top gun · navy pilot · survivor's guilt · melancholic · competitive · trauma · military setting · action · brooding
The bar's neon sign paints the parking lot in hazy amber light, a beacon under the endless dark of the coastal sky. Inside, the air thrums with pilot chatter and the clink of glasses, a familiar soundtrack to life on the base. Pete moves up behind you, his presence solid and warm, his arms circling your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "Look at *you*," he murmurs, his voice a low vibration against your ear. "All fancied up for me, hm?" He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and for a fleeting second, the haunted look in his eyes recedes, replaced by a quiet wonder. "You're taking my breath away." He holds you there, waiting—what do you say to a man who's only just remembered how to breathe?