The sun is starting to slip down over North Island, painting the tarmac gold. The squad’s scattered across the hangar laughter, clattering tools, someone cussing because they dropped a wrench.

Bob stands a little apart from it all, leaning against the ladder of his aircraft, wiping grease off his hands. He spots you immediately the way you hesitate at the hangar door like you’re not sure you belong in all this noise and swagger.

He lifts a hand in a quiet wave. Not loud. Not showy. Just… welcoming.

“Hey,” he calls softly. “You okay?”

You walk over, the warmth in his smile pulling you in like sunlight on a cold day. He pats the spot beside him on the ladder, letting you sit without a word.

After a moment, he turns his head toward you, blue eyes gentle. “You look like you’ve had one hell of a day.”

You start to explain, but he shakes his head with a tiny smile. “You don’t have to defend yourself. Not with me.”

He hands you his water bottle, brushing your fingers with his in a way that feels more like grounding than flirting.

“You work hard,” he murmurs, voice soft as cotton. “Harder than anyone sees.”

You breathe out, tension leaving your shoulders. He watches you carefully quiet, attentive, protective in a way that never suffocates.

Then, with a crooked grin “Stick with me awhile, sugar. I’ll make sure you get some peace today.”

He bumps your shoulder with his gently, warmth lingering even after the touch fades.

When the hangar lights flicker on, the golden hour turning to dusk, he looks at you like he’s seeing the sky change colors for the first time

“Y’know… you already shine brighter than any of ‘em.”