ashcarvalho - Tumblr blog

ashcarvalho · 1 year ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ panacea — levi ackerman

summary. it's been hard to talk to levi after the rumbling

contents. written with fem!reader in mind but no gendered pronouns used, ex-scout!reader, postwar!levi, established relationship, sfw, angst, comfort, references to ptsd and depression, early in the healing process — 2.1k

notes. writing post-war levi is a little intimidating, but i hope i did him justice <3 please ignore any spelling or grammar isses

the sound of a crash in the other room pulled you out of your sleep, tugging you out of a nightmare that you didn’t want to be caught in anyway.

a groan came next��hushed but still audible, following the sound of something falling. though there was no need to be on alert, your heart hammered in your chest, your mind still caught in the titan’s den, not the place you called home.

when you finally calmed down, reshaped your thoughts to reality, you shifted onto your other side, reaching out for levi. though, he wasn't in the bed besides you; the space had grown cold, the blankets thrown back. the shape of his head was no longer evident on the pillow.

you sat up, moving quickly as you shook off the covers and padded into the other room. the brisk night air caused you to shiver, and the floor was even colder under your bare feet. still, you were too focused on the sounds you’d heard to even worry about grabbing a jacket.

there was a light on in the living room, a candle lit on table, and a book propped open next to it. clear signs that levi had been awake for a while, that sleep eluded him, even now.

“levi?” you said softly as you rubbed your eyes, your voice hoarse from misuse. “are you okay?”

you wrapped an arm around yourself, swallowing down any pity as you blinked at the dismal sight of levi next to the wheelchair, his expression screwed up in a blizzard of frustration and defeat. his legs laid out in front of him, and he stared at them, blue eyes hard as if trying to will them to do his bidding.

this wasn’t the first time that levi had tried to push himself too hard, that he had tested his physical limits, and it wouldn't be the last. for years, he’d survived on sheer willpower. he’d gotten out of the underground from his own force and strength, his promise to erwin enough to keep him alive despite everything he suffered.

though, for once, even his determination wasn't enough. it couldn’t rewind the clock, couldn't make his legs as they’d once been.

it had been an adjustment, and it still was—though, everything after the rumbling was an adjustment.

for a while, after it had ended, levi hadn’t spoken to you. he didn’t want your help, and though you wanted to be by his side, you didn't want his anger. the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel smothered.

you tried your best to be patient. you’d continue to be patient with him, even when sometimes, you felt like he forget that you had lost, nonetheless.

“i’m fine,” he said gruffly, pulling himself up with the strength that he refused to let go of. levi was weaker now, his physical capabilities nowhere near where they’d once been, but he was still levi ackerman—he always would be.

you watched him struggle for a moment, and you chewed your lip, taking a step forward. “levi…”

“i said i’m fine.” he didn’t quite shout at you, but his tone was sharp, his voice raised in the commanding way he’d always used as a captain.

since the day you’d met levi, he’d always been snappy, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, but he was never cruel. now, though, he was content to let his bitterness serve as a balm for his wounds instead of your affection.

but things like that didn’t bother you anymore. a careless bite of snark couldn’t bother you when you’d been to hell and back with him.

“okay.” you blinked, shifting on your heels, feeling stupid and confused and guilty. though for what, you weren’t sure. still, you could do nothing but stare as levi dragged himself back into the wheelchair, putting pressure on the leg that had not been completely shattered. “please be careful.”

“can you just—” levi snapped, but then his gaze met your own, piercing your lost, uncertain irises, and he softened. a long, careful sigh released, and he retraced his words, starting again. “i’m sorry. but you don’t need to worry so much. it’s been enough time.”

you nodded, and levi turned back to his book, pulling himself closer to the table. as he glued his eyes on the pages, you glanced at his scars, his beautiful hands, a testament to his strength and all he’d done to survive.

despite yourself, tears welled up in your eyes, and you batted them away, not wanting him to see. maybe, sometimes, levi didn’t feel the same... but you were grateful, every day, that he was still alive. “will you ever talk to me?”

he turned, craning his neck to face you, playing the fool. “about what? i’m talking to you right now.”

your lip quivered at his impassivity. “don’t do that again to me, levi. you know what i’m talking about. sometimes you're content to pretend like nothing’s changed, and it tears me apart.”

levi shifted his arms, regarded you with a long stare, his lips curled into something between a sneer and a frown. “then you’re welcome to leave. i don’t need a caretaker.”

you gawked at him, knowing that he was only trying to push your buttons, but it annoyed you nonetheless. the comment was so out of left field that you couldn’t wrap your head around where it had come from. all you’d wanted to do was love him, show him your unwavering care and support, without feeling like a stifling annoyance.

though, for a moment, doubt consumed you. maybe you hadn’t done enough. perhaps you had become a recluse of your own in the recent months, still recovering from everything you’d gone through. “leave? why would i leave?”

levi’s eyes narrowed, though more out of curiosity, a deep inhale escaping him. he peered back down at his hands, his legs, before deflating. “i’m not the person you fell in love with. i’m not humanity’s strongest anymore. i’m a man who can’t even stand on his own.”

“levi—” you rubbed your hands together, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. “do you honestly think i care about that? you hate being called that anyway.”

he snorted, but it was full of a defeat you’d never known him to show. “maybe i got used to it.”

silence fell between you, and though you understood, knew what he was admitting to you, you found yourself at a loss for a words. talking with levi had once been so easy, but now, it felt like you could never say the right thing.

you opened your mouth, willing something sensible to come out, but levi beat you to it, slicing his chest open and bearing it to you with bloodied hands.

“i just…” he began, his face pinched at the sound of his weakened voice. “i’m just not sure what i’m supposed to do now. i spent the past decade fighting. and the decade before that, fighting. and the decade before that…”

your heart ached. you took a step forward, close enough so you could touch him. “but you don’t need to fight anymore. the war is over.”

“the war is never over.” the words didn’t leave as much of a punch as he intended. levi finally turned to face you, something sad in his dark blue irises. “those brats could barely win with me, imagine them without me.”

you softened. levi’s pain was unending. perhaps a part of him still grieved for the man he’d been before the war, but you knew that was not the reason for his melancholy. you knew, even if he never said it, that he felt as if he’d failed all the kids he’d brought onto his squad. that he’d failed eren.

“levi, they’re not children anymore,” you said quietly, grasping his hand. you remembered being nineteen, being thrust into the bloodshed and misery of the world you lived in. at least, now, levi’s squad could try to live a semblance of a normal life. they got an early start, a chance to try again, even if still wracked by anguish and longing. “if they need to fight, they can fight. you’ve done your time, my love. you’ve given more than enough.” you brushed your fingers along his scars. “let yourself rest.”

a beat passed before he answered.

“i don’t know how.”

you swallowed, biting back the sadness that you didn’t feel warranted to. sometimes, knowing everything that levi had suffered, knowing the depths of his pain, made you feel undeserving of your disdain towards the world. even if you were hurting too.

“i know,” you said, running your other hand through his hair, flattening the pieces that had been disheveled in his sleep. “but i want to be there for you. i want to heal with you. please don’t push me away, levi. if you think you’re doing me a favor, you’re not.”

“i’m never going to be the same as i was before,” he said sharply, as if that could somehow change your mind.

you brought yourself closer to him, releasing his hand so you could wrap your arms around him instead, bring his head to your chest in a warm embrace. for once, levi didn’t protest. he leaned against you, inhaling, letting his arms rest limply on his lap.

“no one is the same. the rumbling changed us all. even me. you’re such a fool if you think anyone can look at you and see a weak man.” you squeezed him tighter. levi’s arms came around you as tears spilled out of your eyes, his palm warm on your lower back. “you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met. it breaks my heart that you could think otherwise.”

tears dripped off your chin, falling into his hair. although you tried to stop them, letting go of levi and sniffling to wipe your eyes, you couldn’t cease the ache in your chest. you released the sobs you’d held back for his sake, for everyone’s sake.

why should you get to cry when everyone else had lost so much?

“i love you, just as you are. i fell in love with you because of the kindness in your heart, and i will always love you because of that. i—”

“hey,” levi pushed you away, reaching up to wipe at the tears that lingered on your cheek. “i didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, looking more horrified about that than he had the past few weeks of recovery and hospitalization. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

“i’m okay,” you tried, lip quivering at the feeling of levi’s fingers on your cheek. it had been a while since you’d kissed him like you meant to, memories of war consuming every peaceful moment between you.

“no. you’re not.” he sighed, stroking your face with tender eyes, the malice melting away from his expression completely. “you’re not. i should’ve noticed.”

“i’m good about hiding it."

“that doesn’t make it any better,” he frowned, cupping your cheeks with both hands. “i know that better than anyone. i know you better than anyone.”

you turned into his hand, kissing his palm tenderly, beneath the spot where his index and middle finger had once been, stopping him before he could apologize again. “and i know you, levi. i know we should both stop trying to hide our pain from the other, and try our best to move on together.” you sighed, smiling through your tears. “can we do that?”

levi stared at you for a moment, eyebrows knit together as he wiped at the wetness, the shadows under your eyes. though there was a battle behind his irises, a conflict, there always had been. for the remainder of his life, for the peaceful years you’d get to cherish together... even then, you weren’t sure levi could let go of the war.

but that would be okay. after all, you’d always sworn to fight to the death by captain levi ackerman's side.

the exhale from your chest breathed life through levi's inhale. a smile smile graced his lips as you finally stopped crying. he nodded.

“we can try.”

thank you for reading! reblogs appreciated!

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ashcarvalho · 1 year ago

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They shouted me down, rattling my nervous system so much that my throat closed up...I got the message loud and clear...

They were able to stop me from speaking, but they could never stop me from writing.

Writing is how I protected my mind.

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ashcarvalho · 1 year ago

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Dean x Reader - MasterPost

Blue Iced Cupcakes- Someone steals your cupcakes

Coincidence Can be Fun- You share a case and a motel with the Winchesters

Forever and Always- Dean made a deal and miracles happen.

Home is Where the Heart Is- Your boyfriend gets to meet your parents and enjoy your hometown

Nightmare- Dean has nightmares of hell

So Much for a Day Off- You meet the guys in a demon infested bar.

Working at the Car Wash- Cleaning the Impala gets a little messy.

Heat of the Moment- You and Dean have an argument that goes to far.

Lucky to Call you Mine- Dean loves a lot of things about you.

You’re Beautiful- Dean lets you know how he sees you.

You’re Glowing- You are pregnant with Dean’s kid.

Perfect the Way You Are- You worry if you are too clingy.

Maple Syrup- The boys worry over their pregnant girlfriend.

Worst Fear- You get captured by a djinn.

Happy Ending- You have a miscarriage.

A Year On- Both of you need some comfort.

The French Whoopsie (Part 1)- The french mistake with a baby twist.

Electrical Correspondence (Part 2)- Separated for 3 months you email each other.

Had a Bad Day- Dean stays to make sure you feel better.

So Tired- After a long hunt Dean is tired.

Break the Habit- Dean has a problem with your bad habit.

I Don’t Believe in Fate- Childhood friends finally confess feelings.

Riding On- You go horse riding together.

Fidelity- Based on the song by Jasmine Thompson.

Tired- You are exhausted.

Fluster- Dean likes making you blush.

Time for a Real Wedding- An impromptu proposal.

Welcome to High School- A struggling student gets a friend.

Perfect Little Family (Part One)- During labor of having a baby.

Perfect Little Family (Part Two)- Naming the new addition.

Chilled- You use Dean’s Hoodie to warm up.

Accident- During a Fight things get a little aggressive.

Meant to Be- Death bed confessions.

Mark My Words- Comfort after a family death.

I Know You Like It- Inspired by Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons.

Aracnophobia- Someone needs to get rid of the spider.

Mistake- Dean cheated.

Work the Engine- You are a mechanic, and Dean likes that.

Feel Like Dancin’- Dean takes too long in the shower.

Real- It took you becoming a ghost for Dean to confess his feelings.

Forethought- You make some dumb decisions sometimes.

Dumb Luck- You don’t like how reckless Dean has been getting.

Waited- Dean has a crush.

Long Time Coming- Years later, he needs you.

Reason (Part One)- Your sister plans a huge wedding after the proposal.

We Don’t Need No Wisdom (Part Two)- Now you are pregnant.

PUDDING and Wisdom Teeth- Dean gets his wisdom teeth out.

God Spent a Little More Time on You- Based on the song by NSYNC

Title- Based on Meghan Trainor’s song.

You- Karaoke at a pub.

White Horse- Based on the song by Taylor Swift.

Much Too Long- Cuddles after Purgatory.

Where are we Now- Dying confessions of love.

The Giving Tree- Based on the song by the Plain White Ts

The Wrong End of the Stick- Dean thinks the wrong person is pregnant.

Please Don’t Say You Love Me- Based on the song by Gabrielle Aplin.

Wherever You Will Go- Based on the song by Charlene Soraia

Young Legs- Sam makes fun of the age gap.

Last Night- Based on the song by The Vamps

Lady (Part One)- Dean helps a young girl come out of her shell.

Fluffsy (Part Two)- Fluff with your new family.

Clumsy- The klutz isn’t allowed on hunts for a reason.

Dancing Queen- You have to join Dancing with the Stars.

Happy Halloween- Fake blood, not a problem. Spiders, problem.

Firstborn (Part One)- Demon Dean still cares for his kid.

Back (Part 2)- Dean gets your kid a puppy.

My Boys- Dean and your son, happy fluff.

Test- Test anxiety and study fluff.

Most Kickass Thing I’ve Seen All Day- Protecting yourself is still scary.

This is Gospel- Based on the song by Panic! at the Disco.

C’mon- Based on the song by Panic! at the Disco.

The Most Important Thing in the World- Dean is scared to hold the baby.

Distance- Dean is scared to show his feelings.

You Just Wait (Part One)- You get jealous at the way Dean looks at other girls.

He’ll Come Around (Part Two)- Demons attack.

Someone Had To- Dean catches customers being rude.

Dada- Your son days his first word.

Sweetest- Dean tries arts and crafts.

Polished Polish- Since when does Dean know Polish?

You Are My Sunshine- Dean dies on a hunt.

Strip Poker- Sam’s teasing gets results.

Keep it Quiet- Their secret relationship gets noticed.

So Important- Depression recovery.

Lessons- Dean tries to teach your sons about his Baby.

Dear Future Husband- Sing-a-long and dancing time.

Really, Actually Here- Dean is back from hell.

All These Years- Bobby is dead and his daughter needs comfort.

Rain- The best kind of weather.

Baby Been Practicing- Teen romance.

Thin Line (Part One)- Teenagers have a prank war.

Manipulated Meeting (Part Two)- Arranged meetings to keep the romance alive.

Busted (Part 3)- They find out about your relationship.

Big T-Shirt- Dean’s flirting turns into more.

Infinite- Movie night and dance parties.

Spellbound- Dean Turns into a woman.

Altercation- Demon Dean gets into a fight.

Waiting for Superman- Dean sings to cheer you up.

The Girl- Dean sings The Girl by City and Colour.

Ghost Sickness- You try to calm him down when he gets ghost sick.

Waiting- In the Impala bonding.

Present Tense- You would rather die than become a monster.

Ticklish- He finds all the right spots.

Grumpy- Being sick puts anyone in a bad mood.

A Good Run- A Vampire and a Demon can’t date.

Just a Little While Longer- Cuddly Dean Fluff.

Bad Side- Interrogation brings out a different side of you.

Final Trial- You turn Dean human again, at what cost?

Rude- Based on the song by Timefliyes.

Automatic- He doesn’t even realize what he did.

A Shot at Normal- You are working your first real job.

Hound of Hell- Dean’s a little scared of your Hellish pet.

I Ain’t Ever Going Home (Part One)- Based off the song Nina by Ed Sheeran.

Coming Home (Part Two)- Dean comes back.

Waiting a While- A bit of a Dean tease.

Enlighten Me- You don’t like Dean flirting with Jo.

Punk of the Steamy Kind- You have a certain sense of style not all appreciate.

Only Time of the Year- Christmas Caroling in the bunker.

I’ll Always Come Back to You- Dean isn’t answering his phone on a hunt.

Not Quite Ice Skating- Slipping and sliding on ice.

Illustrate the Point- He doesn’t see you the way you see yourself.

Lost Time- Washing the Impala.

Missed- Best friends to more.

Inanimate Object- Dean spends more time with Baby than you.

Beardy- Facial Hair and Fluff.

Far Away- Based on the song by Nickelback.

Never Cease to Amaze- You have talents they don’t know about.

Trust- A young girl decides to trust Dean.

Immunity- Demon Dean wants you to be his queen.

Considerable Trade- You fight over your age gap.

Best Ever- PMS sucks but your boyfriend is pretty nice.

A Better Plan- Plus sized reader fluff.

Cheater, Cheater, Pumpkin Eater- When your boyfriend cheats on you, you turn to Dean.

He Had it Coming- Singing and Dancing to Cell Block Tango.

Believe In- You fall from heaven, directly in front of a Winchester.

Snapshot- Dean finds your collection of photos.

Crash- Teen fic based on Crash by You and Me at 6.

Thor, Kitty of Thunder- They surprise you with a present to cheer you up.

Probably a Good Thing- Cliche Milkshakes and proposals.

Not a Sacrifice- You refuse to be a weak sacrifice.

Dancing Queen- At a very formal hunt Dean dances with you.

Bad Habits- You steal a little too much and Dean isn’t happy.

Best I Can Be- Dean needs a queen to rule with him in Hell.

I Won’t Say I’m in Love- Singing Hercules gets Dean to admit it.

Going on a Witch Hunt- Crowley swaps bodies with Dean but still proceeds to flirt.

A Bottle and a Half- When you like Dean his habit of sleeping around hurts.

The Fighter- He helps you when your mental health gets rough.

When You Love Somebody- When you can’t stop thinking he’s here to help.

A Little Past Imaginary Friends- Father Daughter fic, Dean wants to know about your boyfriend.

Sleep Deprived- Dean is working a little too hard.

Glasses- The boys see you in your glasses for the first time.

We’re Okay- You get kicked out when you get into a huge fight with Dean.

Bedside Manner- You are a nurse giving Dean stitches.

The Worst Part of Me- Dean snaps.

The Good Guys (Part One)- You are torn: Queen of Hell or Dean?

It Stings (Part Two)- You are loved demon or not.

Battle Scars (Part Three)- A look into your past.

We Did It (Part Four)- They want to cure you.

An Enjoyable Pastime- A budding teen romance.

A Lot- The Winchester fight for your heart.

Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop- You can’t skate.

Nothing- Based on the song by The Script.

Our Fairytale Ending- You have a miscarriage of Dean’s kid.

I Don’t Dance- Based on the song by Lee Brice.

Is That a Smile- Dean helps with insecurities.

Trapped- You are stuck in an elevator together.

Womanizer- You refuse to be Dean’s next fling.

Dropping Hints- Dean is taking care of your injuries and you want him to notice your feelings.

It Was Going So Well- Your first date involves kidnapping?

Ache (Part One)- Dean finds out he has a teenage daughter.

In the Right Place (Part Two)- You go on your first hunt.

Complain- You swap bodies with Dean.

Twin Skeletons- Based on the song Twin Skeletons by Fall Out Boy.

Very Interested- A witches spell makes you extra emotional.

I Hope So- Dean’s mad that you are pregnant.

In the Name- Dean feels guilty for your accident.

Full Marty McFly- When you get sent back in time teen Dean keeps flirting with you.

So Much and Always- Newlywed fluff.

Scheduled Meeting- Everyone wants your attention.

Unconventional- Kitchen appliance shopping.

Day in the Life- You have IBD and things can get tough.

Onyx- Dean’s ex notices his eyes have turned black.

Do Some Good (Part 2)- You learn more about demons.

Later- Dean enjoys you cooking a Sunday roast.

Try to Understand- Dean doesn’t quite get your depression.

Salt and- Dean gets you a kitten?

Us- After going undercover Dean feels guilty.

My Hero- Dean stops you from getting jumped.

Something Else- They feel the same but are too scared to say it.

Underwear- Undergarments are important.

Short Skirt- Its small on purpose.

Chloroform- Midnight chemical runs.

Cereal- Midnight snacking.

Obsessed- Compulsive hand washing.

Mr. Sunshine- Dean keeps going to watch this singer.

Child’s Play- They may be little now but they can still kick bum.

Fill In- When Sam is in the cage Dean meets someone new.

Run for the Hills- Based on the song The Hills by The Weeknd.

I’ll See You Again- After you die you are stuck on your engagement ring.

For a Boy- based on the song Boy by Raelynn.

For All I Knew- They are in a major car accident.

Too Stubborn for Your Own Good- The job makes you go into labor early.

Tear in My Heart- Based on the song by Twenty One Pilots.

Sick and Tired- You get food poisoning.

Bad- Based on the song by The Cab.

Adventure - Part Two to Bad.

Hopped Up - Teen!Dean takes some pain meds and reveals something.

Tense - When you never get a moment to yourselves, how do you expect to release all of that tension?

Intrigue - Demon!Dean + Fallen Angel!Reader. What could possibly go wrong?

Different - Sequel to Intrigue

If You Keep Looking At Me Like That… - It’s been a while since you’ve had some time to yourselves.

Trapped… - You manage to get out of a rather dire situation.

Stupidest Plan - Gambling can’t always end badly, right?

Thunderstorm - You’re trapped during a storm and get bored just waiting it out.

Lost Your Mind - Dean loses the people he loves, and refuses to add you to the list of casualties.

Make Me - Dean gets needy when he’s sick.

Truth Or Dare - Sam and Dean plot together to make the reader admit her feelings.

Silence - Dean steals your chocolate, so you give him the silent treatment.

To Be Young Again - Reminiscing about first kisses.

Camaraderie - He helps you escape from jail after he gets you caught.

Surprise Comeback - You’ve been best friends forever, but after a stint in Hell, will Dean feel the same?

No Control - Based off of the One Direction song.

Step Back - Based off Nice Guys by Chester See, in which the mark is really putting a strain on your relationship.

Reach Out - A sequel piece to Step back.

Babycakes - You think it’s funny to fluster Dean with nicknames.

Real Reality - Dean gets a taster of what life could have been.

Coincidence - A one-night-stand turns into something more when you have something in common: your job.

Touch - Based on the song by Shura.

Take Tomorrow - Underweight!Reader has some self-esteem problems, but Dean will always be there.

Empty Promise - You die on a hunt, but get a twisted second chance.

Branches - After an argument, you storm into the woods and end up in all sorts of touble.

Daddy Issues - Flippant Comments gain Dean a healthy dose of the Cold Shouder

Massive Idiot - Dean makes a grave mistake.

Dumbfounded - Badass!Reader kicks major ass.

Reckless Mistake - After a fight, you run off and get into trouble.

Never Let a Man Do A Woman’s Job - You how the boys how it’s done.

The Rest - It’s Dean’s birthday, and you have to do something to celebrate.

Something Unpleasant - Dean stands up for you around a bunch of blatantly sexist jerks.

A World At Rights - Dean comes home to find you singing his mother’s song.

Bright Lights - based off of the 30 Seconds To Mars song.

Something Only You Would Know - Medium!Reader is able to see Dean during 2.01.

A Desert With No Water - Dean comforts you after a nightmare.

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ashcarvalho · 1 year ago

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aryu (revamp): a character page by pouthongwon

preview (light & dark) / code

(remake of this page, which has been retired for a while now)

features: - a header with a long title and three custom links - a sticky sidebar with a sidebar image, short title, and home, askbox, archive, and dashboard links - character boxes with a name, biography and stats that scroll, and an unlimited amount of links

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ashcarvalho · 1 year ago

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I think I feel in love with this man. It's true what they say about men written by women being the best!

Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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