Chapter Text
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He felt the shift the instant she set foot in the packed Hard Deck and he almost choked on his peanut when he saw her; not only because she was a beauty but because she was extremely decorated for one so small. He tried not to stare but, when one of the other lieutenants called the trio over, he couldn’t help himself when she was standing right there. Knowing he usually flew under everyone’s radar anyway, he took in how she was; how confidently she held herself, how quick and smooth her jab at Hangman was, and how attentive she was to her surroundings. Phoenix felt like a fitting callsign for her. He tried to play it cool, but his pulse sped up when she asked who he was, only for the other two pilots to confirm what he had expected: they hadn’t even known he was there.
“Man’s a stealth pilot.”
“Weapon systems officer, actually.” He awkwardly corrected.
“With no sense of humor…” Hangman thrust his cue stick at Phoenix and heading for the bar, Coyote on his six.
Phoenix didn’t laugh like the others, “What do they call you?” She asked.
His nerves hid behind his smile, “Bob.”
“No, your callsign.”
He tried not to show his own disappointment as he repeated, “Bob.”
“Bob Floyd? You’re my new backseater? From Lemoore?”
Bob didn’t take her reaction too personally. After all, he had more than once wished he was someone else, “Looks like it.” He faltered, growing uneasy under her once-over.
And then, she surprised him by offering him the cue, “Nine-Ball, Bob. Rack ‘em.” So much was said in such a simple line; she was going to give him a fair chance – despite his awkwardness, despite his first impression, despite who he was – and he wasn’t going to miss it.
Phoenix broke and the game began. Bob wasn’t good at pool, but he appreciated being included just the same.
After her second turn, Phoenix joined him, “So, you’re a WSO?”
“Y-yeah, that’s—that’s what I am.” Bob cleared his throat, tapping his cue stick against the ground as the silence drew on. He messed with the chalk for something to do.
Her eyes were playful, “Small talk isn’t your thing, is it?”
“Unless it has to do with weapons or systems or officering, it’s most likely not my thing.”
Her dark brow popped up, impressed by the quick retort, but he retreated back behind his quiet smile, his nerves getting the best of him.
“So, weapons, systems, officering…there has got to be a fourth thing because I can only talk about the Navy for so long.”
Bob’s expression pinched in reply.
She turned to him abruptly, ready to rip the Band-Aid off, “You’re my wizzo, which means we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” Phoenix gestured between the two of them, “Now, I love my plane as much as the next pilot, but I cannot spend the next three weeks talking about its ins and outs.”
His laugh was hesitant, finally picking up on her meaning, but he didn’t say much more.
“How about this,” Phoenix chuckled, “I’ll grab a deck of conversation starters and we can go from there.” A smile passed between them but something across the table caught Phoenix’s eye. She gave a small nod as she excused herself and headed over to greet their new addition, “Bradshaw! Is that you?”
Fanboy claimed Phoenix’s spot and began offering Bob a few pointers. Unfortunately for Fanboy, Bob found himself paying more attention to Phoenix and the new comer than the tips. It wasn’t as if Bob thought he had a chance with her, especially not with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw in the picture, but it wasn’t every day a pretty lieutenant went out of her way to be so kind to him. It was hard not to get his hopes up even if just for a moment.
Bob was still enjoying the picture of Rooster bent over, having received Phoenix’s surprise in full, when Hangman grabbed his cue stick right out from him and stole his turn. Phoenix narrowed her eyes; clearly not impressed with Hangman’s ego as he went on about who would be team lead and who had it in them to follow him.
“Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave.”
The group grew quiet as Hangman turned to answer Rooster’s challenge. Bob simply kept his head down, never one for conflict. And, just as quickly as it had begun, Hangman and Rooster returned to their separate corners; Hangman back to the table and Rooster to the bar. Phoenix headed towards Bob, offering him her cue.
Complaints sounded when the music cut out but things quickly quieted when the patrons heard the first few notes on the piano.
“Guys, come on.” Phoenix said, nodding for the guys to follow after her. Bob couldn’t help himself; observation was part of his job and he was curious how Rooster and Phoenix knew each other. But, before he could figure anything out, the bell rang and a chorus of “Overboard!” began.
Phoenix ignored the crowd, completely caught up watching Rooster warmed up the piano’s keys, and waited to see what he’d play. A familiar tune began to trickle out and soon everyone was swaying along, some even singing along, and the bar had all but forgotten about its overboard victim.
“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” The group sang to each other as the rest of the bar joined in. Bob didn’t know the words really, but he was starting to let loose and bobbing along with the song’s feel.
“You gotta let me love you like a lover should!” Rooster sang, “You’re fine, so kind, I’m gonna tell this world that you’re mine, mine, mine, mine…”
Phoenix held her hand out to Bob, and, it took him a second, but he accepted it and spun her around. Phoenix laughed and Bob flushed as she serenaded him before turning back to Payback, who was using his beer bottle as a mic.
“I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs. I'm gettin' nervous honey but it sure is fun! Come on baby, you drive me crazy…”
The bar sang back the final line, “Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”
Applause erupted around the bar as the song ended and Rooster did a little victory dance as they chanted his name. Phoenix claimed one of the bar stools, rotating it back and forth as she cooled off. Bob leaned against the post, fiddling with his cup.
“You don’t drink?” She took a swig of her bottle, eyeing his cup of water. There wasn’t anything malicious in her tone, just curious.
“Naw.” Bob shrugged it off, “But I figure if I drink out of a Budweiser cup, it makes it a bit more manly at least.” He was rewarded with one of her cheeky smiles. He cleared his throat, finally ready to try stepping outside his comfort zone, “You guys make a cute couple.”
Phoenix choked on her beer, “Me and Rooster? No,” She laughed, “Yeah, no.”
Bob nodded, not sure what else to say.
“He’s a great guy, though, you’ll like him. Everything a man should be, so, the exact opposite of Hangman.” Phoenix joked, taking another swig.
Another nod, and Bob set his water to the side, feeling his courage wane, “Well, I best be off. Stuff to…do.” He cleared his throat, trying to believe his own pitiful excuse.
One look at Phoenix and he could tell she didn’t believe him, but she wasn’t going to push, “Alright, see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” His hopes spilled into his smile and he excused himself before his anxiety grew too much to bear.
Coyote slid into the empty stool beside Phoenix, “So, how’s your new boyfriend?”
Amusement colored her eyes as she watched Bob leave; he was silently muttering to himself and gesturing slightly with his hands, chiding himself for every social misstep he’d made that night, which she found quite endearing.
“Good. How’s yours?” She cut her eyes to Hangman and smirked, “Looks like his ego took a bit of a hit; it must be that time of the month.”
Coyote chuckled and held up his bottle in truce. Phoenix toasted him and took a swig, savoring her victory.
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