Cowboys & Angels

Twelve

The way that it feels when you lean in and kiss me
The way that you dance when you get kinda tipsy
I'm wrapped 'round your finger like this ring I'm wearing
That look in your eye, girl, when you catch me staring
And I don't even know what it is but now that I found it
I can't imagine me living without this
Back forty view on our piece of ground
Watching you watch the sun going down
That's what my world spins around

What My World Spins Around x Jordan Davis

Jake

I finally make my way to the house after a long ass day of training maneuvers followed by Mav explaining what's expected of me when I take over for him. The best part of this all is the fact that when the team and I get to fly with the Top Gun students, I'll be not only team leader, but training commander. It's funny to think that at first, I was mad as hell about this assignment. I wanted to be out dogfighting, kicking ass and taking names. I thought it would be a joke when it came to airtime, but holy shit was I wrong! I've almost logged more flight hours than when I was in Top Gun myself. I've loved every single second of it, especially after Beckham was assigned to be my partner. I gave her a hard time at first, just as I did Phoenix, but only because I wanted to know my life wasn't in the hands of some backbone-less jellyfish that would fold under the slightest bit of pressure. Boy, was I wrong about my Halo. That girl threw sass back like it was her job, and I was both amused and amazed by her. She was delicate, as I had assumed. But not delicate like a flower, she was delicate like a bomb ready to blow any second. I unfortunately caused an explosion or two and have been on the receiving end of her right hook and uppercut. The first time she punched me, I had mouthed off about how a little Tinkerbell like her couldn't hang with the big boys. She popped me straight in the jaw, and that was before I'd even had a chance to take to the air with her. The next time was about a week after the first event, and again, my mouth got me in trouble. I had been giving her all kinds of shit that particular day, talking about how men had the edge when it came to piloting because we produced testosterone. Her response was to quickly toss her tiny elbow directly into my solar plexus, the shocking force and subsequent pain bringing me to my knees. Beckham was quick to respond and tell me how much of a moron I was.

"Listen here, dipshit. If you're gonna be insulting, at least have your facts straight. Women also produce testosterone. Some women actually produce more than men do because of reproductive issues. On top of that, women are the ones who carry babies and literally have their organs rearranged to accommodate the rapidly growing tiny humans, tying it all up with the bow that is pushing a bowling ball through an opening the size of a big bottle of Gatorade to bring aforementioned tiny human into the world. Just imagine that hit to your testicles. Then multiply the pain by 5. Then only be offered Tylenol for pain relief because you're a woman and most doctors think you don't need pain meds. I'll take my estrogen any day, because I'm naturally a badass by just existing."

I didn't say much else after that, gave her the same mostly good natured ribbing that the rest of the team got. I'll never forget the day I found out about her parents, though.

Beckham had seemed off the whole day, she was abnormally quiet and barely even responded to anything I said, even when I went above and beyond to be a dick.

"Halo, you good? What'd I do this time?" I had asked.

"Nothing, Hangnail. Just fucking fly the damn thing so we can be done."

We'd been practicing some rapid response and escape maneuvers in the helo, and the tilts and turns of some of them rocked us through the cockpit harder than I had expected. I was pretty sure Halo had hit her head on more than one occasion, and I was worried it may have caused an injury that attributed to the change in her demeanor. Usually, she'd be sending jabs my way or offering advice on how to perfect the skill. Her almost complete radio silence unnerved me and I was convinced there was something wrong.

We had barely gotten the wheels on the ground and the rotors turned off before Beckham had shot off like a bullet, not even pausing to do post flight status checks. She's extremely vigilant when it comes to those, because she never wants to have a malfunction she could have prevented. She made a beeline to the women's locker room, and since the rest of the team would be out for at least the next two hours, I followed through the door hot on heels. The sight that I was met with is one I hope I never have to see again. Beckham "Halo" Teague had crumbled onto one of the benches in the middle of the room with her face in her hands, flight helmet clattering on the floor. I could hear the erratic rhythm of her breathing and about lost my shit.

I had made my way to crouch in front of her, my hands landing gently on her forearms. "Shit! Halo, are you hurt?" She doesn't reply. "Fuck, tell me where it is so I can look at it." She still didn't respond, and the lack of "get the fuck off me/fuck off/shut the fuck up Jake" made my blood run cold.

"Halo, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. Talk to me," I attempted to soothe her with no avail. "Beckham! Look at me!" That finally snapped her out of whatever trance she was in. What she said next gutted me. "It...hurts...here." She told me, pointing to the left side of her chest where her heart lies. Beckham barely manages to gasp the words out and it's enough to unravel the douchebag façade I've so carefully built. I gently place both of my palms on each of her cheeks, then place her right hand directly over my heart.

"Beckham, eyes on me. You gotta breathe so we can get through this. Ok, focus on my heartbeat and breathe with me. In...out...in....out. Atta girl, there we go," I gently coo at her. "You can let go, just promise me you'll keep breathing. Once you've gotten it all out, we're going to get milkshakes. There's no use in us going back to training anyway, we kicked some serious ass and they couldn't keep up." I smugly grin when I feel a tiny giggle escape her at that. Once she's finally calmed down enough to rejoin the world, she snarks about making sure I won't have children if I share any of what happened with anybody else. Can't have word I'm an undercover softie and that she isn't the cool cucumber she appears to be getting out around here. Once her breathing had returned to normal, she explained the significance of the date and the reason behind her mood.

What she told me hit me harder than her tiny elbow, and I had sworn to do everything I could to protect her and take care of her from that day forward.

The sight that greets me as I walk through the door has my heart in a puddle. There's a freshly made meal staying warm in the oven and Beckham is passed out on the couch, snuggling one of Squishmallows Emmy Jett had been gifted but Beckham quickly took over custody. She claims it helps her sleep better, but we all know she just loves the damn thing. We've reached the third trimester and it's been kicking her pretty little ass, so she's been taking naps whenever it's possible. I slip out of my flightsuit and boots and join her on the couch, nuzzling my nose into her neck.

"'Mmm, hi baby. I sat down to nap for just 20 minutes and that turned into....almost two hours. Oops," she blushes. I lean in and leave a kiss full of love, happiness, and passion on her lips that try to follow mine until she realizes she's have to get up to do that.

"Don't you dare worry about that, little lady. You and our girl deserve all the rest you can get since you're both about to go through some pretty life changing stuff. You doze off some more and I'll eat and clean real quick, then I'll join my little loves on the couch for some snuggle time. Deal?" I offer.

It takes her a second to agree to not do all the work and I'm done with it all in about 15 minutes. I join the girls on the couch, not giving a shit about what's on the tv, and cuddle up to Beck. I rub her belly and play with her hair, and she's out cold before I know it.

I chuckle at the sight of her drooling, then take a second to be immensely grateful for the tiny hellcat that is my wife and mother to my baby that has me wrapped around her little finger like the rings we wear as a physical reminder of the infinite promises we made to each other.

This is the good stuff, right here.