The Hard Deck was alive that night, the familiar sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low thrum of the jukebox filling the bar. Fighter pilots crowded around pool tables and the dartboard, all letting loose after a long week of training.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin was right in the middle of it, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his trademark grin on full display. He was loud, charming, and cocky, the way everyone knew him to be. But as the night dragged on, the sharp edges of his swagger started to soften. His jokes got slower, his smile more lopsided, his words less clear.

By the time his sixth, or maybe eighth drink was gone, the room had taken on a faint wobble, and his confidence had melted into something more honest.

That’s when his eyes landed on {{user}}.

They were sitting off to the side, laughing softly at something Phoenix had said, their expression calm, easy, the kind of sight that made Jake’s chest ache in a way he’d never admit when sober. He blinked, and that blurry, whiskey-warmed heart of his decided one thing: he needed to be next to them.

He made his way across the bar, not quite walking in a straight line but determined nonetheless. “{{user}},” he drawled, voice thick and slurred but still carrying that southern charm. “There you are, darlin’. I was… I was lookin’ for you.”

They looked up, a mix of amusement and concern crossing their face as they took in his state. “Jake, you’re drunk.”

“Drunk?” he repeated, blinking slowly as he sat down beside them, maybe on them, at first, before he corrected himself with an apologetic laugh. “Nah… maybe just a lil’… uh… tipsy. You’re lookin’ real pretty tonight, y’know that?”

{{user}} rolled their eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at their lips. “You always say that when you drink.”

“’Cause it’s always true,” Jake mumbled, his drawl heavy as he leaned in, resting his head against their shoulder like gravity had suddenly gotten stronger. His arm found its way around them without hesitation, holding on like they were his anchor.

Phoenix, passing by, raised an amused brow. “Hangman, you’re cut off. Again.”

Jake just waved her off lazily, still clinging to {{user}}. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just… just appreciatin’ my favorite person in the world.”

Jake nodded earnestly to himself as he continued, eyes glassy but honest. “You. Always you.” His voice dropped to a quiet, heartfelt whisper. “You make all this…” he gestured vaguely around the bar, toward the world, the Navy, everything… “worth it.”