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saltsicklover · 1 year

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Part Six

Here it is, and let me just say, I am so sorry in advance! My heart hurt writing this one...

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4600+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Cigars and Smoking, Crying, Angst, Pining, Robert Floyd (A warning).

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

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The group, Sunny included, make themselves comfortable at the tables near the pool table. It's their usual hangout spot, so they slip into their groove quickly. Nat and Hangman are now going head-to-head in a cut throat game of pool while Sunny and Rooster chat, acting as peanut gallery when the game requires it. Sunny basically had to push Nat into playing, convincing her that they will have two weeks together and more than enough time for everyone. Natasha grumbles as the game gets started but slowly put her game face on, not ready to loose to Hangman.

"So, Sunshine, where are you from?" Rooster asks before taking a long swig of his beer.

"Originally? Or do you mean where I live now?" Sunny shoots back, a twinkle in her eye that Rooster can't help but notice. Sunny brings a hand up to her necklace, playing with the small pendent between the tips of her fingers.

There is something about her that reminds him of his Mom. Maybe its the way she instantly fills the room around her with light, like it's pouring straight from her soul. Maybe it's her carefree nature, or the way her bangs have come loose from her pins, the delicate curls falling into her eyes. Somewhere between the first sight of her, as he and Natasha barreled into the parking lot of the Hard Deck, and now, his soul decided that Sunny is exactly who his sister would have been if he had been fortunate enough to have one while growing up. They may not look alike, share parents, be from the same place, or even know each other, but his heart knows she is going to be a part of his life. Damnit if he isn't going to treat her exactly like the little sister he has always wanted.

"I live in Colorado Springs now, I work at a book publishers office there. I'm actually hoping that they will take me on as a permanent novelist as soon as my first full length book is actually finished being written. I thought by now it would be done, you know? But life get in the way I guess, huh? I can't live off of publishing poetry for the rest of my life, that's for sure," Sunny tries to tuck the loose pieces of hair back into her clips but they keep slipping through her fingers. "I'm from Montana, originally, though!"

"Oh! That's where that accent is from!" The pieces fall into place for Rooster, "I was thinking you were from somewhere down south but I couldn't place it!" Sunny is thankful Rooster grazed over the published books thing. Though she loves work, and she is proud of all that she has accomplished, its a real relief to not have to talk about work.

"Oh yeah," A blush creeps over Sunny's features, her chest flooding with a color akin to her dress. "Other direction!"

"Where in Montana?"

"No where you've heard of," She tries to dismiss it with a wave of her hand, her other still toying with the pendent on her necklace.

"Try me!" Bradley is confident, really, even though he knows he isn't going to have a damn clue. He couldn't name a city in Montana if he tried.

"I grew up outside of Wibaux, south of I94, in Florence," Sunny's voice is quiet, the quietest it's been since she got into Hangman's pickup. She is still trying to pin her hair back, the frustration she is feeling making it increasingly difficult. "It's a little nowhere town, really. It was mostly school sports and lots of ranching. Not much to write home about,"

"Isn't Bob from Montana?" Natasha asks the boys, but they both shrug. "Maybe he was from Wyoming. Somewhere tiny, that I know for sure,"

Sunny laughs a bit, finding Natasha's lapse in memory amusing. For as long as they have known each other, Sunny has always been convinced that Natasha has a fantastic memory. She would have to, to fly that damn jet, right?

"Did you guys have a big football following?" He questions, trying to keep the conversation going. Rooster wants to know her like the back of his hand, the yearning to add another person to his small patchwork family itching at his palms.

Sunny drops her hands in defeat, the battle with her hair useless without a mirror. She rolls her eyes at herself, a thick sign falling from her lips. She takes a quick sip from her drink before putting her attention back on Rooster.

"We didn't have a football team," Bradley looks at Sunny like she is crazy, the whole idea seeming nuts to him, "Big ones were swimming and basketball, actually," Bradley goes quiet for a second and so Sunny adds a small "Go Pronghorns!" with little to no actual pep to her voice. She waves her fist half heartedly in the air, the movement strange.

They sit there for a moment longer, both of their faces twisting to awkward grimaces before they burst into fits of giggles, all of the awkwardness that begun enveloping them bursting in on itself and disappearing.

"Were you a basketball or a swimming fan?" Bradley inquires from behind his beer can.

"Are we talking the sport or the members?" The question earns Sunny a look from Natasha. She leans against the side of the pool table, Hangman behind her, lining up his next shot.

"Don't even get her started, Roos," Natasha jabs playfully.

"What, I cared about sports!" Sunny attempts to defend herself, but the blush enveloping her skin tells otherwise.

"You didn't care about sports, don't try and kid yourself," Nat winks, "You only went to the swim meets because you were just in love with-"

"Alright!" Sunny almost jumps out of her skin, holding her hands out in defeat, "I am going to run to the restroom, then hit the bar for another drink, does anyone need anything?"

Sunny sends a glare to Natasha as she slides down off of her stool. She mouths 'I hate you' to her friend, her eyes holding no malice.

"A round of beers please, my beautiful Sunny," Natasha speaks, trying to butter her up, "But hurry back! Bob just texted, he said he's five minutes out!" Sunny gives her a thumbs up before heading for the bathroom.

She doesn't actually have to use the bathroom, just the mirror. She makes quick work of pulling the pins from her hair, the pieces falling down to their natural place. She picks up one by one, French twisting them back out of her face. After a couple on each side, secured with pins she washes her hands and heads out the door, her next stop, the bar.

As she made her way through the crowd, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering. She thought of the Ranch back home and the world she left behind. She spots a young Airman, belly up to the bar, his blond hair pushed back out of his face. He can't be older than twenty two, his young features and baby face make him look about eighteen. He reminds her of Robert Floyd and her heart aches for just a second, but she tries to shake that thought from her head as quickly as it came.

If Natasha hadn't opened her mouth, maybe she wouldn't be thinking about him again. Maybe she wouldn't be feeling that pang of stale hurt in her chest, reliving that conversation over and over again. 'I didn't work my ass off to throw it all away over a girl like you,' it still hurts, though it's different now. The pain isn't sharp as daggers and all consuming. Instead, it is wrapped tightly around her ribs and sometimes, it squeezes, constricting, reminding her that it's still there.

She catches herself missing the smell of cherry tobacco, the scent still stuck in her nose.

"You must be Sunny," A warm voice greets her from behind the bar. "I'm Penny," the dark haired woman greets, a kind smile spread over her lips. Penny looks like the personification of home. The warmth that emanates from her is almost stifling, but Sunny can't help but bask in it anyway.

"I like your nametag, much better than the ones we usually get in here," The words are said with a wink, then blush spreads across Sunny's cheeks. Her hand comes up to feel the crinkle of the sticky nametag stuck to the front of her dress.

"Yeah, that's me," Sunny smiles at her, the blush darkening on her cheeks, "Can I please order a round of-"

"Beers for those two knuckleheads and the lovely Phoenix?" Penny finishes for her, already pulling the beers out of the cooler. "I've also got a Pepsi for you and a glass of water for Bob. He walked in a minute ago," Penny has everything down to a science, one that surprises and delights Sunny in equal measure.

"How'd you know?" Sunny giggles, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I have the pleasure of being engaged to the Dagger Squad's captain, so I know those guys pretty well, plus they are pretty much the only reason I stock beer in cans anymore," Penny puts the last of the drinks onto a tray with a chuckle. Sunny moves towards the tray, her fingertips grazing over the edge.

"Phoenix has been talking about you coming since the moment she found out. Then Hangman gave me the rundown when he came in with Rooster," She explains, her hands working quickly as she wipes down the bar. Then, she grabs a cup of peanuts from behind the bar top, placing it on the tray, "It's all yours, take the tray with you, I'll be by to pick it up in a few minutes,"

"Thank you," Sunny speaks, pulling the tray up off of the counter, balancing it near her shoulder. Thank god for the muscle memory of her long forgotten waitressing skills.

"You've got one hell of a memory, Penny," Sunny compliments, shooting the older woman a bright smile.

"Thank you, Sunshine," Penny winks. Sunny nods her head towards Penny one last time before turning on her heel, headed back towards the back of the bar. She dodges a couple of young Marines, both too caught up in their own conversation to see her coming. Sunny turns back to Penny, rolling her eyes playfully as she gestures to the Marines with a tilt of her head.

"Oh, and Sunny," Penny yells after her, a light giggle laced though her words, "Welcome to Fighter Town!"

Sunny navigates through the ever growing crowd, making her way back to the Daggers. She can't help but let her eyes wonder over the many uniforms that adorn the crowd. From flight suits and Peanut-Butters to BDU's and Veteran hats. It felt like everyone in the bar was wearing something to signify that they were Military affiliated.

She feels like an outsider, someone from the wrong side of town, the wrong state, the wrong part of the country. Her world has always been quiet, from the sprawling plains of the family ranch to the stillness of her office. Her world is soft, made up of cricket sounds and book pages. This world is hardened exteriors and no fear.

The world around her is bustling, sticky with stale beer and sweat. There is a constant underlying smell of jet fuel and saltwater across Fighter Town. It's all new and she can't help but wish Natasha would have prepared her better.

She knew Natasha was in the Navy, of course she did. Natasha clued her into that fact when they first started talking, but what really secured that fact for Sunny was when a couple of Naval Officers showed up on her doorstep to interview her about her involvement with Natasha. Something about clearing those closest to her before she could be rewarded her Top Secret clearance.

Sunny never did tell Nat of the men who knocked on her door, dressed in uniform. She felt her world slow down at the sight of them, like it does in the movies when a Soldier dies; the world spun unbelievably fast the moment she found out Natasha was okay. Whatever she told them must have worked out; two months later she received an email from Natasha, boasting about her new clearance. Sunny couldn't have been happier if she tried.

Still, Sunny feels that she is standing on the outside looking in, the way she has felt most of her life, until she catches sight of Hangman and Rooster. They are bumping shoulders with each other, both wearing smiles that light up their eyes. She can hear Natasha's laugh through the bustle, the sound makes her heart swell. The world feels just a little bit smaller, or maybe she is just a little bit closer.

Her eyes catch Natasha through the crowd as she makes it to the pool table where Hangman and Rooster have begun a new game. Rooster is leaning over the table, lining up a shot to the corner pocket. That's when she sees him.

Everything around her feels impossibly slow, her heart beat echoing throughout her body. She can feel it in her hands, fingers pulsing as she opens and closes her fists. Sunny takes in the sight before her, trying to concentrate over the whooshing of her heart in her ears.

Robert Floyd is sitting next to Natasha, his blond hair cut shorter than Sunny had ever seen it before. It was cropped short on the sides, the longest parts at the top of his head gelled back out of his bright eyes. He had aged, of course he had, but instead of looking older, he just looked like a more mature version of the boy she had always known. Slightly bent, gold framed glasses sit slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose and he reaches up to adjust them often, trying to get to bent metal to sit correctly on his face.

Sunny had never seen him so quiet; he sat leaning in towards Natasha, his ear in her direction, his hands laced together in his lap as he listens to whatever story she is telling him. The smile on his face is exactly the way she remembers it, slightly crooked as it lights up his entire face.

The medals pinned to the chest of his uniform are perfect; from their color to their placement, hell, they are even lint rolled to perfection. They make her a bit nauseous, too akin to his letterman jacket in her eyes. It is strange to see him like his, so gentle, so pristine. There's no cowboy hat clutched loosely in his hand, his usual boots swapped out for well polished dress shoes. From where she stands, she can't catch even a hint of the tobacco that typically permeates from his clothes.

Her heart aches a bit for the loose, unkempt guy she used to know. From the lack of distinct cherry scent down to the missing pearl that usually cover his now plain buttons. Yet, it's the hair she misses the most. She loved his long locks, specifically the way her fingers felt threaded through them. He looks so much like a man now.

Initially, Sunny feels the urge to run over to him and wrap her arms around his torso. She wants to press her ear against his chest and listen to his heart beat, just like all the women do in all of the books she reads. She wants that second chance romance moment- the one where the leading man takes the leading woman's face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes as he confesses all of his wrong doings. She wants to feel his hands on her bare skin again.

Then she remembers that conversation again. It plays over in her mind once more. 'I didn't work my ass off to throw it all away over a girl like you,'.

Now, she can feel the anger bubbling up from deep in her. She wants to throw a beer at him, cover his pristine uniform in amber liquid, letting the tan fabric go dark and wet. Sunny imagines the pleasure she would feel watching the liquid fall from his frame onto the well polished leather of his shoes. She wants the revenge, the shouting match, the bared feelings of hurt and aguish. Sunny wants to yell at him in the way Miss Bennet yelled at Mr. Darcy, all anger and justified hurt. Maybe then, they would both be fraught with pain, just as she had been since the moment he walked away from her.

But before she can do either, her body is moving on it's own accord. Sunny sets the tray of drinks down on the pool table, interrupting the game. Hangman and Rooster look at her with 'what-the-fuck' expressions, but she ignores them, instead stepping around to the other side of the table. Her movement catches Bob and Natasha's attention, drawing them out of their conversation.

Bob looks at Sunny, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips then back again, triangulating her features. He takes her in like she is his reason for breathing. She is stunning, that much he will admit to himself, from the way her hair is pulled back from her face, to the slight blotchiness of her skin, no doubt from all the crying Phoenix had been telling him about.

Bob takes in a deep breath, letting Sunny's face fill in all of the blank spaces in the stories Phoenix has shared with him. He lets the image of her features paint each memory, bringing them to completion.

He lets his gaze trail down her body, taking in the gentle pattern of her dress, the little yellow flowers spiraling around the bright red fabric. Bob has always been one for details. His eyes hit her boots next, his heart stuttering a bit at the sight. God, he has missed seeing people in boots, and a beautiful woman in boots? That might just do him in.

When his eyes trail back up her body, they lock in on the pendent of her necklace. The distinct outline of Montana hangs from the delicate chain around her neck. Bob fights the quirking corner of his mouth, attempting to keep the large grin threatening his features at bay. Finally, he thinks, someone from home, someone he might just have something in common with.

That thought causes a wave of anxiety laced excitement to roll through him, his heart cresting over the wave of emotion as it rolls from his head down his torso. He tries to push the feeling down, the further away from his chest the easier it is to focus.

Bob stands quickly, holding his hand out to her in greeting, ignoring the obvious look of bewilderment on her face, "Hi, I'm Robert Floyd, you must be Sunny! I've heard so much about you. It's wonderful to meet you!" His tone is light, friendly even. It squeezes her chest, her heart aching.

This is not the Bob she knows.

Her expression doesn't change and the wave of anxiety rolls back up Bob's body, taking his heart under the swell again.

Sunny doesn't even move, she doesn't speak, instead, she stands two feet in front of him and her best friend, her head cocked slightly to one side. Her eyebrows are deeply furrowed, mouth slightly agape. Her eyes slowly move from Bob to Natasha and back again, all of the pieces connecting. She narrows her gaze to a pinpoint.

"Sunny, what's wrong?" Natasha's voice is filled with nerves, her own anxiety peaking. Natasha could almost feel the confusion coming off of Sunny in waves that crest into pure negative. There is silence between the everyone for a minute before Natasha asks again, a little more force behind her voice this time, "Sunny, what's wrong?"

Bob still hasn't retracted his hand. Sunny shakes her head at the sight. Everything finally understood.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Sunny's voice is almost silent, pointed, until she turns her attention to Natasha, "Robert Wayne Floyd, the 'sweetest guy you've ever met', your goddamn back seater is Floyd!"

Nat's eyebrows are furrowed and she looks at Bob for some sort of a clue as to what's going on. All he can do is shrug, having awkwardly retracted his hand after his name came flying from Sunny's lips. He was taken aback by the use of his full name and the venom Sunny's voice possessed as she spoke them.

Rooster and Hangman are standing closer now, further from the pool table, their game and drinks long forgotten. The men behind Sunny are each on edge, unsure of the situation but ready to jump into action at a moments notice.

Sunny turns her attention back to Bob, heat overtaking her skin and disbelief bubbles through her. Her eyes hold a distinct look of hurt as Bob scans over them, taking in the features of her face.

"You have no idea who I am," There is no fluctuation to her tone. It was not a question. She wants to scoff, but really, she knows she shouldn't be surprised. This is Bob Floyd, after all.

It was in this moment that Sunny realized just how much of a hold Bob still had on her heart. There was no room left to wonder as he stood in front of her, a kind but confused look written over the plains of his face. Somewhere in her subconscious she knows the wants to kiss him. Kiss that dumb look off his face, thread her hands through his too neat hair, and remind him exactly of what he walked away from. She doesn't move, instead, she clenches her fists, the feeling of her pulse thrumming thickly through her tightly curled fingers. Sunny wants to hate him, that feeling tangling in her chest, still so familiar after ten years. She should hate him, but she doesn't.

Bob swears he can almost see the gears turning in her head, almost hear her thinking. Her expression is hard, concentrated. He wants to help her, to know what about his presence in this bar has got her all tangled up. He feels like he was left soaking wet under the hot sun, uncomfortable in the way his skin is almost burning under her gaze.

Sunny brings her hands up to her face and Bob almost tenses at the movement. Sunny breathes deeply behind her palms before running her hands over her hair. Pieces come out of the twists, falling into her eyes. That sparks a bit of familiarity deep within Bob's brain.

"Of course you don't," Sunny's tone is dry, un-humored and scratchy against her throat- she holds back tears. She draws her lips into a line, shaking her head.

"What's going on, Sunny?" Natasha is standing now, positioning herself in between her best friend and her WSO. She shoots a lightly panicked look to the Pilots standing behind Sunny, her eyes almost shouting for help, like they might know something she doesn't.

Hangman moves to step closer, answering Nat's panicked look with action. Bradley stops him with a firm hand on Hangman's chest.

"Not yet," His voice is barely above a whisper, almost getting lost in the loud atmosphere of the bar. If the two men hadn't been standing so close together, Jake would've missed the words. With a grumble, he pushed Bradley's hand from his chest but stays put, heeding the warning.

Maybe if Sunny hadn't been so upset she could've told Natasha that the man standing in front of her was the same man she had told her about so shortly after they began emailing- her first real heartbreak, the man who she had never really gotten over. Maybe she could have told her that she was literally teasing about Bob a few minutes before, talking about the one person on the swim team that she was in love with. Maybe she could have clued Nat in, but she doesn't say a word.

Instead of getting over him, she ran. She ran from the family ranch, from her small town, from anything and everything that reminded her of Robert Floyd, because that was the only thing she could do to keep from breaking her own heart again and again and again. Sunny told herself she left to go to school, to become a writer, that she was doing it for herself. In reality, that desire got pushed to the back burner for a while, the need to be as far away from Florence had been forefront in her mind.

So, in leu of offering any sort of verbal answer, instead of clearing things up, Sunny pulls her knee up, reaching into her boot, pulling a small pocket knife loose form the inside of the leather. There is a warn patch on the leather, where the knife has been kept there for some time, the brown now discolored form the many times the knife has been pulled from and put back into that specific place. It has been kept there for years.

Natasha and Sunny share eye contact as Sunny pulls the knife from her boot. Natasha's eyes are pleading, the creases on the corners visible. Her brows are furrowed, lips pursed. The whole expression screams 'tell me what's wrong, let me help'. Sunny, on the other hand, has her brows is raised giving Phoenix a clear look into her eyes. They swim with hurt and turmoil, something she usually sees in the eyes of new Seamen on the backends of deployment. Nothing could have prepared Natasha for seeing that look in her friend's eyes.

The knife is hidden in Sunny's grasp before any of the Daggers can see it. She holds it with too tight a grip, her hands trembling, one around the folding knife, the other down at her side.

This isn't her Bobby, that much she is sure of. The man in front of her is not the man she had kissed her and left her, the man who broke her heart. Hell, there isn't a smoke tucked behind his ear, there should be, there is always one. He doesn't smell like cherry tobacco. He doesn't smell right, and that makes Sunny's heart clench tighter. That's what decides it for her, the lack of distinct tobacco that usually clings to his clothes.

This really isn't her Bob Floyd. This man in a stranger. But, she knows one thing for sure.

Sunny throws the closed pocket knife at him, the object making hard contact with the center of his chest, thudding against him before clanking to the ground. It bounces unceremoniously under the table. Bob brings his hand up to rub over the area the metal came in contact with, but his eyes never leave her form.

The moment that old pocket knife left Sunny's grasp, she wanted it back. She curses herself for letting the emotion take over her thoughts- the fact that she is still clinging onto any sort of hope that the man in front of her might remember her twists up her insides. She wants Bob back but she has settles for the only part of Bobby she had been able to hold on to She wants to carry it with her like she has been for the last ten years. She wants it the knife back, but it's too late for that now. It sits face down on the ground, discarded like she had been all those years ago.

Sunny turns to walk away, tears threatening her eyes again. Before she goes, she is throwing one last sentence over her shoulder, directed right at him.

"Oh Bobby, once an asshole, always an asshole,"

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