notroosterbradshaw - Tumblr blog

notroosterbradshaw · 12 hours

Text

I really wanted this one to happen. There may be time eventually!

My Father's Eyes - prologue

about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.

You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore.

You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.

"One more drink," your co-workers begged.

"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.

And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home -

But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised.

Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy -

The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.

Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.

Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out.

That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go -

You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint.

The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.

But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way.

Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.

“ - Hangman is blonder - "

" - suave Coyote was - "

"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."

"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”

You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her.

But no mention of Bradley.

"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.

Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.

Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...

And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.

"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him.

And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble.

You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.

And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room.

Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it.

He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time.

Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.

As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety.

"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were.

The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares.

You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching.

...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy.

And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG.

And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.

"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley.

"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.

And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs.

"You still livin' around here?"

You gave a soft nod. "Yeah."

"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."

"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"

"My whites?" he asked.

"I saw you come in."

"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.

"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of."

Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.

"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."

"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.

"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.

Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply.

"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.

"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."

"Fleeting."

"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."

"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time.

Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine.

Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.

Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.

"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers.

You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley.

"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.

masterlist.