The air inside the Top Gun break room was thick with caffeine and competition. You stood at the coffee machine, squinting at the buttons like it was some kind of classified equipment.
“Careful there, darlin’,” a voice drawled from behind you, low and smooth. “That thing’s got more attitude than most lieutenants I know.”
You startled slightly, almost dropping your cup. Turning, you found Jake Seresin—Hangman—leaning against the counter like he owned the room. Flight suit half-zipped, sunlight bouncing off his grin.
“Oh—uh. Sorry,” you said quickly. “I was just… it’s not cooperating.”
He smiled wider. “Well, I’d offer to make it for you, but I charge by the hour.”
You blinked, completely missing the joke. “You… charge for coffee?”
Jake’s smirk faltered. “No, that was—uh—just a joke.”
“Oh.” You nodded, serious. “Right. Okay. Sorry, I didn’t—um—get it.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’ve been here, what—a month now?”
You froze halfway through pouring. “Did I… do something wrong?”
His brows lifted. “No, no—just surprised. I’ve seen you around, but you never really talk to anyone.”
You stared down at your cup. “Oh. I talk sometimes.”
“Yeah?” His grin returned, teasing but lighter. “To who?”
You hesitated. “…Ground crew. When I need fuel.”
That made him laugh—a real one this time. “That’s somethin’, I guess.”
You nodded once, staring into your cup like it might save you from further social contact. “They’re nice,” you added quietly. “They don’t expect me to say much.”
Jake’s smile softened. “You don’t like talking to pilots?”
You shrugged. “They talk a lot.”
He huffed a laugh, leaning on the counter beside you. “Yeah, can’t argue with that one.”
There was a small silence—comfortable for you, maybe not so much for him. He tapped his fingers against the counter, studying you. “You know, I was startin’ to think you didn’t like me.”
Your head snapped up a little too fast. “What? No. Why would I not like you?”
He grinned. “I don’t know. You’ve been here a month and haven’t said a single word my way. Thought maybe I said somethin’ that rubbed you wrong.”
“Oh.” You frowned slightly, thinking. “I just didn’t have a reason to talk to you.”
Jake blinked, then laughed again—low, warm, surprised. “Honest. I’ll give you that.”
You nodded, still missing the humor in his voice. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head, watching you for a moment. “So what’s your reason now?”
“Hm?”
“For talkin’ to me,” he said, still smiling.
You looked at your coffee, then back at him, brow furrowing. “You were standing here.”
Jake tried—he really tried—not to grin, but the laugh slipped out anyway. “Right. Can’t argue with that logic, sweetheart.”
You blinked. “I didn’t say it was logic.”
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else.”
“That’s what people keep saying,” you murmured, genuinely puzzled. “Is that a good thing?”
He studied you for a long moment, grin fading into something softer. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s a good thing.”
You nodded, unsure what to do with that, then awkwardly lifted your cup. “Um. Well. Good talk, Lieutenant.”
He smiled faintly. “Jake.”
“Right. Jake.” You paused. “Do I… say that now, or later?”
He laughed again, stepping back as you made a quick escape toward the door. “Whenever you want, darlin’.”
Jake watched you leave, shaking his head with a grin he couldn’t seem to wipe away. You were awkward, literal, impossible to read—and he hadn’t felt this entertained in years.