America x Reader ~Shooting the Moon~

~Shooting the Moon~

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”

Nearly in disbelief, you turned away from the poster on the wall and leaned against the stucco-plastered wall. On the other side, Alfred, your old colleague flicked the rim of his hat upwards revealing his sky-blue eyes. There was always something about the way his eyes glinted; it was as though they were constantly seeking adventure and discovery. No matter now much you had tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to mimic the same spark.

“It’s a nice saying, isn’t it?” he grinned.

You could only look away. He wouldn’t understand—not when he already had the moon within his sights. The meeting was bittersweet; one side of you wished you could have been there with him to see the world from above, the other side begged your heart to be happy for him. All the same, you hadn’t been there. You had stumbled and missed your mark. There hadn’t been any stars to catch you.

“How was it up there?” you asked, trying to mask the trembling in your voice. “It must have been one hell of a trip to and back, right?”

“I’ll say,” he chuckled. “It really was like those stimulations, but…damn.” He breathed. “The view was something else.” From the corner of your eyes, you caught him looking at the poster on the stucco wall. “It’s only instances where you see the world for what it is that you realize how insignificant we all are.”

You looked up. “Dust in the wind*? Ashes to ashes**?”

“I’d say we’re more like stardust to stardust***.”

You cracked a smile. “You would say something like that, Alfred.” With nothing left to say, you turned to leave only to be barred, one arm to your front, the other to your back. Before you could react, he was already upon you, closing the gap between your lips.

“I missed you, you know,” he spoke in a low voice when you broke away from him.

Nodding, still dizzy from his taste, you pressed your lips together. “It’s understandable. It gets lonely out there in space.”

“No. ______________...I missed you—specifically.”

It was too late.  There wouldn’t be another chance for you. Time had weathered your strength away, and even if you were qualified, there was no telling when another mission would be funded.

“I’m sorry. I screwed up, Alfred. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“_____________, what’s done is done. If anything, I should be the one who’s sorry. You worked so hard to get here. I knew how much you really wanted to go. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. _____________, I still lo—”

“Do you?” you interrupted him.

“What?”

“Even after seeing how big the world is and how insignificant human beings are, do you still think I’m more special than any other woman out there?”

“Of course.” He made it sound so easy. “There’s only one ______________. She’s the one I love. Nothing’s going to change that.”

In these kinds of cases, you could never tell if he was being serious or stupid. You wanted to think he was being serious. He tried to be whenever he was around you.

“You big oaf,” you sighed, finally surrendering to his attempted embrace and slung your arms around his neck. “I missed you, too, Alfred.”

He laughed, dotting your cheeks with light pecks. “Does that mean you’ll hold up on your promise?”

“What promise?”

“That when I come back to Earth, you’ll treat me out to dinner.”

“Oh. That…” You smiled with him. “All that space-dried food must’ve driven you crazy, huh?”

“Insane.”

“That explains your behavior,” you teased him. Being on solid ground for all of these days kept your brain in check. “And I swear, if you say you want burgers or steak—”

“How’d you know?” he started.

“Alfred F. Jones, don’t joke around with me,” you snapped. “Goddammit, you just came back from the moon. I want to eat somewhere nice for once.”

Clearly taken aback by your abrupt change of tone, you saw him stagger a little. “If that’ll make you happy, we can go somewhere you want, instead.”

“No, I was just messing around,” you quickly said. “It was your mission, after all. The least I can do is respect your tastes.” You paused. “So is it going to be burgers or steak?”

A childish grin played on his face. “How about both?”

That was an eye-roller. “Sure. I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“I’ll have to try harder then.”

“Don’t,” you declined. “It’s already a hassle dealing with you as it is. Sometimes I wish you went on a space station instead…”

“That’ll be even better,” Alfred laughed. Another eye-roller. “That’ll equal at least being treated out ten times, right?”

“Sure…” Thank goodness that wasn’t the case. You didn’t know how your wallet would cope if that ever happened.

Since Alfred had finished filling out his paperwork, he was free to leave the station with you. Overhead, the stars had been blotted out by light pollution, but the moon shone like a cold sun of the night.

“It’s really small from here,” Alfred commented. You agreed. “But that’s alright. Even if you can’t shoot the moon, you’ll still land among the stars. I think that’s true.”

“How so?”

He didn’t need to tell you. All it took was a little look in your direction, an arm around your waist, and a sweep of your feet to see for yourself. Irises as blue as the daylight, moonlight twinkling at the lenses of his glasses, the answer was as clear as the moon above: there were stars in his eyes.