Came out here. I can go back —,”
“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Come’ere.”
Her brow furrows as she finally looks at him —finally realizes he’s only wearing a loose pair of sleep pants —and she stares at him blankly. He’s motioning for her to come closer, but when she doesn’t move, he reaches for her and pulls her over to him.
“Jake —,”
“Just let me do this for you, Hurricane,” he orders gently, and his arms are around her as he lays back down on the couch.
Jake shifts a few times, adjusting both for his comfort and hers. She ends up laying on him entirely, one leg draped over his. Her cheek rests against his chest and she tries to tuck her hands under her body but he moves her hand and drapes it over his waist. Then his hand is on her shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into the fabric of his shirt that she wears.
The entire thing is strangely intimate, with him shirtless and her in his clothes. Like this is something they’ve done a thousand times before. But his breathing is even, and his skin is warm against her hands, and his scent that had been lingering in his room surrounds her entirely now as he holds her against him.
For the first time tonight, she feels calm. Safe. And as she settles against Jake, she decides that she’s been wrong about him this whole time.
When he wakes up, there’s a distinct lack of weight against him. He had tried to stay up long enough to make sure she fell asleep, but he’s not sure when either of them ended up sleeping. However, he is very aware of how she felt in his arms all night —how soft her skin felt, how warm she was. Waking up to her not in his arms almost hurt.
But then he reminds himself that she is not there for him, but the other way around.
Sitting up, he stretches up and yawns —then freezes when he hears something shatter and her cuss like a sailor in his kitchen. Jake lets out a laugh, though it’s more a sigh than anything else, and stands. Slipping his shirt back on, he follows her frustrated sounds.
Seeing her in his kitchen, his shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders and his boxers rolled up around her waist, Jake can’t help but lean against the doorway, watching. She looks like she belongs here, he thinks. Like she’s supposed to be messing up his kitchen at the crack of dawn.
There’s coffee in the pot and a mug sitting beside it. He assumes there must have been two given that the second is on his floor, shattered. And she’s trying to clean it up without being loud; though she’s failed miserably at that task.
“There’s a broom in the laundry room,” he finally offers, though he’s already making his way over and grabbing it himself.
She looks up with surprise, hand covering her mouth as she yelps at his “sudden” appearance. “Shit, Jake —why are you up?”
“I should be askin’ you that, sugar,” he counters, handing the broom over to her. She takes it lamely, and he can tell she’s embarrassed by the way she refuses to look at him. “I get up at the same time every day. Can’t help it.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” she offers, sweeping up the glass and tossing it. Then she leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I woke up and wanted to make breakfast for you. To thank you.”
“Oh yeah?” He grins, bracing his hands on either side of her against the counter. Invading her space just to get close to her again.
She doesn’t shrink back like he worries she might. And Jake is thankful for that, because after yesterday, he had been concerned that he might have to stop flirting with her like this. Getting close to her, annoying her until she’s about to cuss him out.
“Yeah, except you have Jack shit in your house. Protein powder and coffee are not food, Hangman.”
“Damn, back to callsigns, I see,” he teases, pulling back from her.
Her hand is pulling at his shirt though —not yanking him by any means, but the movement says more than she probably wants it to. Or maybe it says exactly what he wants it to say —wants her to say —as she tugs him back to her. Except this time his hands are on her hips, leaning down into her space, whispering her name softly.
“What are we doin’, sweetheart?” He asks, and he would usually just make the decision for her. But he figures giving her the control is exactly what he should have been doing this whole time.
“I don’t know,” she admits with a sigh, but her hand trails up his chest. “I don’t want to be someone you’re just…one and done with.”
“You think that’s all you’d be?” He scolds, narrowing his eyes at her for a moment. His hand finds her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I haven’t spent six months tryin’ to get your number for no reason, Hurricane.”
“And what have you spent six months doing then, Lieutenant Seresin?”
He smirks, leaning in just a bit more. Brushes his nose against hers, just close enough that he can feel her breath on his lips. “Honestly? Tryin’ to get you to fall in love with me.”
“You think it worked?”
“Why don’t we find out over breakfast?”
“How many girls you take out to breakfast after they spend the night?” She asks, returning his smirk, but they both know the answer.
“Only you.”
She hums a bit in response, but Jake is tired of her playing hard to get. Especially when he had her in his arms last night, and she’s standing in his kitchen, in his goddamn underwear. With ease, he lifts her to the counter and takes her face in his hands, kissing her like he’s been thinking about since he got to North Island.
There’s no hesitation from her; she’s wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as hard. Her legs widen just enough for him to slot his hips between them, pressing her further into his countertop as he nips at her bottom lip, earning him a gasp that he swears he’s going to dream about every night until he hears it again.
But he’s the one that pulls back, and he’s grinning smugly down at her as she catches her breath. “Get dressed, sugar,” he orders, giving her one last peck. “Gonna take you out for breakfast, and you’re gonna tell me how well my plan to get you to fall for me has worked.”
“You’re a fucking menace,” she teases, pulling him back down the collar of his shirt. He could fight her, but there’s no fun in that.
“Oh you have no idea,” and they both know that’s a damn threat as he kisses her again.