#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick." 

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly. 

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

--------------------------

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy. 

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget." 

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him. 

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much." 

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

-------------------------

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday. 

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything." 

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end. 

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch." 

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm." 

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

-------------------------

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her." 

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions. 

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you." 

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

----------------------------

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob��s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[vivwritesfics]

New Perspective

Bradley knew how it had happened. She told him that she'd never been eaten out, batted her pretty eyelashes at him and he was on his knees, face buried between her lips. But it had turned her into a pillow princess, Bradley eagerly diving between her spread legs whenever she asked. Something had to change

Warnings: age gap relationship, anal mentioned (not performed), oral (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimation, p in v, oral (male!receiving), face fucking, face painting, porn with 0 plot, cum eating

Bradley knew how it had happened. It was third date. They'd gotten to the restaurant, had one drink, and immediately bailed. Instead they got takeout, some more drinks, and returned to his place.

It was there on the sofa, as they sipped their drinks and ate takeout, that she confessed. They'd been together physically only once before, during their last date. It was what had made her comfortable enough to admit this to the older man she was seeing.

"I've never... been eaten out before."

It was a game of sorts, listing the things they hadn't done, the things they wanted to do. It hadn't started out sexual, but when Bradley admitted that he had never done anal, she knew she had to up the ante.

Bradley blinked at her, a surprised smile on his face. "You're kidding," he had said, his hand settling on top of hers. "So, nobody has ever had their mouth on your pussy before?" He asked, his mouth twitching up in a smile.

She shook her head.

Bradley took her to the bedroom after that. Well, first he pressed his lips to hers, pressing her into the couch. She had moaned into his mouth, legs locking around his middle as he hovered over her.

As she began pushing his shirt off of his shoulders, he stood up, pulling her with him. Bradley took her to the bedroom after that. He carried her, hands under her thighs as he walked her the short distance to his bedroom.

He laid her down on his sheets and pulled her underwear down her legs, discarding them on his bedroom floor. Pushing her skirt up, he kissed down her thighs, his moustache catching on her skin, burning slightly in all of the right ways.

Bradley took his time with her that night. He kissed her inner thigh, as close as he could get without properly touching where she needed him. And then he licked through her folds.

She came several times from oral alone. Bradley made sure of it. The way her body jolted each time his nose bumped her clit, and the way her moans grew louder every time he brought her close. Each orgasm was one that had her legs shaking. It was incredible, an experience she never wanted to end.

That was until she was pushing his head away, sore, sensitive and overstimulated. Bradley planted one last kiss on her soaked cunt and her hips swivelled away from him.

He cleaned her up after that, giving her plenty of time to recover before he fucked her, his cock pistoning in and out of her again and again and again.

She lost count of just how many orgasms she had that night.

It became a habit after that. Every time Bradley kissed her slow, his lips travelling down her neck, she opened her legs and he buried his face between them. Every time she laid there while Bradley did all of the work. He had accidentally turned her into a pillow princess.

She was his princess though. At first, Bradley didn't mind. He loved hearing the noises she would make while she came on his tongue, loved kissing her lips while he tasted of her.

But then, one day as Hangman was bragging about his latest sexual exploits, Bradley realised something. By this point they'd been together for a good six months, if not longer. And, in those six months, he hadn't had his dick sucked.

It wasn't like he hadn't thought of it. He'd woken up several times, cock achingly hard after dreaming of her on her knees, drool running down her chin as he pushed his cock between her lips.

And soon, it was something he couldn't stop thinking about. When at the navy hangar, servicing the Super Hornet that was his responsibility, it was all he could think about. Her face, painted with his cum.

Bradley knew he had to do something about it.

He went home to her that night. He didn't say hello, just immediately pressed his lips to hers. It was forceful and hot and, before she had said anything to him, she was moaning into his mouth.

Just as he had on the night of their third date, Bradley carried her to the bedroom. His hands were holding her thighs as he carried her down the hall and into the bedroom.

When he dropped her onto the bed, she pushed down her panties and opened her legs. But Bradley let out a single laugh. "Not this time, pretty girl," he said and pulled her to the end of the bed.

As he did, she unzipped his trousers and freed his cock. "I want you to suck my cock."

The way in which she slid from the bed and onto her knees, she was unsure. "Have you ever done this before, pretty girl?" He asked, his hand stroking over the skin on the side of her neck.

She swallowed. "Yeah, Bradley, I have," she said, wrapping her fingers around him.

Bradley's eyes shut. "Fuck," he hissed. It had been so long since somebody other than himself had touched his cock. After fantasising about this for weeks, maybe months, now, it was finally happening. She was really touching him.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her as she brought his cock to her lips. She didn't wrap her lips around him immediately, instead giving his tip little kitten licks. It was oh so teasing but oh so good. Bradley almost came then and there, just from watching her.

But finally, she wrapped her lips around him. She didn't take him all the way in, didn't have her nose buried in his pubic hair, not yet. "Fuck, pretty girl," Bradley hissed as she sucked the tip. "You're doing so good."

Finally, she took him as far as she could. It wasn't all the way, but it was as far as she could go. Tears sprang to her eyes and she took a moment to breath through her nose, to try her best not to gag.

His hands were in her hair, gently stroking through it. "You okay?" He asked and she nodded, keeping her lips around him.

She pulled back after that and pushed forward again. He gave her time to get into a rhythm, keeping his hands in her hair. "Holy shit, pretty girl," he whispered through a series of moans. "So good f' me."

Bradley might not have noticed when his hips began moving. Maybe because it was slow at first, matching the rhythm of her movements. But soon He was fucking her face, hands holding her in place as he moved.

She moaned around him as drool ran down her chin. It really was a scene from Bradley's fantasy, but he was too blissed out to notice.

"Fuck, baby," he cried, his hips stuttering. "I'm gonna-"

He pulled out just before he came, spurting over her face. Bradley's chest was heaving as he looked down at her, his cum painting her skin, her lips, some of it getting in her hair. "You're gorgeous," he said through a breath as he pulled her up.

Using his finger, he scooped up the cum from her cheek and held his finger to her lips, she was only more than happy to bring it between her lips and suck.

Bradley sat her down on the bed. He kissed her once and got to his own knees, setting himself up between her own legs. He was going to give her the most earth shattering orgasm ever.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement. 

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head. 

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

 “Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to. 

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it. 

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t, because he was terrified. 

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her. 

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death. 

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that. 

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over. 

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it. 

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you. 

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you? 

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it. 

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on. 

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder. 

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke. 

God, he loved that smile. 

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong. 

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white. 

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months. 

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?” 

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one. 

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you. 

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart. 

You missed him. 

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump. 

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions. 

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.” 

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair. 

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. 

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again. 

[ddejavvu]

Absolutely hammered Bradley getting brought home by hangman to his wife and Bradley’s just like ‘no no I have a wife pls off’ and she’s just like :0 this is why I married this man, hes so getting lucky tomorrow morning

"'M just so fucking whipped," When you swing the door open, the first sound you're greeted with is Bradley's drunken drawl, "And- and I love it, I swear she could-"

"Evenin', darlin'." Jake grimaces at you, Bradley's bicep pinched in his grip.

"Hi," You croon at Bradley, watching his eyes slide in and out of focus from beneath his askew aviators, "Ready for bed?"

He stands straighter, brow furrowed, suddenly alert, or at least wanting to be, "No- no!" When you reach for him anyways he stumbles back, and Jake has to compensate for the momentum, nearly tripping himself, "Unhand me, woman!"

You step back, and a laugh tumbles from Jake's lips, loud and hearty.

"You- Don't you dare touch me, Y/N," He warns, crossing his arms haphazardly over his chest, "'Cause I have a-" His voice wavers, and his chest rumbles with a belch, "Wife, and her name's Y/N, and- and so don't touch me!"

All you can do is laugh, the shake of your shoulders mirrored in Jake's own, but Bradley isn't perceptive enough to pick up on it, so he considers the battle won.

"Now if you'll excuse me," He gloats, striding clumsily over to the couch, "I'm going to sleep on my couch for the night."

He collapses without another word, and you only know he's alive when he removes his sunglasses, tossing them with drunken carelessness onto the floor. You bend to pick them up, tucking them into your shirt and giving Jake a wide-eyed, amused glance.

"If he knows it's his couch," Jake reasons, smirk on his face, "And he knows you're Y/N, then..."

"I don't know." You shrug, hands slapping your sides exasperatedly, "All I do know, is that the man's getting real lucky tomorrow for pitching that fit."

[sailor-aviator]

Stranger Like Me Masterlist

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Series CW: Language, Inaccurate science jargon, Inaccurate field jargon, Poaching, Animal Cruelty, Inaccurate Climate Depictions, Modern Day AU, Wild Man who doesn't know much, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Violence. Chapters will have specific warnings.

All posts related to this series will be tagged with "SLM," "Stranger Like Me," and/or "Tarzan!Bradley"

*Denotes smut

Meet our heroine!

Masterlist || Teaser || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

One-shots;

The Beginning

Two Worlds

Sleeping With the Fishes

Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Drabbles;

Slow and sensual sex with Bradley...*

A woman approaches Bradley...

Bradley gets mad when someone else touches you...

Bradley goes down on you for the first time...*

Bradley being clingy...

Bradley shows Boots the canopy...

Bradley eats you out...*

Giving Bradley a Blow Job...*

Bradley feels insecure...

Ice and Mav give Bradley a pep talk...

Headcanons;

Bradley and hair...

Bradley with his newborn son...

Bradley gets jealous...

Bradley's kinks...*

[thatlovinfeelin]

His Wings of Gold | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw |

When Bradley called you and asked if you would come down for his winging ceremony, you couldn’t say no. It was in September, right after the semester started, but you wouldn’t miss it for the world. You couldn’t let Bradley be all alone, not when he didn’t have any other family to be there to support him. So you got on a plane and flew down, just in time for the ceremony. 

Dressed in your casual sunday best, you made your way onto the base, showing your ID at the gate, knowing Bradley had you on the approved list. Your heart pounded in your chest as you drove your rental car. You were nervous, both for Bradley and for yourself to actually be the one to pin the wings on. You didn’t want anything to go wrong, this was his special day. 

He promised to meet you out front of the officer’s club, where the ceremony was being held. You couldn’t wait to see him, it had been months. Both due to your work schedule and his training. You hadn’t had time to fly over and see him, and you hated it. This was one of the longest periods you’d gone without seeing each other since he graduated from college.

You saw him the second you pulled into the parking lot. He had to be sweating in his dress whites, the heat was unnatural for this time of year. He paced back and forth, waiting on you. Your heart broke, you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“Bradley!” You breathed out, running from your car. 

You could see his shoulders relax when he spotted you, steps quickening so he could reach you faster. He reaches for you, wrapping you in his arms, breathing in your scent. He can’t put into words just how much he missed you. 

“Baby,” His voice cracked just enough to let you know he was trying not to cry. 

It broke your heart. You should’ve found a way to come sooner. So you hugged him back as tightly as you could, without getting makeup all over his dress jacket. You wanted him to feel every ounce of love that you had for him. He deserved nothing but love. 

“I’m here, Brad,” You whispered in his ear, “I’m right here.”

“I can’t believe you’re real. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You aren’t sweetheart,” You told him, pulling back slightly, “You made it. It’s almost over.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes, nodding slightly. You could see the beads of sweat starting to form under his cap. So you nudged him towards the building, “Let’s go get a drink.”

He nodded again and started walking inside, hand guiding you from the small of your back. Inside was a mess of Wingees and other personnel that were here to watch the ceremony. Bradley led you over to the bar and ordered for both of you, two bottles of Bud. 

“I want to introduce you to some of my friends, if that’s okay?” He questioned. 

“Baby, this is your day. You do whatever you want,” You told him sweetly. 

He just smiled and waved over a female with dark hair, “Natasha, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

“Oh my god! It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Natasha gushed, reaching over to hug you, “Brad here doesn’t shut up about you!” 

“Oh my god,” You exclaimed, “Me? I’ve heard so much about you! Brad doesn’t stop talking about you!”

The other female blushed slightly and took a sip of her beer, “Only because I’m one of the only ones to put up with his ass.”

“Yeah, thanks Nat,” He groaned, “I think you just like me because of the care packages Y/N’s sent me.”

“Yeah actually, thanks for those,” Nat said, tipping her beer towards you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. You sent Bradley a care package once every two weeks, full of his favorite candy and snacks. Sometimes you added in his favorite movies, just to brighten up his day and remind him to take time away from studying. 

“Glad you enjoyed them too!” You laughed, hugging onto Bradley. 

When the time came for the Ceremony to start, Bradley downed the rest of his beer quickly before leaving you to sit with the rest of the winging class. You took your seat in the audience, leg bouncing as you waited. The whole time you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bradley. You wished his mom was here to see this, you know Carole would’ve been so proud of him. 

“LTJG Bradley Bradshaw, front and center,” The announcer called. 

You took a deep breath and made your way up front. The announcer continued to give a bio on Bradley, including the fact that he would be stationed in North Island for TOPGUN. You took a deep breath and stepped up towards him. They said that you were the one pinning him just as you reached him. 

“Hi baby,” You whispered to him, taking the wings, “I’m so proud of you.”

He smiled big and wide as you gently pushed the golden wings into his uniform. You tried your best to make them straight for him, so he wouldn’t have to fix them later. He held your hand and pulled you close so you could get a picture together. You couldn’t help but smile wide as everyone cheered him on. 

What neither of you knew was Pete “Maverick” Mitchell slipped out of the back door before Bradley, or you, had the chance to see him. But he wasn’t going to miss Bradley getting his wings. Even if the younger pilot was no longer speaking to the older man. But he looked at Bradley as if he was his own son, he couldn’t let this day go by without being there. 

After it was all over you took some more pictures together. You saw the way he looked at you when they awarded the spouses with plaques to thank them for their sacrifice and help they gave to their aviators during training. You could feel the love he had for you. And although you’d never talked about marriage, you knew he was thinking about it. 

“We should do that you know,” he stated a while after once you were back in his little shared house with Natasha. 

“Do what Brad?” You questioned, reaching up to kiss him. 

“Get married.”

“Braddy,” You sighed happily, “You know I would marry you in a heartbeat.”

“So, let’s go do it.”

“Right now?” You questioned.

“Why not? We can treat the after party tonight as our wedding reception,” He half joked, “We can have a big ceremony later for your family.”

“Really?” You questioned, “Don’t you want today to just be about you?” 

“Baby, it’s about us,” He replied, “You helped me earn these. I want to celebrate everything with you. So c’mon. Let’s go down to city hall.”

“Okay, Brad. Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s go get married, my love.”

“Wings of gold and a wife, this day can’t get any better,” He smiled so big you swore his face hurt. 

“I love you so much,” You told him, kissing him deeply. 

“I love you even more.”

[worldofheroes]

Rooster’s TLC

bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader

summary: rooster takes care of you after you had a little too much to drink

warnings: alcohol, hangovers, fluffy rooster

wc: 507

a/n: based on this request! a short and sweet fic, and we all know bradley is super sweet like his dad 🥰

You’ve almost quite literally wrapped yourself around Rooster at The Hard Deck. Snuggled into his side with one of his arms wrapped around you.

He’s talking to the Dagger Squad about who knows what, you’re not paying much attention to them.

You do know, however, that it’s getting late and you want to go home. You’ve gotten a little antsy, and Phoenix has picked up on it.

“Rooster, take your girl home. She’s tired,” Phoenix smiles.

Rooster looks down at you. “Is that what is happening here?” he teases you.

“Roo,” you whine.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, kissing your head. “We’re headed out, see you all later.”

The two of you recieve a chorus of “goodnight”s from the squad as you leave.

“You had a little too much to drink, huh?” Rooster says as he helps you into the Bronco.

“Just a little,” you agree. “I’m gonna hate myself tomorrow.”

“Let’s get you home and get some water then go to bed,” Rooster says as he gets in on the drivers side.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Rooster turns the radio on, but doesn’t turn the volume up too far - just enough to hear a little bit of a beat.

As you make your way back home, Rooster’s hand wanders over to your side, settling on your thigh. You place your hand over his.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you too, y/n.”

Rooster gives your thigh a squeeze, and you hate that you’re slightly turned on just by his touch.

When you finally make it home, Rooster again helps you out of the Bronco and into the house.

“Roos,” you mumble.

“I’m right here. Let’s get you to the couch,” he tells you as he guides you to the couch.

You fall onto the couch and lay on your side as Rooster puts a blanket over you.

“I have such a bad headache.”

“I know,” Rooster says as he walks to the kitchen to find some pain killers.

“I love you, Roo,” you mumble.

Rooster comes back with some water and painkillers.

“I love you, y/n,” Rooster says softly. “Let’s sit up so you can drink something.”

You slowly sit up and take the painkillers and a drink of water.

“Can you stay down here with me?” you ask him.

“You don’t think you can make it to bed?” Rooster asks, setting a hand on your thigh.

“No,” you say. “I don’t feel good at all.”

“Okay, I can stay here.”

“Thank you.”

Rooster grabs some cushions from the other couch and places them on the floor by the couch you’re laying on. He grabs a blanket and sits on the cushions, watching you.

“You’re really sweet, Bradley,” you say, curling up under the blanket.

“I’d do anything for you, baby,” he says, leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“I love you,” you mumble.

Rooster chuckles. “I love you too.”

You start to drift off to sleep, and Rooster stays by your side the entire night, checking on you every so often.

[notroosterbradshaw]

The Boyfriend Experience - Part 2 /2

7k words of Rooster being your super wonderful, pretend plus one! A few swears, but it’s the Navy, goddammit! The fluffiness should make up for it. 

The Boyfriend Experience 1 / 2

“Thank God you didn’t catch the bouquet,” Rooster rolled his eyes as you wandered back, bored. "Could you look any less interested?" he bit back a smile.

“I could, yes," you told him, patting his cheek with a gentle thwack as he chuckled.

”Well, you made sure I didn't have a run there to fake propose in front of all these witnesses. Left my fake engagement ring in my dresser drawer back at base,” he snapped his fingers. "Fuck."

"You'd have really ruined this wedding if you proposed. Even you must know the lack of decorum of proposing at someone else's wedding. You probably wouldn't need to go to those extremes," you laughed quietly.

He nodded and grinned. "I'd guarantee you a life of no more wedding BS though."

"You're probably right. How long you been sitting on that?”

"Just came to me," he admitted. "But you can't tell me it's not an amazing idea to get everyone off your ass."

"Thank you for not going to those lengths," you said as his head fell back and he kept giggling. Yes, Rooster was a giggler after a few drinks. And it was adorable.

Looking back at you, he said, "I guess we're almost done though. Since I have this," Rooster grinned widely, flinging the bride’s baby blue garter at your face. You flicked it right back and he caught it easily. He'd mortified you that he'd made such a spectacle to get his mitts on it earlier in the evening - he literally speared a dude to get to the front and leapt over the Best Man to catch it. "My Little League coach would be so proud today."

"You're the worst," you reached for his whiskey as he looked on proudly.

"You disappointed us as a couple and missed the bouquet to boot but I forgive you because you've graduated to a very sexy drink. That's my girl," he raised his eyebrow, waiting patiently for your sip, which you did gladly.

"You're such a dick," you could only respond, handing the glass back as he chuckled, putting the garter back in his breast pocket, patting it safely.

"Taken you 30 years to figure it out - that's more on you than me though," he teased.

"Last song of the night, friends," the MC of the band announced as Rooster offered you his hand. "Your bride and groom are ready to kick into matrimonial bliss part of the night and we all have to head home at some point!"

"You're not getting out of this. It's our last dance as fake lovers," he said, giving you the creepiest bedroom eyes, or you supposed, that you’d ever seen. How had he managed to bed so many women if that was his game, you'd never know (you assumed it was probably a lot less effort than batting his lashes, to be completely honest), and you shook your head with a smile. He stood to his full height and offered you his calloused palm. You naturally accepted, lacing your fingers through his. You loved the warmth his hands gave yours.

"Can you never say 'lovers' again?" you asked, spirited, as he spun you under his arm, leading you to the dancefloor, laughing loudly.

"Never," he promised as the song began. The band started Elvis' "I'm All Shook Up", most people in the room made their way to the dancefloor and Rooster praised the gods. You liked the song but loved the joy it clearly stirred in Rooster more. You adored how much he loved music, though he admitted he was never taught piano, guitar, or even drums but was pretty good at each of them, or he liked to think so. He played by ear and enjoyed experimenting with sounds. You'd romanticised Rooster playing at home in the quiet, just for himself, tinkering with keys, strumming strings. It made you kind of weak to think of him creatively like that. He was certainly full of surprises and you were yearning to know more.

He was unlike anyone you knew - you'd learned so much tonight and appreciated the human he was more than just the talented pilot most assumed of him, you thought maybe he appreciated people thought he was fairly one-dimensional, he liked his space and privacy. "New one to learn for the bar?" you offered as he pondered the question.

"Shit, maybe," he contemplated with a nod and he pulled you close. While not an incredibly slow song, Rooster actually moved quite well. Yet another thing you had learned about him tonight and he pulled your back to his chest, keeping you pressed to him, his hands spreading across your belly, keeping a respectful amount of space between your bodies. He took your hand and spun you back to him, facing the other again and he smiled slow, a smile you'd certainly never seen before but enjoyed thoroughly as his hands moved to the back of your ribs, dragging you closer to him.

He loosened a hand and put your arms around his neck, the height difference between you bringing your body crushed against him and it felt kind of... perfect.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, just between the two of you. He smiled faintly, his hands caressing your back. Once he'd found access to skin, his hand kept a close touch all night and your back felt cold without it.

"It's really me that should be thanking you," he admitted, lips dangerously close to your ear and you'd deny it, but it shook you to the core. Looking at him, your feet stopped moving and the world may have stopped too. Here he was, right in front of you, just like he always had been... but he was completely new to you now. "I haven't had a night like this in a really long time," he continued earnestly. "Almost felt like a real date."

You had lost the ability to talk, because thinking about it later, you'd realise, this was the first of many nights like this. But it wouldn't pretend anymore. He would be yours, and you would be his right back. And the pretence would be gone; traded for romance that didn't need to be held back, touches on skin that meant something because it was their skin you'd touched so many times before, still able to draw the same spark as it had tonight.

Rooster's lips met your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss against your skin and you held him just a little bit tighter. "I got you, kid," he told you softly but wasn't quite sure why he added, "You're safe with me."

And you may have believed him.

"Do you two want a lift?" Annie asked as the festivities started to come to a close. The bride and groom had left, guests were starting to organise themselves to do the same, the band was packing up and the music was over for the generic 'get the fuck out of our venue now' muzak. After your last duties for the evening to help Sarah's parents collect the gifts and load their car, you went back to the table to collect your belongings, thankful it was all finally over... as well as the evening.

It was a long day, and saying you were exhausted, physically, mentally... emotionally, was an understatement. Things were a bit muddled to you now and you were feeling a little unhinged at the growing flutters in your tummy while so close to Rooster. He was currently holding your bouquet and your clutch like it was absolutely no big thing.

"Rooster, I don't think you should drive. I can get you both back. I'm the designated driver for another three weeks and one day," she looked at her belly, accusingly. "Unless you'd like to come sooner, please?"

"Shit," he muttered. He had probably had one or two drinks too many, he realised. Palming his keys in his pants pocket, he replied he would just walk back to base. Wasn't at all far, he had his credentials. Fresh air would sober him up anyway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Thank you though. I'm sure your little sister will get me back safely," he joked entirely for Annie's benefit. But your feet, your poor feet were shredded. You gave yourself kudos, you'd done the right thing and kept your heels on the duration of the day, but all you could imagine was peeling them off and preparing for the onslaught of blisters and discomfort as soon as humanly possible.

"Okay," she grinned. "Take care, Rooster," she hugged him and he hugged her back, trying to avoid her baby bump politely. "So good to see you."

"You too, Annie," he replied fondly. "I had a great night."

"Don't be a stranger when you're in town. Let's do this again soon. Come over for dinner, bring her," she nodded to you.

"I might," Rooster gave her a shy smile and Annie hugged him again. "I'm thinking of moving back so you may be seeing a bit more of me anyway," he said and your ears pricked up, this was brand new information and your palms may have clammed up a little.

"You should, everyone would be so happy you're home," she told him.

"Definitely thinking about it," he promised.

"Good, Please get my sister home safely?" she warned him.

"Of course, she's precious cargo," he smiled as Annie kissed you and waddled over to Arron, her extremely drunk hubby.

"I could have gone with that lift," you told him as you watched them leave. Your poor feet.

"Nah, you're okay," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

"Rooster," you protested. "I might cry."

Rooster pouted. "Then I'll piggyback you," he broke into a smile as a few of the single bridesmaids said goodnight to you both. "Come with me. Got an idea," he urged, nodding towards the door, not waiting for you and taking off in his strides in that direction. Moving as quick and gracefully as the heels would allow, you caught him at the door where he took your hand and you followed him to the beach. It was pitch black minus the moon's reflection on the water, nearing midnight when he stopped at the edge of the grass to sand and watched him unbutton his jacket to sit. You did the same. "Feet, please?" he asked quietly.

Confused, you weren't sure why you offered him your left foot, but his fingers made haste unbuckling the silver heel you had been wearing for hours and hours.

"Gentle," he told himself as he pulled the off, and held his palm out for your other foot that you gratefully offered, the relief almost instantaneous. Putting your heels together, he lightly pressed into the arches of your feet, your ankles, your calves, the pain worth it for a few moments, looking at you with a gentle frown to make sure he wasn't hurting you, but it was definitely worth it. "Okay?" you nodded as he slipped off his jacket and left it in a pile with your shoes, purse and bouquet. He unlaced his loafers, took his socks with them and cuffed his slacks up to his lower calf although there was little give to them. "Shit," he muttered, pulling at the wrong piece of his bowtie and knotting it tighter.

"Here, Roost," you said softly, sitting up to kneel, he watched you in keen interest as your fingers worked to loosen the tie. Knowing he'd made it worse before it unravelled under your touch, you smiled as he happily unbuttoned the first few holes on his shirt, showing a little of his strong, golden chest and a light smattering of dark hair.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Up," he got up slowly, finding the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt and rolling both to his muscular forearms. He smiled, offering his hand. He pulled you up, your sore feet sending you careening into him softly. He nodded towards the water and followed you through the sand.

The night was cool, but in the height of summer, not unbearable by any stretch of the imagination. Stopping right before the waves, you looked back at him.

"I promise you, those feet will feel a million bucks in about 15 seconds," and he hitched you into his arms, taking you out to his knees, lowering you amid squeals of cold and a now damp skirt around your thighs. He didn't give you space, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your belly, chin on your hair. You felt him sigh behind you.

"Dammit, Rooster," you cursed him although grinning in the madness, trying not to shiver as the waves splashed around you. It was a little chillier in the water than you would have liked, but Rooster was close and he was almost radiator hot. "It's f-f-freezing," you chattered.

"It's the ocean at midnight," he said in your ear. "What were you expecting?" he posed a good question. "But your feet don't hurt now, do they?"

"Actually, I can't feel them... because they're numb," you replied, your toes thumbing in the sand beneath you, it grounded you and felt so familiar. You loved it, craved it. The grains felt good and if you squinted, you could almost avoid the slight needling of your feet as they started to relax and unwind.

"You're the water," he murmured to you quietly, his voice lower than the ocean's bustle around you. "I know I'm the clouds. But you're the ocean. You need it. I've always known that about you. I see you some mornings down here, in the waves if I run late. I never see a crease or concern on your features, you're just one with the water. It's pretty sexy, actually."

You wished he'd stop talking because as he adjusted his hold on you, leaving one hand on your hip, the other arm wrapping around your shoulders, you only reaffirmed how good you fit against him. "I love that," you admitted, taking his hand and he sighed again. He was right, though cold, this was your happy place. This is where you desired to be, in the water and the freedom and terror that came with it, how it could make you teeter so easily and push you out of your comfort zone. And he knew all about it.

Above you, Rooster smiled to himself. He was starting to really enjoy holding you close, learning the curves of your body, how you could find the perfect place to find calm in his arms. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a really good time tonight. It... didn't feel forced or contrived. Why haven't you and I done this before?"

Because we didn't see each other this way before Natasha threw us together, you wanted to say. We can laugh, we can play and have fun, team against anyone and not think anything of it... but tonight has categorically changed our friendship because I can't go back to just being your friend, Rooster. I think it would be easier to lose you than find out you didn't want to be with me this way again.

You stayed silent, you had just tortured yourself with your inner monologue as it was. "You are absolutely shaking," Rooster said, softly, maybe now regretting his idea and his fat fucking mouth just a little. "I think it's time to get you out of the water."

"I'm okay," you lied as he rubbed your arms where he could see the goose pimples rise. He couldn't stop the shuddering even in his stranglehold.

"Out you get, kid."

You nodded thankfully. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was not enough to keep you warm and only caused you to tremble more. "Sorry," you said as he released you from his clutches and moved before he could say anything else.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Rooster sighed, watching you make your way to the beach. He knew he'd scared you. You knew he was opening his heart to you, and just like Natasha joked about your commitment fear, maybe it wasn't too far off the mark and that made him sad for all that you had missed and what you could miss out on. He began to follow you as you sat back near all the gear you'd removed, closing in on yourself. Rooster ran the last little while up the beach and retrieved his jacket, putting it over your shoulders. "You okay, kid? You're blue."

"Can't stop shaking," you could only reply and he swore he heard your teeth chatter. "But I'm okay."

"Come on, let's get you home," he tossed all the gear except the flowers into his jacket and tucked it under his arm then offered you his hand to help you up. He used a little more force, driving you into him and he wrapped you into his arms - he was very good at bringing you close and he knew, not once had you fought it. "I didn't want to scare you before. I'm sorry I was so forward."

You gave a little shrug. "Don't worry about it, Rooster. I'm just a big girl with big problems," you said simply.

"Do you think you know... why you don't want to get close to me?" he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

You looked up at him and he knew the kicker was coming. "You have I have very different daddy issues," you told him. "When my dad left, I thought he'd come back. For years I thought I could try and make him want us again... but my sister and I weren't enough and if he could leave us, who he was supposed to love so fucking easily, it doesn't give you much confidence as an adult. He picked another family over us, I have other siblings I don't even know. The shit sticks."

Holy shit, Rooster thought, his knuckles rubbing against your back. He paused and held you tightly. He didn't know that... hell, he did but certainly not to that deep an extent and maybe your issues were a little more deeply rooted than Natasha had alluded to. He certainly couldn't blame you for that.

"You mean something to me, and ruining anything with you would destroy me," you continued. "I appreciate our friendship and that comfort that brings me."

He nodded. It felt like a kiss-off, that was for sure. "I wasn't asking for the rest of our lives," he said quietly.

"I know," you pulled back, needing to be completely out of his reach. "But I just don't know what to tell you right now."

"And that is the end of our first fake date," Rooster said, hating to admit he was kind of relieved as you got back to your apartment. He followed you to the front door and wanted you to feel as safe as you could in his presence because you hadn't said it... but everything had changed, and he knew it too. He didn't expect the night to go like this, but he knew, like you... things couldn't be the same again now.

You gave him a gentle smile and his heart fluttered, he'd always loved your smile, but shit... it was his now. He left your heels neatly at the stoop. "I hope today wasn't a total bust for you. Now you know how good I am at ruining good things," you poked fun at yourself. "It's a wicked character trait."

He sighed, dropping his eyes. "Why would you think that being honest with me would ruin anything?" he had to ask, putting his hands in his pockets. "Don't you think I appreciate that more?"

"I dunno," you leaned back against the door as he looked back at you, chewing your lip and God, he wanted to be the one chewing that lip. Vulnerability to most people could be seen as a red flag but to him? You were telling him things that you'd never told anyone, and that was almost sacred and it would always mean more. He knew you trusted him, but made him uneasy that it wasn't with your heart. "Do you?"

He rolled his eyes, a faint grin on his face. "Yes. I do appreciate that more. I've learned more about you tonight than I have in the last 30 years, which is kind of awesome... and terrifying."

"Terrifying?" you repeated, a little disappointed as he stepped closer.

"If you think for one second that you scaring me is a bad thing, you are kidding yourself," of this he was certain. He wasn't scared to be out of his comfort zone with you.

You finally smiled and shook your head gently. "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you, Rooster. I owe you, big time."

"Don't be crazy. I drank top-shelf booze, ate more cake than I have eaten for years, and I got to spend my night with you. We'll call it even."

"Well, thank you. It really meant a lot. And it won't happen again, there are no weddings or other OTT celebrations in the foreseeable future."

"That's a shame," he laughed quietly.

There was a slight beat before your rationality kicked in. "Well, I should go in," you told him, pushing back off the door and reaching for your keys in your clutch. "I'm sure you've got an early morning."

"Class," he acknowledged.

You nodded. There would always be something. "Goodnight, Rooster," you said as you unlocked the door and took a step in before pausing. Rationality be damned. "Unless you wanna come in?" you called softly in the dead quiet of the night. You could see his brain working a million miles a moment.

This wasn't something you and Rooster did, you didn't hang out together this way, it was always in a group, always someone else to play the distraction. "Yeah, I really do," he admitted,  standing before you. The air around you had changed and you swore it wasn't just you that noticed it. For the first time tonight, his nervousness was evident and he put his palm on your cool cheek. Licking his lips, he admitted, "I really wanna come in," he said quietly, resting his forehead against yours.

His eyes searched yours as you pushed the door open and your hand found his. He followed willingly, quietly kicking the front door closed as you led him down the small hallway to your living room. Low lit from the lamp you'd left on for your late arrival, Rooster was interested to check out your place. Quaint, but it was quintessentially you. Linen in neutral and blue, a stash of books on the coffee table. A home. "Do you want a drink?" you asked.

Erring on the side of caution, he responded 'water'. He was starting to cut it fine of being in a proper state for the following morning and while he could take his liquor, the last thing he wanted was a hangover in an F-18. You came back to him with a cool glass and he gave you a small smile of thanks. He tossed his suit jacket on the end of the couch, finally happy to be rid of the silly thing.

"Do you mind if I get changed? This dress is clogged with sand, it's wet and damp."

"Course not. Go make yourself comfy," he said with a small smile as he watched you walk away before he preoccupied himself with the endless photos on your wall. A tasteful aesthetic of beautiful white frames with a mix of colour and black and white photos stored in them, he felt the love and consideration you'd put into the curation of images. And holy shit, if it wasn't you on his Mom's hip. You were crying and she was trying to appease you in any way she could. He took the photo from the wall and you wandered back a few minutes later, hair down, oversized Lakers t-shirt and you saw what he stared at.

"Mom said I had just been told I couldn't get an ice cream from the ice cream truck," you filled him in. Rooster actually laughed.

"That's the cutest fucking thing I ever heard."

"And Carole was trying to tell me she could get me ice cream from your place even though my mom was saying no, but I didn't want it anyway because it didn't come from the ice cream man. Naturally."

"That's amazing. This is about the last photo I would have ever expected to have seen, you know?"

"You can have it if you want. I mean, I'm a screaming three-year-old, but your mom looks absolutely beautiful."

"Always," he said softly and put the photo back carefully on the wall. "You keep it, it gives me something to see when I am here."

You shrugged easily and took a seat on the couch. He took a hint and went to join you, taking a cool sip of water to regulate. This was just not how he saw the night going. Sure, he was a man, he had eyes in perfect working order. He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't memorised every curve of your body, your smile and that absolutely devastating self-deprecating wit but there were plenty of other distractions in his wake. But here you were, right before him. And you, at that moment, were perfect but he didn't know what you wanted from him and it ate him alive.

"What time is class tomorrow?"

"Eight," he replied.

You gently reached for his hand, avoiding his eyes and tracing over the callouses and his lifelines. "I'm sorry about before," you said finally. "I am really good at finding ways to make a night nosedive."

He shook his head, laying an arm against the length of the couch in hopes you'd shift just a little closer again. "No, fuck no. Please don't apologise."

"You know more about me tonight than most people know in a lifetime. I'm really not the sharing kind."

"That... I knew," he with a smile. "I kind of figured we were a bit alike that way anyway. But it gives me a little bit of hope. I'll weasel my way in," he said confidently. "You'll regret opening yourself up to me," he teased as you laughed heartily.

"Using my trauma against me," you fist-pumped and he was so relieved you could see the funny side to it as he scooted a little closer since you didn't. "Awesome."

"I promise I never would do that," he said sincerely. "I have enough baggage to take everyone in this damn town out."

"That's true," you agreed. "What a mess we are."

"You're not a mess. You have your reasons, just like I do," he let go of your hand and reached into his shirt, pulling out his dog tags. "These have been driving me mad all night. Think they're imprinted into my chest..."

"Can I see?" you asked as he shrugged and slipped it over his head, gently putting it over yours and letting the tags jangle across your heart. You picked it up and looked at the imprints of his name. "Bradley N. Bradshaw," you spoke. "What do you think your parents were thinking when they gave you more or less the same first and last names?"

He laughed loudly. "Bradley was my mom's dad's name," he explained. "And it was the 80's. I guess they thought it just sounded cool. They didn't think of what it might be like for me at 34."

You grinned, tracing the bumps of his ID. "I forgot what these felt like. Dad's, Grandpa's. Having them in my hands like they were a toy, and what they really stand for."

Rooster didn't speak. He understood what you meant without having to go into it.

"Roost?"

He hummed in reply.

"Have you thought about settling down?"

"I've thought about it," he shrugged simply. "I haven't really found anyone who I want to settle down with. Last thing I want is something that doesn't last. I want to feel like my parents did - I can hardly remember it... but the way Mom spoke about Dad after he died? That's something to strive for, you know? I know she was sick... but she really died of a broken heart in the end," he said quietly.

Holy shit... you thought.

"When I find the one, I'll know," he added, taking your hand back into his and this time, he avoided your gaze as he drew circles around the pads of your palm. "I'm sure of it." He was sure of it.

"And here I was thinking you loved being a bachelor and the notoriety of the Navy," you said, and he appreciated the teasing as he laughed, scratching his neck.

"I mean, yeah. There are some benefits to not settling," lifting his gaze back to you, he pondered again. "I'm not really that guy that falls quickly."

You nodded, you knew what that felt like and you knew he was growing weary of sharing hour, so you decided to make things more interesting. "I've asked Natasha this and was not remotely surprised with her response. But I'll ask you too because I know you wouldn't lie to me... What's the greater thrill: flying... or fucking, Rooster?"

Rooster chuckled quietly. "That is going directly for the jugular," you saw his lips move, but sounds didn't follow through. "I love flying," he looked up. "My fate is sealed, but the right person? Jesus, fucking the right person could make you wanna give it all up, you know?"

"No, I don't," you pressed, your brain trying to decipher his answer. "That's why I asked."

He smiled, a small tint of red creeping up to his cheeks. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I think I like making you squirm," you said simply as dropped his eyes, coy all of a sudden.

"Oh, I get it now," he thought about it. "If it was life and death, I would, I can't believe I'm saying this... but I'd fly."

"Oh, my God," your jaw may have hit the floor. It just was not the response you were expecting but told you a lot about Rooster's priorities.

"As I said, if it was the right person..." he tried to over-correct himself as you bit back your grin, covering your mouth with your joined hands.

"I'm speechless," you continued to needle him.

"Okay, if this is the little game we want to play - " he announced, smacking the top of your hand.

Oh, fuck.

"My turn, then," he said straightening up and you panicked, and he grinned because he could see you were clearly panicking. "Why haven't you really settled? You could have found the guy that it could have all worked with. You're smart, fucking hilarious, beautiful. Now don't get me wrong... but for most guys, that's all they need. We're not overly complex creatures."

"Honestly?"

His hand that was in yours clamped down and was trapped in his strong grasp. "Honestly."

"I don't think I'm ever going to find what I'm looking for. I haven't found someone that can keep my attention for long enough."

He stayed silent, he wasn't convinced.

You grunted and continued. "I date. A lot. I am just not broadcasting how average these dudes are I'm dating. Why do I want to spend my time with someone with who I don't spark with?"

"Do you really have a problem with commitment?" he asked pointedly.

"No, I have a problem with assholes," you replied smartly. "You haven't settled down, do you have a problem with a commitment?" you threw back.

He rubbed his moustache and he considered his answer. "No, I'm content with not being ready to settle down yet."

"So, yeah. You kind of have a problem with commitment," you laughed as he nudged you.

"I realise I'm in my prime," he shrugged, giving his ego receiving a nice self-stroking. You didn't mind Rooster talking himself up, it was incredibly sexy, truth be told. He was generally pretty modest about all that kind of stuff and kept his business to himself but really, he wasn't completely unlike his friends and co-workers. He knew he good a good-looking dude, his voice could turn you inside out (you figured), he could command a presence fairly easily, and women were putty in his hands. It wasn't a lot of effort on his behalf.

Grinning widely, you snuck closer to him, sitting on your knees and he watched his hands fall to his thighs as you released yourself from his grasp. God, you loved making him writhe and he dared you to ask what you were thinking. "I'm not stupid, Rooster. I know you get a handful of numbers when we go out."

"How many of those girls do you think I call?" he asked, thoughtfully. He knew you were getting off on this, taking the focus off you and pinning it on him. He didn't mind, he knew you were enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, and you weren't really offended by any of his questions, so he couldn't be either.

"You tell me," you whispered.

He adjusted his posture and he took your chin in his palm, his thumb imprinting on your chin. God, you were right there, so close... desperate to be kissed. "I like the chase," his voice low. "But the chase isn't all that much a challenge much anymore," he admitted and his wrist started beeping. 4am. He needed to go. He silenced it. "Saved by the bell," he announced. "That's my alarm."

"And just when we were getting to the juicy bits," you sighed as he kept your gaze, a small smile on his face.

"We can continue this if you like. At a more respectable hour."

"No thank you," you said quickly and he chuckled quietly.

"I'm not surprised by that."

You smiled shyly. "Sorry."

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, do you know that?" he couldn't stop himself from saying. It just had to be said and put out there. Great, now it was done, he reasoned. You didn't break his gaze, you were daring him to make a move. He licked his lips and had to laugh. He'd already made the move. If you wanted him, he decided... the ball was in your court. Come and claim me, he wished.

"Roost?" you said again.

He raised an eyebrow in reply.

"Stay."

"No," he said, sitting forward. Fight for me.

You got to your feet and pushed him back against the couch, a small grunt bristling as you stepped between his wide legs. He reached for your hamstrings, his hands massaging against your bare skin as he raised his eyes to you. It was powerful and intimate and he didn't know if he trusted himself to be touching you like this.

"If you've got something to say... this would be the time to say it," his voice thick with desire, daring you.

"Stay," you repeated, your fingers coiling into his sun-kissed ringlets, giving them a gentle tug as he slowly licked his lips.

"Gonna need more than that," he told you, pulling you flush against him, helping you straddle him, his arms in a vice grip around you.

"Stay for me."

He bristled a laugh as you reached for a button on his shirt, dainty fingers making light work of the straining material over his chest. "Think I'm gonna just fuck you after all this?" he removed your hands, placing them back in your lap where he silently prayed you'd keep them because his strength was waning and if you tried really hard, you'd have him exactly where you wanted him. "You really wanna make this about a quick fuck and I just up and leave?" he shook his head. "I think you know by now I want a little more than that."

"What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, your fingers tracing his scars, finding one on his jaw you were particularly fond of and tracing it, feeling him tremor beneath you. "Tell me," you said reaching for the hem of your shirt and he knew he was going for martyrdom as he held your shirt down, whispering a curse. "You don't want me?" you asked, easing back just a little, shocked and a little more than embarrassed.

"More than anything. Can't you fuckin' see that?" he took your face in his palms and he could see your resolve crumble, breaking him as your eyes shone with tears. "That's why we gotta wait."

Your gaze dropped, you hadn't felt rejected like this in a long time. You didn't feel sexy, you didn't feel desired and you absolutely did not feel like he wanted you regardless of the apparent sincerity of his words.

"Listen to me," his voice raspy from alcohol and exhaustion. "Tonight, before tonight," he confided. "I've thought about taking you in every position my mind could imagine. But every one of them was crude and in my mind, pure fantasy. Why do you think I didn't even think about saying no to any of this tonight? All these years and all we have to show for us is a cheap fuck? I got a little more respect for you than that, baby girl. I wanna turn you inside out," he whispered against your skin. "Why do you think I never made a move before? If you give me the green light, I will absolutely pray to you."

You had forgotten how to breathe and he kept your eyes locked to his.

"I want to worship you," he told you, repeating your name like a mantra. "Don't you get it?"

The blood was pumping so loud in your ears that you were finding it hard to focus. You were drawn out of your stupor as his alarm started buzzing on his wrist again. He was getting later.

"I gotta go," he murmured, his face so close. "Just think about it, okay?" he said quietly, kissing your temple.

"That will be the problem," you confided as he hummed.

"I hope so," he helped detangle yourself from him, letting you stand although your legs were absolutely jelly. He smiled at you finally, thoroughly wretched, and all due to him. "So many things I want to do to you," he breathed. "But now, I gotta go." He'd been short on time before, but nothing as bad as this made him feel.

"I'm not asking you to stay again," you threatened pathetically, and he heard the lies as clearly as you did.

He nodded. But he couldn't and he knew he didn't have to explain his duty... because of anyone who knew him, you understood this most. "See me out?" he asked.

"Okay," you murmured, following him by the hand down the hallway. You unlocked the door, and he pushed it closed again, leaving his palm and weight against it. You raised a surprised eyebrow.

"I just can't - " he closed his eyes, dropping everything he was holding and grasping your face tenderly between his calloused palms. "Please think about this."

"And if I fuck it up?" you asked, scared as reality started to kick in.

"What if I do?" he challenged. "Do we not owe it to ourselves to find out?"

You nodded, almost pained, pressing your hands to his chest because you needed the last few touches before he left you. "Yes, we do," and with that, his lips were on yours. Soft, unobtrusive, it felt like you'd been kissing him your whole life. Familiar and right, you didn't realise how long you'd been waiting for this. He was such a good kisser, and there was no going back now. The words were out there... his kiss had tainted you.

His hands left your face, tangling into your hair, it felt incredible. He smiled against your lips and lightly pulled back. "You only needed to say yes," he told you, holding your face, his warm hazel eyes dancing and he kissed you again, a little rougher this time, his large hands tangling into your hair, tugging at strands as they moved to your back, dangerously close to your ass. "I'm holding back so bad right now, because the second I give in, I will stay."

"Can't you call in?" you asked hopefully, reaching for his lips again, your hands drifting to his hips and his head fell back with a quiet sigh. He pleaded for your hands anywhere further north.

"If I don't front up today... every single person we know will know exactly where I am... and why," he said, voice laced in mirth.

You told him softly, "I will make it worth your while."

He groaned loudly, his body already ready and willing, pressed unyielding against you. "I believe you," he breathed. "The idea of being with you will be all I'll be able to think about today. God damn," he hissed, his alarm going off again. "Can I see you later?"

"I think that's a good idea."

He gave a small smile, pushing some hair from your eyes. "Good morning, fake girlfriend," he kissed you gently again, let go of you to collect his gear at your feet and forced himself into opening the door, stepping over the threshold purposefully. He leaned back and kissed you once more. "I'll call you later," he breathed, trying to gather some resolve.

"Tonight?"

He nodded. "Tonight."

"Okay. Good morning, fake boyfriend." But now... there was nothing fake about it.

"Oh, before I forget," Rooster pointed at you. You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, the adrenaline of the evening waning as he started to wander away. "What are you doing the last Saturday of next month?"

You outwardly shrugged. At this point you didn't know how today would even pan out as he wandered back to you, lips painfully close to yours, his arms slipping around your waist again and you didn't want him to let go. "I dunno. Why?"

"I got a wedding invite through the week," he smiled kindly and you bit back a laugh. "Thought maybe you'd like to go with me..."

"Think you can keep this fake dating thing going until then?" you asked, caressing his cheek.

"I'm pretty confident we may not be fake dating then..." he said quietly, kissing you just one more time.

"Ballsy of you to assume."

He nodded. "Yep," his eyebrow quirked.

"Do you have to wear your dress uniform?"

"Yes," he sighed, recalling your first conversation.

"Damn. This suit is really good," you playfully teased him, knowing his dress uniform would likely bring you to your knees. White or blue, you didn't care. It would be utter carnage.

"I don't even think a dry cleaner would bring this back to its original glory," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Shame."

"Jesus Christ, I want to stay. Please tell me to leave," his eyes fluttered closed.

You smiled as he took a wide step back. "You'd better go."

He nodded, thankful for your push. "I'll see you later," he said and forcibly turned away, his feet taking him away from you and when he was out of your view, you felt the weight of his dog tags on your chest.

"Oh, shit."

masterlist.

A/N: Want to learn more about these crazy kids? Here we go! 

The Relationship Experience - prologue

[honeysimagines]

home

pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

plot: at a get together after the mission the dagger squad finds out some things about Rooster, causing Maverick to step up and try and help…

warnings: drinking, references to parental death and past trauma

notes: for K ♡︎, thank you for letting me bother you with this for weeks

words: 7k

It was a bittersweet evening at The Hard Deck but they tried to not let it show. After the successful mission it was time to dismantle their little ragtag group of pilots and for everybody to head back to their former assignments. Sadly Fritz had to fly out in the early afternoon but the rest of the pilots and backseaters had descended upon the bar and shuffled some tables around with Penny’s permission to make a large circle where everybody found a place for at least the next few hours.

It felt good to be back on solid ground. While being in the air was one of the best feelings in Rooster’s mind he was glad to be off the ship again. With the old jukebox playing music and the patrons of the bar talking and laughing together it was a little easier to forget about the events that happened just a few days prior.

“You guys are lucky,” Harvard pointed out after everybody except Bob was a few drinks in, “at least you guys get a few weeks leave.” The other aviators knew it wasn’t coming from a place of malice, had they been in the place of the aviators that didn’t fly the mission they’d probably think exactly the same way. Everybody craved the comfort of home while deployed.

“Yeah,” Omaha added, “Leave would be nice. I wish I could head home, see family. My sister had a baby months ago, never even met the kid and he’s already crawling.”

“Maybe Mav can put in a nice word with the commander. Make it so everybody can go home faster.” Rooster said after taking a drink of his beer, “Although with him there’s always a chance we’d end up shipped out overseas for a few months.”

A few nods and words of agreement greeted Maverick as he made his way back to the group after not so sneakily disappearing to the back of the bar with Penny earlier. At least he was smart enough to get a new beer so he could play it off as just getting another drink, even if none of the other aviators bought it. “What are we talking about?”

“Leave.”

The older man just took his place among his now former students, looking around. “That’s nice. What are everybody’s plans?”

Most of the others just answered with the basics. Going to see family, spending some time with their loved ones. Hangman wanted to use his time for a vacation and Rooster didn’t doubt that in a week there’d be pictures of Hangman’s abs at a beautiful tropical beach all over social media. At least that gave him time to prepare a witty joke he could send in the groupchat to roast the blond.

Realizing he was the only one of the lucky ones that hadn’t shared his plans, Rooster took another drink of his beer, finishing the bottle before putting it down on the table in front of him. “Don’t know yet. Probably going to spend some time catching up with Mav and after that head home to see the missus.”

Several heads whipped around to look at him with a speed that put fighter jets to shame. Rooster was sure he saw poor Bob get whipped in the face by Phoenix’ ponytail hard enough for his glasses to become crooked on his face.

“The what now?!” Multiple voices said loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons but the group skillfully avoided paying attention to them.

Hangman let out a fake cough to hide his reaction but he couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice as he spoke. “Didn’t know you were married, Rooster.”

“Congrats.” Mavericks' voice tore him out of his thoughts about how Hangman had no reason to know his relationship status. His godfather looked at him with a certain sadness in his eyes that made Rooster mad for a split second before he reminded himself that they were working on mending their relationship and a missed wedding might have been another thing to add to the list of life events they didn’t share like they should have.

“I’m not married.” He paused, trying to find the right words to describe what the two of you were. “It’s an… inside joke with an old friend.”

“Oh that’s-”

“I thought about asking her once but… yeah no I’m not married.” He rambled on, unable to stop himself, almost forgetting about his fellow pilots as he looked at Maverick and the way his eyebrows knit up in confusion.

The rest of the group just looked at him before Halo slapped her knees before standing up, signaling she was ready to leave.

“And that’s our cue. Come on boys, let’s give the Daggers some privacy. You coming with, Coyote?”

“Nah, I’m Hangman’s ride. Can’t leave him with the bunch. He’d just say something to piss them off and they’d leave him here.”

It wasn’t a tearful goodbye but hugs and handshakes were exchanged alongside promises to stay in touch. But almost as soon as Halo led Omaha, Yale, and Harvard away from the table all heads turned to Rooster again. Great.

“Alright, spill!” Phoenix ordered. Bob behind her enthusiastically nodded his head to back his pilot up.

“Guys, maybe that’s not-”

“Ignore Maverick. Spill Rooster!” Hangman interrupted.

Sighing he looked at his empty beer on the table in front of him and wished he had a full one in its place. Or maybe a tall soft drink glass full of whiskey neat.

“Here.” Mav pushed over the beer he picked up earlier, opened but still full.

“There’s not much to talk about.” He tried to defend himself. “She’s a friend. A good friend.”

That wasn’t enough to satisfy the lot in front of him though. Phoenix was motioning for him to continue and part of him wished it was just her he was talking too. She had always been a good friend. A good person to talk to when he had the need to talk. Even if they rarely had the chance to just sit down and chat due to the nature of their work.

“Lives in the old house.” He continued in a low voice, hearing his godfather inhale sharply next to him.

“I wasn’t ready to let it go but I- I couldn’t stay there. Not alone. Not after mom died. So when I left and she needed a place to stay I told her she could have it. Tried to pay me rent for years but I don’t take it. If she didn’t stay there it would be empty anyways so why waste a perfectly good house, you know. I go back every few months and she keeps my shit around.”

He just focused on the bottle in front of him, thumbing away at the label as the stares of his friends bore holes into him.  

“That’s….nice.” The hesitant tone alone voided the words, he didn’t need to see the unsure face on top of it. He didn’t even want to imagine what the group was thinking of him at that moment. Revealing his tragic backstory in the middle of a bar.

“It’s not really home but it’s… it’s a homebase. Someplace to retreat to in case I’m back stateside.”

“And how long has this been going on?” Bob asked from behind Phoenix, confused, and Rooster was suddenly reminded of the years he had on them. Years because Mav held him back.

Years because he tried to protect you - a soft voice that sounded too much like his mother reminded him in the back of his head.

“Fifteen years? Give or take.” He mumbled.

“And how long have you been fucking her?” Three arms reached across the table to swat at Hangman for his question, Phoenix getting him in the arm hard enough for him to wince loudy.

“Fifteen years. Give or take.”

The only thing preventing an awkward moment of silence falling over the group was the fact that Fanboy choked on his beer hard enough that for the next few moments all the attention went to him, their group making sure that the WSO didn’t die. It didn’t prevent an awkward pause that followed after though. It was heavy, only interrupted by muffled coughing.

“Wasn’t expecting that to be completely honest.” Hangman said after everybody had mostly calmed down. When Rooster looked over to him he saw that the usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found on Hangman’s face and for the first time in his life he wished the other man would make fun of him. Look at him with something more than blank surprise or maybe thinly veiled pity.

“Fifteen years is a pretty long relationship to have, Rooster. Even if you’re not married, that's still impressive.” Coyote tried to be uplifting, smiling at him across the table.

“We’re not dating either. Told you she’s just a friend.”

“But you’re fucking?” Hangman asked.

“Whenever I go back. Unless she’s in a relationship at the time which hasn’t really happened yet because she doesn’t really date but most of the time, yeah.”

Across the table Payback raised his beer to him before taking a sip. “I mean… friends with benefits isn’t bad. Me and my wife started out as fuckbuddies before I grew the balls to ask her out for real.”

A few of the guys around the table nodded in agreement while Phoenix rolled her eyes hard enough that Rooster was worried they’d get stuck, but nobody added on to what Payback said.

Another few moments of silence followed before Bob spoke up, all eyes on the quiet WSO. “So let me get this straight. You and this woman have been on again off again fuckbuddies for the past fifteen years. She lives in your house. You nearly asked her to marry you….. and you still insist that she is just a friend?”

It came out rather harsh and nobody really knew how to react, least of all Rooster. Nodding, he took another drink of his beer, breaking eye contact with Bob.

Pushing his chair back from the table Bob moved to get up from their table. “Jesus fuck I need a drink.”

“Bob, you don’t drink.” Phoenix pushed her chair back too, quick to back up her backseater.

“I’m starting now.”  

Six pairs of eyes watched as the two walked over to the bar but the men soon found themselves returning their attention back to the conversation.

“That’s a long time to pine over somebody, Rooster.” Fanboy chimed in, the pilots around the table nodding in agreement.

Before he could defend himself that he wasn’t pining, Hangman decided to speak up again.

“Jesus dude I know you like to wait things out but that’s long even for you.” Putting his arm around his shoulder he continued, “Gonna make your move when you get back? You’re a hero now Rooster, that gets the girls hot. No way she’ll say no.”

Without looking at the other man Rooster just shook off his arm, not taking his eyes off the bottle in front of him. Half the label was missing at this point but scratching at it kept his hands busy at least. “She’s just a friend, Bagman. Just a friend.”

Before any of the others could comment on it, Bob and Phoenix made their way back over to the group, letting themselves fall into the seats they had abandoned before. Their little comeback thankfully drew the attention to them and off Rooster, something he really appreciated. Judging by the way Bob was looking, his first drink didn’t go over all that smoothly.

“How’d he do Phoenix?” Mav teased.

“Went straight for the tequila. I tried to tell him he should start out with a beer but noooo.” She drew out the vowel, interrupted herself with a short giggle, before continuing, “Doubleshot of the cheapest tequila Penny had, didn’t even pull a face.” Phoenix bragged while giving Bob an encouraging pat on the back as he kept quiet. She turned to Hangman, sizing him up before adding. “You can ask Penny if you don’t believe me, Bagman.”

“Nah screw that.” Hangman replied, jumping up in his seat and leaning across the table to get closer to Bob, and Rooster was glad that they seemed to have found a new topic to latch onto. “First time and he went straight for the kill. Atta boy Bobby. Mister B.O.B.”  

Most people around the table joined in with Hangman who continued to go on and on like usual while Rooster just went back to focusing on the bottle in front of him. He continued to thumb at the label, using the nail to push the paper back little by little. Almost everybody had stopped paying attention to him but he could feel Maverick’s gaze burn into the side of his head. He just hoped the older man would let it go.

Maverick did not let it go.

Two days after the night at The Hard Deck he was pounding on the door of Rooster’s room until he had no other choice but to roll out of bed. Stumbling his way to the door with half closed eyes he cursed as he walked straight into a table, a hand coming up to rub over his thigh while the other one pulled open his front door.

“What?” The words came out harder than he intended but the other man didn’t react, instead pushing past him into the room.

“Great, you’re up. Come on get dressed, we need to leave soon.”

“It’s like…” He picked up his phone from the nightstand, dropping it onto the bed after he saw the time. “6 in the goddamn morning. Why are you waking me up at 6am on my day off, Mav?”

“I want to show you something but we need to hit the road soon unless you want it to become an overnight trip. So go and get ready.” Maverick picked up a shirt he had thrown over a chair a day or two ago and threw it at Rooster, catching him off guard enough for it to hit him square in the face.

Knowing full well he couldn’t escape this trip Rooster just sighed and gathered his things so he could get ready. Hurrying through the process of getting ready until he was standing back in his room, silently looking at Mav while the older man looked at the pictures Rooster had taped up next to his bed.

Most of his memories were kept in his phone nowadays but he still liked to keep a few  physical pictures with him on deployment. An old strip from a photobooth the two of you had squeezed yourself into, you perched on his lap with his arms wrapped around your middle while you made faces into the camera right next to the picture of his parents with their arms around each other. Maverick was focused on the third picture that was taped up though, their last family picture from before the accident. It had been hard to bend the picture in a way that properly hid Mav since they were all crowded together, Mom and Dad and Mav with little Rooster in the middle. He didn’t regret not tearing it apart in a fit of anger though. Instead he had taken it down after the mission, carefully straightened out the picture until Maverick was no longer hidden behind the back of the picture and next to them again, before putting it back up with their family reunited.

Rooster watched as he reached out and trailed a finger across the crease. It felt like he was interrupting a moment so he just stood still for a few more seconds, giving Maverick a little bit more time. When the other man turned around he didn’t seem surprised to see Rooster standing in the middle of his room though, a small smile growing on his face.

“Ready to go, kid?”

“Yeah.” He replied, waiting for Mav to bring up the pictures or where they were going but nothing came in response.

“Great.” Maverick stepped past him, hand coming up to give his shoulder a firm pat. “We’re taking your Bronco.”

It wasn’t until they were out of San Diego and making their way down a highway out east that Maverick opened up a little. He had been designated to the passenger side, left to peruse through the handful of cassette tapes in the glove box and play navigator while Rooster drove.

“Good selection.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Rooster could see the older man’s hands stopping once he came across a familiar mixtape, his own illegible handwriting staring back at him. He had played the tape over the years, knew the songs by heart even. But he still wasn’t able to read the writing. Your daddy had the nicest handwriting - his mother used to tell him - always filling out paperwork for Maverick. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood why his mother continued to do the same after his father’s death. A small act of kindness towards the poor soul that had to deal with Maverick Mitchell, saving at least a little bit of their sanity by shielding them from his terrible chicken scratch. Mav could write legibly when he cared, Rooster had a shoebox full of cards and letters at the old house that proved this, but he never really cared for paperwork.

Still focusing most of his attention on the road in front of them, Rooster saw the older man opening the case and carefully putting it into the correct slot on the old car. It took a moment for it to start but he smiled as the intro to Danger Zone began playing. Mav was nodding his head along the rhythm and Rooster could feel himself being overcome by some kind of nostalgic sorrow.

He was young when his father died. Too young. That wasn’t something he ever tried or was able to hide. But he tried his hardest to shield the ones around him from the full truth and maybe lie to himself a little. Nick Bradshaw had been a good man and he deserved to be remembered as such by his loved ones. Which just caused his limited memories of his dad to be all the more painful. No matter how hard Rooster tried to find new memories hidden away in a far corner of his brain he was stuck with a handful of amazing but painful ones.

It must have been mere days before the accident. His mom was somewhere, he didn’t quite know where, but his dad and his uncle Mav were with him. He remembered that the radio was blasting Danger Zone and that the adults had been singing along. They had all jumped across the room wildly and his uncle had picked him up only to collapse onto a couch or bench or something similar towards the end of the song.

After their falling out it had taken him years until he could listen to the song again without getting overwhelmed by emotions. But sitting here now, side by side with the man he tried to hate for years, all that heaviness he’d been carrying around with himself seemed to lift. It would never be like that one carefree summer afternoon in San Diego again but Rooster was certain that they could work towards mending their relationship again and he looked forward to it.

They had been driving for hours and Rooster was starting to get tired of the scenery. While he appreciated the desert as a beautiful place in theory after driving through it for a while it started to become too monotonous for him. They had stopped at a diner in a small town around eleven and eaten what would probably be considered brunch although there was a distinct lack of mimosas. He had filled the tank while Mav picked up some things from a nearby store and they were on the road again before noon.

“There’s a dirt road up ahead, on the left side. No street sign but you’ll see it.”

It was easy to follow his directions, pulling the Bronco into the street and making their way down the road. He could see a building up ahead, far enough removed from the main road to not be visible to passing cars but now that they were on the smaller dirt road Rooster was able to see that they were heading straight towards it.

An airplane hangar. Maverick had taken him to an airplane hangar. In the middle of the damn Mojave.

He slowed down the car once they got close enough, coming to a stop near the access doors but off to the side so he wouldn’t block the runway. If it involved Mav and a hangar there would definitely be planes around and he didn’t want to be in the way.

“Remember the thing you talked about last time at The Hard Deck?” Maverick said, hopping out of the car and Rooster had to suppress a laugh at the sight before he exited the Bronco too.

He watched as Maverick walked over to the middle of the hangar and raised his voice a little so that the older man could hear him even as he walked away. “What thing? I talked about a lot of things.”

“About the old house and it being your homebase.” Maverick was fiddling around with the chain that hung in the middle of the giant doors but Rooster couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, even as he walked closer.

“Well….” The chain rattled as it fell to the ground but Mav picked it up before giving each side of the heavy doors a push. “Welcome to my homebase.” Maverick said before slipping through the gap in the door and disappearing into the darkness.

Homebase. The stupid word echoed in his mind as he hesitated to follow the older man into the hangar. He had said that, hadn’t he? Downplayed the significance of you, your home… his home. Expressing his feelings had never been his strong suit but part of him didn’t regret his selfish choice of words. He trusted the daggers with his life but he didn’t want to share your relationship with them, not when he wasn’t sure of things himself.

He couldn’t bare himself to them in such a manner. Not when he still struggled to come to terms with things himself.

Trying to shake those thoughts he followed after Mav. The inside of the hangar was significantly darker than the outside even with the slight opening in the doors letting in light and his eyes needed a moment to adjust before he could see but when they did he looked around the large space in awe.

Rooster knew that the older man had an affinity for all things speed -bikes and planes, even the occasional sports car- but looking around he was surprised by how many machines he could see. Just from a first glance he counted at least 15, half of which he somewhat remembered from his childhood, as well as an old P-51 and… random furniture placed in front of a trailer?

“What-” He started but didn’t finish his sentence. What would he even ask? What is this place? Homebase. Mav had already said that.

He looked around again, trying to find Maverick between the machines.

“Go sit down.”

He nearly jumped at the sound of Mav’s voice echoing through the hanger. He hadn’t seen or heard him coming at all.

“I’ll go get the bags from the car but you go sit. Or go look around. Make yourself at home. Just don’t touch anything.”

The way he said it sounded like an adult warning a small child. Don’t touch anything, you could get hurt. And for a second Rooster thought about all the years he had spent with Maverick and his machines. How they had fixed up old bikes and Mav had patiently explained what every tiny screw does before ruffling his hair and telling him good job buddy for handing him a wrench. How he had helped Rooster get all his licenses from bikes to cars to planes and then let him take out some of the machines for joyrides or to impress girls at his high school. How he knew what he was doing and if he wanted to he could touch because he knew not to get hurt. Because he’s not a kid anymore. Because Mav taught him how not to get hurt.

But instead he kept quiet and looked around.

Rooster spent a while looking at the P-51. That thing must have cost a fortune even if it was old and Mav did the repairs himself. It was a gorgeous plane though and he hoped that he could convince his godfather to take him up with it soon.

The row of bikes felt so familiar it hurt but he still ran his fingers over the polished metal with care. All neatly lined up along the side of the hangar.

When he was younger Mav kept a locker covered in stickers in their garage. He still had the same locker now in the hangar and the collection of stickers had only grown. He used to go into the garage to look at them all the time when he was a child. Stickers of the different squadrons in all colors of the rainbow. He had them all memorized before he had memorized all 50 states. This one is where Ice flies -Maverick would point out- and this one is the squad that has to deal with Wolfman and Hollywood. They had gone through all the different symbols and pointed out when one of Mav’s friends flew with them.

As a kid he often wondered which squadron he would be assigned to, what insignia he would rep. He slowly raised a hand and ran his fingers over the Golden Warriors sticker at the side of the locker when something past the locker caught his eye.

Pictures upon pictures taped to the wall, familiar faces staring back at him. He could see pictures of Maverick and his parents as he stepped closer. Iceman. Their class at top gun.

Himself.

One of the pictures he knew. It was taken the day his high school baseball team had won a state championship and he remembered feeling like he was on top of the world. His mom had already been sick at that point but her prognosis had been good. Mav had been home from deployment and was able to bring his mom and together they had cheered loud enough that they could be heard across the entire pitch. Other teens would have felt embarrassed but Bradley had felt nothing but love. They had taken him out to eat afterwards and he had talked their ears off while stuffing his face with fries. His mother hadn’t even scolded him for talking with his mouth full. He had asked about the naval academy and if they had a baseball team and if Mav thought he should join. They’d all been so happy.

Not even a year later his mom was dead and Mav had pulled his papers and he had found himself on the other side of the continent completely alone.

Mav had another picture of him as well although he didn’t know where he got it. It was a newer one of him in his uniform, taken before the start of his last deployment. Ice, he answered his own unasked question. There was only one person that held enough rank and love for Maverick to get a hold of his picture.

He should have reached out sooner. If not to Mav then at least Iceman. Even in his stubbornness he had to admit that the late admiral had never treated him with anything but kindness and now it was too late to apologize.

“There you are.” Mav’s voice came from behind him and Rooster was proud that he didn’t flinch at the sudden noise. He had completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the hangar.

Instead of speaking immediately he took a deep breath and swallowed down his feelings. One step at a time. First he’d mend things with Mav for the future, then he’d ask for forgiveness for the past.

“Quite the collection you got here.” He said instead.

“Yeah?” He could see how the older man’s eyes lighted up at the mention of his machines. “I got more up here and a few more back there.” He turned around to point them out to Rooster, taking a few steps away from the side of the hangar.

“I’ve put the bikes on the backburner for a little bit to focus on the plane but as soon as I get it back up and running I have a few that need repairs. Maybe you could come and help me out a little. Like old times.” Mav smiled.

“That would be nice.”

He watched as Maverick walked over to the sitting area and followed. He disappeared into the trailer for a moment only to come out holding two bottles in his hands and gesturing for Rooster to sit. It was almost as if he had set up a little living room in the middle of the hangar. With an armchair and a couch, a small coffee table all on a big rug in front of the trailer. Wait…

“Mav do you fucking live here?”

Mav just gestured to the couch. “Sit down Bradley.”

It felt weird to be called Bradley again. For years he had only gone by Rooster or Bradshaw, building it up almost like a second identity or an armor. To him it felt like he had left Bradley behind years ago when he left home. Still, he sat down.

He looked at Mav.

Mav looked at him.

“Yes Bradley. I’ve been living in this hangar for the past few years while stationed at a nearby air base.” He finally said.

“In that trailer?”

Mav didn’t say anything, just nodded while looking at him.

He shifted a little where he sat on the couch, trying to avoid eye contact. “So you’re just all alone out here in the desert?”

“You know I’m used to being on my own, Bradley. No wife, no kids.”

Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.

He should have known that he would end up eating his words. No matter how much anger and distress he was feeling when he spoke them, no words were said without consequences and he was about to be faced with his.

He shifted in his seat again, still not meeting the older man’s eyes. “Mav, listen…”

“No. No.” Mav took a deep breath and let in out loud enough for him to hear it through the distance between them. “You were right.”

Another silence fell over them, this one weighing heavier on him than the ones before.

“I fear we’re a lot more similar than either of us would like to admit.”

It sounded less than a statement and more like a confession or maybe even a little bit of an apology. Like it pained Maverick to admit it and he had to force himself to say them. As if it had been a shortcoming on his end that had made them this way and not just the universe playing a cruel joke.

“There are… a lot of things we need to talk about and a lot of things I need to apologize for but not now. We have all the time in the world to talk things out but that’s not why I brought you here.”

“Then why did you?” His own voice sounded strange to him but he couldn’t figure out why. His thoughts were racing but at the same time his mind felt emptier than ever.

“I don’t want you to repeat the same mistakes I made.”

“Mav…”

“People like us belong in the sky and when something comes along to threaten that things turn ugly. You think there’s nothing worse than having that freedom taken away from you but there is. Because we can’t… we can’t stay up there forever, Bradley, no matter how hard we try. Once that’s taken away you have to look around and see what’s waiting for you on the ground. And when you see there’s nothing waiting for you… That’s scary, kid.”

Although he understood every word coming out of Maverick’s mouth he couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“You’re allowed to put down roots without them chaining you to the ground. You’re allowed to build a home and a family without fear holding you back.”

And all of a sudden his words began to make sense.

No wife. No kids.

Just like him.

Somebody to mourn him if he burns in.

“I don’t think…”

“Don't think. Just do.”

That damn sentence had burrowed itself into his mind. Nested itself deep enough in his subconscious that there was no way he’d ever get rid of it again and Maverick repeating them now did nothing to soften the blow he felt.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Such a simple question. Such a simple answer. Yet it felt like he had to force himself to admit it. “Yes.”

“Then tell her.”

Sometimes home wasn’t a place but a person but there had to be some incredible luck involved for the two to overlap for him.

For years he had felt a certain type of sadness while driving up to his childhood home, reminiscing about all he’s lost, but as he pulled his Bronco into the little driveway all he could think about was what he was about to gain. His stomach was twisting and turning in anticipation.

Part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing, finally confessing to you. The friendship you had built over the span of more than one decade was too important and he didn’t want to mess it up. It had been easier when he was young and stupid and fell into bed with you the first time without consideration but now your time together weighted on him. He hesitated before exiting the car, mentally going over everything he wanted to say and repeating the words Mav had told him before sending him on his way.

She wouldn’t have waited fifteen years for you to get your act together if she wasn’t head over heels in love with you too.

Oh how he hoped that Maverick was right.

Taking one last deep breath he opened the door and got out, throwing it closed behind him. You had planted some new flowers in the front yard. Last time he had been here he was greeted by soft yellow flowers but now all he could see was a beautiful red. Granted it had been a few months since he last came by but he still felt a slight sting at the change. Not that it happened -he was glad that you actually felt at home in your house and comfortable enough to change the greenery- but the fact that he missed it. As he made his way towards the front door he thought about all the other things that could have changed since he saw you last. Did you get new pillows for the couch? Hung new pictures on the walls?

He had to search through his keys for a moment before he found the house key but as soon as he did he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There were noises coming from the tv in the living room and he had no problem imagining you curled up on the couch with a soft blanket and a mug held between your soft hands with one of your shows playing.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out, hoping that you wouldn’t be able to hear the desperation in his voice and only the excitement.

Instead of a response he could only hear a crash coming from the living room and instantly became concerned. He couldn’t take more than two steps down the hallway though before you suddenly appeared at the other end of the small space. Messy hair and comfy clothes he didn’t have time to brace himself before you all but tackled him, clinging to his body while his arms came up to hold you up and against him.

Holding you in his arms again just made him feel so much more confident in his decision. His body still felt a little sore even a week after the mission but he’d never tell you out of fear that you would lessen your crushing embrace. The last thing he wanted right now was to be separated from you in any way. He could feel saying something against his shoulder but he couldn’t hear anything, the sound muffled by his shirt.

You must have realized that he wasn’t able to understand what you were saying because you pulled away a little so he could understand you better. “You’re home.” You almost whispered, voice airy and light and a big smile on your face. “Why are you home? You’re supposed to be overseas, why are you here? You always text me before you’re home or at least give me a call. Are you okay? What happened?”

He smiled as you took his hands between your hands, trying to see if he was hurt while rambling and he just couldn’t hold himself back any longer so he leaned down and finally, finally put his lips on yours in the softest, most loving kiss he could muster with the amount of desire running through his body. If he surprised you with his kiss you didn’t show it, instead your lips began to move against his, only for him to pull away once you try to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t feel foreign in his mouth even though it was the first time he said them for a long long time. He’s been running from his true feelings for as long as he could remember but now that he managed to spill them he couldn’t stop.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Realizing that he was still holding you up, he carefully lowered you down until there was solid ground underneath your feet. You looked so sweet just standing there and part of him just wanted to swoop you right up again. Instead he brought one of his hands up to cradle your face, carefully stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“Baby...” You started but stopped when his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

He could see your brows furrow in confusion so he continued.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was scared and it took me fifteen years to finally admit it but I love you. I love you and I’m not scared anymore and I’m yours… in any way that you’ll have me.” It was a blatant lie. He wasn’t just scared, he was absolutely terrified. Not just about his confession but also the future and the past and everything in between. But he needed to tell you how he felt so desperately.

Your hand touching his brought him back from his thoughts, cradling his hands while he cradled your face and a smile so wide he couldn’t focus.

When you spoke your voice was barely more than a whisper. “Oh you stupid man.”

For an awful drawn-out second he couldn’t breathe before your lips met his again and he felt whole again. Deepening the kiss all he could think about was how he was never letting go of you again.

Lieutenant Jakob Middlename Seresin enjoyed the simple things in life. A cold beer, a light breeze, and a beach full of attractive people were paradise on earth for him. After the recent mission all he wanted to do was lay back and relax before he had to head back out for deployment so when two of his old academy buddies talked about their new house in Hawai’i he invited himself to crash in their guest bedroom for two weeks and so far it had been nothing but pure bliss.

Taking a picture of his current view he sent it to his parents before pulling up the group chat Fanboy had made for everybody involved in the mission. He had missed about 50 messages but just from scrolling past them he picked up that Bob had sent a picture with his family and now everybody was roasting him for how out of character it seemed. Apparently there were flannel shirts and horses involved and Jake was just about to scroll back up to take a look himself so that he could join in the fun when a new message was sent to the group chat that caused him to drop his phone into the fine sand with a bitten off curse.

Rooster 🐓

getting hitched in vegas this wknd, be there or be square

txt Mav for details

Before he could fully process what he just read the chat was blowing up again. Text after texts came in expressing various degrees of excitement but Jake just read over Rooster’s text again before putting his phone away. With a sigh he brought his half-empty beer up to his lips and emptied the bottle before getting up to make his way back to the house.

It was only Wednesday so he still had a little time to enjoy his vacation before he had to head back to the mainland and he fully planned on enjoying it. He just needed to ask his friends where he could buy some gaudy Hawaiian shirts first. Maybe he’d even find some Vegas wedding appropriate ones.

He wouldn’t leave his wingman hanging.

[foreverrandomwritings]

Oral Fixation

Summary: The five times Bradley takes note of your oral fixation. Then the one time he decides to say something to you. (I was watching both Legally Blonde movies when writing this last night so it turned out kind of pink)

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x afab!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, rough deployments, insecurities, alcohol, bars, clubs, sex MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

Word count: 3660

Masterlist

One

The first time you met was also coincidentally the first time he noticed your oral fixation. You had been transferred into fightertown from an overseas position. You were a new Psychologist and had been tasked with going around to pretty much everyone on base to inquire about their desire for a therapist. You had found most of the dagger squad in the rec room. Payback, Fanboy and Coyote were all up in the sky and the rest of them were lounging around the room. 

Bradley had turned his head away from the movie on the tv in front of him at the sound of your closed toe pink heels clicking along the tiles of the ground. His eye’s worked their way up from your feet, to your light gray slacks up to the pretty pink silk button up tucked away inside of them. When his eyes finally landed on your face you had been sucking on your cheek. As your eyes connected to his own you let go of your cheek and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“Hi, I’m the new clinical psychologist on base. Vice Admiral Simpson suggested I go around and introduce myself.” You stuck out your hand expectantly. He gave you a smirk wrapping his much larger hand around your own. 

“Bradley Bradshaw, callsign Rooster, Ma’am.” His hand was still clasped with your own, but you didn’t seem to mind. The screams of victory from Phoenix and Bob as they won a game of foosball against Yale and Harvard had your hands separating reluctantly. 

“Here’s my card.” You pulled a stack of them out of your pants pocket. Slipping one out of the pink rubber band they were wrapped in you handed him the small white rectangle. 

“I already have a therapist off base. But is there any way I can call you for dinner?” The boldness of his question had your cheeks heating. You pulled your lip between your teeth, debating how to respond to him. 

“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” You gave him a sweet smile before slipping away from him and working to the other aviators in the room. He watched your every move admiring the way you so easily conversed with the group. He noticed your eyes light up when you got to Hangman and his lips pulled into a frown. He couldn’t hear what you were saying as the two of you were on the other side of the room. 

Jake reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small container of toothpicks. He shook one out and handed it to you with a smirk. You said something to him before passing him one of your cards and taking the toothpick from him. Bradley watched you place the little piece of spearmint wood between your teeth. Your shoulders relaxed as you closed your lips around the object. Then you were walking his way again and he quickly flicked his eyes back to the tv not wanting to get caught staring. But you had felt his eyes on you the whole time you were in the room. 

Two 

The second time he notices your oral fixation is while you are about a month into dating. He had asked you to go to the hard deck with him. It’s a slow night so you are sitting at the bar talking to Penny. Bradley is at a table with Natasha while she goes on about the double date she and Bob just went on the night before. He was only half listening however. His eyes were focused on your form clad in a pair of high waisted light wash ripped skinny jeans and a bright pink cropped tank top. 

Penny had a customer so she had been helping them which had left you alone briefly. You plucked the cherry from the bottom of your glass and pulled the fruit off the stem. You chewed it quickly before slipping the stem into your mouth. You absentmindedly worked the stem around your mouth as you scanned the bar. Your eyes met Bradleys and you gave him a toothy grin showing him the knot you had made proudly. He sent you a wink and a thumbs up. 

“Are you even paying attention to me?” Natasha huffed out at him dramatically. He turned to his best friend sat across from him and gave her an apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry about that. What were you saying about your date?” The female aviator rolled her eyes before continuing her story. He listened more intently this time actually nodding along and conversing with her as she spoke.

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. You want one too?” He asked her as he stood up, their conversation had ended a moment ago and they had just sat in comfortable silence. But Bradley was desperate to be next to you so he could take in the smell of your floral perfume. Natasha grunted in response, handing him the empty bottle she had been peeling the label from. 

“Hi there cherry blossom.” The long nickname had stuck like glue when he had first laid eyes on the pink flowers tattooed across your back. 

“Roos.” You giggled at him, the silver chain with a single delicate pearl around your neck moving along with your chest. 

“Are you drunk?” His eyes took in the knotted stem filled napkin beside you. He knew Penny had to have been doubling the cherries with the amount he saw. 

“Just a little tipsy. Penny makes amazing drinks, Roos.” You punctuated the sentence by taking a sip of your drink loudly. Bradley let out a laugh at your dramatic show, shaking his head playfully. As you pulled the glass away from your lips a few drops fell along your chin. He moved his thumb up quickly, swiping the drops away. He was going to wipe it off on his jeans but you pulled his thumb up to your mouth and sucked his thumb between your lips. You gave it a small bite before pulling your mouth away.

“Feel like taking a walk to the Bronco with me real quick.” He blinked at you slowly as you uttered the words. 

“Uh yea... Yeap. That sounds good.” He all but dragged you out of the bar, his and Natasha’s drinks forgotten. You eagerly pushed him into the backseat before climbing in beside him. He experienced the best blow job of his life that night. 

Three

The third time he noticed your oral fixation was when he had walked into your office on your lunch break. You were sitting at your desk biting off pieces of twizzlers aggressively. You hadn’t noticed Bradley yet so he sat in the doorway admiring the way you looked. Your eyes were narrowed at your paper and your pen gilded across it making harsh marks along it. 

“You’re gonna rip your paper if you press any harder.” Your hand came up to your chest quickly, eyes widening. 

“Bradley, I didn’t hear you come in.” You glanced at your watch, sat upon your wrist and flenched. Eye’s slowly moved from the screen up to your boyfriend. 

“I didn’t realize what time it was. I’m trying to get through some patient notes. I’m so sorry.” You were supposed to meet him in the cafeteria and have lunch with him there. But you had just had a group come back from a rough deployment and had been swamped with paperwork from their sessions. 

“It’s alright. I knew work has been rough lately so I figured I’d bring lunch to you.” He held up the bag that you had worked together to pack the night before.

“What would I do without you?” You asked him as you rolled your chair back standing up and coming around the desk. Bradley closed the door and moved farther into the room. He opened up your cabinet where you had hidden a microwave and popped in your pasta. 

“You’d be left severely unsatisfied.” You hummed at the double meaning sitting down on the couch usually left for patients to sit on. 

“How was work today?” You questioned him sweetly, smoothing out the material of your checkered pink pencil skirt. 

“Went pretty well. We’re going over a new manual for a few tester planes we might get the chance to fly.” You had heard rumors around the base that the aviators were going to get some cool new toys to play with soon. The microwave alerted Bradley, it was done and he pulled the food out of it before closing the cabinet back. 

“Here you go.” You took the food from him eagerly as he held it out for you. Spinning the pasta around on your fork before taking a large bite. You both sat and ate in silence enjoying the other's company and the good food. As you took the last bite of your pasta you held the plastic fork to your lips. The prongs slipped between your lips and you started to slowly gnaw on the material. Your watch furiously buzzed where it was sitting on your wrist. That seemed to jerk you from your thoughts. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall opposite you and groaned. 

“I’ve got a patient coming in five minutes and I still need to pull everything up from our last session. I hate to cut this short but I’m gonna have to kick you out.” Your lips were set in a pout as you gazed at him. He closed the gap between you, giving you a few quick pecks on your lips before pulling away, listening to you whine pathetically as he did. 

“That’s alright pretty girl. I’ve gotta get back to the hangar anyways.” He stood up and grabbed your container before slipping them both into the lunch box. He grabbed your fork as well and went to throw it away, taking note of the teeth marks embedded in the plastic. He’d have to ask you about your constant need for oral stimulation one day. 

Four

The fourth time he notices your oral fixation he kinda blames it on you being drunk. You’re out celebrating your friend's birthday at a club and Bradley had volunteered to be the designated driver that night for you and your three friends. You were going through shots like it was your job. He had sat at a booth in the corner keeping an eye on you guys as well as keeping an eye on your stuff sat on the table top. 

You had bumped into Jake at some point through the night and had conned him into giving you some of his toothpicks. You had then proceeded to chew through all of them in under an hour. Bradley watched you throw away the last one as it had snapped between your teeth with a pout on your lips. You then scanned the crowd quickly before your eyes landed on him and your face lit up. He watched you weave through the sea of dancing bodies quickly before you were sliding into the booth next to him. 

“How can I help you, pretty girl?” Your already warm cheeks warmed even more at the compliment. 

“You’re so handsome, Roos. Have I told you that already?” You hiccuped as you took his hand in your own. 

“Doesn’t matter much if I did. I’ll tell you till I can’t breathe anymore.” You looked at him with hooded eyes as you brought his hand to your mouth and started to work your soft lip gloss coated lips across the rough skin in open mouthed kisses. 

“You’re smearing your lip gloss everywhere cherry blossom.” He didn’t mind that you were getting it on his skin but he knew you’d be a little upset with the way the pink glitter was coating your face. 

“It’s alright.” You threw his arm over your shoulder and sidled up next to him. He groaned as you laid your lips on his neck. You nipped and licked at the skin languidly. 

“Come on, it’s girls night. He’s not here for you to play vampire with.” You pulled away from him slowly at your friend's words. 

“I’m taking this.” You plucked the small black straw from his glass of Coke, before slipping from the booth. You adjusted your glittery pink dress as you stood and wiped your lip gloss off your face with a napkin. You placed the straw between your lips and gave him a wink. 

You shimmed your way between two of your friends and danced with them for a while. Your teeth chewed on the straw as you lost yourself to the songs. Eventually your friends slipped back to the bar and you took the opportunity to slip back to your mustached boyfriend. He was going to playfully scold you for leaving your friends again but you didn’t give him a chance. 

You scooted into the booth and planted your lips against his. He brought one of his hands up to rest against your face as you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked on it for a moment. He thought briefly about where your straw had gone but his thoughts were cleared as you slipped your tongue between his lips. Drunk you just couldn’t keep your mouth busy enough it seemed. But he wasn’t complaining one bit. 

Five

The fifth time he had noticed your oral fixation had been one of the funniest. You were both covered in sea water sitting inside an ice cream shop that was along the strip of shops on the coast of the beach. You had gotten done with your ice cream cone way before the tall man sat beside you. He had insisted on getting the largest size they had. You told him you were worried about it melting everywhere but he had shooed you off. 

“I’m gonna go get some gum.” You had spotted a gumball machine when you had first walked into the a/c filled building. 

You dug out a few quarters from your purse and inserted them into the slot. You turned it a couple times before lifting the flap. The handful of pink gumballs filled your hand and you hummed in delight. As you sat back at the table with your boyfriend you slipped two gumballs into your mouth. You chewed on them animatedly, occasionally telling him about something funny that had happened in the show you were watching.

“Fuck.” He had been much slower with his ice cream than he expected and it had started to melt all over his hand.

“Oh here let me get that.” He thought you were gonna reach for a napkin but instead you pulled his fingers to your lips. You popped each one into your mouth, licking all the Chocolate and sprinkles off his fingers. He gave you a bewildered look as you nibbled on each finger tip gently. 

“There ya go all clean.” You seemed proud of yourself for the way you cleaned him off. You grabbed a napkin out of the silver napkin holder and wiped his mustache clean as well. 

“Thank you pretty girl.” You gave him a toothy grin before popping another pink ball into your mouth. You continued on with the funny story you were telling him and he continued to eat his ice cream. Neither of you mentioned what just happened. 

Six

The sixth time he noticed your oral fixation was also the time he decided to ask you about it. It had been the morning after a few intense rounds of sex. You had been out of town for a week at a conference and had just gotten back and the night had been passionate. He had woken up before you which wasn’t a surprise, the jet lag from the trip paired with the activities of the prior night had caught up with you quickly. He slipped on  a pair of his shorts he grabbed from the floor. Then he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. His sleepy eyes took in his shirtless form in the mirror and dropped his toothbrush into the sink. 

There were blue, purple, green and red marks all over his chest, neck and arms. Some of them looked like hickies, others looked like teeth marks. His finger came to run across every mark he could see. He was used to the occasional mark after sex with you but this was another level for the two of you. But he didn’t mind one bit. He was actually ecstatic to have the marks splayed along his body. 

His mind flashed to a tiktok he had seen recently about something called an oral fixation. He thought back to all the times he realized your need for oral stimulation. All the dots seemed to connect as he recalled the information from the short video. He decided to do some research before making breakfast for the both of you. He sat downstairs with his laptop for almost an hour taking notes occasionally in a notebook he kept around the house. 

After about an hour his stomach started to rumble and he closed his laptop. He slipped on an old navy crew neck he grabbed from the dryer before starting on the French toast, eggs and bacon. He knew you’d be hungry after your intense session last night so he made plenty of food. He was just getting done with your matcha latte when you made your way into the kitchen. You had on a pink babydoll nightgown and your hair was a mess. 

“Smells good in here.” You told him as a yawn slipped past your lips. He gave you a peck on the lips when you wrapped your arms around his middle and laid your chin on his chest. 

“I’m almost done with your matcha latte. Why don’t you go sit down and eat?” He nodded his head over to the kitchen island. You puckered your lips at him, batting your lashes at him lazily. He placed his lips upon yours once more before you slipped out of his arms. He landed a smack on your ass as you walked away causing you to gasp. 

He was sitting on a stool next to you after a couple of minutes. You moaned as you put the first bite of French toast in your mouth. He felt pride swell in his chest as the thought of you loving his food so much. He had learned everything he knew from his mother so it always made him happy when you showed how much you enjoyed it. The many cookbooks in the pantry held so many recipes that you were more than pleased to try. 

You guys conversed easily, talking about your seperate week. You took another long sip from your latte as you fixed your eyes on him. He was telling you a funny story about something stupid Maverick had said. You hadn’t realized you had zoned out until Bradley laid a hand on your leg. You stopped chewing on the rubber bit wrapped around the tip of your metal straw. Eyes refocusing on the man in front of you. 

“Do you have an oral fixation cherry blossom?” Bradley felt bad saying it so bluntly when you stopped drinking your match latte and pulled the straw out of your mouth. Your eyes focused on the floor beneath your pink slipper clad feet. You played with the hem of your night dress giving him a nonchalant shrug. 

“It’s okay if you do babe. I just gotta know what I can do to help you.” His finger hooked under your chin bringing your face up so he could see it. 

“It’s something that started as a kid. I normally do it unconsciously. Most of the time it’s when I’m stressed out, tired or need something to do.” You had been told by people before how weird it was. You were constantly chewing on random stuff, eating or chewing gum. Sometimes when you were with a partner you liked to give them love bites. It hadn’t crossed your mind however that you hadn’t told Bradley about the quirk. 

“I love you very much and you are valid to need to stimulate yourself. I’m not judging you. I did some research on it this morning while you slept. Just in case you did, I’d understand it better.” He could tell you were feeling uncomfortable thinking he was making fun of you. You were speechless at his words. No one had ever gone out of their way to understand your unique way of needing stimulation. 

“I’m guessing from what I learned this morning that the marks you left on me last night was your need to feel close to me and grounded during the vigorous activities.” You cocked your head to the side looking down at his shirt. You noticed some hickey marks along his neck but those were pretty normal for the pair of you. He reached for the hem of his crew neck and pulled it up. You gasped a hand coming up to your lips as you looked at the marks decorating his tanned skin. 

“Oh Bradley I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You carefully placed a hand on one especially harsh mark on his chest. 

“It doesn’t hurt, pretty girl. I like that you were comfortable enough with me to be able to stimulate yourself the way you needed to.” He gave you a reassuring smile as he dragged his shirt back down. 

“If you want we can go for another round. You can leave some on my back too.” His eyes held mischief as he looked at you.

“I love you so fucking much.” You giggled before launching yourself out of your stool and collided with the solid mass that was your boyfriend. You were on cloud nine from the open communication from the man you were lucky enough to call your own. 

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated. 

Tags(open): @wkndwlff​ @sylviebell​ @eternallyvenus​ @loving-and-dreaming​ @princess76179​ @kmc1989​ 

[roosterforme]

Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout. 

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

------------------------

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time. 

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

--------------------------

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was. 

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge." 

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked. 

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth. 

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?" 

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

-------------------------

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza. 

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking." 

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?" 

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar." 

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep. 

----------------------

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way. 

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay." 

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side. 

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him. 

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him. 

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs. 

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

----------------------------

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home. 

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you. 

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there. 

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers. 

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room. 

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

------------------------

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar. 

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him. 

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly. 

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too. 

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar. 

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started. 

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them. 

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped. 

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process. 

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit. 

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again. 

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him. 

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet. 

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding." 

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips. 

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case. 

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him. 

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life. 

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered. 

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot. 

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers. 

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone. 

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms. 

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache. 

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again. 

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body. 

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response. 

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

----------------------------

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk. 

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love. 

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

---------------------------

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[sometimesanalice]

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him. 

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. 

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months. 

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other  as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.  

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break.  But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar. 

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling. 

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm. 

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself. 

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”  

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

 “You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you. 

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[vivwritesfics]

Idk if you got this already but,

Rooster with a western rider gf (this is my first time doing this sorry if this is bad)

-🐎(also if no one has taken horse can i)

YES OFC YOU CAN BE HORSE OMG I LOVE THIS (i'm an english rider and my western rider knowledge is little to none lol)

The rest of the Dagger Squad didn't know all that much Rooster's girl. They knew she was slightly younger, knew he saw her as often as she could.

She had never been to The Hard Deck, had never met any of the other naval aviators. It was always Bradley driving his Bronco to see her.

He sat in The Hard Deck, had one single beer with his friends, with Pheonix, Hangman, Bob and the rest of them. "When are you going?" Asked Jake, pointing the pool cue towards him as Bradley walked away.

He grinned and pushed his sunglasses over his eyes. "I'm going to see my girl," he said and walked out of The Hard Deck.

The other aviators watched him go. Only Nat smiled. Only Nat believed him. The rest of them didn't voice it as they went back to their game of pool, but they didn't think Rooster's girl was real. If she was, surely they would have met her.

They didn't know just how busy she was.

But Bradley knew. As he drove down the driveway, past the fields of horses, he knew just how busy she was.

He parked the car outside of the barn and climbed out. Bradley's first stop was always the barn. He walked in, walking over to Chief. The chestnut horse stood with his head over the stable door, whinnying when he saw Bradley.

"Hey, Chief," he muttered, stroking the white stripe down his face. "Where is your mom?"

Chief searched through his pocket. He nosed Bradley's jeans before chewing on his Hawaiian shirt. But Bradley quickly pulled himself from Chiefs mouth without too much damage to the shirt.

It was at that moment when she walked into the barn, a sandy coloured horse behind her. "Hey!" She called as she walked the horse into a stable and shut the door behind her. She hung the rope over the door and ran through the barn, jumping into Bradley's arms.

He held her easily, his hands under her ass. She pulled her hat from her head and kissed him. "Miss you, Roos," she whispered against his lips.

"I missed you too," he said and put her down. As soon as she was on the floor, she took her hat and placed it on Bradley's head. It was one of his favourite things about coming to her farm.

"Are you ready for dinner?" He asked, taking her hand and slowly walking her out of the barn.

She bit her lip, her expression almost guilty. "I will be, Bradley. I just gotta bring in Circe and Linda in from the top fields, throw hay into the back fields, and get changed."

"Anything I can help with?" Bradley asked. He always did ask. A rather large part of him loved working on her farm, loved helping where he could. He wasn't born to be a cowboy, but a cowgirl's husband.

She fished a set of keys from her pocket. "Wanna drive the tractor?"

She knew that was Bradley's favourite part. They loaded the tractor trailer with bales of hay and Bradley set off with her in the passenger seat.

Bradley knew exactly where to go. He'd driven the trails around the fields enough times. He took the tractor to the first of the back fields and stopped.

He jumped out of the tractor and immediately grabbed the bale of hay before she could. "Bradley," she groaned and he put the bale back down. Just so that he could take off his Hawaiian shirt, flex his muscles as he threw the bale into the field.

Immediately, the horses came running. She climbed into the field and cut the twine away from the hay, putting it into the pocket.

They did this for two more fields before Bradley drove her up to the top field. She climbed out of the tractor and walked over to his side. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. "Should I meet you at the barn, Cowboy?" She asked as she flicked the brim of the hat, tipping it up slightly.

"You got it, Cowgirl," he said and kissed her, his moustache brushing her top lip. She loved it more than anything. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, wearing the Hawaiian shirt, the feel of his moustache, she loved it.

When she climbed into the field, Bradley drove off. He drove around the fields while she grabbed a hold of the two horses she needed to bring in. "Come on, ladies," she said as she walked them to the gates, taking them to the barn.

Bradley waited at the barn, just as she had asked him to. He leaned against the tractor, the keys in his hand as she walked past with Linda and Circe.

Even while she had the horses, she stopped and kissed him. "Almost done," she promised, taking the hat from his head and placing it back on her own.

Bradley watched her go, watched her walk into the barn and walked Linda and Circe into their stables. She gave them their prepared feed and walked back over to Bradley.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning against him, he slipped the keys into her pocket and held her hips. "Almost ready to go," she said, grinning up at him.

Bradley frowned down at her. "But you look gorgeous already," he said, kissing the inside of her wrist. "C'mon, let me take you out for dinner."

[amysteryspot]

I Will Always Love You | B.B.

Summary: Bradley has no one to release him at his tapping out ceremony.

Warnings: female reader; use of (Y/N); reader has a big family; mentions of Bradley having no family left after Carole's death, mentions of the fight between Bradley and Maverick; breakup; kinda off a happy ending;

Word Count: 1023

A/N: This was written for the @roosterforme's fic challenge #love is in the air tgm. It was inspired by the song "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston. I had so much fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it.

They were meant to be. That’s what everyone said to them after they got together. It seemed like their friends had been waiting for the news already. (Y/N) and Bradley were so in sync with each other that it was obvious to everyone but them how perfect they worked together.

Her family welcomed him with open arms, which was a blessing. Bradley had little to no family he still had contact with after his mother’s passing and his fall off with his godfather. (Y/N) was the second eldest of five siblings, not to mention all of the cousins. They all loved him. She always told Bradley that he was easy to love.

In times like these, Bradley felt the loss of his mother the most. He was sure that Carole would have loved (Y/N) just as much as she had loved him.

They were meant to be… until they weren’t.

Coming from a big family, all (Y/N) wanted was a good job that could get her out of her parents home. Bradley understood that, after all, he was only in college as a way to get in the Navy, like he always dreamt. Everything was doing fine until their graduation.

“You’ve been strange since yesterday.” Bradley said, loosening his arms from around (Y/N) that was sitting beside him.

She sighed, turning around to look him in the eyes.

“I’ve received a proposal.”

Bradley blinked a couple of times, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“To go to London.”

The breath got caught in his throat as he looked at the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“London?” He asks.

“Yes.” She confirms. “The office needs someone there and since I just graduated they thought it would be a great opportunity to start this new phase.”

The tension in the room was thick. Neither of them expected to have this conversation so soon. Bradley thought that they would at least have a couple of months to spare.

“You should go.” He finally said after what felt like hours of silence.

“Brad…”

He cuts her off before she can get another word in.

“It’s a great opportunity for you to start your career and…”

Her soft lips are on his and for a moment everything feels right. The kiss lasts only a couple of seconds, but it is enough to dissolve some of the tension, leaving place for sadness to set in.

“We have to talk.” She said.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You have to take this opportunity, you don’t know if you’ll get another.”

“I know.”

Simple as that. No buts, no questions. They both just knew.

“When do you leave?” He asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know.” She answers, voice breaking.

That’s when the first tears start to fall. Bradley pulls her to him, snuggling themselves together, trying to get as close as they could to forget the storm above their heads.

“We will find a way.” He mumbles against her hair. “Everything will be okay.”

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, after all.

Bradley had a month to prepare for the academy, (Y/N) was given the same time to prepare for her trip, so they both decided that they would make the most of the little time they had together. It was one of the hardest things he had to do in his life.

After too much talk, the both of them decided that ending their relationship to focus on their careers would be the best decision for both of them. They would be too busy with their jobs to be able to maintain a long distance relationship, so it seemed like the logical decision to make.

They agreed not to have an airport goodbye. (Y/N)’s family took her from Bradley’s place, but he didn’t go. Their goodbye was just their own.

And just like that, Bradley was alone again. He and (Y/N) parted as friends, her family still talked to him almost daily, but how do you stay friends with someone you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with?

With time he stopped answering her, it didn’t take long for her to stop trying to reach out and that’s how he ended up here, standing alone at his tapping out ceremony, with nobody to relieve him.

Until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Bradley turned around to meet (Y/N) standing there as beautiful as the last time she woke up by his side. He was quick to engulf her in a hug and, before thinking, kissing her.

She tasted like cinnamon and coffee. It was so familiar and yet so strange. When they separated, he was quick to apologize.

“I’m sorry.” He started, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I…”

The words got lost between their lips once she kissed him again.

“Congratulations, soldier.” She mumbled against his lips. “Or should I say sailor?”

Bradley smiles, relinquishing the feeling of her hands caressing his face.

“Soon to be pilot.” He answers, opening his eyes to look at her.

“Well, soon-to-be-pilot, there’s more people here that want to see you.”

She turns around in his arms, making way for him to see her family cheering at him.

“Why is everybody here?” He laughed.

“Are you kidding me?” She asked, smiling. “There was no talking them out of coming to see their favorite member of the family become a soon-to-be-pilot.”

He frowned, unsure of how to react.

“You’re easy to love, Bradley Bradshaw. I’ll always love you and so will they.”

She kissed him again, taking him out of his head a little, before nudging him to go celebrate with her family—their family.

“Common, before they say that I want you all to myself.” She said, taking his hand and adding, “Which is true.”

Bradley smiled, “Later.” He promised. “You can have me all to yourself later.”

And that promise was enough to put both their hearts at ease. Even if they had only tonight, Bradley knew that a part of them would always belong to each other.

[ddejavvu]

this idea came to me when I wanted to go to bed so imagine bradley at the hard deck wearing his usual hawaiian shirts and he bumps into a girl in a dress with the exact same design as his shirt like it's fate😭 and then after they start dating they always match🥹

THIS IS SO CUTE ??

--

The material that Bradley's hand brushes against is soft, but he doesn't pay much attention to it until he can see it. He stops in his tracks, offering you a sincere, "Sorry," when he's jostled from his left and rams into you on his right. You turn to glance at him over your shoulder, and you register each others' outfits at the same time, all owlish blinks and hitched breaths.

Bradley speaks first, a murmured, 'Oh-' but you're hot on his trail, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips.

You're wearing the same thing.

Bradley's sporting a faded old Hawaiian shirt, but it's unmistakably the same patterned fabric that your dress is made from. The green on his shirt was a lot brighter when he'd plucked it out of his dad's closet almost ten years ago, but yours is more vibrant, reminding him of a photo of him and his dad that lays in the drawer of his nightstand.

"I like your shirt," You grin at him, and he wonders if the glimmer in your eyes is always there, or only when you've got a drink in hand. It's pretty, he thinks, he hopes it's not temporary.

"I like your dress," He teases, swallowing what he doesn't want to admit is the beginnings of a lump in his throat, "Where'd you get it?"

"I found it at a thrift shop," You admit, reaching out to tug at the open panel of his shirt, "What about you?"

"It was my dad's," He grins, taking one step closer to you so that you're not so much reaching out for him as you are reaching up, "If he'd known there was a matching dress, he would have bought one for my mom."

"That's sweet!" You gush, and he notices whether you want him to or not, that you haven't let go of his shirt yet, "I like it when husbands match with their wives, I think it makes a good man."

--

"-And that's- that's why he's got that dumbass tie on," Fanboy concludes, words coming out slurred with laughter, "'Cause- cause three years ago she said it'd make him a good man."

"It's not dumb," Bob pipes up with a kind smile, eyeing Bradley's tie and your matching hair tie, a scrunchie made from the same fabric. You'd had to sacrifice your dress to fashion your accessories, but you're wearing maternity clothing now, and you likely won't be able to fit into it afterwards, anyways. It's a thing of the past, but you'd thought it unbearable not to incorporate the reason you'd gotten together with Bradley in the first place into your wedding.

"I don't care if he thinks it's dumb," Bradley drawls, his hand growing clammy from where it's been clutching yours beneath the table for almost an hour now, though he makes no move to break the embrace, "He thinks deodorant is dumb, too, and I can smell him from here."

"I'd watch what you say, Fanboy," Phoenix warns, "They made a onesie for the baby out of that dress, too, and if you keep running your mouth they might not let you hold her."

"He's not gettin' a chance to hold her anyways," Jake vows, "Kid's gonna love me so much she won't want me to put her down."

"You usually have the opposite effect on women," Bradley reminds him, "But the only ones I'll trust to hold her are Phoenix and Bob."

"No fair! I've got nieces and nephews," Jake protests, slightly more invested than normal thanks to the wine he's been nursing, his cheeks growing rosy with each sip, "I'm great with 'em."

"You throw those kids around like they're basketballs," Bradley scoffs, "And I'm not letting you give my baby brain damage, Hangman. I've gotta make sure she's smarter than you."