Happy Little Accidents

little talks

Watching Bob celebrate his new found fatherhood with his squadron was... overwhelming. A strange mix of both relief and new anxiety washed over her. The nausea in her belly ramping up to a ten.

While she was pleased he seemed overjoyed about the life-altering news, Zak knew they had a lot more to discuss than just how involved he wanted to be.

"Hey," A feminine voice greeted her.

Zak turned to find an attractive brunette behind her dressed in the same khaki uniform as Bob and the other aviators. She was holding a beer in one hand and a ginger ale in the other.

"Hey."

"I'm Phoenix. Natasha Trace. We go by callsigns around here, but you can do whatever's easiest." She smiled, but Zak couldn't tell if it was meant to be warm and friendly or vaguely threatening, "Got you a ginger ale. You look like you're gonna vom."

"Zak Thompson." She took the drink with a grateful half smile. Not even peppermints calmed her stomach and at this point all her nerves were fried, too. "Thanks."

"I know. Bob told me about you. He's my WSO and we have to trust each other just as much on the ground as we do in the air." Phoenix dropped her voice so only Zak could hear, "If you hurt him or if I find out you're baby trapping him, you're dead meat, Thompson."

Zak blinked. Trying to process Phoenix's words. She understood the pilot being protective of her backseater. But ultimately it wasn't any of her business.

Any sarcastic remark or witty comeback died on her lips when a sweaty surfer breezed past. The mixed stench of sweat, sand, sea salt, and alcohol made her gag.

"Would you excuse me for a minute." She pressed the bottle of ginger ale back into Phoenix's hand and rushed outside.

Leaning over the nearest bannister, she vomited into the brush. Stomach clenching and acid burning her throat and tongue. A gentle hand pulled her hair out of her face, another rubbing soothing circles on her upper back.

"You alright?" Bob asked softly, concern etched in the knit of his brow. "Phoenix said you ran out lookin' like you might be sick."

"Heh. Hey sailor," Zak smiled weakly, leaning heavily on the bannister, "I'm just peachy."

"I brought you some water and pretzels."

She shook her head, straightening a little and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She used the hand sanitizer set up just outside the door to clean her hands, grimacing at the smell.

"Can we go somewhere a little quieter and talk?"

"How 'bout a walk on the beach?"

She nodded and took his offered hand. Letting him lead her around the deck to the warm sand. They paused at the steps to remove their shoes, Zak tucking her flip flops in the side pocket of her small backpack. Ignoring her brief protest, Bob slung the backpack over his shoulder, carrying his shoes and socks in one hand, holding Zak's with the other.

"I'm pregnant, not inept." She sighed, following him down to the shore.

"I know, I know." Bob smiled over his shoulder at her. "Just... lemme do this? Okay? Please?"

"Alright, whatever." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide a small smile.

They walked in silence for a while. Eventually coming to a stop at a quieter spot on the beach. They could still see The Hard Deck in the distance but Zak could finally hear herself think again.

"Let's get married." Bob blurted out.

"What?"

"I mean, I really like you, obviously. And I'm hopin' you like me, too. And that's my kid in there. We should..." Bob paused, running his hand through his hair. He definitely wasn't doing this right. Everything was completely out of order. He should be taking her out to dinner. Buying her flowers. Asking Mamaw for her ring and Zak's parents for their blessing. But. They were already three steps left of center.