HEARTFIRST (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader)

1.

The morning is quiet, a damp gray fog clouding in the San Diego bay. Yawning, you flip to the next page of your book, settling farther into the leather of the couch in the common room. You weren't supposed to be here, it was technically for recruits only, but you've yet to see anyone really enforce that rule. Plus, you couldn't be anywhere else right now. Natasha was still asleep in her room, so when you woke around four with a pounding headache, you snuck away to let her rest after your night out. You wandered around for a while, hoping she might come find you sooner rather than later, but she never did. So you wound up here, rather enjoying the quiet morning. It was a nice juxtaposition to the excitement of last night at the Hard Deck.

When you came to visit Natasha on base yesterday you didn't know what to expect, you hadn't seen her since you graduated college and went your separate ways. You'd kept in touch through social media and the occasional phone call, but it wasn't the same. Yet, last night when you reunited, it was as if time hadn't passed at all, the two of you falling back into old habits. It was nice to be with her again, even if it was on base, under the watchful eye of the US Navy. It didn't surprise you that she wound up here: she was always so determined, always working to prove herself. It was more shocking that you accepted her invitation here; you never saw yourself in a place like this, especially since you knew you'd be likely to run into Bradley Bradshaw.

You'd been able to avoid him around town the past year or so, grateful he'd always been a workaholic, almost never leaving the base. Thankfully, you'd also been able to dodge him since you've been here; but it had only been a few hours. You shake your head, refocusing your thoughts back to the book in hand.

"Hey, visitors aren't allowed in here."

You jump at the sound of a deep voice, looking up to see a tall figure standing in the doorway.

He's dressed in a stark white t-shirt tucked into neatly pressed khaki pants, a silver belt buckled snugly around his hips. His short blonde hair is carefully combed, his teeth impossibly white against his tan skin as a smirk spreads across his pink lips.

"I, uh –" you stammer. You open your mouth again to say something, anything, but you come up short. You're not sure if it's the fact that you've gotten caught or if you're simply speechless because you've found yourself in the presence of a man as textbook-gorgeous as the one before you.

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. "Relax, I won't tell anyone."

You let out a sharp breath, nodding. "Thanks."

He crosses the room in a few steps, making his way over to the small kitchen, clamoring about for a few seconds with the coffee machine. He turns back to you once he's picked out a navy blue mug flecked with yellow paint, leaning nonchalantly against the counter top as he pours the dark, steaming liquid. "But I definitely plan on holding this one over Phoenix's head."

"Natasha's sleeping, where else was I supposed to go?" you ask, setting down your book. You push yourself up from your place on the couch and cross your arms, glaring at him. He'd been in your presence no more than a few minutes and he was already sticking his nose too far into your business. Sure, you were technically in the wrong, but something told you he'd broken more than a few rules about visitors during his time in the academy.

"Off base, with the rest of the one night stands," he shrugs, his gaze dropping to the Navy sweatshirt you're wearing. It's Natasha's. You were cold and you failed to bring a jacket when you went out last night so she leant it to you. Not that he needed or, really cared, to know that.

Your mouth drops open, your glare intensifying.

"I am not a one night stand" you assert, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, crossing your arms over your chest. His smile grows, knowing he'd struck a nerve.

He laughs and takes a sip of his coffee. "That's what they all say, sweetheart."

"I imagine yours are grateful, actually, it's exhausting having to fake it. It would be a crime to put someone through that more than once" you say, challenging him.

He looks up from his cup, raising an eyebrow. He sets down the mug and braces himself on the counter, his muscular biceps on full display, his meadow green eyes connecting with yours across the room. He clicks his tongue in quick succession. "Sounds like I'm gonna have to give Phoenix some tips, I hate to see a pretty girl like you left unsatisfied."

"Natasha and I are friends," you hiss.

"Is Seresin bothering you?" Natasha appears in the doorway, her eyes darting between you and the man. She's dressed in a pair of navy blue sweats, the matching bottoms to the sweatshirt you're wearing, and a white tank top, her hands placed squarely on her hips. She steps through the frame and wanders over to your side.

The man – Seresin – holds his hands up in defense. "I was just telling your friend that the common room is for recruits only."

Natasha stifles a laugh. "Since when are you such a rule follower, Hangman?"

"Since getting the golden child in trouble might give me a little leverage."

"Let's leave the competition for the skies, shall we?" Natasha waves him off, settling into the couch. She taps the open space next to her, inviting you to sit again. You follow suit. "Plus, we wouldn't want Coyote finding out about that red head I saw coming out of your room the other night, would we?"

"Touché Phoenix, touché," Hangman says, walking past you two towards the door. He stops just under the door frame and glances down at his watch, then back to Natasha. "Don't be late, Mav wants us ready by six. Or do, then I'm a shoo-in for this new mystery mission. Your choice."

Natasha rolls her eyes, throwing her hand in the air to dismiss him, her middle finger erect. Hangman lingers, his gaze shifting from her back to you, flashing you that perfect pretty boy smile.

"Nice meeting you again," he says, winking before turning on his heel and heading out the door.

You turn to Natasha, sitting up, your brow knit tightly together as you consider Hangman's words. 'Nice meeting you again'. You were certain you had never met him until today, your first conversation exchanged this morning. And you were certain that you hadn't enjoyed any minute of it. His wink implied something totally different.

"Tash, what does he mean, 'again'?"

Natasha looks up at you from her sunken spot on the couch. Her lips grimace, her nose wrinkling in what looks to you like disappointment.

"Tash?" you push.

"You made out with him." The words tumble out of her mouth quickly, barely registering with you. "Last night. At the Hard Deck."

"I – what?" you ask in disbelief. "Why wouldn't you stop me? He's clearly an asshole!" You smack her arm and she winces.

"I turned around for half a second to get us another round and when I came back you were all over him, sitting on his lap. I haven't seen you like that since senior year, well, since Bradshaw and I didn't want to ruin your fun!"

"Oh my god," you mumble. "No wonder why he was being so gross just now."

"Hangman's always like that," she notes.

You shoot her an apathetic stare. "You're not helping."

"Tequila has never been kind to you, historically speaking."

"It's still not." A sinking feeling forms in the pit of your stomach and you reach out, gripping Natasha's forearm. "Please tell me Bradley wasn't there." Your worried eyes meet hers and she swallows hard.

"He wasn't there."

You scoff. "You've always been a bad liar."

"There's a chance he might have seen, but I'm not sure. Hell, if he did, we both know he wouldn't come to me about it. Rooster doesn't mix personal and professional, you know that."

"Shit," you breathe, turning away from her to curl into a ball, taking your head in your hands.

"New rule," Natasha says, sitting up to run her hand through your hair, "no more tequila."