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Bob paused the show he was watching and shuffled to the door, a bowl of pretzels nestled in the crook of his elbow.
“Jake?” he furrowed his brow. “I thought you had a squadron meeting.”
“Ended early,” Jake shrugged, reaching out to take a handful of pretzels and shoved them in his mouth
“Do you want to…” Bob started to invite him in but was distracted by the object leaning against his boyfriend's shoulder. “Why do you have a baseball bat?”
“Because I am taking you to the batting cages, Magoo.” He grinned.
Bob adamantly shook his head. “No, no, you are not.”
Jake frowned at him. “ Why not? It’ll be fun.”
“Jake, despite my success at metaphorically rounding the bases, I am quite terrible at the actual game. Hitting especially.”
“Did you just make a sex joke about baseball?” the pilot arched an eyebrow at him.
“I did, are you proud?” Bob waggled his eyebrows in return.
“Very.” Jake smiled. “Now go put your shoes on. We’re going to the batting cages.”
“Can’t we just watch a movie?”
“There will be movies on the carrier, there will not be batting cages,”
Bob rolled his eyes. Of course, Jake would play the deployment card. Now he was compelled to go.
“Fine, give me a minute,” he sighed, turning into the house.
“Wait, leave the pretzels,” Jake requested, taking the bowl from his boyfriend.
Bob stood outside the cage watching Jake hit ball after ball. There were a couple that got away from him, but he was definitely hitting more than he missed. He could see the bunch of the muscles across his shoulders through his thin t-shirt. His mind wandered to what those muscles would look like if he removed said shirt. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
“Magoo?” The tone of Jake’s voice made it sound like it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get his attention.
“Huh?” he tried to shake off his thoughts, but Jake lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his damp face, exposing his taut belly. Definitely not so bad.
“I said, it’s your turn” Jake repeated, coming out of the cage and offering Bob the bat. Bob looked at the object like it was a snake ready to bite him. This was bad.
“Oh no, I’m good. You go ahead,” he insisted.
“Come on, Magoo. You’ll love it.” Jake picked the batting helmet off the bench and wrestled it onto Bob’s head.
“I don’t think I’m going to love it, Jake.” Bob adjusted his glasses that had been knocked askew.
Jake put the bat in his hand. “Just try it.”
Bob posed just like every batter he’d ever seen on TV, waiting for Jake to start the machine. He took a wild swing at the first ball, missing it by a mile. His second swing felt less wild, but he still caught nothing but air. He tipped the ball on the third swing somehow sending it straight up in the air and dropping it right back down on him. He yelped an jumped out of the way, only to move into the way of the pitching machine. He saw the next ball coming in just enough time to flop to the ground.
Jake couldn’t help but laugh. It was like watching a cartoon. Bob’s wiry limbs moving in all directions, but none of them in the right way to actually hit the ball. He pressed the red stop button as soon as Bob hit the ground and let himself into the cage.
“Magoo?” he asked tentatively, standing over his boyfriend who was now tucked in on himself, like he was preparing for a tornado.
“Not loving it, Jake,” he mumbled. He lifted his head to glare at him.
“It was a bad first round,” Jake admitted, reaching a hand down to help him up.
“It was a bad last round,” Bob corrected, turning towards the gate. Jake reached out and grabbed the back of his t-shirt.
“Not so fast,” he pulled Bob into the curve of his body. “Let me show you.”
Bob groaned. “Jake, this is such a cliché.”
“Oh hush,” Jake chuckled, tapping Bob’s feet until the were shoulder width apart. He reached around him to adjust his grip, bringing the bat up over his shoulder and lining up his knuckles. “Now, make sure you plant your back foot,” Jake patted his hip. “A lot of the swing is going to come from your hips and your shoulders should follow.” He leaned around to kiss his cheek. “And remember to keep your eye on the ball, Magoo.”
Personally, Bob thought the lesson might have been more productive had the heat from Jake’s body not been pressed so close. But he nodded anyway. Jake stepped away and started the machine again.
The second round was only marginally better than the first, he at least kept his feet this time, but still wasn’t making any hits.
“Maybe we need to switch hands?” Jake asked, genuinely shocked that Bob could be that bad at this.
“Yeah, switch my hands for someone elses,” Bob deadpanned, but his blue eyes danced with mirth.
“I really thought you would catch on,” Jake laughed.
“Because I seem like a naturally athletic person?” Bob arched an eyebrow at him. A beat stretched out between them before they both burst into laughter.
“Ok, come on out of there slugger, let’s put this gear in my truck and try the arcade instead.” Jake said finally. “Maybe I’ll win you a prize,” he winked, dropping his arm across Bob’s shoulders.
“Maybe I’ll win you a prize,” Bob countered, wrapping his arm around Jake’s waist.
The arcade was ultimately a more successful endeavor. They moved from game to game amassing tickets before finally settling into a fierce skeeball competition. Like dogfight football, it was less about actual points and more about enthusiasm. And by that standard, Bob was definitely in the lead.
Jake dug around in his pocket for the last of their tokens.
“Ok Magoo, looks like we have enough for two more rounds,” he announced. But when he looked up, Bob was nowhere to be found. “Magoo? Where…? Bob? Where the hell did he go?”
“Pssst.” The sound came from between two of the skeeball machines. Somehow Bob had managed to cram himself into the small space.
“Magoo? What are you doing?”
“Hiding. Someone came in.”
“Someone I need to fight?” Jake returned, wondering who could possibly be at an arcade the Bob would feel compelled to hide from.
“No, you ass. Some pilots. Ya know people who don’t know you and I are knocking boots,” he grumbled.
“Knocking boots,” Jake snorted. “Jesus Magoo, how old are you?” Bob scowled at him.
“Focus, Jake. Pilots.”
“Right, who did you see?” Jake turned to scan the crowd for familiar faces.
“Gadget, Hydro, and Bombshell, I think,” Bob recalled.
Jake finally found the group he was talking about. Along with the three Bob spotted, he spotted three more. Sparks, Riot, and…Coyote.
“Fuck. We gotta go.” Jake fished Bob out from between the machines, and pushed him towards the concession stand. As the group of pilots turned in their direction, Jake panicked and shoved Bob into the closest open door, stumbling in after him.
“This seems worse,” Bob noted.
“Shut up, Magoo,” Jake chuckled, reaching for him in the dark and pressing their foreheads together.
“Where are we? It stinks in here.”
Jake looked around, eyes adjusting to the darkness. “A supply closet, I think.”
“And how long to you think we’ll be in this supply closet?”
“Not sure. We could always make the best of it,” he slid a thigh between Bob’s legs and nipped at his bottom lip. Bob let out a noise of disapproval but submitted to the kiss anyway.
“Ok, that is your second cliché of the night, Lt. Seresin,” Bob breathed when they finally broke apart.
“You love it.” Bob could practically hear Jake’s satisfied grin. “Let’s get outta here.” He opened the door a crack, displeased to see the swarm of pilots milling around the concession stand. “It would really be better if we had disguises.” He commented.
“And you just think that this smelly closet is going to grant us disguises?” Bob challenged. Jake stepped away and pulled out his phone, clicking on the flashlight. Bob could hear him rummaging through the shelves, making noises of disappointment and discovery in equal measure.
A bundle of items was shoved against Bob’s chest. “Try that,” Jake instructed. Bob fumbled the items before he realized he’d been handed what felt like a windbreaker and a ball cap.
“What did you get?”
“Something similar, just put it on.” Jake looked outside again. His brain mapped out the clearest route to the exit. “You ready?”
“As I’ll every be,” Bob drawled. Jake gripped his elbow and lead him out of the closet and swiftly out of the building via the back door.
Once outside, they both leaned against the wall, hearts thundering wildly, giddy from their near miss. They took one look at each other and dissolved into obnoxious laughter. Jake wore a checkered polo that was the standard arcade uniform and a beanie with just the word “bitch” stitched into it. Bob faired only slightly better in a coaching jacket for the Lemoore High School tigers and a ball cap for a women’s softball league.
“We look like clowns,” Bob snorted. “What are you even wearing?” he tugged the hat from his boyfriend' head and showed it to him.
Jake’s expression was full of amusement. “I like it.” Bob rolled his eyes.
“Oh no!” he gasped suddenly.
“What? What is it?” Jake’s eyes swung back to the door, making sure they hadn’t been followed.
“Our tickets! I left them between the machines.”
“Well I guess someone is going to end up really lucky,” Jake shrugged, slipping out of the polo.
“You have to go back, please?”
Jake pulled a face. “What?”
“You said you’d win me a prize. Please, Jake?” Bob’s eyes went round and he stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. Jake sighed. He couldn't refuse him. He was going back in. He grabbed the ballcap of Bob’s head and put it on his own.
“Kiss for luck?” Jake batted his eyelashes.
Bob obliged and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “God speed,” he chuckled, shoving him towards the door.
Jake carefully wound his way back through the arcade, pulling the bill of his hat down every time he thought he might catch the eye of a fellow pilot. Just like Bob said, their long strips of tickets were abandoned between two skeeball machines. He made a quick stop at the counting machine before making his way to the prize counter. He had his eyes on one particular item and was happy to see they had garnered enough tickets for said prize. The bored teenager behind the counter helped him acquire his prize and a couple other small items to use up the remaining tickets.
“Thanks, man,” Jake said as he gathered his items and made his way back to the exit. He swore he heard Coyote’s voice say ‘hey, is that Hangman?’, but since no one came after him, he assumed he was in the clear and slipped back outside.
“My darling Magoo,” he said, thrusting a teddy bear dressed as an aviator into Bob’s arms.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bob laughed. “That’s cliché number three.”
Jake grinned, popping a jolly rancher in his mouth. “The trifecta,” he winked, offering some of his candy to his boyfriend. Bob picked through the pieces until he found something he liked.
“What else did you get?” Bob wondered. Jake handed him a parachute guy, a rubber popper, and a frog pencil eraser.
“Oh and this,” he unwrapped a sticky hand and flicked it in Bob’s direction. The hand landed smack in the middle of his glasses. “Shit, sorry,” he laughed at Bob’s shocked expression.
“This would be how this evening would end,” Bob mused, gingerly peeling the hand of his lens and flinging it at Jake. Jake yelped as it snapped his bare arm.
“Oh, hey!” he tried to grab for the toy, but Bob ducked out of the way. “I knew I should’ve gotten finger traps instead!” he shouted, running towards his truck, Bob giving chase.
They both climbed in, breathing heavy from their game of cat and mouse across the parking lot.
“That was so stupid,” Bob laughed whole heartedly.
Jake wheezed a laugh. “Which part?”
“Good point,” It had been a pretty ridiculous evening all the way around. “The part where we evaded a group of pilots. They probably wouldn’t have thought twice about us being there as friends.”
“All of them except Coyote,” Jake pointed out.
Bob shrugged. “Yeah, but we could have just told Coyote. I am sure he knows.”
“I’m not ready to make that bet,” Jake let an edge of seriousness drop into his tone for a beat before bouncing quickly back to flirtatious. “Plus we wouldn’t have gotten to make out in a supply closet and that has been on my bucket list for a long time.”
“Honestly, I am surprised you hadn’t checked that one off yet.”
“Saving the best for you, Magoo,” Jake teased, reaching across the center console to grab his hand a press a kiss to the back of it. When Jake let go to start the truck, Bob grabbed the softball league ball cap and put it back on his own head. Jake pouted.
“I kept this for you,” Bob said, putting the ‘bitch’ beanie in his lap.
“Yessss,” Jake chuckled.
Bob relaxed back into his seat as they started home. His cheeks ached from laughing and his heart felt lighter than it had since they got news of Jake’s deployment. It was nice to have a couple hours where they weren’t thinking about him leaving, talking about him leaving, or preparing for his leaving. The days were dwindling down and if he had his way, they would spend their remaining time doing just what they did this evening. Frivolous nonsense.
“You were right, Jake,” he broke the silence.
“I know I was,” Jake replied compulsively, earning a smack on the arm. “What about?”
“That we’d have fun. I mean, the batting cage was a disaster, but the rest was fun.” Bob explained.
Jake took Bob’s hand again. “Magoo, being with you has been the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he admitted.