#session 92

[cosmosoracle]

"When was the last time you _were truly angry_?"

"Again, very recently, and that anger costed me my life. General Roktor was summoned back to Outsea so that I could talk to him, and the bastard had every ill intention to hurt the other Generals who were involved in the situation for that. Opak's retorts would have stricken anyone's nerves at some point, but he was risking way too much, because of me. I had to step in."

[askdistortedko]

what are the odds that shiny is being tortured?

[the ask got him jumpscared] "WOAH-OH WHAT??? HUH???"

[grounded-ko]

need any healing items?

[He shakes his head.] I'm mostly healed! It's just taking a lil' longer than normal.. [He does, notably, look significantly better than Webs did.]

[k-0thepowcardfan11]

Yeah. Classic train conductor. It is like that. And how was the session overall?

Okay I guess...?

[ask-echo-ko]

A train..?

[the-magpie-archives]

Me, on trial for two murders that I may or may not have committed: Your honour, I'm LITERALLY in my Jonathan Sims era.

[jadeneppy]

Sorry for da spam got a fuckin stalker on my blog <3333

[michelleplayswithfire]

pt. 3

i forgot something else too

it's been a year since i haven't seen a single therapist

at the start of the year i changed insurance with my employer thinking i would get a better, yet affordable therapist, and i regretted it, so i changed insurance carriers last month hoping i would get better luck

changed my meds back to my old pharmacy (before 2020) because the one i was with since 2020 messed me up for whatever reason

and the thought that youtubers are promoting betterhelp pisses me off

like even the suicide hotline is partially trash, depending on the person

sometimes they're helpful and give you resources but the last time i talk to someone thru that hotline was so unhelpful and harsh that i cussed them out and closed the chat, i was so pissed

i don't feel like having to pay therapists out of pocket because that's something i've never really done before (i've been on medicaid most of my adult life so far) so yeah it's just a mess :(

[ef-1]

Twitter is mad at Daniel again because they caught on to that CH interview about Daniel being offered the same contract as Max, icl I'm also bitter about it. I wish he wasn't so rash in 2018

It's easy to be bitter in hindsight but the reality is more nuanced, had it not been recorded and internationally broadcast, what happened to Daniel in 2018 would be flat out unbelievable by ANY standard lol. Daniel had mechanical issues in every. single. weekend in 2018 <- this is not a hyperbole or a joke (more on this later). He ran multiple races with a b spec engine -> 20 bhp down on Max. At no point in 2018 did Max run a lower engine power than Daniel. Daniel incurred 8 dnfs, 4 back of the grid starts for mechanical issues and 6 grid drops in total where as Max had *1*[one]. This isn't even accounting for failures in quali or free practice that would have compromised his set up or race prep. Daniel's car accounted for 92% of Red Bull failures in comparison to Max's 8%.

Christian's cunty "he ran from a fight" comment stung particularly hard because it was Christian who made MULTIPLE public apologies to Daniel in 2018 on the ground that he wasn't given a chance to compete. Christian would apologise to Daniel again when Max won in Mexico, even though Daniel had an uncharacteristic outburst in the media pen during that famous "The car is cursed. I can't wait to give it to Pierre" This isn't even diving into the dubious & predatory RB contract practices. At 28 years old, to quote Christian "It's the first time he's effectively a free agent."

You look back at it now and lament it as a bad call but even by Christian's admission Red Bull were on the verge of selling the team for 4 years. Honda was coming in, I know it's easy to praise Honda now but Honda single handedly sent Alonso into early retirement. He found working with them untenable + said it cost him his love for the sport. Those were the lingering images of Honda as they re-entered the sport, the team who electrocuted Alonso then bled his love for racing dry.

If you weren't around in 2018 let me give you a run down so horrific it looks like a joke:

Australia - Race: 3 Place grid penalty

Bahrain - Race: DNF - Battery Failure

China - Free Practice 3: Gear box issue with complete engine turbo failure. Misses FP3 entirely, no quali set up prepared. He would go on to win that race from p6

Baku - Race: DNF - Collision with Max. Racing incident.

Monaco - Race: partial MGU-K failure. He would go on to win that race with drastic loss of power.

Canada - Free Practice 2 - Power unit issue, misses majority of the session.

France - Race: front wing failure. (it disintegrated)

Austria - Race: DNF - Retires from p3 with MGU-k Failure

Britain - Quali: DRS failure. No DRS activation, still qualifies p6 behind Max in p5

Germany - Race: Back of grid start + DNF - Takes new engine for the weekend, starts p19 + has lower power spec A ICE approximately 20 BHP down on B spec that Max was running. Daniel climbed upto p5 from p19 but incurs a MGU-k failure and retires.

Hungary - Race: Daniel is forced to run lower power spec A ICE again, 20 BHP down on B spec that Max was running

Spa - Free Practice 1 + DNF: Daniel misses entire session with engine injector issue + Daniel would go on to retire after being driven into on lap 1.

Monza - Race: Back of grid start + DNF. Daniel takes another new engine for weekend (spec C) and incurs another full grid penalty, starts p19. Daniel would go on to climb to p6 before having clutch failure and retiring.

Singapore - Race + Quali + Free practice: During every session in Singapore Daniel has an unresolved spec C engine clipping issue that Red Bull can't fix.

Russia - Race + Free Practice 1 - Daniel misses FP1 due to mechanical issues. Daniel takes another engine penalty, starts p18

Japan - Race + Quali: Daniel incurs throttle actuator failure, misses quali, another back of grid start.

USA - Race: DNF - Battery Failure

Mexico - Race: DNF - clutch Bearing failure + start software clutch issue. Daniel retires the race from P2

Brazil - Race: Daniel takes a 5 Place grid penalty due to new turbo charger replacement. Starts in p11.

Abu Dhabi - Free Practice 3: Misses majority of FP3 with water leak.

Daniel's insanely vulnerable "if racing was the only thing making me happy this year, I would have been miserable" during the last on the sofa with Max was a v apt summary of 2018. To suggest that Daniel fucked up based on the information he had in 2018, namely Daniel undergoing all those problems + knowing RB was flirting with selling the team + Helmut's fuckery + having an out from the RB umbrella for the first time in his career? Your problem isn't with his decision making process, you just wish he was clairvoyant which is an unfair thing to be bitter about

[cosmosoracle]

I keep my eyes closed as I keep falling, and falling, and falling.

Even if I try to open them and see, I soon realize that I can't; I can't hear anything either, nor I can move. I just keep falling for an immeasurable amount of time, which may have been long or short, but in the afterlife, as I learnt, it doesn't matter. I expect to see the line in front of me at some point... but instead, I feel the warmth of... waves. Waves, like the ones which lulled me and saw me grow up, which challenged me and made me strong. It feels calm and familiar. "Home", I think to myself.

Then I regain my sight. It is not home I reached, nor it is the way to the throne of Pharasma. I exist at the same time in two spaces: one is completely black, one is completely white, and they reach, empty, beyond the horizon. As I look down, I see my mirrored reflection on the other side as if I was walking on a thin surface, moving perfectly in unison: just my silhouette, a shape, featureless and in contrast with the surroundings - silvery in the dark, inky in the light. Nothing happens if I try to reach out for the other side; inexplicably, I am there, in both of the places.

When I raise my eyes again, all around I notice some burning figures slowly moving around me, but they don't have a reflection like mine, and their shapes are completely lost to the burning. The ones in the dark environment are calm, mostly standing still. The black ones, instead, seem more restless, and all of them slowly moving towards a square pedestal, a step that leads to a crowd of them. On the black side, instead, the elevated area is empty. I take a few very wary steps closer to the pedestals; the entities seem to turn towards me, so I stop dead in my tracks, worry clawing at my throat.

I murmur, confusion and fear controlling my voice. "Where am I... what is happening...?"

"Welcome." Two voices speak through my mind, indistinguishable but clear. "Welcome, Evangelia from the Lake of Mists and Veils. You are an anomaly, but you nonetheless reached for us. Here, you are safe."

"Reached for you? Was it me?... how?"

"You... died." Their words bring me back to a very harsh reality, which suddenly breaks my heart again as I remember my last moments. Consequently, I falter. Was it really worth it? Have I just thrown my life away?

"...but I should be in a line. Why am I here?"

For the first time, the two voices split, despite still intervening at the same time.

"You are here because you are not ready for what awaits you there."

"You are here because this is where you belong, and I want to protect you from the pain and suffering."

I feel a shiver running down my spine. I let the motivations sink in for a few seconds. They're ominous, and I feel the urge to run and hide. I feel like suffocating, trembling to the thought of being unable to endure all of that. Then I try to answer to them both. "Why do you want to protect me... and save from what I'm not ready for?"

Silence becomes deafening for a little bit, but then only one of the two answers, somehow grave. "I don't know what you have done to get so many people to think about you without even knowing you... but no one deserves to be treated like this. You don't deserve a world full of pain."

"No one deserves it," my drive takes over the negativity when others are mentioned. I see the faces of many I got to know in front of my eyes as I continue. My faith... my blessing... "That's why I was trying to make it better."

But then I start hearing them. So many voices, from all around me, even if they're not coming from the beings that surround me. People of faith, praying for themselves, for their teams, for the poor; asking for health, for love, for hope. They pray for it, and yet, it all goes unheard. My empathy makes my heart quiver as the feeling of abandonment latches onto them. I despair with them as they stop, sad and full of remorse. My legs threaten to fold beneath me. They become my weight... and my strength alike. "But I hear them, I hear them!! I want to be there for them... I promised I would save them - I promised I would save you!!"

"Their prayers are not meant for you," the two return to talk in unison. "These are all the people you haven't met yet, but who already identify you with their hardships, their misery. You represent their sorrow, and all that they have lost."

I can't say I fully understand what they are meaning, but what I certainly know is... it is awful. It is insane. I feel like I'm choking over my tears as I whisper with a broken voice... "This is exactly why I cannot stay..."

The two also seem to contemplate the situation while I'm completely stolen by the anguish. Even just hearing some of them for a moment was enough to shatter me, but even if in pieces, I feel the need to act, to try and ease their spirits. Somehow, I reject the horrifying doubt - I'm the cause of their dismay, I am the source. I just want to help. I just want to try. I cannot give up yet, because I know I still have more to give. I'm eager to. And yet, it is also what brought me here in the first place, putting myself in the frontline for my lake, for Zinnya and Hoyt. And this could be just a drop in an ocean. And as many drops as an ocean begin to fall from my non-existent eyes, I feel them burning like they were there, and I don't care if they are or not. All of this turmoil needs a way out, and I have nothing else left. I cry for them all. "I'm so sorry..."

They seem to give me a little of space before requiring my attention again, and once more, it is only one of the two intervening. The conversation continues slowly, as if he was trying to accompany me through a reasoning, in search for the final answer.

"Was it a good life?"

"Yes, but is it really over? Is there really no hope?" My answer is one more delayed question.

"If you had the chance, would you do everything all over again? All of it, good and bad, which brought you here." Here. In the middle of other burning spirits, speaking to who I believe to be the two brothers of the story. Sacrificing myself for the safety of who survived the monster in my lake, struggling to keep the contact with my deities, with black tears on my cheeks for having tried to know about what I'm involved in. I hesitate. "Would you go through it all just as you did so far, with all the laughs and the smiles, and all the losses and departures?"

He insists, and a warming memory flashes in my mind, gifting me a spark of strength back. "...yes... Some things could have gone better... I mean, of course they could have gone better, they always can. But everything that happened made me who I am, and someone once told me, it was a beautiful thing. I firmly believe in that, still... so, yes. My answer is yes."

It is not disappointment that follows my answer, but the tone drops again, and I can't help but feel bad about it. Selfish. Greedy. "Then you deserve the world you live in. You deserve all the pain, you deserve all the difficulties and the obstacles you will have to face." Then, he softens. "I am glad."

I cannot fully understand his position, but if my guesses are right... this is the younger brother speaking. The one who fought until his end came, loyal to the cause of the gods. A chosen - just like the eldest, just like me.

My last words are for both of them. "Don't think ill of me for this. Please." But they also go unanswered, and I am left with the feeling of guilt stirring my guts. Still, I have little time to think about it. Everything around me starts to quiver; the flames and the pedestals fade from my sight just as they appeared, as I start ascending once more, losing my senses again, until I can blink again.

I am in the line, in the same spot where I left it the previous time. Only four people stand between me and Pharasma, but this time, a familiar face is by my side.

The Man in Red.

[askdistortedko]

If he doesn't want to think about it, don't pry about it. Now go.

"yeah.....I'm just tired from all of this Shiny stuff.....I wanna give myself a deserved break from all of this!!"

[grounded-ko]

you want us to fetch some food for you? maybe we could do like... a supply drop since you're so tiny

[He looks at the anon, rotating his aphid a bit.] I have food?

[k-0thepowcardfan11]

Oohhh?? Who was it??

A kid with a tail.. He didn't seem to know why he was in therapy....

[usernyoom]

29/92/24, Bahrain. Daniel Ricciardo in the garage during the first free practice session for the F1 Bahrain Grand Prix 2024. Photos by Rudy Carezzevoli, edited.

[bengiyo]

BL 2023 Review

I wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about BL for this year. I was originally going to do a The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly framework for it, but that feels meaner than I actually am about it. Instead, I think I’ll just write out some sections and unpack some things I felt along the way.

I Watched Too Much Again

Last year I engaged with about 92 productions around the world. This year it was 99 (I tracked stuff I completed here). Sure I dropped 18 of them this year, but goddamn. The problem with watching as much as I did this year is that I worked full time this year and also maintained a separate hobby. I also continued my twice-weekly watch sessions with my friend Emily, so there are an additional 100-ish watch sessions in here of rewatching, plus a few other rewatches (Theory of Love and My Ride most notably).

One of my struggles at this point is I’m far too familiar with the genre, and find myself feeling impatient and irritable with shows that aren’t to my taste the way I used to. Throughout the late summer and fall I found myself increasingly grumpier about the genre, and it didn’t get better until I had a holiday and basically slept a day to get some energy back. I also found myself growing apart from fans I’ve known and followed a long time. It’s been a difficult year for me as a long-time fan because my tastes, habits, and friendships in the genre have changed even if the amount I watch hasn’t really.

I Wrote a Lot This Year

I recently converted my watch tag away from my gaming internet persona to just my shortname, so all near-1000 of my Stray Thoughts posts can be found under #ben watches now. I’ve also been going back and adding #ben writes to some of the standalone pieces that I really liked. In reviewing them, the pieces I’m happiest about are my ode to Framboise from Kabe Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to Be Recognized, my post begging everyone to watch La Pluie, my post about what it means to actually like queer men, my SBS ep 10 post that ended up being wrong, my post about the Lavender Scare and Be My Favorite, my Tokyo in April is… post about the breaking of the BL line,

However, the two posts I am most proud of is my half-joking response about why I think tagging each other back and forth across Tumblr in our writing is so important. and The Knowing: Being Queer in BL because I had so much great conversations with folks as a result of both of these posts.

Looking back at my own blog, this is probably the most active I’ve been in my entire time on this website, so thank you to everyone who interacted with me this year, because it really is people talking to me that gets me most inspired to write things down. Big shout out to @lurkingshan who will bug me repeatedly until I blog something that I said in passing.

We Started a Podcast!

After hanging out with @shortpplfedup since Bad Buddy, she got inspired and really wanted to bring something different to the BL podcasting sphere. I had time, and liked talking with her enough, so we started @the-conversation-pod. Now we’re a full year into it and planning out future stuff. It’s been so much fun being able to get things off my soul and break poor NiNi in our recording sessions.

From this year, I think my favorite episodes we did were The Moonlight Chicken Episode, the Eighth Sense episode, the ITSAY Anniversary Episodes,  The Wedding Plan episode, , and The Holiday Clip Show. Huge shout out to @ginnymoonbeam for anchoring the transcription process, and @lurkingshan for editing.

The VIIB Awards will begin airing soontm so look forward to that.

Favorite New Term: Business Gay Performance

Let’s be clear, Bump Up Business is not good. It is an obvious BL cash grab from OnlyOneOf that seeks to comment on the fake nature of BL while doing everything it can to trick the audience into believing that the BL pair is real.

Before we got deeper into this year, I was a big fan of a certain pairing, and then their fans took it too far and it affected the way I engaged with their performances and their work. I like that we have a new term for “fanservice” that communicates that you understand that this is for work. (thanks to NiNi for this comparison) I can look at the latest behind the scenes video from Last Twilight and say that I think Sea really understands the work they’re doing, and he and Jimmy have a very relaxed and mature version of BGP without feeling like I’m feeding into shipping.

Do I think they’re dating? No. Do I like the way they fake it? Absolutely!

I can look at one of @respectthepetty posts about Yin and War having personalized, color-coded mics, and we can talk about the next level BGP between the two and both communicate that we know that this is a performance.

It actually makes the extra PR work fun for me again, because now I can just shout “BGP! BGP! BGP!” and it not feel like I’m giving myself brainrot.

Thai BL Needs to Finish Stronger Next Year

Let’s get into some of the show stuff. This year was defined for me by Thai BL starting strong with good premises and then squandering them by not focusing on the details that mattered or leaning into baseless melodrama. Time for some reads. Some of these shows were generally good, but they failed at these things:

609 Bedtime Story: The world building crumpled in the back half and both endings are flat.

A Boss and a Babe: Cher is a pro gamer who worked for a gaming company and there was no plot point about this at all, or collaboration between the two groups.

Bake Me Please: Why was a show about cake so lacking in flavor?

Be Mine SuperStar: You had a real opportunity to explore a fan and idol romance and had Punn show so little growth. I hope the footage of First’s range is helpful now that Ja is out of BL.

Be My Favorite: You redid that whole amusement park date and muddled so much of what the hell happened on that day.

Between Us: You had years to make this interesting. Why are there five pairs and why is the end of this a JC Penny catalog photoshoot?

Dangerous Romance: What the fuck happened to the Sailom we had in episode 1 and 2 before that gun incident?

Hidden Agenda: Tee, what the hell was this? Twelve weeks of this?

I Feel You Linger in the Air: You may be the most beautiful show, with some of the most impressive performances of the year, but you absolutely botched this ending. Finish the goddamn season next time.

Love in Translation: I love you, but that whole kidnapping plot was so stupid at the end.

Low Frequency: I like your OST. That's about it.

My Dear Gangster Oppa: No examination about how gaming friendships become close quickly because of the combination of anonymity and teamwork (shout out to @twig-tea for this excellent summation).

My School President: Saving your gay commentary for the final episode felt like a conservative choice. I want more from you next time.

Naughty Babe: You retconned your own characters to tell a worse story. Unforgiveable.

Never Let Me Go: You didn’t know if you wanted to be a high school BL or a mafia story. It was difficult to watch.

Only Friends: I cannot believe you did Boston like that at the end. Either give Force’s character a clear personality next time, or keep him enigmatic; half measures make him and Book look worse. Sand was absolutely embarrassing. Boeing was a waste. Ending on all of them paired like that felt so unearned.

Step By Step: You forgot to ground Jeng’s external dreams at the end, so the final two episodes are just frustrating.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. We can go into the next year now.

Korea Put in the Work This Year

I really like the efforts from the various Korean studios this year. I really hope we get a Strongberry joint next year, but I want to acknowledge that we had 18 Korean BL dramas I watched this year, and at least three of them I think are must watches: Our Dating Sim, Sing My Crush, and The Eighth Sense. Beyond that, I think Love Tractor, Unintentional Love Story, and A Breeze of Love are easy recommendations.

It’s really impressive how the complaint for me this year with Korean BL is not about them using their time poorly. It’s more about normal drama concerns, where I think characterization is a little weak, or a theme doesn’t land squarely. This rapid iteration from the Korean studios is really impressive to watch, and I’m excited to see what some of the recognized players do next year.

Taiwan and The Philippines Have Been Quiet for Me

I wasn’t really able to connect with much from the Philippines this year except for The Day I Loved You. I never wrote about The Day I Loved You, but this beautiful and heart wrenching show is one of my favorites from this year. I wasn’t too keen on the Oxin Films offerings of this year, and I’m still chasing down the ones from The IdeaFirst Company.

As for Taiwan, this new BL project from the end of the year just isn’t hitting. Kiseki: Dear to Me also ended up really hurting me with the way they used Wayne Song and Huang Chun Chih. I love that angry little man with the white hair, but I’m still salty about Wayne and the general mess of that show.

Japan was Busy This Year

I watched 16 new shows, a few older ones, and a few movies this year from Japan. We haven’t gotten this much from them ever. I continue to love the Drama Shower project from MBS, and my beloved What Did You Eat Yesterday? returned this year. We had pretty stellar outings with Our Dining Table, If It’s With You, and I Cannot Reach You.

I think a third of the Japanese BL I’ve tracked on MDL actually released this year. That’s huge.

Still, I am going to side eye Minato’s Laundromat 2. You were the show that let me down the most this entire year. More than Only Friends, more than Step By Step, and even more than Kiseki. You absolutely blew it. You were telling a great story about a man with an acute case of internalized homophobia coming out of his shell and learning to love his younger partner and you blew it for stupid amnesia nonsense. I will never forgive you for this.

Where Were All the Uncles This Year?

Really, without Jim from Moonlight Chicken, and without the men from What Did You Eat Yesterday? we had an alarming dearth of older gay characters passing on knowledge and wisdom to the youngsters this year. What the hell happened?

Rare Dynamics Won: Second Chance Romance and Friends to Lovers!

We had so much second chance romance this year. It’s really my favorite version of gay romance because gays don’t always have ideal settings when they’re young. We had Our Dating Sim, Individual Circumstances, Jun & Jun, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, Be My Favorite, Love Class Season 2, and A Breeze of Love. I am satisfied.

Friends to Lovers is actually so rare in romance and we have so many to choose from this year! The best examples are I Cannot Reach You and Sing My Crush, but we also have one of the pairs in Love Class Season 2.

Gay Thoughts

I had a couple of ongoing thoughts this year about queerness in BL.

First, I want to return to my post about Sing My Crush and La Pluie, and how I assert that Men Need to Be Angry Sometimes. More than giving men grace to be righteously angry or upset about things, along with letting them express it in ugly ways, I really want to get into how we engage with these shows. I will stop engaging with moralistic reads on characters in 2024. I will no longer engage with asks, reblogs, or meta gripping the fandom where we're judging the moral fiber of the character.

The question that really only matters for me at this point is: Is this act from the character justified from their characterization, the narrative, or genre conventions; and is it interesting? Whether or not the character is good or bad reeks of the lame arguments about good and bad representation, and I am not watching BL like I’m being graded in Sunday school.

The second thing I really want to acknowledge at the end of the year is that the gay sex is finally getting better again. I watched The Novelist this year, and we have taken so long to get back to the space that show took us on the portrayal of male-male intimacy. We are in the genre about people with dicks. It should feel like it. There should be a masculine component there that feels specific to queer intimacy.

I will acknowledge 2 Cutie 2 Pie, A Boss and a Babe, Be Mine SuperStar, Bed Friend, Candy Color Paradox, For Him, I Cannot Reach You, Kiseki: Dear to Me, La Pluie, Love Class 2, Love in Translation, Love Mate, Middleman’s Love, Naughty Babe, Only Friends, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, and Wedding Plan for your contributions.

Final Thoughts

I like how broad the genre felt this year, and I enjoyed how much speculative fiction is entering into the conversation. I don’t know how I feel about there being five vampire stories in the works next year, but overall I’m glad that we’re getting more experimental concepts. I’m burnt out on the college engineering BL, and would like to see more shows about working adults.

Despite how grumpy I was for at least three months, I think this has genuinely been one of the best years we’ve ever had in the genre. I made a lot of new friends in BL this year, and I’m excited to see what comes next. Thank you all for spending some of your time with me this year and I’ll see you in the next one.

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - seven

word count: 6k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: no man's land. I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate your effort to show your support and if you like it… please comment and reblog it! x

You’d be lying to say you hadn’t been distracted all morning… not in the best frame of mind, half heartedly urging young teens, “Just another 50m, you got this”, because God knew, you certainly did not have this.

But you were just so tired. You hadn’t been sleeping well, you were just eating enough to say you were eating. You just felt average and it made you so angry how much you’d tangled yourself with Bradley. Self-care had taken a backseat to bury yourself in the pool’s redevelopment, you weren’t bothering with your morning ocean swim - and of course, it had nothing to do with bumping into Bradley on his morning run.

Nothing at all. 

Annie was on your case to pull yourself from your funk where you continually reminded her you were not in. You were in fact quite productive. Between the work, pool and constantly moving things around the apartment (you wished you'd never started to be honest because you just couldn’t make things work as well as they did before you nearly moved), your days were pretty full and you went to bed exhausted.

You’d just finished the early session when the first text came in. Shivering at your desk and wrapped in a sopping towel, just wanting to release the wet, tangled bun on top of your head and a hot shower to dechlorinate your irritated skin after teaching all morning, you knew protecting your peace was going to be difficult today.

Today, Bradley was to be arraigned. 

It had been a beast of a process for him. The last year his life had been so tumultuous - from deciding to move back to California, the highs of falling in love with each other, deciding to take that ridiculously quick step of moving in together. He gets the keys to his parents' villa and renovates it to build a life and a family. Everything he’d wanted for so long, to Maverick’s return. The only family he had that had destroyed all his hopes and dreams, was the Dagger mission… and subsequent crashes. His injuries, forced leave, and his mental health shattered to you leaving a man who didn’t know how to cope and not giving him the benefit of the doubt to try and help more. Your guilt crushed you in ways you’d never imagined you could ever put on another person. 

You bent in every direction for him, and it still wasn’t enough.

But the hidden truths. Your trust in him was shattered, and protecting yourself, something you were always taught, what we’re all taught but sometimes unable to walk away from someone who can’t change… but Bradley needed more help than you. And when he was put on forced leave, that was the final straw because… 

Because he almost died and when you found out through all the mistruths, he broke you. Maybe he didn’t mean to, maybe he wanted to protect you, protect what you had, but the world was bigger than what is redacted at the end of the day.

But without honesty, what the fuck did you have together? Very little, it turned out. Sex wasn’t going to save you, nor the way your heart found a new rhythm when Bradley was with you. Or how safe you felt in his arms, the way his big hands snuck under your shirt and wrapped around your soft tummy to pull you closer to his strong chest - 

Natasha Trace: He has been found not guilty. Don’t ask me what miracle or deity is on his shoulder, but to be released on Article 92 is wild! 

And you were so relieved and not just because you couldn’t compartmentalise didn’t mean those who were overseeing his case couldn’t. That was their job. Their job wasn’t to love Bradley unconditionally and feel the hurt you did for him… with him. Alone. 

It must have felt revolutionary. Your fingers found the characters to reply somehow. You were shaking, your phone trembled in your hand. Where were your glasses?!

You: How is he? Is he okay?

Natasha Trace: Disbelief. Absolute disbelief. Relief. He’s okay.

You: Thank God, thank you for letting me know, Nat.

Natasha Trace: Of course. We’re going for a celebratory drink. Do you wanna join us, or is that still the stupidest question in the world? 

You: The dumbest. 

You: But thank you.  

Natasha Trace: Can I tell him I told you?

You: I don’t think he will care, but ok. Tell him I’m happy for him and hope he’s excited to get in the air again.

Natasha Trace: I think he will get orders pretty quickly…

It sure seemed like a hint. Talk to him now before you lose him for months on end again. 

You: I’m sure he’s very excited about that. MEDHOLD? 

Natasha Trace: Awaiting TBI and psych assessment but he thinks he’s pretty close.

You: Don’t tell him I’m crossing my fingers for him.

Natasha Trace: …no, never 😉

After showering and dressing with a little more pep in your step thanks to Bradley’s good news, your brain got the best of you and you thought maybe it’d be nice to send him a small, “I’m really happy for you. I hope you enjoy getting back up in the skies” message.

Retrieving his number that was no longer your ICE, no longer the top of your Favourites, and unblocking it made your body quake, and like it was a warning, the barrage of texts you’d not received overwhelmed you.

One by one, begging, pleading for your notice, the raw, the anger, the language.

He had given you a few days of quiet before the texts started.

Bradley 🐓: Love, are you sure this is what you need? I can give you anything, let’s just please try and make this work. I’ll give you some time, whatever you want x

Bradley 🐓: I got a Not Delivered back. You’ve blocked me?

Bradley 🐓: You’ve blocked me. Shit.

Bradley 🐓: Okay, I get it, you want space, I’ll give it to you. 

Bradley 🐓: Hey you… checking if I’m still blocked.

Bradley 🐓: YEP. 

Bradley 🐓: Gotta say, I didn’t think you’d ever block me. 

The thing is, you never thought you’d ever have to block Bradley and as you eased back in your chair, your inherent need to nip something irritating to him made your fingers itch. 

Bradley 🐓: Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll leave it to you to come back to me.

Bradley 🐓: I’m so fucking sorry about tonight. I hope the door didn’t hurt you too badly. 

Bradley 🐓: Still fucking blocked. Ok. I won’t bother again. You've made your point. On me for stupidly not believing we are at this place.

You had to wonder if it was even worth sending one of your own. You couldn’t match his tone, his anger and disappointment. The congratulations text just didn’t seem to cut it but before you knew it, the “Natasha told me you’ve been acquitted. I am happy for you, Rooster. Enjoy getting back to work, I know you’ve missed it” text had written itself but it didn’t mean it was as easy to hit the send button.

And it felt colder than it sounded. You hoped he was sitting on his phone and ready to respond but when you were still waiting the next day, you had to admit you weren’t very surprised. Like he cared that you were happy for him, he deserved to move on and not deal with you and your bullshit in his life anymore. 

You desperately wanted to block him just like before, heart not prepared to see his name in your notifications again.

You hit send before you could think anymore and hoped maybe you were blocked on his end too.

“Knock, knock. Favourite granddaughter is here,” you announced, the tiresomeness in your voice evident after the barrage of Bradley’s texts weighed heavily on you as you walked into your grandparents' home for a cheeky late lunch later that day. Washed and primped (washed and in your activewear, naturally. You were a swimming teacher, not a goddamn office drone), you wandered past the photo wall to find Grandpa and… Maverick in the kitchen. Well, fuck. Your luck was the worst.

There wasn’t a midlife crisis motorbike parked out the front… this would teach you to turn up unannounced. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Grandpa smiled, raising his arm for you to fall under with a hug in greeting. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I, uh…” you tried not to stammer. “Lunch. Thought I’d come over and say hi.”

“Do you wanna sandwich or something?” Viper said, jumping into gear. “Can make a tuna melt - ”

“That’s okay, I’ll go,” you started making excuses. You didn’t want to be around Mav and your brain didn’t have the tolerance to try and fight anymore today. “I didn’t realise you had company…” 

Viper caught the gist and nodded slowly. “You gotta eat.” 

“I have food at home,” you told him but kind of waited for Maverick to take the goddamn hint to get the fuck out. This was your safe place; you didn’t need it tainted by Pete Mitchell. 

“I should probably make a move anyway,” Maverick said, knowing fully well that the discomfort in the kitchen was all because of him. How self-aware, you thought glumly.

“No, you stay,” you tried so hard to be polite, but the tension that bubbled in your bloodstream sort of made you kind of want to curse the day the Navy dragged him yours and Bradley’s way again. 

“No, it’s ok – ”

“Don’t Mav. I’ll leave. You stay,” you tried to bite back your exasperation but it certainly didn’t appear that way. 

“Hey,” Viper warned you. He wouldn’t expect you to talk to anyone like that. 

“Look. I’m real sorry, kid,” Maverick tried, and gee, age had worn him.  

You tried to remain passive, but the frown seemed to speak volumes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Why were you so angry at him? Did Mav even know the impact he’d had on your relationship? How Breadley would come home like a bear with a headache, angry, snide. And for that, you just couldn’t seem to disconnect your past from the present and it only made you seethe further. 

“I know I should have done this before because I know I'm the catalyst of a lot of Bradley’s problems. And in part, that burden fell on you.”

You wanted to tell him you didn’t know what he was talking about, to forget it, but as every emotion you had bubbled under the surface, you hissed back, “Well, it’s all very convenient now, I suppose. You get your kid back; you both get back up in the air and live happily ever after.” 

“That’s fair,” Maverick just seemed to take the lash of your tongue in his stride. How pathetic.

“Hey,” Viper said again, a little more warning in his voice.

“Grandpa, Mav almost got Bradley killed,” you said finally.

Viper’s gaze drifted to Mav. “I know the whole story, sweetheart.”

Taken aback, you look at your grandpa. “What?” 

“Bradley came and told me the whole thing.”

You were slow to respond, probably because your brain was overprocessing Grandpa’s reply and the sting it caused. Because Bradley came here when he couldn’t come to you? Because even though he loved you, he felt he couldn’t share this, so he came to Grandpa. 

And he couldn’t come to you?! 

“Jesus, what did you do so right to get some honesty out of him?” you retorted. 

“He was scared, kid. Bradley has already lost everything. He’d lost you. He thought his career was gone too. He needed someone to talk to.”

“I was right there, taking care of him when no one else was able to,” you could feel the rage build within you. “I was right there and he didn’t tell me until he was told - ”

“Because you were the hardest to tell, sweetheart,” Viper told you, the evenness in his voice riling you more. Why wasn’t your blood as furious as you were?! “The person who means the most in the world, who may or may not already have a vendetta against the Navy. How was he going to tell you?”

“How was he going to keep it a secret? When he wakes up screaming with nightmares every night?” you demanded, and Viper nodded slowly because he knew – you remembered vividly the nights you heard Grandpa wake screaming and Nana begged him to calm for your sake. “He’s had PTSD from the Navy since he was four and he still thinks it’s the only place he belongs.”

He belongs with me, you wanted to scream but thankfully managed to bite back.

“He will always have something to prove. With you, without you,” Maverick said your name evenly. “Regardless of anything that ever happened. He barely knew his old man and for a while, he got away with no one knowing Goose Bradshaw was his old man - ”

“So, what… now he’s got more to fight against?” you muttered.

“In a way, yes.”

Oh, you could fucking punch him and resisting it was becoming futile. You turned to him. “Please don’t say another word,” and there was so much threat in your cautioning. You felt feral, every emotion you’d been pushing down since everything exploded was waiting precariously on your tongue and in range was the one who it all centred around. 

Maverick nodded and for a minute, you thought he’d respect your decision… but nope. “I know him so well. It’s what he hates most about me. I knew his father better than he ever did and Rooster is just like Goose. Always bred for more. Always striving for that next part.”

“If you never came back, he’d still be with me, and we’d be happy. Since you walked back into his life, you unapologetically ruined him again after he fought for everything he has now. And I was there. Trying to fix him when he didn’t know how to fix it himself. But it fell on deaf ears because he didn’t trust me enough to tell me - ”

“He trusts you, kid,” Maverick told you evenly. “You are the only one he trusts and that is what makes it worse for him.”  

It was like a car accident. Bradley’s hand was so close to knocking on the weatherboard of the Metcalfe residence and hearing you, the absolute venom in your tone as you lashed Maverick inside. Bradley had never heard you like this, even when you fought with him, your voice was never as cool and callous. 

“I loved him. I wanted my future with him, and it was taken from us.”

“There’s still time - ” Mav tried and for a moment, Bradley stopped breathing because if what came next from your lips gave him the slightest piece of hope, he was going to walk inside and take you in his arms, right where you belonged and make you see reason if it was the last thing he ever did.

“There isn’t - he doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. He’s got plenty of other options out there, Mav,” you hissed. “You think I’m stupid enough to think he hasn’t moved on? When I saw him at the bar a few weeks ago, he looked right through me. Then his date - whatever she was - followed him out. Trust me, I’m aware Bradley has moved on.”

The men remained quiet, because they knew Bradley hadn’t moved on. Bradley was not thinking about moving on. Bradley was only thinking about you. 

“You didn’t get to Viper’s and invite him for a drink?” Maverick asked a while later, cold beer in hand and sliding another across the bar to Bradley, free Bradley, Bradley who was ready to get up in the air again and get his life back on track after one of the worst periods of his life.

And shit, he’d had a lot of them in his short time on the planet to compare. 

He gave Mav a wary side-eye. “No, by the time I got back from the gym, I thought it was rude to pop over around dinner time,” Bradley lied spectacularly, and he knew Mav could see right through him. He'd watched his godson from the moment he walked in, rigid, terse and for a guy who had the world at his feet again, Mav knew something was still troubling him.

“Talk to me, Bradley.”

“Mav, I heard her.”

“Heard who?” Mav was clueless to Bradley’s less-than-subtle hints. Who else was she?

Bradley sighed, easing against the sticky bar as Javy came past, shaking his shoulders happily. “Congrats, brother. So fuckin' happy for you!” he exclaimed as Bradley gave a sheepish grin in reply and Javy said he’d be back with drinks shortly. 

“Bradley,” Mav got his attention again.

He sighed, sipping his beer to wet his throat. “I heard her yell at you, at Viper and I almost didn’t recognise her voice because of the anger laced in it. And it was because of me she was that heated.” 

Of course. Bradley had come to invite Viper for a drink and caught your vitriol instead. Mav sighed, contemplating his next words. Because even though he’d just got him back in his life, he knew his fractured relationship with Bradley was going to take time to heal fully. Knowing what he knew about Bradley, if he pushed too hard, he would resist. He was so headstrong, and at times, unable to see the forest for the trees, but Mav persisted carefully anyway. “Something tells me, like you, Bradley… she’s had this vendetta lined up for a while. Viper, her old man, now you, and probably me because of my involvement in the last few months... years, I suppose.”

“Doesn’t give her the right to take it out on anyone,” Bradley reminded him.

“She probably never has, and that’s why this smarts so much. You’re more alike than you think. Allathis,” Mav motioned around them at the Naval paraphernalia hanging around the bar. “It’s all you both know. She hasn’t felt the joy from it you do. She lost her faith a long time ago. And for now, you are collateral damage from years of turmoil.

When did this motherfucker get so smart? It left a bitter taste in Bradley's mouth he could be receiving such frank advise from MAv after everything they'd been through.

"But if it told me anything, son, it's that woman loves you and that’s what is making everything so much harder for her.” 

Staring hard at the older man, Bradley guzzled the cool beer down his throat and for once, didn’t know what to say, so Maverick continued, “If anything, have faith that she is still crazy about you. And it’s not over, but it will take time. And it’ll need to be the right time.” 

“When’d you start dishing out all this maturity?” it was all Bradley could find himself saying as Mav broke into a smirk that was almost permanent on his face as a younger, much more careless man. The years had matured him. Gone was the flashy, wide unbeatable grin that was constantly in competition with Ice for the biggest ego and accolades, replaced with a softer version, one that had listened and learned from the auxiliary noise around him. 

One of Mav’s biggest regrets was never settling down and having a family. When it didn’t work with Charlie all those years ago, and it took so long for him and Penny to see eye to eye on where they wanted to be in life, he knew he had to step back and re-evaluate how to get where he needed to. And that didn’t always mean fighting for it, it sometimes meant to take that step back and let fate take its course. 

When Goose died, Mav tried to step in to be the father that Bradley had lost, and for a long time, Bradley let him try and fill that void of a father figure. But it only took one betrayal on Mav’s behalf to become Bradley’s enemy and the resentment that Bradley had for him shook Mav to his core. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take again. He knew better and would do what was needed to support his family the way they needed it. This time, he was going to be everything Bradley needed even if it was to his detriment.

It was only a few days later after your showdown with Mav that you’d gotten word Bradley had flown out, and you were free as a bird to leave the house and see what the outside world had turned into while you’d turned your back on it. Why, you wondered at this time, you’d bothered, was another thing.

“So, if you don’t have a boyfriend, why can’t I buy you a drink?” the young officer asked as you chewed your tongue and could swear, you tasted blood. What was it with these Navy fuckboys who thought anyone was fair game after a few drinks? Not all that much had changed, not even the quiet seething Bob displayed a few seats up, prepping himself to step in.

What was wrong with you to think coming here was a good idea… at any time… anymore?

“Because I have a drink,” you explained quietly again, showing he couldn't take no for an answer, your glass. “I don’t need another. I appreciate the gesture, but no.” 

“Come on, just one.”

“Holy shit – ” you finally snapped but you felt his body heat behind you before you could get the words out. You’d know it anywhere. When did he walk in? …how much had he seen? He wasn't supposed to be here!

You stiffened and maybe more agitated than you were before. 

“Lieutenant,” the young pilot straightened, and it all but confirmed you knew Bradley Bradshaw, who was supposed to be on a boat somewhere in the middle of the big blue was behind you. You were going to kill Hangman. Kill him.

“Nice to see you, Rhodes. Heard you got blown out of the sky today…” Bradley said, the amusement in his voice paramount but you didn’t once let your guard down. You didn’t need him to fight your battles for you. 

“Uh, yeah…” the meekness in the young officer’s voice was obvious. You didn’t always realise the command Bradley had over others. Of course, you knew how people were drawn to him, but seeing him with a subordinate was infatuating, to say the least. You didn’t often see him in a position of real power, and it would be shameful to admit, it was sexy. 

“And by Hangman no less,” Bradley laughed quietly, that amused chuckle that you knew had a whole other hidden meaning. “Would probably be a good idea to stop drowning your sorrows and prepare for tomorrow, huh?”

“Guess so…”

“And apologise.”

“Look, I didn’t think you guys were dating anymore – ” Rhodes tried but didn’t offer an apology.

“What difference does that make?” you snapped, confidence growing in Bradley’s presence. You felt him stand a little closer, his heat prickling your back, behind you you wondered if he noticed it too.

“If you think that is what this is about, your ego is more outta check than you’re letting on."

You heard Rhodes mutter, “I’m sorry,” while he skulked away, and you finally breathed as Bradley stayed quiet behind you. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” you heard him mutter as he joined his other friends. 

“You okay?” Bradley asked gently. 

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, the slight snipe still in your voice. But you didn’t dare turn to face him, because if you looked up at him, that would make this whole thing real - that he was right there with you. You weren’t surprised when your stool was slowly spun towards him and his friendly, impish smile graced his handsome face… his beard was well grown in and manicured to the navy’s specification, his sun-kissed curls a lot longer than you’d ever seen on him and you swear, he’d never looked more handsome. “Hi.” you managed and God, he looked desperate to be kissed. You missed those plump, beautiful lips. 

“Hello,” he replied, holding your gaze. Not hard, just… tender. 

“Thanks. You didn’t need to… do that.”

“I know I didn’t. And I know you’re perfectly capable of standing up for yourself. I just wanted to make sure that little pissant knew what he was getting himself into if he went ten rounds with you.”

And you couldn’t help it as you bit back a giggle, hiding your burgeoning laughter behind your hand. Because if he knew one thing about you… it was that you were the dirtiest fucking fighter around and that poor kid would have been laid out with your lash of the tongue alone. “Well, you’d know…” you admitted as he licked back a smirk of his own and hummed. “Can I buy you a drink to say thanks?” you offered softly, and you weren’t sure he’d even heard you in the commotion of a Friday night. You barely heard the sound of your voice from the raging heartbeat in your ears.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking back at the fellas… all of whom were keenly watching on. Unabashed and gawking. Fuck those guys, he rolled his eyes and came back to you. “I shouldn’t…” 

“Get her a drink, you goddamn pussy!” Hangman mouthed viciously and Bradley pretended he couldn’t read his wingman’s lips. He wished he couldn't.

“Yeah, okay. The least you can do is buy me a beer.”

“Hangman has a tab,” you informed him, that devious glint in your eyes shining. 

“Top-shelf whiskey,” Bradley replied confidently.

You gave the order and times it by two, Bradley raising an interested eyebrow. You stayed together in a strange silence for a while, both waiting for your drinks to whet your palette and bring up the courage to say something that was simply… kind… to the other. God knows your last conversation was anything but. 

Taking your first thankful sips, you both laughed as the exact same line came out to the other, “How have you been?” you both dropped your eyes bashfully, uncomfortably and you tried asking him again.

“Not too bad,” he admitted. 

“I was told you had shipped out.” You would still kill Hangman.

“Checking up on me?” his upper lip twitched as you ducked your head. “Phoenix?”

“Hangman,” you corrected him as he chuckled quietly. 

“Dick,” he muttered shortly. “They extended my medical leave just another few days. Paperwork.”

You looked at him, he looked right as rain. 

“And you were right about the shitty shrink stuff,” he pointed to his head while he read yours. “PTSD.”

Well, yeah, you wanted to say it was the least shocking thing he could tell you. “Oh. Oh, Bradley,” you said delicately.

He nodded and shrugged. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve seen that whole look my whole fuckin’ life, I just can’t stand you looking at me like that too. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid from the get-go.” 

“Then you’re gonna really hate me after this,” you gently touched his ribs, knowing their previous injury and left your hands to skim his cotton tee before wrapping him in your grasp, the muscles tense under your touch. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you murmured into his chest, and he sighed, his breath against you shuddered. Your shampoo invaded his nostrils, and goddamn, if he didn’t miss that fuckin’ perfect scent and how it lingered. 

He couldn’t fight it if he tried and he wrapped his arms around you, trying to desperately not lose it and do all he really wanted to do – cry. Cry for him, cry for you, cry for how badly you’d both fucked up. And he’d be lying to say that being in your arms felt so good. He missed the warmth of your curves, maybe a little less than he remembered, and he breathed you in, his love. And the hardest thing he ever had to get over.

Because, unlike his other losses, who left his life, wholly? You were there every day while he tried to make it without you. That sting of trying to get over you in every facet of his life and he just couldn’t move on from you. And that made it worse. 

“It’s not all bad,” he said, lips so close to your ear. “A long story short, I did get clearance and I’m out in 48 hours. Just for the record. The counselling has to continue weekly.”

“Just like me,” you said, a little sing-song. 

Bradley scoffed, humoured. “Yeah… just like you. A pair a’ damaged goods.”  

“Jesus Christ,” you exclaimed, breaking the revelry as Bradley’s arms were covered in cool liquid and he figured, so was your back.

“What the fuck?” he pulled back, alarmed as he looked at some of the younger officers getting into each other’s faces, glasses hitting the floor, drinks flying. It was broken up as quickly as it escalated, Bradley pushing you gently behind him to avoid getting caught in the fracas. “You okay?” he asked over his shoulder as you were reaching for the napkins on the bar just out of your reach. He moved before you and retrieved them, helping you dab away whatever had - yep, drenched you, the back of your hair dripping and the back of your dress sopping. 

“Yeah, just a drink or something,” you sighed.

“Lemme help,” he said, carefully turning you around and tenderly mopping up the bare skin on your back. And he’d be lying to say that if he just reached a little lower, he’d be able to kiss that freckle behind your ear, but blinking that image away, he knew this was not the time to be fantasising about the woman whom he fantasised about every night. 

He sighed and removed his shirt, white V-neck underneath. “Take this,” he said your name a few times over the commotion in the bar after the almost fight.

Raising your hands, you told him not to worry. You’d just take off and get a shower. “It was a bad idea coming out tonight. You know when you feel it’s not the time?”

“Well, you did think I had already flown out, so you probably should have trusted your intuition.” 

And you stared up at him, watching him biting back a grin and as he wrapped his shirt over your shoulders, watching you slip your arms into the sleeves, all he wanted to do was pull you in tight again, kiss your hair and tell you how he was still so in love with you that it was keeping him awake at night, that it was you that he still jerked off and willingly spilling into his hand and all over his stomach to. He imagined you riding him, giving him the messiest head like only you knew how, kissing him while he made love to you, and he held your arms trapped above your head as you trembled beneath him, as you came around him. 

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” he asked, chewing his lip, and fixing the collar on the shirt. But you were so swept up in his smell that lingered, and as you tightened it around yourself, your eyes changed just for that flash that told Bradley that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just him who was feeling the way he was. “Can I drive you home?” 

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I know you have things to do tomorrow - ”

“Come on,” he offered gently, nudging his head towards the door and as he collected your bag and urged you to wander out before him, you knew it was going to take all your strength to just allow this to happen. “Lemme get you outta here.” 

And who were you to argue? Because honestly. You’d follow him anywhere. The man you loved, the man you’d hurt so badly. Nodding gently and seeing that sweet gentleness in his honey-coloured eyes, you let him usher you ahead, his strong hand easy on your lower back, just like it was any other night, the way he’d guide you through the masses, softly, securely, protectively. 

You wriggled as the cool alcohol pressed into your back, and Bradley flinched, thinking you wanted his hands off you – when it couldn’t be any further from the truth. He took his palm away and opened the door as you exited. “You really don’t have to drop me home,” you told him. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“It’s fine, really. I had, like, two drinks. Probably best I call it a night and make sure I’m organised anyway,” he replied, leading you to the Bronco. He unlocked your side and naturally opened the door, offering his hand to help you step in.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking his offered warm palm and he helped hoist you in with the slightest of assistance. Buckling up, your eyes followed him to the driver’s side, and he just looked so handsome. You were surrounded by him with his shirt and cologne filling your senses. It all felt too familiar and that scared you terribly. He was fiddling with the keys before popping in and hopping into the seat. He gave you a small smile as he buckled up and gunned the engine, unsurprisingly Al Green low through the stereo. 

It was a quiet trip towards your apartment, keeping your eyes on the passing coastline, scared if you looked at him, you’d do something stupid and just revelling in being the closest you’d been to him in months. 

“You see they demolished that old villa near Penny’s place?” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, how ridiculous,” you said to him. “It was such a gorgeous home. I think they’re dozing it for apartments or something,” you continued the small talk as you passed his villa. You noticed the ladder out front and scaffolding around the roof. “How’s it all going here?”

“Ahh, okay,” he shrugged, trying to focus on the road. “You know, a lot to be done still.”

“I can imagine,” you agreed, studying his face. His profile was completely different with his neat beard, but the rest of him was bigger and stronger. He’d laid countless hours into the gym while on leave and you could see the proof. Your eyes travelled over his tanned biceps and the way the white tee sleeve strained over them, following the vein to his inner elbow and wrist, hand clutching the gear shirt, long fingers wrapped around it. “Thanks for the lift home.”

“Anytime,” he replied, peeking a look back at you and a small smile crept to his handsome features, knowing he was sprung. But alas, so were you. “What?”

You shook your head gently, mortified inside that he caught you checking him out. But what were you to do? He was always so incredibly handsome, and you just missed being near him, being around his warmth, even if it wasn’t something you could bathe in like you used to. 

As much as he made you nervous to be in this proximity again… you felt incredibly content just being with him. His quiet calm always had a way of reassuring you, even before you started dating. 

A few more moments in relative silence aside from the stereo, Bradley pulled into the apartment carpark and put the car in park.

Ask him in, your brain screamed.

Kiss him, it added.

Fix this, your brain had officially melted down.

And when all you muttered was a “thanks” for driving you home, for giving up his shirt, for being the bigger person to be able to do both… you sunk into a funk that you just weren’t expecting tonight. Because even though the night was a happy accident, there was so much unsaid.

“No problem,” he said, hands gripping the steering wheel like if you tried to kiss him, he would let you, like if you asked him in, he’d willingly follow. He was anticipating your next move but you didn’t know what it was. 

“Bye,” you unbuckled and opened the door, scooting out before you made more of a mess of everything than you had to now. 

“Night,” he said, sadly lips pursed together as you gently closed the door over and refused to look back as you went to the stairs and forced one foot then the next to continue climbing the flights until you were safely at your door. 

With one last glance back, you weren’t surprised to still see Bradley’s Bronco parked and you waved timidly, not willing to see if he returned the gesture before finding solace in your apartment.

You tossed your bag on the bench and made a beeline for your bedroom, spent. Mentally, your brain was fried. Physically, all you could think about was Bradley and how he could amp you up with very little attempt on his behalf. You wrapped his shirt tightly around you, taking in the Acqua di Gio that lingered.

You missed the way the scent drifted around the apartment and how much it truly reminded you of him. You carefully slipped it off and folded it just like he would have if it were him removing it before unzipping your damp dress, the alcohol stinging gently against your skin and discarded the dress in a pile at your feet. 

Needing a hot shower, you rinsed yourself of the mess of the evening but as you hung your towel up after your evening skincare, Bradley’s cologne wasn’t lost on you in the small room. His smell overwhelmed you and as you moved towards the shirt again, bringing the collar to your nose, you knew the time had come to fix this. 

To fix you.

To fix him.

And to fix you back together.

masterlist.

Big thanks as always to @sometimesanalice for helping me get this fic over this line when this chapter really needed it! x

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x