#also got emo about bob being homesick over his parents

[fyrewalks]

@lcvesdeath continued from x

Bob feels out of place.

It's not the atmosphere. It's not the growing rowdiness as the spiked eggnog goes around. It's not jealousy over the couples cozied up together. It's not even the constant stream of noise from off-key singing bouncing off the walls. The party is, simply, chaotic. There's no other word for it. And Bob loves it. He likes that he can slip under the radar in crowds like these. Here, he can blend in with everyone else. His quiet shyness isn't immediately the focus of attention or the butt of the joke.

Instead, it's simple gut-turning homesickness that leaves him feeling misplaced. He's no stranger to it; no one here is. One of the first things you lose with the Navy is control. It's why so many wash out in basic. You either accept it or adapt. The regulations and rules hadn't phased Bob - in one way or another, the Navy had always controlled his life. Hanukkah and Christmas without his dad had been the norm for most of his childhood. The holidays tended to be quieter affairs spent with his mom, who still insisted on the cheesy Christmas traditions Bob had never fallen for despite it being his dad who had initially wanted them to celebrate. Sometimes they lucked out - his grandparents would fly out to spend the holidays with them or they'd celebrate with a few other families on base. Privately, Bob had preferred the cozy holidays spent only with his mom, and with his dad too when he was around, but he knew she faced the forced separation better in the company of others. If only Bob had been graced with half of his mom's social skills.

Logically, tonight's holiday-induced homesickness shouldn't linger any worst than the other times, yet it does. Despite his handle on the influence the Navy exerts over their lives, his parents' choosing an extended cruise during the month, eliminating the need to take leave, has left him unmoored and strangely bitter. He doesn't know what to do with himself. At least habits die hard - as is typical in any sort of large gathering, Bob gravitates towards the food. With a mouth full of food, he's spared from navigating drunken small talk.

He has half a retort on his lips when his eyes catch on the mistletoe hanging above them and he involuntarily pauses. His thoughts turn to his parents - whenever his dad was home during the holidays, extra mistletoe dotted their base housing to 'make up for lost time'. Then his brain freezes. Fuck. He needs to get out of this. Joke or not, there is no way kissing Jake Seresin will end well. Bob should absolutely end this before it has the possibility of starting; he should laugh it off and keep moving, but Jake leans in and Bob's breath hitches. There's nowhere to move backed against the archway as he is. It doesn't matter. He absolutely does not want to move as the distance closes. Bob catches the softest smile on Jake's lips before they're kissing.

It's not at all what he was expecting - and Bob is honest with himself enough to admit that he's let his brain wander once or twice about what kissing Hangman might be like. It certainly wasn't this. As the kiss deepens, they move together, curious and exploring. It's fun. It's almost a little desperate. The party, all of its inescapable noise and rowdiness, fades to a dull roar in his ears. His mind empties as he chases the heady rush. And then it's over. Everything comes rushing back as Bob struggles to take a deep breath.

"Fuck," he squeaks out. Instinctually, he takes a step back. Right into someone. They've attracted a bit of a crowd. Bob pushes himself forward instead and starts moving. He spares a quick glance at Jake and manages to tangle their fingers together for a brief second as he moves past him. Phoenix tries to reach out, but Bob shakes his head and shrugs off her hand. He can't do this. Not here. The damage is already done.

People let him pass easily and he gulps down fresh air outside on the front lawn. He's sure people are staring through the window, but he pushes the thought away. Jake might be able to brush everything off on too much-spiked eggnog, some might even let them, but Bob's pretty sure this will linger anyway. Rumors have a way of snowballing. There's no coming back after this.