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the-ace-with-spades · 11 months

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I have the urge to write a seven-season-long medical drama, so here is a concept for Top Gun Hospital AU with ER hate-to-love hangster AU that no one asked for.

as a warning: this is a bit incohesive and silly

All the aviators are doctors and all the WSOs are nurses. With the exception of Bradley (but there’s an explanation for it).

Mav — cardiothoracic surgeon; Ice — former neurosurgeon and Chief of Surgery, current Head of Patient and Medical Services (so, entirely admin). I imagine they have the same kind of relationship as House and Cuddy in this, including Ice keeping an entire legal team for Mav’s unconventional practice methods. They've met during med school and had been rivals up until they both finished general surgery residency. Slider is an OR nurse turned anesthesia nurse. Goose was an ER nurse and met Mav during his rotation as a med student and died after an incident in the ER during Mav’s residency (that was the moment he switched from emergency medicine to surgery).

Phoenix — emergency, but she managed the impossible (like Mav) and switched from obgyn residency after the first year (only chose obgyn in the first place because of her mom, a renowned obgyn in Oregon), she's still really passionate about the obgyn field but didn't enjoy the work enough to do it for the rest of her life; Javy — general surgery; Payback — emergency with sub-spec in pediatrics; Friz — respiratory medicine; Omaha — oncology; Yale — ortho surgery.

Bob — a former OBGYN nurse, left because of a toxic work environment, working in the ER six months now, Phoenix's favorite nurse now, duh; Fanboy — started in peds oncology, had to switch because it was too hard on him mentally and is now peds emergency; Halo — started as a palliative care nurse, switched to oncology after a few years; Harvard — OR nurse, switched from general team to ortho

Hangman is the new trauma surgeon starting in their ER. Born and raised on a ranch, was expected to take over the ranch but never wanted to. Thankfully, he had too perfect grades to not send him to college — his parents wanted him to be a vet, which obviously didn’t happen, so he could stay close to the family business. He moved to California for his MD. He has terrible bedside manners with patients and patients’ family, but is surprisingly decent with kids, has lost respect for nurses sometime during his first residency year, and had a terrible case of Ego hit him during his trauma surg fellowship.

Now, about Rooster:

Bradley got into a pre-med program, Mav (who had set up Bradley’s college fund) said he’s not going to pay for it since he doesn’t want Bradley to be a doctor (long hours, lack of work-life balance, burnout, high stress, etc. It was more complicated because Mav still has the Goose trauma). So they had the fallout, Bradley moved out and deferred college to find a way to pay for it and, wanting to gather hospital experience, started working as a CNA in Peds ICU at a children’s hospital which accidentally was having a new CNA intake at the time. He liked it, actually loved it, and started hesitating whether he should continue with pre-med and be like Mav or go for nursing, like his dad. Year after, he got an offer from the hospital that said hey, we’ll fund some of your BSN as long as you work for us while you study and then work for us for another four years after getting your license. So he became a nurse, got certified as peds nurse after working two years in PICU and after another three, switched to the Pediatric Rapid Response Team, where he stayed for another two years before getting a spot as a senior nurse in adult/peds ER in a different hospital.

His relation to Mav and Ice only came to light a few months after the hiring process, as Bradley didn’t even know they worked there when he applied and it’s still a hash-hash topic in the ER. He’s been in the ER for almost three years now and has become an unofficial second-in-command as one of the few with substantial experience.

I imagine he’s definitely one the best nurses you could have as a patient — he’s honest but in an empathetic way, he’s worked in the most demanding environments with the most complex patients (ICU and RRT), he’s skilled and experienced in most procedures. Because he is one of the few male nurses, he’s the one dealing with inappropriate patients, aggressive patients, patients that need restraint, frequent flyers, etc. and he genuinely doesn’t mind — he is the perfect mix of calm and firm that makes him very reliable in most difficult situations. He is absolutely most reassuring and guiding with new stuff, be it new nurses or med students that don’t know what’s happening, and he doesn’t judge. It does help, too, that he was partially raised by two very cocksure surgeons and therefore knows how to deal with doctors that turned a bit too arrogant.

Before I go to the hangster part of this shit, I want y’all to know it all started because I found this Rooster-coded scrubs:

I imagine that he buys most of his scrubs since the work-issued scrubs don’t fit well on men (most unisex ones are very much just female fit stamped with unisex label) and peds nurses can have lots of cute ones so the kids feel less nervous around them

Also, this is a warning that yes, Bradley is trans in this scenario, too, because I said so. It's relevant to a few scenes, I think?? and there's tw for transphobic OC

Now, a bunch of scenarios I can see for this AU:

On the first day at his new workplace, Jake makes a reputation for himself. He confuses Nat, in her hospital-issued scrubs and with her doctor tag clearly on display, for a nurse and literally talks over her in front of a patient. Same thing happens with Billy because he’s Filipino and there is a large number of Filipino nurses everywhere and he’s stereotyping. Then he makes another patient’s parents agitated. This is when he meets Bradley — he takes over to talk to the parents and calm them down before it can escalate, basically shushing Jake out of the room. Jake doesn’t clock he’s a nurse at first — he’s a big, very fit, very well-built, very handsome dude with a questionable mustache who looks comical in a pastel pink scrub top with a teddy bear pattern and a matching headband on his forehead, but also the sheer shock of how different to all the nurses he looks gives Jake a pause — so he doesn’t say anything even if it pisses him off a nurse just forced him out of the room.

It starts innocently with Bradley though — Bradley comes up and asks, “Jake, can you put the narcotics order into the system for Lily?” and Jake scoffs and corrects, “Doctor,” tapping his full tag with Dr. Jacob Seresin.

Bradley, as the nurse’s tag says, raises an eyebrow and says, “Doctor Jake, can you put the narcotics order for Lily?” Natasha, standing behind him, snorts. Jake doesn’t even have the time to tell him off because he’s already gone when his brain processes.

Natasha drops off a patient on him — a taxi driver who had a stroke while driving and had been in a car accident, that had been thrombolysed but might need emergency surgery because of a suspected GI bleed. He’s stable, so they're going to check if he can be admitted to neurosurg and wait for his turn there or if Jake will need to take over before that.

Bradley hands him a tablet the minute he walks into the room.

“What’s that?”

“Results,” he supplies before going back to setting up an oxygen cylinder at the bottom of the bed.

“I didn’t order that,” he notes. The blood and urine panels are what he would order with suspected operable GI bleed but he’s barely looked at the patient’s case before he walked in there.

“I did,” Bradley tells him as he switches the oxygen from the wall socket to the tank supply. “Faster this way.”

“No,” Jake says, blood boiling. “You do exactly what I tell you to do and only that.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, high on her forehead. Bradley doesn’t hesitate — waves on Bob from behind the glass wall and they both grab each side of the bed.

“I supposed you want to put the CT order yourself then,” Bradley says as Bob takes the small back monitor and attaches it to the frame. He steps on the bed brake and rolls out the bed, straight into Jake and Nat, fast enough that he moves out of the way on instinct. “Better do it fast because it’s free now and I’m going.” *

“Did you see that? Who the heck does he think he is?” Jake asks Nat.

“Better put that CT scan order,” is all Natasha replies as she walks away.

It’s Reuben’s patient, an eleven years old boy with blunt trauma, and Jake makes a verbal order to Bradshaw, who is the boy’s nurse. “I understand but I think that—” and Jake goes, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

The whole room gets quiet and everyone looks to him — Reuben, Mickey, and the technician are wide-eyed.

Bradley just says, “Alright,” in a perfectly leveled voice and leaves the room.

Mickey is not making eye contact as he quips under his nose, on his way out of the room, “You do realize he basically runs this ER, right? You’re making your life a lot harder.”

Jake orders IV fluids for one of his patients which is also in Rooster’s section that day and he bleeps the order info to Rooster. Fifteen minutes later he sees that it hasn’t been filled and is like, hah, I knew there is a reason I hate that guy. Finds him when he passes Jake in the corridor and is like, “I want you to start the IV for room 7. Now,” and Rooster just tells him, “No, do it yourself or find someone else.”

They have a little back and forth as Jake follows him down the corridor which ends with another, “No.”

There’s still no charge nurse in the ER (she’s on medical leave that will most likely end with her leaving employment, from what Jake gathers) so he makes a datix and the ER nurse manager (Warlock) following up is apprehensive because obviously, he knows Bradley, and hears about what actually happened — Bradley was getting an igel for a toddler from the peds side and deemed it more important than starting a bag of saline to bust someone's blood pressure.

Jake feels like an idiot.

Jake and Reuben are charting next to each other and Reuben gets bleeped his patient’s lab results. Jake, who is also waiting for lab results, complains about how he sent a pod to the lab before Reuben. Reuben just gives him a look and says, “Yeah, that’s because I asked Bradley to put my request in.”

And Jake is like, “What does he have to do with anything?”

Reuben looks at him like he’s dumb and says, “He has more sway with the lab,” and walks away with his tablet.

Javy is doing a consult for Nat and stops to chat to Jake (they know each other from residency days) and Bradley comes by and says, “Maggie’s becoming hypotensive again,” and Javy observes as Jake looks at the nurse that came, gives him a very long, very detailed look and licks his lips.

He manages to think Oh before Jake asks, “Maggie?”

The nurse looks seconds from rolling his eyes. “Mrs. Lawrence? Room 5?”

“That's Margaret.”

“She prefers Maggie.”

And it goes on, with Jake standing there rigid, puffing up his chest and cocking his hip out. “Did you start the fluids?”

“Finshed already.”

“Start another bag.”

The nurse looks unimpressed and instead of confirming says, slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “Her fluid balance is positive. She’s usually on pressors.” Jake’s face gets red and he goes, “Then put an order for her.”

It’s kind of funny to observe and to be fair, the nurse does give Jake a minute to go over what he said, leaning his elbow on the counter, eyebrows raised, before he points out, in that damn slow, unimpressed tone, “I can't put orders for things like pressors."

He hands Jake the closest tablet and starts walking away.

Jake calls after him. "What, you're not even going to draft it for me?"

He doesn't even turn around and Javy is silently shaking from the laughter he's holding in, "I thought I wasn't allowed to do that, doctor."

Mav comes down to the ER to talk to Rooster on a slower day — about how they’re about to sponsor a new CRNA for the cardiothoracic surg unit and maybe he could put a good word for their development team for Bradley and yada yada.

It happens like that: Mav comes down, Bradley is charting next to the monitors station, Jake is going over a scan on the opposite side when The Dr. Mitchell himself comes down and stops next to Bradley. He gives Bradley and his pink Paw Patrol scrubs a look and clears his throat a couple of times before Bradley raises his gaze toward him, turning away a second later and ignoring him again.

Jake is freaking out — this is The Dr. Mitchell and one of the reasons Jake wanted to work in this exact hospital, along with the rumored to-be-announced cardiothoracic surg fellowship under Dr. Mitchell he had his eyes on. He’s been thinking about how to make contact with Dr. Mitchell since he started in the ER and here he is, telling unresponsive Bradshaw, “I heard you’re looking to go back for your Master’s in the near future.” Bradshaw doesn’t say anything and Dr. Mitchell adds, “We have a CRNA development spot for—” and Bradley tells him, not turning away from the screen, “I’m not an OR nurse,” and then taps his card on the computer’s reader to log out and walks away.

Dr. Mitchell is a fucking legend, a VIP of this hospital, so Jake just stands there, contemplating how the heck Bradshaw could do that and hears him mumbling under his breath, “Really slick, Mav,” and jumps on the opportunity to say, “I’ll be talking to his supervisor about this, his attitude is unacceptable, Dr. Mitchell.”

And Dr. Mitchell turns to him, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Excuse me?”

“The nurse you were talking to. He might be senior in here but his attitude’s been horrible and I’ll personally step in. This won’t happen again.”

Dr. Mitchell gives him a look before slowly saying, “I suggest you mind your own business, Dr. Seresin,” and walks away.

Nat is silently laughing a few feet away and Jake asks her what’s so funny. His heart dead-ass stops when she says, “You do know Dr. Mitchell is Bradley’s dad, right? They might not be on the best of terms but that’s still his son.” And Jake has the urge to bang his head on the keyboard in front of him.

TW for transphobia.

There’s a new nurse practitioner to be (graduated, about to get her cert) that's rumored to be a candidate for the charge nurse position. Izzy. She’s quite young for that, younger than Bradley for sure, must have barely worked in the clinical area before going for her Master’s. Jake doesn’t know if it’s on purpose but the nurse manager and Bradley keep on putting her in his section.

She’s—well, she’s a bit too in his face. She agrees with everything Jake says and doesn’t roll his eyes at him, which is boring, and she’s, for an NP, not that knowledgeable. She doesn’t argue with him, which is a change, and Jake starts to hate it after about five hours. Her voice is saccharine sweet, she keeps on standing a bit too close to him at all times, and she’s decent with patients, but she keeps on asking him about the smallest of things.

Jake’s section is less busy, usually, since he deals primarily with trauma in the ER, but she never bounces off to help others when she is free, like Bradley did. She’s clinging to his section, a little bit, and he doesn’t get why. It’s not like he is any nicer to her than to Bradley or any other nurse.

She is busy taking bloods and Bradley finds him when he has a second alone, finally, and enlightens him about why.

“If you don’t believe me, you can just ask any other nurse. Everyone noticed.”

“If you really think that then why do you keep putting her in my sections?”

“I don’t. She’s senior as an NP, she’s taken over allocation from me now.”

Jake’s mind only focuses on one detail. “You were allocating yourself to my sections?”

“Only because no one wants to work with you and because I’m actually certified in trauma.” That makes sense. It’s not like Bradley would work with him voluntarily. “Look, all I’m saying, you watch out — you fool around with her and then reject her and she’s going to HR. I know the type.”

“The type?”

“You know, the girl that thought she’ll become a nurse, snag a rich doctor and never work again? Well, it’s not always women, there are guys who do that too, but in this case, she’s very much the type.”

“And you think she’s trying to—snag me?”

“She’s certainly not going after the residents that are getting paid twelve bucks an hour or Reuben who is married,” he points out. Which, again, fair, even if he didn’t know Reuben is married prior to this strange conversation.

Jake stares at him, processing, until he blurts out, “I’m gay.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Bradley says after a second, eyes barely noticeably a bit wider, before he walks away.

“Was he bothering you, doctor?”

She calls him doctor, always, and it honestly makes him grit his teeth. Now even more. He’s got a bad feeling about it.

It gets confirmed later when Jake is taking care of a six-year-old girl who had fallen down the stairs. She’s dehydrated and Izzy’s just tried to put a cannula on her three times before Jake told her to grab the bedside ultrasound and not make the girl cry even more.

Bradley passes by the room and Jake’s learned that he can’t leave a distressed child alone, so he comes in and gets the parents and the girl relaxed. He’s about to go in and tell him to leave it alone until Izzy brings the ultrasound when Nat grabs him by the arm and tells him, “He was in a Rapid Response Team, I’m pretty sure he can put a cannula in blind. Just let him do it.”

And he does let him. Watches, expecting the girl to burst into tears at any moment but she never does. Bradley’s literally been in the room for less than ten minutes and it’s all back to calmness.

Izzy comes back with the ultrasound. It should not have taken her so long to grab it. “What is he doing there? That's my patient.”

"He said he can put the IV line without the ultrasound.” Well, Nat said so. Jake can’t believe he’s saying but, “He’s a peds nurse, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure the girl's parents wouldn’t want him anywhere near her.”

This sets alarm bells in Jake’s head. “What do you mean?”

"People like him shouldn't be around kids," she says, to his horror. She leans in, way closer than needed, and conspiringly whispers, "Dr. Seresin, haven't you known that he is, you know, a she in disguise?"

He’s dumbstruck. "I'm sorry?"

"He's actually a woman, just pretending to be a man because he's mentally—You're the doctor, I'm sure you know better than I how the brains of people like them work. He shouldn't be around that girl, is what I'm saying. I certainly wouldn't like him around my child, if I had one."

Jake didn’t know this about Bradley but he understands what she means, even with how awful she is about it. This, however, should not be a piece of information thrown around in public if Bradley didn't wish to disclose it, and certainly not in such a manner. "And how do you know that, exactly?"

"Nurses share a locker room, it's not hard to notice how she, you know, mutilated herself."

Jake doesn’t say anything out loud but mentally he is preparing datix report in his head. He catches the ER’s nurse manager before he goes home, too, because that’s some shit he doesn’t stand for. He might be an asshole but he’s not a bigot.

Next time he comes to work, Bradley is back in his section and Izzy is no longer employed.

“Thanks,” Bradley says, when they’re at the station, next to each other, in a relatively slow moment. “If I went on my own, we’d have a weeks-long investigation that would probably end with her or me moving to a different unit.”

“She said this shit to your face?”

“Kept calling me she in front of patients,” Bradley admits after a moment. “I think most of them thought they misheard but—I knew.”

“Well, good riddance then.”

Bradley snorts, but he’s looking down at the tablet in his hands, smiling, and wow, the apples of his cheeks are so round and his eyes so bright and Jake can't breathe for a second.

---

(there might be a second part coming because I meant seven-season-long medical drama literally-- including Jake realizing he's an idiot, Mavdad drama, Jake having his hands inside Bradley (in the literal, surgical sense) and jealousy that could rival the McDreamy/Dr. Grey drama)

#this is unrealistic b/c its a med soap drama-like #not the actual chaos of er-like #as in med nonsense to be precise #also I don't know how american ers work #ive talked to a trauma surgeon twice in my life so sorry #i’ve mostly written it while trying to stay awake in the break room at 2am or to not fall asleep on the bus home #still having cluster headaches btw we're just too short-staffed to not go to work even if I have to sit out for an hour in the break room #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangster #icemav mention #tgm #tgm au #trans bradley rooster bradshaw #<< im going to fill that tag even if it takes me years #op #charlie writes #hangster hospital au

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

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Livewire (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader, Reader is Hangman's Ex

Word Count: 2794

TW: Fluff, First Meetings, Best Friend with an Ex, Flirting, Mentions of Cheating, Explicit Language

Note: Thank you to the anon who requested "Rooster takes a liking to Hangman's Ex" 💖

Part 1, Part 2 (coming soon!)

Top Gun Masterlist

From the moment Rooster stepped into the bar, he was second-guessing his decision to come back. Phoenix had given him a warm welcome (before jabbing him harshly with a pool cue) and there were some nice enough new guys he had just been introduced to. However, before he could even grab his first beer, Hangman was already all over him with subtle jabs and sarcastic comments. Rooster couldn’t deny the man was an excellent pilot, but he was also a selfish, narcissistic, jackass who got on his nerves more than anyone else he had ever met.

And this opinion was only reinforced when Hangman looked down his nose at the rest of the cadets and asked, “Who’s gonna be team leader? And which one of ya’ll has what it takes to follow me?”

Rooster opened his mouth to make a comeback when another voice sounded from over his shoulder. “I don’t know, Jake. Last time I let you lead we almost ended up under arrest for flying in restricted airspace. Think you can do better this time?”

All eyes turned as another cadet strolled up to the group. Rooster didn’t recognize you but there was something about the way you carried yourself that made him take notice. Though not as intimidating looking as most of the guys in the room, you stood as if you owned the space and dared anyone to try and take it from you. But while that attitude seemed egotistical or arrogant on someone like Hangman, your half-smile and the gleam in your eyes teased a more playful side to you as well. Rooster sat up straighter in his seat, instantly intrigued.

However, he wasn’t the only one taking interest in you. Hangman’s eyes grew wide and a stunned smile spread across his face. “No fucking way. Livewire? Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He dropped the pool cue onto the table and immediately scooped you into his arms. You squealed and laughed as he spun you around.

Fanboy nudged Payback as he muttered, “Dude, Livewire’s here? I thought she was on some top-secret mission overseas?”

Rooster leaned in so you and Hangman wouldn’t overhear as the two of you caught up. “Who is she?”

“She was the top of the class our year. Apparently, she and Hangman used to be a thing a few years before that. Since our class was the one directly after your guys’, he was brought up a few times and she sort of mentioned their past. Seems they were pretty serious at one point.”

Rooster looked over at you and Hangman, his arms still around your waist as you rested your hand on his chest. “And now?”

Both Fanboy and Payback just shrugged, and Rooster sighed. Anyone who would date Hangman probably wasn’t someone he was going to get along with. Any excitement he had felt when he first laid eyes on you quickly faded. It seemed as if you were going to be just one more person for him to butt heads with.

However, as the evening passed, he noticed you weren’t like Hangman at all. You reconnected with Fanboy and Payback as the three of you swapped stories of your time at Top Gun together. You chatted excitedly to Bob about his position at the Naval Air Station in Lemore and how he felt about being here. You and Phoenix had a hushed conversation that involved a lot of pointing and laughing at the male cadets. And when Rooster had settled down at the piano to play “Great Balls of Fire”, you were right next to him belting out the song at the top of your lungs.

Yet, it still came as a surprise when you came over to him towards the end of the night and smiled brightly as you said, “So, mister piano man. You’re the infamous Rooster, huh? Jake’s mentioned you before.”

Rooster gave you a tightlipped smile. “All good things I hope.”

“I wouldn’t say that. But I know how he gets so I’m not putting too much stock into it.” You laughed softly. “Besides, I’ve also heard about you from other people, and from what they say about your skills in a plane, I think it was just his jealousy talking. I can’t wait to see what you can do up there with my own eyes.” You smiled as you trailed your hand down his arm. “I’m gonna go grab another beer. Do you want one?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

You winked at him. “Be right back.”

Rooster watched as you headed to the bar, leaning across it to get the bartender’s attention. He had expected you to be just as belittling and stuck up as your ex, yet not only were you being kind and supportive to everyone here, but you were admitting you recognized Hangman’s flaws instead of supporting them. Maybe you weren’t the person he thought you were.

When you returned, you handed him his beer and settled into the seat next to him. For a moment, the two of you just sipped your drinks in silence until Rooster finally cleared his throat. “So…. you and Hangman, huh?”

You shook your head with a soft chuckle. “I guess word travels fast around here. Yeah, we were together, but it was a long time ago. We met back when we were both at the Naval Academy and we started dating. But once we graduated, it only lasted a few months. Now we’re just really close friends.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shrugged. “Everything was fine while we were physically together at the academy but as soon as we got separate assignments far away from each other, things sort of fell apart. I thought he was cheating on me, and he thought I was cheating on him. So, in the end, we just broke up. It was insanely messy. But about a year after that, we ran into each other at a Naval banquet, talked things out, and we’ve been close friends again ever since.”

“Wow, I’m sorry he didn’t trust you.”

You laughed. “Oh no, neither one of us should have trusted the other. We were both sleeping with a lot of different people.”

“What? Really?” Rooster stared at you in surprise, both at the fact you were a serial cheater and the fact that you would so freely admit that to someone you had just met.

You shrugged again. “We were both in our early twenties, traveling all over the world, meeting new people all the time and we were never in the same location together. Plus, we thought we were pretty hot shit back then.” You glanced over at Hangman and chuckled. “Well, Jake still thinks that.”

“And you don’t?”

“Nah. I got knocked down a few pegs when I was trying to show off on a mission. I almost got shot down and that would have compromised everything. Luckily, my wingman was able to cover my ass and he completed the mission for me. After that, it kind of sobered me up and I straightened out. That’s when I got into Top Gun originally and the rest is history. But I still have a wild streak every once and a while in case you were wondering.” You winked at Rooster as you took a sip of your beer, and he couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face.

It seemed as if he might have judged you too quickly based on your relationship with Hangman. You weren’t like him at all. In fact, there was just something about you that was unlike anyone else Rooster had ever met. You were confident yet not cocky. Snarky yet not cruel. Intelligent yet not belittling. You were a mess of contradictions, and Rooster needed to figure them all out.

But before he could ask you another question, a voice cut him off. “Bradshaw! Are you flirting with my number one girl over here?” Hangman appeared at your side and threw his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in close to him.

You rolled your eyes and shoved him away playfully. “Oh, come on, Jakey. Calm down. We’re just talking. Don’t get jealous.”

“Jealous? Of Rooster here? I doubt it. Besides, I wouldn’t hold your breath with him. By the time he works up the courage to make a move, we’ll all be old and retired. Rooster has a tendency of waiting for the right moment even though it never comes.” Hangman narrowed his eyes slightly with a smirk.

But it quickly faded as you smacked his arm. “Well, who says I need him to make the first move? Or are you forgetting I’m the one who kissed you first? Besides, maybe I need someone a little more cautious and less reckless in my life.” You smiled at Rooster, but Hangman wasn’t letting it go.

He scoffed, “He couldn’t handle you. There’s a reason they call you Livewire.”

“Yeah, and there’s a reason they call you Hangman. So, drop it, Jake. You don’t have a say in what I do with my life anymore or who I become friends with.”

Hangman opened his mouth to respond, but Rooster cut him off. “Listen, I don’t need to be in the middle of whatever this is between you two. I just came here to relax, meet up with some old friends, and grab a drink before things start getting intense in the next few weeks. But since that doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anymore, I’m just going to head back to base. See you tomorrow.”

Rooster downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp then turned and walked out the bar, ignoring the arguing he heard coming from behind him.

However, he was only to the side of the building when he heard you calling after him. “Hey, Rooster! Wait up!”

Reluctantly, he stopped walking as you hurried to catch up to him. “Hey.”

“Thanks for waiting. Listen, I know there’s already some tension or animosity between you and Jake and I totally get that. Jake can be…. a lot. Well, more accurately, he can be an asshole.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’ll talk to him and get him to back off some. He’s just being a little protective over me because we still care about each other, and he just really doesn’t like you. However, from what I’ve seen tonight, you seem like a great guy. I just don’t want my friendship with Jake to sour the chance for us to get to know each other a little better.”

Rooster nodded softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, I wouldn’t want that. I like what I’ve seen of you so far too.”

You grinned, a playful glint sparkling in your eyes. Gesturing down to your outfit, you said, “If this is impressing you, just wait until I’m out of uniform. You ain’t seen nothing yet….. but I have a feeling you might soon. Goodnight.” You winked at him and slowly backed away, leaving Rooster standing there stunned and not quite sure what had just happened.

But as he stood there trying to figure it out, he realized he never paid you for the beers. Quickly hurrying after you, he skidded to a stop as he heard familiar voices coming from just around the corner.

“Hey, we need to talk.”

“Hey, Jake, what’s up? Is something wrong?” you asked.

Rooster carefully peeked his head around the side of the building to see you and Hangman standing close together at the edge of the parking lot. Hangman reached out and took your hand. “We need to talk about us. Now that we’re gonna be here together for the next month, maybe we could try working something out. Maybe this time-”

However, you cut him off with a sad sigh as you pulled your hand away. “Jake, just stop, okay? We both know that’s not gonna work. I love you and I will always love you. But…. I don’t think I can ever be in love with you again. And if you’re honest with yourself, I don’t think that’s really what you want anyway. You like the idea of us together, but the reality is so much different than the thought. We just don’t work as a couple. When we tried it again last year, we almost ruined everything we had built between us and I don’t want that to happen again. You were too jealous, I was too controlling, and it’s all because neither one of us really trusts each other after what happened the first time. We need to just be friends, best friends, but nothing more.”

“I know.” Hangman stared down at the ground, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You’re right. I do love you, but not in that way. Not anymore. I think I’m just afraid of losing what we have if you find someone else. And I do want you to be happy, really I do. But do you seriously have to go out with Rooster of all people?” Rooster’s head snapped to attention. Since when was that decided?

You must have had a similar thought as your brow scrunched in confusion. “Who said anything about going out with him? We just met tonight and all we did was talk. You were the one who brought up him making a move!”

“Yeah, but you like him, I can tell.”

Now it was your turn to look shyly down at the ground. “I mean, it wasn’t a long conversation or anything, but yeah, I do. He seems to know who he is, and he owns it. I like that. And I know you two have your differences or whatever, but if something were to happen between us, I’m not going to not see him because of that. I respect your opinion, Jake, but if I didn’t date any guy you had friction with, I might as well join a nunnery.”

“I’m not that bad!” Your ex scoffed.

“Of all the people here, the only people you like are me and Coyote. That’s it. And I heard you tell Coyote that he better not try anything with me. So, who does that leave me with?”

“Fine. I get your point. I’ll try to behave.”

You grabbed his chin between your fingers and squeezed it playfully before planting a kiss on his cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

Hangman sighed dejectedly. “But could you at least not try rubbing it in my face. I don’t need to see you guys making out or whatever in front of me all the time.”

“Oh, come on, Jakey! Don’t spoil all my fun! I was planning on sneaking in tonight and making out with Rooster on your bed. Then having sex with him in the cockpit of your plane in the morning.” Rooster knew you were joking, but he still felt his face grow red as he shifted, flustered at the mental image you had just created in his head.

Hangman pretended to gag. “Ugh! Don’t even make me think about that! Just…. don’t do that and I’ll deal with whatever else you want to do.”

You smiled and placed another soft kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Jake. And I know seeing me possibly with someone else can be tough, so I will try my best not to flaunt anything that might end up happening between me and anyone else.”

“Thanks,” Hangman grumbled softly. Then he dug his keys out of his pocket and said, “It’s late and we have an early morning tomorrow. We should both probably get some sleep.”

“Good idea.” You took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “It’s good to see you in person again, and I’m glad we’re able to go through this together, whatever this mission is.”

Hangman smiled. “Yeah, I’m glad too. But watch your back because that team leader spot is mine!”

“We’ll just have to see about that,” you chuckled. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“’Nite, Livewire.”

Rooster stared at your back as you watched Hangman disappear into the darkness. Then, without turning around, you called out, “So, now that we have his blessing, what do you think, Rooster? Dinner tomorrow night after our training? Just the two of us?”

Rooster froze as he realized you must have known he had been here the whole-time listening in. But you were still asking him to dinner so that was a good sign… he guessed. In a hesitant, yet excited voice, he said, “Yeah. I would really like that.”

And though you still didn’t turn to face him as you started to walk away, Rooster could hear the smile in your voice as you said, “Good. It’s a date.”

I might do a Part 2 for this if there is interest. So, let me know! 🥰

Taglist: @valoraxx, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks

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sunderlust · 2 years

Text

this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)

masterlist part 1 | part 2 | part 3 pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you) warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol. wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)

The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks.

“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”

On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh.

You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller.

On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen.

“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.

“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside.

“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric.

“You need another outlet.”

You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-”

“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly.

You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.”

Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.”

You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.”

“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.

“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.”

You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years?

Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join.

Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave.

Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch.

Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.

“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.”

Cam and Cher share another weird look.

At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people.

“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend.

“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person?

But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs.

“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms.

“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says.

Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-

“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you.

You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him.

He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.”

You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is.

Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses.

A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.”

“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.”

She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.”

You’re confused. “Phoenix?”

“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything.

“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you.

“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?”

“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.”

“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs.

“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.”

He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-”

“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.”

You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever.

“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot.

“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed.

“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back.

“Guess we do,” he says shortly.

Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.”

“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously.

“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away.

At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?”

“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.”

You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat.

A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.

You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?”

“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer.

“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out.

“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out.

Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman.

Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around.

“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side.

“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.”

Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.

“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob.

Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues.

The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and-

Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!”

You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that).

They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine.

You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up.

Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return.

After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees.

You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks.

Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?”

“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman.

“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground.

You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this.

“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.”

Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?”

You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him.

“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!”

After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully.

“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time.

“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.”

Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly,

She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then.

“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster.

“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous.

You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.”

“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand.

You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.”

“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow.

She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?”

You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.”

She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”

“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face.

“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building.

You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella.

“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him.

He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.”

You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?”

He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.”

You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are.

You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?”

You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan.

He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.”

You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.”

“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?”

You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-”

He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-”

“I just got so angry-”

“As you should be-”

“And things have just been so hard lately-”

“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”

“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.

“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.

A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile.

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully.

“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.”

Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"

"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking.

“Why?” he asks.

"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”

You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.”

“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.

“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.”

Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh.

“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-”

“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember.

Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe.

“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.”

You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”

“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”

The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is.

“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down.

You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.”

Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand.

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?”

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?”

You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.”

“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”

“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.”

“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”

“The devil- Oh REAL clever.”

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent.

He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends.

Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future.

You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time.

Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo.

“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?”

“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”

“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.”

“I- what? Who gave you my address?”

“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up.

Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”).

“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.

“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses.

While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console.

He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach

“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot.

“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-”

“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.”

“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?”

He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-”

“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh.

“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens.

You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point).

Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.

“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk.

“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense.

The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up.

After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.

After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"

"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you.

"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."

“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?”

Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly.

“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again.

Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves.

When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”

You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.

“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”

A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.”

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.”

You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off.

He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-”

He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”

You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly.

He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.”

The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you.

“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.

Sweet niblets.

Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.

It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space.

Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”

Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.

“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”

He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”

A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.

“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”

You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.

Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea.

You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”

Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”

Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck. I gotta go, I think.”

“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls.

“They’re not adventures, hon-“

“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”

“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.

~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #topgun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #mine #tw suicide mention

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 2 years

Text

ch. 1: A Safe Place to Land - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x nurse!reader

Summary: 3.7k words. After an unexpected break-up with her long term boyfriend, y/n had one goal: to keep her head down and finish her travel nursing contract as soon as possible. That was until Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw derailed her plan entirely. Just as y/n finished picking up the pieces of her broken heart, Rooster came along and showed y/n what it’s like to be loved again–if only she’ll let him in.

Warnings: descriptions of injury, medical situations, cursing, alcohol mentions, cheating (previous relationship), very self-indulgent for yours truly

a/n: hi y'all! this idea has been bouncing around in the back of my mind (read: it lives rent free in my head & i constantly fantasize ab it) for almost a month now & i'm finally ready to start sharing it whoop whoop :) i hope you enjoy, please lmk what you think!

series master list | master list

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw had gone three months without winding up in the hospital since returning from the mission that originally called him back to Top Gun. Three whirlwind months in which he’d finally been able to plant some roots after making the Top Gun base his home base—or really, as much of a home as a naval aviator could find. He was constantly being called away for missions all over the world, but for once he had some place to call home.

In the past few months, he’d defied death more often than not and pushed himself to his limits, things that could’ve led him to crash and burn right into a hospital bed. So what was it that brought him back to the hospital?

Routine F18 maintenance.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on Bradley as he waited in an ER exam room at the on-base hospital. The bleeding from the deep gash on his arm had mostly stopped, but there was no doubt that he needed stitches. The gauze from the poorly stocked first aid kit in the hanger he’d been working in wouldn’t be sufficing for much longer, so he hoped someone would be in to stitch him up soon.

His prayers were answered by a short y/h/c nurse knocking on the exam room door before she entered. The woman immediately drew Rooster in, the attraction was practically magnetic. Carole Bradshaw raised her son to be a gentleman, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes trailed up and down the stranger’s body as he checked her out. Maybe it was the way the fluorescent hospital lighting highlighted her features and gave her a natural glow, something Rooster thought would be impossible given the clinical coldness of the room’s fixtures. More likely, it was the way she carried herself. Tough but soft, friendly but guarded, hardy but not hardened.

“Bradley Bradshaw?” she asked rhetorically as she took in the man. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he was tall. His khaki uniform did little to cover the way his golden tan skin stretched over his large biceps. “My name is y/n. I’ll be your nurse today,” she introduced herself as she pulled medical supplies out of a closet.

“Rooster,” he corrected with a smirk.

“What?” her brow furrowed and she paused to look at the Navy man.

“My call sign is Rooster,” he said proudly. The characteristic naval aviator confidence oozed off of the man; y/n had seen this attitude countless times before, but Bradley made it look sexy. She hummed lightly as she approached his bedside to place gauze and isopropyl alcohol she had retrieved down.

“Ahh, Navy lingo,” she said simply. Rooster let out a confused chuckle.

“You say that like you’re not serving as well.” y/n looked over her shoulder from the sink where she was watching her hands.

“I’m not, actually. Civilian travel nurse contract,” she clarified as she walked towards Bradley once again.

“How’d you end up here, then?” Rooster winced at the sting of the antiseptic on his open wound. y/n let out a humorless laugh.

“That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got a little bit of time, sweetheart.” y/n rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from the pet name. y/n was a professional, but she’d have to be blind to not notice how attractive Rooster was.

“It’s not a story I can tell sober either,” her eyes briefly met his before her focus returned to cleaning his wound.

Rooster was never one to be shy or nervous around women, much less one he just met, but he found himself needing a mental pep talk before he spoke again.

“Let me buy you a drink then,” his cocky grin and the aviator sunglasses perched on his nose gave him the illusion of confidence he typically felt. y/n loud out a laugh. It wasn’t from a place of malice, but more shock than anything else. This Greek God of a man wanted to buy her a drink??

Nevertheless, y/n had a reputation to uphold. While this by far wasn’t the first drink offer she’d turned down from a patient, it was the one she wished she would’ve taken the most. If she had met him anywhere else, she would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. A little flirting was harmless though.

“Mm mm, you’re gonna have to try harder than that, Bradshaw.”

Rooster lifted a hand to his chest, feigning as though he'd been wounded, only breaking character once he felt the sting of alcohol again.

“We’re back to Brashaw already? Damn, you’re tough to crack,” y/n tried to hide the amused smirk on her face, but Rooster caught it before it disappeared. A short-lived comfortable silence fell between the two as y/n worked on cleaning Rooster’s wound.

“For a highly trained fighter pilot, you sure are clumsy,” y/n teased, referring to the wound he received while working on his jet. A smug smirk of her own graced her face as she began disposing of the gauze and materials she used to clean Rooster’s wound.

“I’m very good with my hands, I was just off my game today,” Rooster replied without missing a beat. y/n didn’t miss the innuendo in his comment and she found herself blushing uncontrollably. The flush on her cheeks was confirmation enough to Rooster that he’d gotten through to her. y/n cleared her throat before addressing the aviator again.

“The doctor will be in to stitch you up shortly, they’ll give you aftercare instructions and let you know when you need to come back to have the stitches removed,” y/n explained, resuming her professional demeanor.

Just before exiting the exam room, y/n tapped her clipboard against the door frame.

“Stay safe out there, Rooster,” she teased before exiting, leaving an uncharacteristically smitten Rooster in her wake.

Just over a week later, Rooster sat waiting in an ER exam room once again, this time to have his stitches removed. The aviator came straight to the hospital after a long day of training, still in his flight suit. Admittedly, he could have taken the time to change into something more hospital-appropriate, but he was anxious to see y/n again. Hence the reason he made it from the Top Gun hanger to the base hospital in a record-breaking 3 minutes.

Rooster’s head whipped towards the door when a quick succession of knocks broke him from his train of thought. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face once his favorite nurse came into view.

“Rooster, what a nice surprise,” y/n greeted with a genuine smile. The pair locked eyes for a second longer than might’ve been considered appropriate, but neither of them seemed to care. y/n reviewed his chart quickly, seeing that he just needed to have his stitches removed. y/n was secretly glad that he wasn’t injured again, which she tried to rationalize in her mind as it being totally normal to care about the well-being of my patients.

As y/n gathered supplies to take out his sutures, she sized Rooster up. Mostly for medical reasons, but partly for her own viewing pleasure.

“Strip, Bradshaw,” y/n ordered with a completely straight face. Her poker face cracked when Rooster’s eyes widened in shock, causing a satisfied chuckle to escape the nurse. Rooster rolled his eyes but played along.

“At least take me out to dinner first!” Rooster replied dramatically, earning a snort from y/n. She then motioned for him to take off the top half of his flight suit to give her access to his stitched-up arm. The tight-fitting white tank top Rooster wore underneath his flight suit was revealed as he shrugged out of the sleeves, leaving little to the imagination. y/n knew Rooster had defined muscles from seeing his arms alone, but watching the thin white fabric stretch over his defined pecs and abs gave a whole new meaning to built.

The smell of jet fuel made y/n wrinkle her nose as she approached Rooster’s bedside with a small rolling stool in tow. This time around the antiseptic didn’t sting as y/n carefully cleaned his arm, but Rooster still found himself tensing under y/n’s gentle touch. y/n handled the forceps and surgical scissors with a mastered ease as she removed his stitches. By the second stitch, Rooster psyched himself up enough to ask y/n out again.

“So, about that drink?” Rooster asked casually with a small smile on his face. y/n chuckled. The butterflies are back.

“You just don’t give up, do you, Bradshaw?” Amusement was evident in y/n’s tone and a smile of her own graced her lips. For once, a patient asking her out didn’t make her uncomfortable or roll her eyes.

“Persistence pays off, darlin’,” Rooster responded with a megawatt smile. y/n looked up from his arm for the first time since she’d started removing the stitches. His words and smile might’ve been playful, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his eyes.

y/n maintained a laser focus as she removed the final stitch. Once it was out, she applied antibiotic ointment to the healing wound with a gentleness that was foreign to Rooster. y/n didn’t miss the way Rooster’s muscles flexed under his golden tan skin as she placed a fresh bandage on his arm.

“This might leave a scar,” y/n warned as she began cleaning up the used supplies.

“Chicks dig scars though,” Rooster replied proudly, puffing out his chest sarcastically. y/n laughed unabashedly and Rooster swore it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

For a fleeting moment, it was quiet in the exam room. The stretch and smack of y/n removing her nitrile gloves broke Rooster from his thoughts, giving him a somber reminder that his time with y/n had come to an end. Just as Rooster stood from the hospital bed, y/n turned on her heel to face him once again.

“Where am I drinking for free tonight?” y/n asked casually as she failed to hide her small devious grin. The victorious grin spread across Rooster’s sun-kissed face was infectious, leading y/n to break into a small smile of her own.

“The Hard Deck,” he replied quickly, confidence radiating from him. y/n knew he was tall from his chart notes, but the height difference between the two of them became very apparent as he sauntered over towards her. y/n swallowed heavily as she craned her neck up to meet his eyes again, but Rooster knew better than to call her out on it.

“Nine?” y/n asked to clarify their meeting time as she led him towards the discharge desk. She tried to stifle her smile but failed pathetically, much to Rooster’s delight

“9 works great for me,” Rooster replied, a grin still gracing his face.

y/n hadn’t been out since she moved and started her job at the Navy base hospital a month ago. At the end of most days, she was exhausted from her long shifts at the hospital; to y/n, this was reason enough to stay in with a glass of wine and an episode of Criminal Minds. Staying in and away from the outside world also proved to be helpful in her ongoing feat to avoid her ex-boyfriend.

So when Bradley asked her out the first time last week, she was apprehensive at best. First and foremost, she doesn’t go out with patients (well, didn’t until now). But in the back of her mind, she also worried that she might run into the exact man she’d been avoiding, especially since Rooster and her ex had at least one thing in common: being in the Navy.

The second time that Rooster asked y/n out, she decided that if she was going to make an exception to the no-dating-patients-rule, she would choose Bradley Bradshaw, hands down. The man was a walking Renaissance sculpture with a good sense of humor. He was clearly a talented aviator, and from what y/n could tell, he seemed to have a good heart–even if it was buried beneath a tough guy act.

y/n also decided that she was done hiding from her ex. From that moment forward, she refused to put her life on hold. What better way to do that than to go on a date in a bar frequented by Navy men?

When y/n walked into The Hard Deck, it was a few minutes past nine o’clock. y/n might have spent some extra time getting ready for a certain Lieutenant, but also figured it couldn’t hurt to make the confident aviator wait a bit. For the first time in weeks, y/n was wearing something other than scrubs or leggings for her first night out off-base. Her curve-hugging denim shorts and summery blouse felt refreshing and empowering, giving her the confidence she needed to wade through the packed bar.

y/n wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she’d unintentionally drawn the attention of more than a few Navy men as she leaned against the bar. Her own attention, however, was captured by the tail end of an energetic performance of Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Great Balls of Fire”. Rowdy cheers and hollers erupted from the group of people crowded around the piano as the final chord of the song rang out. The energy in the bar was magnetic and y/n found herself smiling as she scanned the rest of the bar.

Once the applause and laughter died down and the jukebox was plugged back in, y/n turned to look towards the piano again. Lo and behold, the man who stood up from the piano bench was none other than Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. Much to y/n’s delight, she found that Rooster looked just as good out of uniform as he did in uniform. When Rooster’s eyes met y/n’s from across the bar, a boyish grin took over his face.

In just a few quick strides, Rooster stood beside y/n at the bar top. Damn him and his long legs. The pair exchanged coy smiles; the lines of what was and wasn’t ‘okay’ were very blurry. Rooster wanted nothing more than to wrap his arm around y/n’s waist and pull her to a quieter corner of the bar, but he’d be damned if he moved too quickly and made her uncomfortable when he’d just managed to successfully ask her out.

The bartender approached the pair with a friendly smile. It became clear that Rooster knew her well when he flashed her one of his signature grins y/n was becoming familiar with.

“This lovely lady’s drinks will be on my tab tonight, Penny,” Rooster greeted with a casual confidence that stirred up the butterflies in y/n’s stomach. Penny nodded and greeted y/n with a smile before retrieving the beers they ordered. To Rooster’s surprise, y/n preferred the same dark ale beers he’d become accustomed to drinking.

The two of them relocated to a booth towards a quieter corner of the bar. Here, they could talk without yelling to be heard, but they were still close enough for the lively bar chatter to fill any awkward pauses.

“You look good, y/n,” Rooster complimented, doing little to hide the way his eyes flitted across her face and down her figure. y/n blushed and smiled against her beer bottle and returned the favor. She unabashedly admired the way his sun-kissed hair formed golden brown curls that framed his face and the way his biceps filled out his Hawaiian shirt very well.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” y/n teased with a flirty smile as she brought her bottle forward to clink against Rooster’s.

The pair exchanged pleasantries, asking about each other’s days and other ‘easy’ topics. The conversation wasn’t boring by any means, but both Rooster and y/n were hungry for more. Rooster decided to dive in first, clearing his throat and hoping he wasn’t about to cross a line.

“Truth is, I want to know how a civilian travel nurse ended up at a Naval base. But I have a feeling you aren’t going to give in that easily,” he began, smirking when y/n confirmed his suspicions with a nod before taking another swig from her beer bottle. “How about 20 questions?” Bradley offered as an alternative. y/n grinned big. It wasn’t a competition of course, but if being an ER nurse taught y/n anything, it was how to ask good questions and draw wild stories out of people.

“Bring it on, Bradshaw.”

Rooster and y/n spent the next hour talking about everything, from their respective careers to childhood memories. For a brief moment, they touched on how they got their scars. For y/n, the burn scar on her wrist came from a holiday baking incident. Rooster, on the other hand, had a much cooler, albeit scarier explanation for one of his scars. y/n didn’t miss the fact that the aviator across from her had quite a few scars, but she tried not to dwell on it too much.

The Hard Deck’s naval patrons slowly started filtering out of the bar in preparation for early wakeup calls the following morning, but Rooster had no intention of ending his conversation with y/n anytime soon.

By the end of their 20 questions game y/n felt comfortable enough–with the help of her liquid courage–to open up about how she ended up working at a hospital on a Navy base as a civilian. y/n tried to keep the mood lighthearted before she began her story, but Rooster caught a glimpse of the somber look in her eyes.

“I-, uh, my boyfriend of two years got transferred to this base. So rather than do the whole long distance relationship thing, I decided to relocate with him,” y/n wore a soft smile as she spoke. She had fond memories of her ex-boyfriend. Had, past tense, being the operative word. “It all happened fast. I signed a four-month contract to work at the hospital here, we applied to rent a small house just off-base, and we were- we were happy.”

y/n cleared her throat before she started speaking again. Rooster wasn’t a behavioral analyst, not by a long shot, but he could tell y/n wasn’t as carefree as she was moments ago

“A few days before we moved, I came home early to surprise him,” y/n paused to let out a bitter chuckle. “I found him hooking up with a woman from his squadron in our bed. A last hurrah, I guess,” she mocked. y/n looked up at Bradley to see his shocked expression. Fuck, had she said too much? Was she too honest? Rooster quickly schooled his features when he saw y/n’s vulnerable expression. His heart ached for her, but more than anything, he was dumbfounded that y/n’s ex not only let her get away, but cheated on her.

y/n explained that it was too late to break her nursing contract, so she ended up moving by herself. The first few weeks were brutal, not that she admitted this to Bradley. In a way, y/n felt like she had something to prove. She wanted to show her ex and herself that she wasn’t a coward and that she wouldn’t run and hide, especially from the man who disrespected her by cheating. y/n filtered the last bit out while she got stuck in her thoughts.

“Jesus,” Rooster muttered with wide eyes. He cursed into his beer bottle as he raised it to his lips and shook his head. For having been cheated on and getting out of a two-year relationship so recently, y/n seemed surprisingly unfazed. If anything, she seemed relieved after telling Rooster and getting it all off her chest.

“I- shit, I don’t even know what to say… I’m sorry he put you through that. You deserve better,” Rooster said definitively. y/n briefly locked eyes with him and seriousness in his gaze took her by surprise. Between his voice and unwavering expression, y/n came to a startling conclusion–Bradley Bradshaw actually cared. The butterflies in y/n’s stomach stirred once again, but she knew she had to tread with caution to save herself more heartache.

A strange silence fell between them; it wasn’t tense or comfortable either, but it was far from neutral. As it settled further, y/n realized what it felt like: understanding. Something as simple as a few quiet moments in a bar after pouring her heart out had her feeling lighter than she had in years. A relieved breath blew past her lips and shoulders lifted a bit. When she finally met Bradley’s eyes again she saw nothing but sincerity. y/n realized she might already be a goner for this man.

“Thank you,” y/n breathed out with a small smile.

“For what?” Bradley’s eyes moved across y/n’s face as she searched for the right words. The way she bit her lip while she was thinking had Bradley shifting in his barstool.

“For hearing me out. Letting me get that off my chest,” y/n clarified. Despite reliving one of the worst moments of her adult life just minutes ago, she felt good. She felt good with Rooster, and that was a scary thought. She wasn’t ready to be close to anyone just yet.

“Anytime, y/n,” Bradley smiled and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. There was an undeniable spark when they touched and they both felt it. That much was clear by the way they quickly locked eyes when their fingers interlaced.

The pair moved on to lighter conversation topics for a while whilst time crept up on them. By midnight, y/n was yawning as her long day caught up to her.

Ever the chivalrous gentleman, Rooster insisted on walking y/n out to her car. There was no goodnight kiss, though Rooster desperately craved one. y/n was still figuring out her boundaries, but she was also having quite a bit of fun watching the confident aviator squirm and work for her attention.

y/n did, however, gladly accept the bar napkin Rooster scrawled his phone number on before he opened her car door for her.

It was a win in his book.

a/n: AHH!! what do y'all think?? i'm so excited about this series hehe :) if you'd like to join the tag list for this series specifically, drop a comment or reblog on the series master list post! xx

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #nurse!reader #rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw x y/n #a safe place to land #tw: alcohol mention #tw: cheating #cw: medical situations

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irtifuck · 10 months

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Maverick: Open mouth! Open wide! The plane's coming~~ 🥰💞😍

Baby Bradley:

Maverick, eating the baby food from spoon: *sigh* I'll gain weight if this goes on like this...

Maverick, preparing another spoon: Look, Jake is gonna eat it if you don't!

Baby Bradley: *STARTS CRYING LOUDLY*

Iceman, watching from afar: That's why I love him.

Slider: WHAAAA--?! 👀

Iceman, completely unaware of what he's just said: Whut, did I miss something?

Slider: No, but.....are you sure this shorty stick knows how to raise a child?!

#icemav #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw #top gun incorrect quotes #q #incorrect quotations #incorrect top gun quotes #incorrect quotes #ron slider kerner #hangman mentioned

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forsty · 2 years

Photo

Whumptober 2022 - Head Trauma | “His mother never wanted him to fly, not after what happened to his father.”

#whumptober2022 #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #fanart #forsty art #VAGUELY BASED ON THE PROMPT HAHA #i've actually.. had this idea for a long ass time #Rooster holding Goose's helmet and it's cracked up (because it is cracked in the OG movie) and I think about that alot #also the background cause I gotta mention it - it's nothing too fancy but one side is the forest where Mav and Rooster meet up after #being shot down #and the other side is the ocean.... cause Goose.... you know #shrugs #ALSO YEAH I KNOW GOOSE DIDNT DIE FROM HEAD TRAUMA i think it was a broken neck but this is my art and i make the rules!#it's finally released into the wild.... i can return to being a normal person now #until tuesday for the next whumptober drawing #thank you everyone for coming on this journey with me i hope i dont disappoint and that you all will like it :c <3

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orchidvk · 10 months

Text

Just a little something I wrote when I got the inspiration to do that :)

I know it doesn't quite fit with the timeline but that wasn't what I was going for, I just wanted some angst and a little bit of comfort with IceMav.

I hope you like it anyway.

Warnings: swearing

"You know, B told me what he wanted to be when he got older."

Ice said and stirred the pasta, Mav looked up from the book he was mindlessly reading in.

"Yeah?"

"Yep. He said he wanted to become a pilot just like us. He even asked me if we could recommend him, he is adorable."

Mav didn't respond, he couldn't respond.

"Promise me....not to let him fly, Pete. Please...I don't want him to end up like Nick.

Promise me, please."

"I promise..."

Ice turned away from the stove and looked at his wingman.

"Mav? What's wrong? Isn't that sweet?"

The smaller man stood up and looked at Tom, his hands shaking.

"I...We can't let that happen, Ice. I promised Carole not to let him fly."

"You...? You did what?"

The blond asked and felt stunned, anger bubbling inside of him but also a bit of pain, especially for Bradley.

"She asked me to not let him fly...She didn't want him to end up like Nick.

Please, you have to understand, Tom."

Tom shook his head in return, the dinner cooking behind him already forgotten.

"How can you just decide that for him? Do you know what you would do to him? Do you realize how much you would hurt him?"

"Thomas...I promised her...."

"But she isn't here!" Tom started to yell, tears shining in his eyes. "Carole is not here and neither is Goose! For fuck's sake! You are barely here! It is him and me...

I have to switch between father, mother, housewife, and rear admiral just because YOU CAN'T FUCKING BEHAVE!"

Ice didn't mean to yell but he couldn't keep his emotions inside any longer. All the things he has been keeping inside bursting out.

The tears are falling freely now.

"I don't want ghosts to decide what is good for my kid! I don't want ghosts to decide what he should do and what not! We are responsible...Both of us and we both decide what is good for him and he decides what is good for him!"

The brown-haired man stared at Ice with an expression full of hurt, tears are also falling down his cheeks.

"I never forced you to stay, Ice.

I never forced you to stay and take care of a child that isn't even yours."

That was a low blow that hit Iceman hard.

"Yes, you are right. I never had any obligation.

But I stayed and I still stay because I love you and I love him and if you think you can win this argument by saying I never had to stay in the first place then you are not only wrong but also an asshole."

Ice put the pasta in some colorful containers he got from his sister-in-law Becky and put them carefully into the fridge, he figured both of them wouldn't be eating anything tonight.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you any further. Take the bed, Mav.

I need to...I need to clean the kitchen."

That was an obvious lie, Mav couldn't see one single stain. The only thing Ice could clean was the pot where the pasta had cooked a couple of minutes ago.

But Mav also knew that Ice needed something to do and that if he wasn't stress-baking he needed to stress-clean.

So he started to make his way upstairs in silence but before he could reach the first step, Bradley came through the front door, eyes red and blood dripping from his elbow.

"Pa! Can you help me clean that up?" The kid's shorts were full of grass stains, Ice probably already got a heart attack from that sight, his shirt was full of already dried mud and his knees suffered also a bit but didn't bleed.

"Of course, Baby Goose. What happened?"

"We played and I stumbled and I hit the concrete instead of the grass."

Even though Bradley Bradshaw has reached the age of 8 years, Iceman's inner mother hen came out and he picked the boy up to drag him into the bathroom.

"I can do that, Ice," Pete said quietly, the blond man stayed still for a moment before shaking his head.

"No need. I'll do it, just go to bed."

And he was gone.

Maverick made his way upstairs and into their master bathroom, where he got ready for bed.

He knew he wouldn't catch one bit of sleep but the thought counts.

The pilot can hear his boys in the bathroom, talking and water running.

Mav can imagine exactly what Ice did, his lover was always gentle and caring.

He probably got rid of the blood, put a bandage around their kid's elbow, and brushed his teeth with him together.

Maverick remembers it like it was yesterday.

Bradley was still small back then, smaller than now and the three of them used to brush their teeth together every evening.

After taking care of Bradley, Ice send the boy to bed with a kiss on the forehead and went down into the kitchen.

He finally broke down there, weeping and sobbing. Today was just too much to handle.

He tried to be as quiet as possible because he knew that Bradley wasn't asleep yet but played on his Gameboy and he didn't want the kid to see him like this.

Ice's hands gripped the sponge tight while he scrubbed at the stain on the floor.

It doesn't come off.

For god's sake, why doesn't it come off?

It was driving the blond pilot insane, tears mix with the water from the sponge, and Ice scrubs so hard that he thinks the stain might come off with the wood.

He didn't stop, didn't let the soft material in his hand go until another hand grabbed his.

"Hey....love. We talked about this didn't we?"

Pete was kneeling in front of him, keeping his hands from moving.

"This is a wine stain we can't get rid of." The man finished his sentence and took the sponge.

"But it bothers me..." Tom whispers, voice full of sorrow and defeat.

"I know it does...."

The two men were sitting on the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter in silence.

"I'm sorry...You are right...." Mav says after some time and Tom freezes.

"No...I know how seriously you take promises, I should've talked differently with you about this.

I shouldn't have said those things to you."

Maverick intertwined their hands.

"Maybe but I also shouldn't have said certain things to you and I should be here with you and him.

I'm just sorry that you had to tell me how you felt in such a way. I made you yell instead of talk it out."

#top gun #icemav #iceman x maverick #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #carole bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #mentioned #angst #im sorry #i love them #i just needed to put this somewhere #Blurb #oneshot #kinda #bradley rooster bradshaw #But as a kid

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luminousnotmatter · 7 months

Text

And He’s Yours

b.r.b. for my bee 💗 @bradshawsbaby

Sometimes

Your job

Its days and weeks

Demand and take

Leaving you empty

Tired

And aching to your bones

Your mind and heart

Just as drained

Just as sore.

But when you’re home

And he’s home

He’s yours.

You drop away the day

Purse

Work junk

Other metaphorical baggage

The front door closes

Shuts

Solidly behind you

Closing out the world

Life with its demands

Is unwelcome here.

You’re home

And he’s home

He’s yours.

His frame

Tall

Broad

Strong and safe

Fills the kitchen doorway

Almost to overflowing

Spilling toward you

On his eager steps.

Jet-calloused hands

Reach for you

Arms fold you in

And he’s home

He’s yours.

Some sweet name for you

Sighs from his lips

Over yours

Before they’re his

By right of capture.

No happier prisoner

Is there

In your mouth.

His kiss tastes of tenderness

Of peppermint and sweat

Hints of strawberries.

And he’s home

He’s yours.

The night will go on

All soothing sweetness

Dinner

Wine

The yellow roses on the table.

Your laugh he adores

His curls falling loose.

A soak in the tub

Limbs tangled

Bodies close

Hot and bubbly and unhurried.

Maybe he’ll sing to you

Soft and loving.

And it’s good

Perfect

Just what you need.

But

Your favorite

The best part

Him

And you

That’s Home

You are his

And he is yours.

#Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #TGM Fanfiction #bradshawsbaby #Sometimes I Art #I Wrote This #Top Gun Maverick #You mentioned the other day wanting a Bradley of your own to come home to #since you’ve been Going Through It so much lately #and well. Um. That just made my heart ache for you and I couldn’t get the thought about Your Bradley out of my brain #soooo…..👉🏻👈🏻🫣 This happened.#*whispers frantically but lovingly I HOPE IT MAKES YOU SMILE/FEEL GOOD FEELINGS EVEN JUST THE TINIEST WEE BIT #I love you so much Darling Lady you’re so very special to me. 🥹💗💗💗💗💗#*gets shy and runs off to bed*

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pollyna · 11 months

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Something something the day Ice realises he's really a dad, and he hopes to never lose the right to be one, is a Friday, and it's because three pair of shoes are aligned on the left side of the door. He knows Mav and his won't change size, but he has a not-so-distant-memory of Bradley's one being half of the size of Mav's, but now they are almost at the same size. He was around for this boy enough to see something as stupid as a change of feet size, but with it came so many other things he almost doesn't know what to do with all the emotions he's feeling.

"Dad, everything's okay?" Bradley asks, after he spent a minute too much staring at their shoes.

"Yeah, Baby Goose," he answers, hugging him. "everything's perfect." Ice smiles, opening his arms to ask for a hug that Bradley delivers without asking.

(Ice hopes that Bradley isn't going to be too tall for another while, just like his shoes aren't going to get too big all of a sudden. He hopes that even if all these changes are going to happen all at once he will be around. He wants to be around.)

#tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell (mentioned)#mr iceman and baby goose #realising you're a dad #dadmiral thomas kazansky #icemav #otp: things get old our love is gold

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justmilkplease · 2 years

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battle of the Navy regulated mustache

#honorable mention to hondo #reuben payback fitch #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #tgm #exposing how old i am by remembering these magazines

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the-ace-with-spades · 6 months

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A tiny little scene from way further in my trans! Bradley fic - chapter 14/15 o (sometimes I feel) like a monkey pilot, we're currently on chapter 5 - featuring Uncle Slider

For context, Bradley came out after a mental breakdown and reunited with Mav and Ice less than two months before this scene. tw: slight misgendering (one slip-up)

March 2013

It was a big day — Bradley had been asked by Maria to meet someone else from the family as his therapy homework and Uncle Slider was selected as the one to fulfill that assignment. Out of the whole family, it was just him and aunt Sarah that lived in San Diego, and only the two of them knew that, well, that Bradley wanted to be called Bradley now and that he’d come out in the worst circumstances possible.

At least Ice said he did know — he was the one to tell Slider when Bradley moved in with them and he hadn’t said more than he was a little confused but he’s okay when Bradley asked how it went. He still didn’t know if Ice didn’t tell him more because he wanted to protect him or if it was truly all the reaction he had from Slider. He hadn't talked to many people since he came out and even the people he did talk to were strangers who Bradley would usually either never see again or could avoid seeing again. Family seemed like an entirely different category, one that made him freeze and tense with dread.

Hopefully, by the end of the day, he’d still be Bradley’s uncle.

He and Mav had just finished kneading the dough for the ravioli they were making when the front door bell rang. Ice, who was just watching them from the other side of the kitchen island, let his book fall down next to the fruit bowl and walked to the foyer.

Ice and Slider talked in the foyer for a minute, tones too quiet to hear the words, before Bradley heard their footsteps and Slider's voice broke through the door to the corridor, “So, where’s the wayward son?”

Ice sounded a bit exasperated when he replied but Bradley could still hear lightness to his tone as he said, “In the kitchen with Mav."

He tried not to worry. Tried to take it as a good sign and not to have the worst case scenarios flash before his eyes.

He turned away, back to the kitchen island and the entrance, looking at his hands, still covered flour from the dough. He saw Mav's concerned gaze in the corner of his eye, but he only shrugged, trying not to worry him.

It all should be fine. Even if Slider didn't react well to actually seeing Bradley as Bradley, it wasn't going to be the end of the world.

Mav pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh that could be only directed at Uncle Slider leaving his mouth. Bradley turned around.

First thing that caught his eye was a giant baby blue balloon, floating around Slider's head, the It’s A Boy! text in a darker shade of blue in semi-cursive.

Slider himself didn't look much different than the last time Bradley saw him in 2006, right before he retired from the Navy. He already had grating hair back then, now they were almost completely gray, there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes and he seemed to have lost some muscle from around his shoulders but he still mostly just looked like Bradley's Uncle Slider.

“Hey, kid,” he said, like he had always been. “I didn’t want to come empty handed but Shay is at a conference in LA and she’s the one who chooses gifts usually so… There was a shop next to the girls' school and I thought it would be, you know, fitting.”

Bradley hadn't been in contact with them when Slider and Sarah's second daughter was born — he had only heard about her from Ice, a couple of weeks ago when they tried to catch up on all the family matters he had missed in the years he was away.

“The youngest is six now, isn’t she? Sof, right?”

“Almost seven,” Slider replied, sounding quite proud. “Tells us to call her Sofia now, because she is too big for Sof. Well, unless you’re her Uncle Mav, then you can still call her Sof.”

“What can I say? Kids love me,” Mav quipped, right from behind Bradley.

“That’s because you’re a big kid yourself,” Ice supplied, rolling his eyes.

Now that he wasn't standing right behind Slider, watching him for any wrong moves or words toward Bradley, he had moved back towards the high chair on the other side of the kitchen island.

“He’s as big as a kid you mean,” Slider said, one hand making a little measurement gesture, cutting the air right below his shoulder, where the top of Mav's head would reach.

Bradley couldn't help it — he snorted.

Slider used the moment to step closer, pulling on the balloon's string, and handing it off to Bradley.

“Thanks,” he said. When Slider opened his arms, the same way he used to do whenever he wanted a hug from Bradley, his voice cracked as he added, “I’m covered in flour.”

“Come here anyway,” he told him and Bradley did, stepping into his arms. It had been a while but it also didn't feel any different — Slider was still the only person from their nearby family who was taller than Bradley, still would just wrap his long arms around his back and bring him close enough that he'd be sinking into his chest, put Bradley's face in the crook of his neck and say into the curls behind his ear, “You gave your folks quite a scare.”

“I know,” he whispered into Slider's shoulder.

“Good to have you here with us, buddy, really good,” he said and Bradley tried to soak in the moment, but at the same time not to put his dirty hands on Slider's nice black polo.

“Now, is any of you going to roll the dough for me or are you just going to stand there?”

Bradley let go of Slider, still not completely sure this day wouldn't become a disaster, but a bit more relaxed.

“I thought you finally bought him that pasta machine,” Slider said, mainly toward Ice as he took a step back toward the kitchen island.

“Oh, I did,” Ice said, with an accusatory tone to his voice. “Put it in the back of the cupboard right away and never used it.”

“My mamma didn’t need a fancy pasta cutter, I don’t need it either,” Mav said and it sounded like they'd had that discussion at least a couple of times. “Baby, can you roll the stuffing for me?”

“Yeah, just let me wash my hands again,” he replied, giving Slider one last glance over his shoulder as he moved to the sink.

Mav, satisfied now that Bradley was within his reach, turned to Slider with a glare. “What? If you’re not going to be useful, get out of my kitchen.”

Slider raised his arms and backed out, sitting down next to Ice at the other side of the island. Bradley could feel his eyes on him, following him all the way inside the kitchen but not adding anything.

Mav stepped next to him, bumping their shoulders — or his shoulder and Bradley's elbow, really — and asked close to his face, “You doing okay, baby?”

He turned on the tap, trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, I just—”

“I can still kick him out if you want,” Mav offered, way too eager. “In fact, I’ll take great joy in kicking him out.”

“You invited him,” he reminded.

“No, we invited him,” Mav corrected. “If it’s too soon—”

“I can’t live behind closed door forever, as much as I want to,” he noted because that was the truth. The past almost two months now, Bradley'd been seeing his parents and the healthcare professionals that were taking care of him and then almost no one else. At some point, he had to start living again, even if it was scary, being in the world and out and not in the safety of his parents house. Most of the time, he still felt a bit like a fraud, calling himself Bradley, telling people to use he and him when talking about, that he was guy — almost like he didn't deserve it until he looked the way people expected him to look.

“I know,” Mav said and he didn't seem any happier about it than Bradley, his eyebrows creasing as his hand reached to caress Bradley's cheek gently — he had flour on his hands, too. “I wish I could make the world a better place for you.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Promise I’ll kick him out if he says anything,” Mav added, giving his cheekbone a last swap with his thumb and then putting his hands under the running tap.

“I’m pretty sure that if he does, Pops is going to be the one who’d kick him out,” he noted.

They were both standing around, watching their interactions like guard dogs, ready to bite at any slide of hand, and Bradley felt almost okay with it.

Bradley washed his hands and dried it off on the nearby towel. Mav sent him a wink before stepping away, bending down to find the rolling pin somewhere in the mess of their corner cabinet.

Slider called out, louder than he'd been talking to Ice. “Hey, is there a chance you made enough that I won’t have to think what to make for dinner for the kids?”

Ice sounded exasperated again, shaking his head at him and Bradley smiled as he said, “You just came here to steal our food again, didn’t you?”

“Told you a hundred times, brother, cooking well is his only good quality, I might as well milk it.”

Bradley shook his head at the familiarity of the whole moment and said, “You’re in luck this time — we’ve already frozen the first batch.”

“Don’t let him win, buddy,” Ice quipped.

Bradley pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie, taking out the bowl with the spinach and ricotta filling out of the fridge. As he carried it to the counter, the free space on the shelf below the kitchen island, right next to the ravioli dough, he felt watched again. He tried not to pay attention to it, but Slider was suspiciously silent, eyes scrolling over Bradley's mostly flat chest, clad in a binder invisible under his hoodie, and going up to Bradley's military-regulation short hair. He'd been looking like that the past few weeks every day but suddenly, it felt inadequate.

“Since when do you like Dallas Cowboys, kid?”

Bradley didn't have to look down to remember what he was wearing — the blue Dallas Cowboys hoodie he stole from Jake when he left Lemoore. Bradley didn't know shit about football but he used to go to NFL games with Jake whenever Dallas Cowboys were playing and they were in the area, it was Jake's team and Bradley would always wear one of his t-shirt or sweatshirts to blend in with the crowd and, well, because Jake liked when Bradley wore his clothes and Bradley like to wear his clothes. The past four months, the hoodie had been a source of comfort in the situations that made him nervous, used almost as often as the blanket hoodie Mav bought him in high school.

He wasn't about to tell them he missed Jake or who Jake was or anything else. "Can't I just like football?"

“I thought you were a basketball kinda girl—boy—guy—Shit.” It was clumsy but Bradley would give him points for trying. When Ice elbowed Slider into his side, he added sheepishly, “Sorry, Brad.”

“Please don’t call me Brad.”

“Sorry,” Slider repeated, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought it was Bradley now.”

“It is,” he said. “I’m just trying to avoid all the Brad Brad jokes that will come with it.”

“Yeah, you did make your life harder with that name change,” he said and just as he finished the sentence Mav and Ice turned toward him again, glaring. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant, relax,” Bradley told him, somehow feeling the tension oozing out of him now that the first slip had been made. “Mav said my parents had it chosen for a boy, so…”

“That does sound like something Goose would choose,” Slider said, slowly, and Bradley almost laughed at how hard he was trying to avoid his usual speak-before-think mode. “You can always go by your second name. Plenty of people do.”

Yeah, that was not happening. “I think I will just stick with Bradley.”

“By the way, Ron would make a great middle name,” he added. Ice elbowed him again but he didn't seem to mind too much and honestly, Bradley didn't mind the turn conversation had taken — it was all good-natured and so casual that it had almost calmed down most of his nerves. "Simple, traditional, can't be confused with a female name, what's not to like?"

Mav huffed. “Kerner, don’t even try—”

“What? He had a second name before,” Slider cut in.

“The paperwork is done already, anyway, so you’re a bit late,” Ice pointed out.

Mac turned to him this time, frowning. “It is?”

“Ice took me to the courthouse this week, after—after the session,” he admitted. Ice went with him inside and did most of the talking with the court clerk when Bradley couldn't reply to the simple what is the petition you need for question without spilling his whole life history. “I filed the petition.”

“I don’t think we chose a middle name, did we? Did you put one down?”

“I did,” he admitted, not elaborating and hoping they would leave it at that.

He concentrated on taking out the ravioli filling and scooping it into balls

“What is then?”

He only glanced at Ice shortly but that was enough for them to realize.

“Oh,” Uncle Slider only said before his typical shit-eating grin made its place on his face.

Mav didn’t say anything but he stepped closer toward Bradley, his close presence more than words.

Ice didn’t move even a millimeter. He bit down on lip, blinking the wetness out of his eyes and asked quietly, “You went with—with Tom?”

“Thomas,” he corrected, just barely hearable. "It's Bradley Thomas Bradshaw now. Or will, when the petition goes through."

"It's a good one, baby," Mav said, giving his shoulder an approving rub, eyes a bit watery.

“Not as good of a choice as Ron, but I supposed you can live with it,” Slider said and just like that, Mav turned to him and tried to hit him with the rag he was holding — he dodged last minute and Mav tried to hit him again, basically crawling over the kitchen island, until Bradley started laughing at them.

Ice was still looking at him, though, still speechless but with the corners of his lips quivering now.

#this will probably be rewritten by time I'm actually going to post chapter 14/15 but yeah enjoy #trans bradley rooster bradshaw #ron slider kerner #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #mavdad #icepops #technically background icemav #and a tiny mention of #hangster #this is from a hangster fic so it should count #(sif) lamp tag #charlie writes #op

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