I'm May, and I write things! Currently, I write for Top Gun Maverick, mostly Bradley Bradshaw, but some other aviators will also show up on this list. I do take requests for TGM -- also feel free to stop by and just chat as well!
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Disclaimer: this blog is 18+ (minors dni)
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw
✈︎ Oneshots
Just Our Luck - Despite how hard the universe tries to ruin it, you and Bradley have the perfect night.
✈︎ Series
For the Love of Love - (ongoing) You are hopelessly in love with Bradley Bradshaw. That complicates your fake dating scheme.
✈︎ Christmas Fics
I'll Be Home for Christmas - With Bradley on deployment, you don't find the Christmas season as cheery as usual. The Daggers make it their mission to help you get into the holiday spirit.
Put a Bow on It - You find out that Bradley's present-wrapping skills are... less than stellar, so it's up to you to save Christmas.
Jake "Hangman" Seresin
✈︎ Oneshots
Be Mine - It’s the weekend and Jake has a surprise for you — but you don’t know if you’re ready.
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For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw | Part III
Part I | Series Masterlist
Summary: It's time for Bradley to meet the family. Good luck :)
Word count: 5k
a/n: I started writing this in winter, and now summer is literally coming up on my ass lol. Shoutout to the southern hemisphere, this fic is in season there. But seriously, regardless of where you are in the world, hope y'all enjoy x
As your family barreled down the cabin stairs, you turned to Bradley. You weren’t sure you got the reassurance you needed when he looked up from fixing his hair in the rearview mirror, winked, and said, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”
You rolled your eyes and swung open the car door. As soon as your feet hit the ground, Tommy nearly tackled you into the snow.
Your brother was somehow still growing. Much to your annoyance, he was even taller than when you saw him last. Still, he smelled like your parents’ house, and being in his arms was like sneaking a slice of your childhood from behind the universe’s back.
When Tommy finally let you go, you didn’t have a moment to breathe before Georgia crushed you in another hug. You had forgotten how nice it was to be in the arms of the woman you would one day call your sister-in-law. Her reddish, curly hair tickled your cheek and her words warmed your core as she whispered in her gentle manner, “I’m so glad to see you again.”
Nora and Sabrine were waiting for their turn to greet you, Nora somewhat less patiently. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, sending her thick braid slapping against her puffy green vest. Sabrine was a stiller picture. She wore a soft smile, but her wide brown eyes narrowed, and she raised protective hand over her baby bump when she caught sight of the stranger unfurling himself from the passenger seat.
“Oh, guys,” you said. Your nerves were singing as you put the plan into place, no matter how much you practiced (which you were realizing wasn’t nearly enough). “I’d like everyone to meet my boyfriend, Bradley.”
Tommy cocked his head. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
Nora took a step back, trying to fit you and Bradley together in a single picture. Sabrine’a gaze stayed hard.
From the porch, your Aunt Marnie called out, “Who’s the handsome gentleman in the driveway?”
You worried your fingers, shifted from foot to foot. It was impossible to force words through your teeth as your family looked at you for an answer.
Bradley saved the already sinking ship by rounding the car and slipping a hand around your waist, which made it as hard for you to stand as it was for you to talk. He stuck out his hand toward Tommy. “Nice to see you again.”
Tommy took his hand but looked at you with one eyebrow raised.
Though you were struggling to balance on two wobbly legs, Bradley’s hand on your waist was strangely comforting. He was the other half of this insane plan, after all. With his support, your words finally tumbled out of you.
“Surprise! I didn’t want to mention it until I knew I was sure but…” You rested a shaky hand on Bradley’s chest. “I’m sure.”
Your words thickened the mountain air as Tommy, Nora, and Sabrine tried to make sense of your surprise. Thank god for Georgia, who nearly tackled Bradley in a giant hug. Her decision swayed the others, who closed around him and welcomed him into the family by giving him too little personal space and too many questions to answer.
At least he handled it well enough that everyone’s attention was drawn to him, and you could slip away to unload the trunk.
Graciously, Bradley carried your luggage up to the cabin. Tommy, Georgia, and Nora swarmed him like summer bugs to a campfire. Even Sabrine softened and asked about your flight. You’d never brought anyone home, and you could safely assume they hadn’t expected you to bring a giant naval aviator to Grandma and Grandpa’s 60th wedding anniversary. You smiled, though the mountain air left you a bit breathless.
Auntie Marnie held the door open as you all piled into the cabin. The fire was flickering in the living room, chasing off the cold that trailed you inside. Hugs from everyone chased off the numbness of your skin. There was Grandma Sybil, who eyed Bradley with such suspicion that you were sure your ruse had been found out already. Grandpa Thomas, who tussled your hair and smelled just a little bit like cigarettes. Sabrine’s husband Matt gave you a ginger hug that couldn’t belie how new he was to the family. Owen and Addison gave you one big hug (they almost always move as a single unit).
Your parents saw Bradely (he was hard to miss), but they stayed focused on you.
“My baby.” Your mom’s voice coated you like a warm honey, though her words struck a chill through you. “How are you? Why didn’t you tell us about Bradley?”
“Umm…” Maybe it was more than just the thin mountain air leaving you breathless. “I just wanted to be sure before I told you all.”
It sounded more convincing outside, with the ancient pines to bear witness. In the living room crammed with people, your lie was somehow much less believable. Your mother’s eyes were cold as they searched yours, but they broke away when your dad enveloped you in a hug.
“Missed you, kiddo.” He kissed the crown of your head.
“Missed you too, Dad.”
But even if your surprise was on shaky ground thanks to Grandma Sybil and your mom, yours was not the only surprise. You were shocked — and grateful — to find that while Nora and Madison had summited K2, they had most recently embarked on a new kind of adventure.
His name was Henry, he had curly brown hair, and he was 3 years old. Grandpa Thomas had pulled out you and your cousins’ old toys, and Henry was playing contently on the bearskin rug with a Tickle Me Elmo and a smattering of Polly Pockets, some of the dresses bearing permanent teeth imprints.
In the current of people, you found yourself reaching for Bradley like he was a rock you could cling to in the storm. Like he was really your boyfriend. For his part, he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go, not when your dad clapped him on the shoulder and said “I trust you’re taking good care of her” and not when your mom locked eyes with him and only smiled.
You jumped in, despite the nervousness bubbling in your throat. “He’s taking good care of me, Mom and Dad. I’m very happy.”
“And I’m happy whenever she’s happy.” Bradley sealed the deal with a wink that left you studying the floor.
Auntie Elaine walked into the room like a force of nature, her cheeks permanently red, maybe from the freezing Alaskan winds. She clapped once, commanding everyone’s attention like you all were her sled dogs. “Come on, people, stop swarming the two. I’m sure they want to go upstairs and get settled.”
The knot of people around you loosened. You mouthed her a thank you, and she gave you a nod with the barest hint of a smile.
Bradley carried all your luggage up the staircase. Two flights up to your little attic room. It smelled like the vanilla cupcake body mist you wore every day as a teen — and it probably always would. The steeply slanted roof cut into the room, making it seem even smaller than it already was.
Bradley dropped the bags with several resounding thumps. Instead of his attention falling to the window which offered a glimpse of the lake, his eyes were on the full sized bed shoved into the corner of the room, the ceiling hanging low over it.
You rubbed the back of your neck. Your grandma had crocheted the pink, red, and blue afghan that dressed up the bed, somehow making it look smaller and more juvenile.
Fuck. It wasn’t like you could offer Bradley the couch if you were to be the perfect couple. “I forgot about this. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Bradley chuckled. “Well, do you think they bought it?”
“I think so?” The room was so small you could hear the rhythm of his breathing. “I’m so happy Nora and Madison surprised everyone with Henry, though. Hopefully that means the heat will be off us.”
“Everyone is very interested in our dating life. Well, Georgia and your Auntie Marnie, at least. I told them we’ve been dating for five months, sorry.”
“It’s fine.” You ran a hand over the solid oak dresser, your fingertips collecting powdered sugar dust. “They’ll probably want to know everything. It’s ok if there are some small discrepancies, as long as we look the part.”
His eyes finally ripped away from the bed. He took in the Raggedy Anne doll on your nightstand, the one Grandpa Thomas brought to the hospital when you were born. Your high school copy of Frankenstein laid open next to it, its worn pages exhausted by silly teenaged annotations. The bikini you wore last summer — bright red and studded with white polka dots — hung from the back of an old rocking chair. It clashed absurdly with the gleaming snow that frosted the pines outside. You fumbled to stuff it in the first dresser drawer you managed to fling open.
You were soaked into every part of this bedroom — from the shag rug to the yellow-wood walls. Bradley standing in it (his hair skimming the slanted ceiling) made you feel naked.
He tapped a plastic orange frame perched on your dresser. It was a picture taken from the lakeshore of you and Nat on a paddleboard almost a decade ago. Not five seconds after Tommy had snapped the photo, the two of you had plunged into the lake. But that was something you’d tell Bradley if you’d invited him into your room because you loved him, not because you were tricking your family into thinking you’d finally found someone.
So instead you said, “Are you ready to face my family again?”
“Am I ever?”
He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. Your fingers were a bit sweaty, but he gave you a reassuring squeeze as you two descended the stairs, the clamor of your family growing louder with each step. Your mind was dizzy trying to comprehend that Bradley Bradshaw was meeting your family. You’d daydreamed about this more often than you would ever admit. You just wished it was real.
You had to give him credit; he played the role of your secret-almost-but-not-quite-long-term boyfriend very well. He talked easily with your dad about the NBA playoffs. He withstood the questions Tommy lobbed at him about flying planes. He played dominos with you and your aunts. He helped Sabrine in the kitchen until he snuck too much cookie dough and she shooed him out. He made your heart flutter when he got on the floor and played trains with Henry.
“Choo choo!” He said as he pushed a bright red engine with a mismatched purple caboose down the wooden tracks on the living room floor.
Henry giggled and ran a yellow engine up Bradley’s leg.
You hid your smile with a sip of cocoa, but Bradley caught sight of you across the room and beckoned you to join. You sat next to him, a little farther than an actual girlfriend would. He closed the gap by circling an arm around you. You almost didn’t flush at his touch after spending nearly the whole day at his side. Almost.
Nora and Madison were watching the three of you from the love seat, Madison’s legs flopped over Nora’s, comfy silence stretched over them like a quilt. Your heart quickened at the sight of actual love. Bradley’s arm suddenly felt foreign against you.
Before your thoughts spiraled too far, Henry offered you a passenger car to play with. You set it on the tracks, but he shook his head.
“Like this.” He ran his train down Bradley’s leg.
“Hey,” Bradley said through a giant grin. “My legs aren’t train tracks!”
But your little cousin had given you clear instructions, and you followed them. A warmth rippled through you as the wheels of the toy train car gilded smoothly over Bradley’s sweatpants. He'd been comfortable touching you since the moment you’d met on a particularly rowdy night at the Hard Deck (because any friend of Nat’s was a friend of his). During that first bear hug, some part of him must have broken off and lodged in your heart, and you’d spent so long trying to pry it out or ignore it that it felt nice to actually indulge it. It wasn’t so much a splinter anymore as it was a shard of heat warming you from the inside. For the weekend, at least.
Someone stepped between you and the fire, blocking the heat. You looked up. Grandma Sybil was studying the two of you from behind her wire rimmed glasses.
“Dear,” her voice was clear like someone fifty years younger than herself, “why don’t you and Bradley come sit on the couch with me? I’d love the company.”
You tensed. You couldn’t remember if you warned Bradley enough about Grandma Sybil. You’d seen her question so many significant others, but that had never concerned you. Now it was Bradley’s turn, and he wasn’t even your significant other. But your grandma had already turned and was walking to her recliner, expecting you both to follow, so you let Bradley help you to your feet.
The two of you dropped awkwardly onto the couch. There was enough room between the two of you that you might have looked like strangers if not for the hand holding. With the fire and the oven on, it was really hot. And Grandma Sybil looked mightily unimpressed with the couple before her.
You scooted closer to Bradley, and he nearly pulled you into his lap. He gave you a look like Am I doing this right? The knots in your stomach knotted into more knots, but your grandmother held your full attention. She was the matriarch, and her judgment in your favor was crucial to keep up the ruse.
“Tell me,” she sat down on her recliner with a bit of effort, “Bradford –”
“Bradley,” you interjected on his behalf.
She waved you off. “What do you like about our granddaughter so much?”
You felt his breath catch a little. You clutched his hand in a death grip.
“She’s kind.” Bradley’s voice was steady. “She loves her family. I know she’ll always be there for me if I’m there for her. And when I first saw her, she took my breath away.”
Your heart swelled in spite of yourself, but Grandma Sybil seemed unconvinced, so you pipped in. “He’s a sweetheart, Grandma. He flies planes for the navy.”
She readjusted her glasses but didn’t say anything.
“He’s Nat’s friend.” You tried again.
“Oh, Natasha.” Grandma Sybil finally smiled. “What a great girl. How is she?”
“She’s doing good.” It was easier to speak now. “She wishes she could be here, but she had work. She’s very in demand.”
Grandma Sybil looked pointedly at Bradley. “And how do you know Natasha?”
“Grandma, I just told you; he flies planes for the navy.”
“It’s ok.” Bradley rested his free hand on your arm. He was getting good at this. “I work with Nat a lot. She’s the perfect person to have with me in the sky.”
Grandma Sybil adjusted her glasses as if she was seeing Bradley in a new light. “Well, if Nat thinks you’re a good fit for our granddaughter –”
“She does,” you said.
“– then welcome to the family.”
She struggled out of the recliner and took Bradley’s face between her hands. She gave him a kiss on each cheek, then did the same for you.
“I knew you’d like him,” you told her. “He’s a catch, huh?”
She ignored you and stared into his eyes. “You be good to her, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley channeled his inner military man and straightened like a flagpole.
Even if he didn’t realize, he was being good to you. Only an insane person, or a really good friend, would try to help someone trick their family this way. You felt bad he had go through all the pains of meeting his girlfriend’s family without the girlfriend, but he smiled down at you with his big brown eyes, still holding your hand, and you felt as if – just maybe – there was some piece of you lodged in his heart.
Before you could properly chase that thought out of your head, Henry started crying. Nora and Madison rushed from their spot on the love seat to soothe him. Their attempts weren’t really working, and his cries mixed with the clinking of dominoes and the clattering of pots and pains threatened to raise a headache in you.
Your eyes fell to the hot tub on the porch.
“Hey Bradley?” You asked under the current of noise.
“Yes?” Did you imagine the twitch of his upper lip? Had your grandmother actually rattled him?
It was ok, though, because you had the perfect relaxing antidote to his troubles.
“Join me in the hot tub?”
You hadn’t known if Bradley would bring his swimsuit that he practically lived in during San Diego summers, but he confessed he had because he heard Lake more than Tahoe. It wasn’t like it was freezing in San Diego, he argued.
You suppressed your laugh up in your stuffy attic room as he stood with the Hawiian print swim trunks in hand.
“What?” He said. “I’m using them, aren’t I?”
“I guess. In a 102 degree hot tub, though, not the lake.” You were pulling your bikini out of the drawer you’d crammed it in earlier.
You both stood, pink shag rug between you, holding onto your swimsuits and staring at each other.
“What are we waiting for?” Bradley grinned. “We’ve been dating for five months.”
You stared at him.
“I’m teasing.” That’s what he said, but in the same breath he pulled his hoodie and shirt off with one swift motion.
Jesus Christ, you forgot how good he looked without a shirt. Your lungs absolutely refused to fill with enough oxygen.
“Hey.” His expression softened toward you, the playfulness traded for something more reassuring. “I won’t look if you promise not to look.”
“Promise.” The word hung limp in the air as you both turned your backs and shimmied into your swimsuits. You stared out your tiny window as you pulled on the bikini bottoms, watching the snow glare in the sunlight and trying to keep your mind from the fact that you and Bradley were basically naked in your old bedroom.
“You ready?” He asked.
You were fumbling with the tie of your bikini top. “Just a sec.”
The seconds passed like drops of snow melt. You counted every one. As more and more slipped by, the clumsier your fingers became.
“Bradley, are you looking?”
“No, ma’am.”
You sucked in a deep breath, “I can’t get this top tied. Can you help?”
“’Course.” He passed over your rug and took the strings from your hands. His fingers were warm as they grazed your back. “Is this too tight?”
“No, that’s perfect.” You were lightheaded with his body so close to yours, his breath tickling the bare skin of your shoulders, his beachy scent cutting through the lingering smell of your teenage body spray. With a shock, you remembered your manners. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” He patted your shoulder. “Now, I think there’s a hot tub somewhere around here, and it’s got our name on it.”
The freezing air stabbed your bare skin as you and Bradley ran out the front door and across the porch to the hot tub. You both practically dove into it, letting the warm water bring feeling back to your skin.
“Can they see us?” Bradley nodded towards the cabin windows from the opposite side of the tub.
“Most definitely.” If you stole a glance, you could see at least five of your family members watching you two from in front of the fireplace. “Are we selling it?”
He chuckled. “Not at all. We look like strangers. Could you get any farther from me?”
“Sorry. We’ve only been together every minute since 6:15 this morning.”
His expression flickered, but before you could figure out with what, it flattened into a smile again. “Well, do you want to convince your family or not?”
“I do.”
He opened his arms. “Then get over here.”
You swam over to his waiting arms and settled practically in his lap.
“What are we doing?” You asked, laying your head against his chest, careful to not lean too much of your weight onto him. Careful not to let your heart beat out of your chest.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m having a great time in Tahoe.”
“Sorry about my grandmother.” You drifted your hand along the surface of the water.
“She just wants to know you’re ok. And I was more than happy to reassure her.”
You opened your mouth – to say you weren’t ok, look at what you were doing – but heavy steps along the deck stopped you. You turned to see Tommy and Georgia in swimsuits made of the same matching green gingham fabric.
“Mind if we join?” Your brother asked, but he was already climbing over the side of the tub.
“Sure,” you answered, though you knew he wasn’t actually asking for permission.
Georgia slipped in after Tommy. She smiled with a hint of apology in her green eyes. “Thanks.”
For a moment, no one said anything. Tommy and Georgia sat across from you, fitting against one another like puzzle pieces. He draped an easy arm over her shoulder, and she entwined her fingers with his without thinking. No asking for permission. No awkwardness here. You suddenly felt very aware of Bradley’s hard body against yours.
Slowly, conversation eased around you all. Tommy and Georgia talked about school – over on the east coast – where he was studying accounting and she was studying biochemistry. Bradley talked about working as a pilot, deployments on aircraft carriers, and the general tomfoolery he and the Daggers got up to. Tommy said Sabrine was upset that her child wouldn’t be the first grandchild after Henry. Georgia said your grandparents were upset because Owen and Addison were leaving tonight. Something about having to miss the anniversary dinner because it’s her mom’s birthday, and they’re celebrating in the Bahamas.
You spoke a little, but mostly you basked in the soft silence the conversation afforded you, counted icicles hanging from the eaves, and tried not to think so hard about relaxing into Bradley’s body. If Tommy and Georgia couldn’t be fooled, it was hopeless.
“So…” Tommy gestured with his and Georgia’s hand at the two of you. “Who said I love you first?”
“What do you mean?” Your voice came out cold and sharp like the icicles above without you meaning to.
Bradley put a reassuring hand on your thigh. You hadn’t meant to get defense, and your brother raised his eyebrows at you.
Georgia kicked a foot out of the water, showing off her pink toenails. “They say you can tell a lot about a couple based on who said I love you first and when.”
“Who says that?” Your voice was softer.
“We do.” She and Tommy said in sync.
“Well,” Bradley started before you could say anything and make it worse. “I did. We were at our usual bar. I was a little drunk, and she just looked so stunning I couldn’t help myself, so –”
“It was charming,” you said. “He played our song on the piano. It was so romantic.”
He nodded. “A little embarrassing too. All our friends were there.”
“It was sweet, though.” You kicked him lightly under the jets. You were supposed to be the perfect couple, why was he trying to play up his embarrassment of an event that never actually happened?
“Charmingly, embarrassingly sweet.” He settled on the story and you nodded along.
Georgia asked, “What’s your song?”
“Oh, umm, what’s it called, sweetie? It’s…” You looked at Bradley, suddenly blanking on every song title ever.
Bradley looked up, the gears in his brain so obviously turning you didn’t think Georgia or even Tommy would buy your relationship. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “It’s called Great Balls of Fire.”
Ok, so he had blanked on every song title as well if the only one he could pull out of his ass was the one he played every weekend night at the Hard Deck. At least you were equally hopeless at thinking on the fly.
Tommy and Georgia nodded slowly. When it was clear neither of you had anything else to add, Georgia asked, “How long were you dating?”
“Three months,” you said at the same time Bradley said, “One month.”
Confusion spread across their faces like frost over a window.
“Well, it’s kind of funny…” You trailed off when you couldn’t think of a kind of funny explanation.
“We’d known each other for three months,” Bradley picked up your slack. “But had only been official for one. But we’ve been in love from the moment we laid eyes on each other, so the math gets complicated.”
He squeezed your thigh, and the condensation of your breaths mingled in the late afternoon sun. Panic prickled your skin. If only he’d known how true his words rang, if only for you.
Luckily, Tommy and Georgia began talking about how they met in high school algebra class, and the conversation steered safely away from the topic of your relationship.
When the sun set, everyone jumped out of the hot tub and raced back into the warmth of the cabin. You and Bradley took turns warming up in the shower and had your fill of the pizza Grandpa Thomas ordered.
Owen and Addison left the cabin with giant suitcases and sheepish smiles. Grandma Sybil’s anger burned brightly as they walked out the door. She launched into a diatribe about ungrateful grandkids. Funnily enough, her audience was made of her grandkids who had cared enough to stay. You swapped we'll-talk-about-this-later glances with your cousins. After a few awkward minutes, Grandpa Thomas ushered her to bed.
Everyone was quick to say their goodnights after that. You and Bradley headed up to your room. Only to be greeted by the problem of your full-sized bed.
“I could sleep on the floor,” you offered, unable to bear his silence.
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I can do that.”
You bit your lip. You didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but Bradley had already done so much for you. He withstood Grandma Sybil, lied in front of your whole family, and the fact that he was even in Tahoe to begin with was still blowing your mind. You could take the floor for him.
“Seriously, get comfy in bed.” You pulled down the afghan and the comforter and fluffed the pillow a little. “I’ll grab some extra blankets.”
You slipped out the door before he could protest. You snuck down to the second floor where the linen closet was, just outside your parents’ room. You twisted the knob carefully so as not to alert them, but the closet door whined open anyway. You gathered whatever sheets and blankets were on top and shut it quickly but quietly.
Just when you thought you were in the clear, your mother opened her bedroom door. “Honey, it’s late. What do you need?”
You both glanced down at the abundance of quilts and sheets bundled in your arms. You had to think of an explanation, quick.
“Well, Bradley gets very cold at night. And it’s drafty up there.”
Your mom crossed her arms over her chest. “You used to complain all the time about how stuffy it was in your room.”
“That’s true.” You laughed and couldn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I run colder now than I used to.”
She looked at you over the frames of her reading glasses.
“Well, goodnight, Mom.” You turned to run back up the stairs.
“Honey?”
You swore silently but turned around.
“Is everything ok?” She asked. “You’ve been acting a little strange ever since you got here.”
“Oh, nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. I’m fine. Just, work’s been crazy, and with Bradley meeting the family, it’s been really stressful.”
“Ok.” Her face, which you’d known your whole life, was unreadable. “Let me know if I can do anything for you. I love you.”
“Love you too. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
When you were little, Sabrine would tease you by telling you the cabin was haunted. With the way you raced back to your room, it might have well been.
Bradley – damn him – was lying on your rug by the time you got back.
“I told you to take the bed.” You dumped the blankets onto the ground.
“I know.” He sat up and started grabbing the discarded blankets. “But I’m a gentleman. Take the bed.”
You were beyond tired. It had been a long day, and Bradley was already cocooning himself in blankets on the floor. An argument now would just draw out the inevitable.
You sighed. “I’m giving you the bed tomorrow night.”
“Whatever helps you sleep better,” he mumbled.
You turned off the lamp. It was as stuffy as it always was in your room, but you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.
Sometime in the night, you woke to a shadow looming over you in the moonlight. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, thinking you were seeing things, but the shadow only solidified as your vision adapted to the low light. It was a tall, Bradley-looking shadow.
“Move over.” His voice was gruff with sleep.
You scooted toward the opposite edge of the bed, too tired to complain or ask questions. Your ancient bedframe squeaked as you shifted, practically screamed when Bradley sank onto your mattress.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled as a way of an explanation, but you were too sleepy to need one.
Your bed kept squeaking and groaning as the two tried to settle in without bothering the other. There was a small tug-of-war with the blankets. You lost because really, there was no way to win against Bradley in feats of strength.
You smiled to yourself in the darkness. Bradley Bradshaw was in your bed. He wasn’t touching you, and he stole most of your blankets, but he was in your bed.
His snoring filled the room as you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II
Part I | Series Masterlist
Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap
a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x
It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.
Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.
You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.
Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.
“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.
“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“What texts?”
“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.
“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”
“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.
Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.
“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.
He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”
“Of course.”
“Works good enough for me.”
He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.
“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”
You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.
“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”
You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”
“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.
The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.
“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”
You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.
“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”
He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”
“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”
“Noted.” You heard him swallow.
You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”
“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.
“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”
“You went to the wedding, I remember.”
You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.
As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.
“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.
“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”
Bradley snorted. “Was it?”
“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”
An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.
Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.
The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?
As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”
His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?
Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.
Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.
“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.
Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.
“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”
“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.
“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”
You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”
“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.
“Well, how long have we been dating?”
That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”
“It’s already weird.” He laughed.
“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”
“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”
“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”
“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”
You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”
“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.
Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.
“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”
You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.
“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”
“The ones that are really into PDA?”
“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”
You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.
“And there’s this move.”
As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.
You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.
“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”
You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.
The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?
He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.
The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.
You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.
The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.
From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.
You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.
He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.
“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”
“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”
Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”
Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”
“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”
Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.
The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.
The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.
You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”
You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.
When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.
“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”
You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.
He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”
You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.
He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”
You nodded. “Deal.”
He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.
Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.
You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.
“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.
“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.
Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.
You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.
“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.
Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.
“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”
“Ok.”
You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.
You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”
“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”
“Is that what your ideal man would do?”
Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.
“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”
“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”
Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”
“So first goal: be believable.”
He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”
“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”
“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”
You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.
Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.
You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.
“Ready?” You asked.
“Ready, babe.”
Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.
For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II
Part I | Series Masterlist
Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap
a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x
It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.
Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.
You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.
Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.
“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.
“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“What texts?”
“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.
“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”
“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.
Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.
“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.
He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”
“Of course.”
“Works good enough for me.”
He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.
“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”
You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.
“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”
You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”
“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.
The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.
“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”
You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.
“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”
He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”
“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”
“Noted.” You heard him swallow.
You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”
“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.
“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”
“You went to the wedding, I remember.”
You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.
As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.
“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.
“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”
Bradley snorted. “Was it?”
“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”
An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.
Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.
The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?
As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”
His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?
Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.
Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.
“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.
Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.
“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”
“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.
“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”
You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”
“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.
“Well, how long have we been dating?”
That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”
“It’s already weird.” He laughed.
“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”
“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”
“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”
“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”
You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”
“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.
Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.
“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”
You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.
“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”
“The ones that are really into PDA?”
“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”
You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.
“And there’s this move.”
As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.
You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.
“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”
You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.
The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?
He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.
The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.
You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.
The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.
From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.
You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.
He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.
“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”
“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”
Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”
Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”
“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”
Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.
The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.
The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.
You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”
You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.
When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.
“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”
You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.
He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”
You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.
He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”
You nodded. “Deal.”
He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.
Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.
You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.
“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.
“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.
Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.
You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.
“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.
Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.
“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”
“Ok.”
You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.
You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”
“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”
“Is that what your ideal man would do?”
Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.
“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”
“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”
Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”
“So first goal: be believable.”
He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”
“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”
“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”
You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.
Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.
You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.
“Ready?” You asked.
“Ready, babe.”
Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.
For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II
Part I | Series Masterlist
Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap
a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x
It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.
Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.
You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.
Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.
“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.
“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“What texts?”
“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.
“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”
“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.
Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.
“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.
He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”
“Of course.”
“Works good enough for me.”
He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.
“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”
You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.
“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”
You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”
“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.
The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.
“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”
You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.
“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”
He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”
“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”
“Noted.” You heard him swallow.
You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”
“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.
“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”
“You went to the wedding, I remember.”
You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.
As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.
“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.
“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”
Bradley snorted. “Was it?”
“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”
An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.
Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.
The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?
As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”
His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?
Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.
Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.
“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.
Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.
“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”
“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.
“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”
You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”
“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.
“Well, how long have we been dating?”
That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”
“It’s already weird.” He laughed.
“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”
“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”
“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”
“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”
You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”
“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.
Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.
“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”
You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.
“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”
“The ones that are really into PDA?”
“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”
You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.
“And there’s this move.”
As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.
You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.
“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”
You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.
The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?
He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.
The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.
You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.
The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.
From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.
You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.
He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.
“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”
“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”
Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”
Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”
“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”
Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.
The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.
The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.
You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”
You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.
When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.
“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”
You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.
He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”
You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.
He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”
You nodded. “Deal.”
He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.
Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.
You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.
“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.
“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.
Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.
You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.
“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.
Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.
“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”
“Ok.”
You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.
You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”
“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”
“Is that what your ideal man would do?”
Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.
“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”
“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”
Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”
“So first goal: be believable.”
He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”
“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”
“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”
You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.
Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.
You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.
“Ready?” You asked.
“Ready, babe.”
Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.
YESSSSS i’m so excited for a new chapter!!! i felt their stress during bag check and tsa (gotta get clear next time 😉) and thought the little moments between them, like the coffee, bagels, and turbulence check ins, were so cute!
He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.
It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?
as always, the almost self deprecating thoughts were my fave 💁🏼♀️ and i’m so excited for the first interaction with the family (loved the little tidbits about them!) 💕
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For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II
Part I | Series Masterlist
Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap
a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x
It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.
Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.
You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.
Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.
“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.
“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“What texts?”
“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.
“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”
“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.
Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.
“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.
He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”
“Of course.”
“Works good enough for me.”
He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.
“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”
You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.
“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”
You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”
“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.
The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.
“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”
You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.
“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”
He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”
“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”
“Noted.” You heard him swallow.
You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”
“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.
“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”
“You went to the wedding, I remember.”
You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.
As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.
“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.
“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”
Bradley snorted. “Was it?”
“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”
An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.
Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.
The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?
As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”
His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?
Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.
Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.
“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.
Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.
“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”
“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.
“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”
You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”
“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.
“Well, how long have we been dating?”
That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”
“It’s already weird.” He laughed.
“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”
“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”
“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”
“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”
You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”
“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.
Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.
“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”
You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.
“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”
“The ones that are really into PDA?”
“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”
You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.
“And there’s this move.”
As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.
You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.
“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”
You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.
The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?
He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.
The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.
You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.
The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.
From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.
You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.
He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.
“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”
“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”
Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”
Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”
“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”
Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.
The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.
The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.
You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”
You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.
When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.
“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”
You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.
He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”
You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.
He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”
You nodded. “Deal.”
He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.
Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.
You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.
“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.
“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.
Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.
You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.
“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.
Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.
“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”
“Ok.”
You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.
You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”
“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”
“Is that what your ideal man would do?”
Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.
“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”
“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”
Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”
“So first goal: be believable.”
He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”
“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”
“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”
You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.
Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.
You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.
“Ready?” You asked.
“Ready, babe.”
Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.
For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader | Part II
Part I | Series Masterlist
Summary: You immediately have doubts. As the morning goes on, they only get stronger. Good thing Bradley can be normal about this. Right?
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: fake dating, fake dating Bradley Bradshaw in particular, completely implied age gap
a/n: Thank all y'all for the response to the first part :) I was so nervous to post it, but everyone has been so kind and encouraging! Also, I've created a taglist for this series -- please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates! Ok, ok, let's get this show on the road (literally, we're on the way to Tahoe lol), enjoy x
It was 6:15 am. Streetlights washed your walls a bright, sterile white. You paced in front of your door. Next to it, your pink luggage set waited for you dutifully. Bradley was supposed to pick you up 15 minutes ago. He hadn’t responded to any of your texts. Or your calls.
Were you dumb for thinking he really wanted to join you – and your entire family – in Tahoe? Was he drunker than he let on last night, or maybe he forgot entirely? You hoped not, you’d already bought him the seat next to you on the plane. You really didn’t want to explain to your parents why they were paying for two plane seats when only you arrived at the cabin.
You checked your phone. 6:17. Soon, you’d have to drive by yourself. Maybe he’d catch you at the airport.
Just as you made for your keys, there was a sharp knock at your door. You undid the deadbolt and flung it open. Bradley stood in the sickly yellow light of the hallway, looking better than you wanted him to in just gray sweats and a black hoodie.
“Good morning!” He was surprisingly chirpy for how early it was.
“You’re late. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“What texts?”
“The texts I sent you?” You grabbed all three pieces of your luggage and struggled through the door frame.
“My phone died.” He was tapping his phone screen like he was just realizing that it wasn’t turning on. He gave up, pocketed the phone, and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of your hands. “Jesus, how long are we going to be gone? It’s like you packed your whole closet.”
“Three days. But I have to be prepared.” You locked up your apartment and started down the stairs, your suitcase clanking down each step. Your neighbors were probably thrilled.
Bradley followed behind you, lifting your other suitcases as if they weighed nothing.
“So you’re just going to travel with a dead phone?” You asked when you finally made it to the lobby.
He shrugged. “Is your phone charged?”
“Of course.”
“Works good enough for me.”
He reached over your head to hold open the front door as you dragged your suitcase into the brisk early morning. His Bronco shone like adventure. You and Bradley loaded your luggage, and he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat.
“Coffees?” You asked as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
He glanced down at the twin iced coffees lined up in the cupholders between you. “I thought it'd help us get through the early morning. I didn’t know what you liked though, so I just got you my drink.”
You stabbed a straw through the plastic lid of the coffee and took a sip. It was shockingly sweet. You coughed a little.
“You like it?” Bradley smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve perfected my order. Caramel and white mocha and cinnamon sprinkle on top.”
You take another sip. Without the sweetness taking you by surprise, it was much better. “It’s good. I would have pegged you for a hot black coffee guy, though.”
“I’m full of surprises.” He merged on the freeway.
The sound of the road passing under the Bronco filled the silence of the car.
“So…” Bradley tapped his thumb against the Bronco’s wheel, the echoes of some song you didn’t know. “What’s your family like?”
You watched lights flick on in the windows of the buildings you passed. People getting ready for their typical days. You pressed down a shock of panic. This was absurd. But Bradley seemed committed, and if it was going to work, you had to set him up for success. That meant warning him about your family.
“Well, my Grandma Sybil and Grandpa Thomas have been married for sixty years. Obviously.” Nervous laughter bubbled from your lips before you could stop it. “They’re Grandma and Grandpa. I grew up going to their house and stuffing myself on her cookies and falling asleep on his lap. But Grandma Sybil can be… stern.”
He stopped tapping his thumb to snag his coffee and take a sip. “Like, how so?”
“She’s just a little rough around the edges. She had a tough life before meeting my grandfather, and though she softened to him, I don’t think she softened much to the rest of the world. Just, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you right away. Or at all.”
“Noted.” You heard him swallow.
You picked at a seam in your pants. “And their oldest daughter is my Aunt Marnie. She’s married to Uncle Jim. They run a crystal shop just outside of Vegas. They might try to push moonstone or onyx on you. Just smile and accept it.”
“Ok. Marnie and Jim. Crystals.” He committed the names to memory.
“Their daughter Sabrine just got married.”
“You went to the wedding, I remember.”
You flushed, grateful that the sun hadn’t quite risen yet and the hotness of your cheeks dissipated in the darkened car. He had remembered. You didn’t think any detail of your life was important enough for him to care to remember – and it really was just one week that you were gone – but maybe your life had bled into the Daggers’ more than you thought.
As the airport came into view, you told him about Sabrine and how she would bring her new husband Matt. She was already seven months pregnant. Grandma Sybil was less than pleased, but Grandpa Thomas either didn’t care or hadn't worked out the math.
“And what do your aunt and uncle think?” Bradley asked.
“I think they’re just happy that she’s happy. They sound excited to be grandparents. But Auntie Marnie did complain that the wedding was tacky.”
Bradley snorted. “Was it?”
“It was sweet,” you said. “It was in his mom’s backyard. The colors were red and black, but it was sweet.”
An airplane roared overhead, glinting in the sun that was just sharpening over the horizon.
Bradley pulled into the airport’s parking garage. He had only packed himself a duffle bag, so he was able to carry all of your luggage plus his own. In exchange, you carried both coffees and locked the Bronco. You slipped Bradley’s keys into his pocket as he instructed, your fingers warming where they grazed the fabric of his sweats.
The airport was fizzing with the whispers of early morning travelers. You rubbed your eyes as you stepped under the fluorescent lights, taking stock of just how many others were yawning and lining up at the baggage counter under those same lights. Why was the airport so busy before 7am?
As if he could read your mind (or maybe he just saw you tense up at the sight of so many people), Bradley said, “It’s ok. We still have time.”
His reassurance drove you to action. You traded his coffee for your bags and shuffled into line for the check in counter. From the standstill line, you watched Bradley as he wandered around the walkway, taking sips of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling, and generally being a 6’1” hazard to the travelers rushing to get to the TSA line. You rolled your suitcases across the green gray carpets the check in counter line eked forward, nearly running into the old man in front of you as you kept your gaze on Bradley. Why was even his boredom endearing?
Just before you got to the front of the line, he stopped and stared up at the ceiling, causing a woman who was looking at her phone to crash into him. You giggled as you watched him apologize, and saw, in real time, as the woman went from indignant to flustered as she realized how hot he was. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he caught your gaze from across the room. Her eyes followed his, and when it hit you, she was quick to disappear into the airport crowd.
Your face grew hot. You mouthed sorry to him as the woman at the counter was calling you forward. You were a little sorry; she was very pretty. But some part of you delighted in being perceived as his girlfriend, even if it was easier to convince a stranger than your family.
“Ma’am, next guest.” The stern voice of the woman at the counter shook you from your thoughts.
Once your bags were checked, you caught up with Bradley. The two of you rounded the corner only to stop short when you saw the enormous security line.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groaned.
“We’ll be fine. It’s only 7:15.” Bradley nudged your shoulder with his. “Plus, it gives us time to get our story straight.”
“Our story?” You asked as you both stepped into line.
“Yeah. Like, how did we meet?”
You didn’t skip a beat. “Nat introduced us.”
“That was quick.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Well, let’s try to stick with reality as much as possible. And my family loves Nat, her stamp of approval will go down great.” You really hoped no one could hear you two. But the steady murmur of overlapping early-morning conversation seemed to drown out your weird topic of conversation.
“Well, how long have we been dating?”
That you had to think about. “Well, it can’t be too short, otherwise it would be weird that I’m bringing you.”
“It’s already weird.” He laughed.
“They don’t need to know that,” you said. “How long do you think we could pass for? 2 months? 6?”
“Aren’t they going to ask why you’ve never talked about me or brought me around?”
“Good point. We’ll say 4, and I’ll just tell them I wanted to be sure before I told them about you.”
“You think we could convince them we’ve been dating for four months?”
You shrugged, but your stomach somersaulted. “We can try.”
“Like this?” He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours.
Your hand tensed. Your stomach did a whole gymnastics routine. You were holding hands with Bradley Bradshaw in the airport. You looked around, sure that any TSA agent in your vicinity could sense your anxiety and pull you for secondary screening.
“Relax.” He patted your hand with his free one. “We’re not going to get far like this.”
You forced your fingers to meld with his. The iced coffee and your nerves were a terrible mix for your empty stomach.
“Better.” He kept hold of your hand as you shuffled up the line. Then he grinned.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You know those couples in lines at amusement parks?” A lopsided smile brightened his face. “When they’re waiting in line?”
“The ones that are really into PDA?”
“Exactly.” He dropped your hand, slid up behind you, and wrapped his arms across your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “All we need to do is follow their lead.”
You did everything in your power to stay upright and keep your breathing steady with his chin pressing into your skin. He kept hold of you as the line moved up. You clenched your hands, your nails digging crescents into your palms. There was no way he couldn’t hear your racing heart and your ragged breathing.
“And there’s this move.”
As the line slouched to a stop, he spun you around, still keeping hold of your waist, but now you were face to face. You looked up at him, tried to form a sentence, but found yourself completely dumb. He leaned his forehead against yours. Surely he could feel the warmth of your face, see the confused longing in your eyes. He smiled at you for just a second before he broke away from you and threw his head back laughing, drawing glares from your fellow sleep-deprived travelers.
You were practically mute through the rest of security. Bradley seemed to have fun grabbing your hand, draping an arm around your shoulders, and messing with your hair. You wondered if he knew the effect he was having on you or if he was earnestly trying to practice for your family. Maybe he was just trying to rile you up.
“You were great.” He patted the top of your head, causing your heart to shrivel a bit. “We’ll have them all wrapped around our fingers.”
You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Once you were through security, you broke up to scrounge some breakfast. Well, that’s what you let Bradley think anyway. You tried to beat down the butterflies in your stomach as you wove between slow-walking travelers toting huge suitcases and knots of families with waddling toddlers, straight to the bathroom.
The stall offered you just enough privacy to freak out. You felt your face, your waist, flexed your hands right in front of your eyes. It took you months to not freak out about the platonic arm draped around your shoulders, his quick hugs goodbye at the Hard Deck. How on Earth were you going to be normal about this?
He complimented you on a job well done, but in truth, he did all the work. You didn’t reach out for him once in the security line. Would your family even believe you liked him? After that performance, the idea that they could possibly think that you were in love seemed laughable.
The weekend stretched long ahead of you. You were beginning to realize how stupid it was for you to begin such a ruse that you’d have to keep up for three days. You wondered if Bradley would react poorly to being sent home after already getting through security.
You hurriedly texted Nat – who knew very well how you felt about her coworker, almost to the point where she might have purposefully orchestrated your trip. It was a bit of a text wall, detailing the TSA line and your dread about the weekend. If she wasn’t already working, she would probably be asleep for three more hours, so you pocketed your phone after hitting send.
The sound of a flushing toilet reminded you that, yes, you were having a small crisis in a public bathroom. That thought was so sad that you took a deep breath, set your shoulders, and walked out of the stall to face the world.
From a little store, you picked up a berry parfait for breakfast and a bottled orange juice, since the TSA confiscated your half-empty iced coffee.
You found Gate 4. People were falling asleep upright in the airport seats, blankets and pillows abound. It smelled like the Jack in the Box across the way. You found two empty seats by the window and kicked up your feet to reserve one for Bradley.
He found you ten minutes later, carrying a bag stuffed with two bagels – one sausage and egg breakfast sandwich and one cinnamon raisin with strawberry cream cheese, he explained. You nodded as you dropped your feet and scraped the rest of your yogurt out of your cup.
“So your cousin Sabrine is pregnant and your grandma isn’t happy,” he said around a big bite of bagel, egg, and sausage. “What else?”
“Well, my grandparents’ youngest child is Auntie Elaine. She lives in Alaska with her husband. They breed sled dogs.”
Bradley paused right before another bite. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Some of their dogs run the Iditarod, and I think one was part of the winning team a few years back. They have twins a little older than me. Nora and her wife Madison, they’re… really cool. Last I heard, they were climbing K2. And there’s Nora’s twin brother Owen. He has a girlfriend named Addison, which I think is funny. Madison and Addison. The twins don’t think it’s as funny as I do.”
Bradley laughed. The bagel sandwich was gone, and he traded the leftover wad of greasy wrapping paper for the cinnamon raisin bagel. “And what’s the deal with Owen and Addison?”
“They’re pretty chill.” You thought about it for a minute. “Owen used to punch drywall, but he’s calmed down.”
Bradley stared at you, waiting for you to laugh.
The gate agent called you to board before you could explain. Though you didn’t think any explanation would be helpful.
The plane ride was nice and short. You slept through most of the hour and a half. You were mortified to wake up on Bradley’s shoulder as the plane jolted in the harsh turbulence that shrouded the Reno airport.
You sat bolt upright, fully awake. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He patted your thigh assuredly. “It’s good practice.”
You didn’t have time to freak out at his touch because the plane rocked again. You’d experienced this turbulence countless times, something about the mountains and the desert air made the plane bounce around like a toy in the hands of an overexcited toddler. Still, as the plane jerked down, it planted a pit in your stomach that made your hands clammy.
When the plane dipped again, you clutched the armrest. You didn’t want to look at Bradley, who probably thought your overreaction was silly. He’d experienced g-forces upwards of 8Gs countless times. It was bad enough flying next to Nat, who you knew would never judge you, but next to Bradley, you felt like a little kid scared of the dark.
“Hey,” he gingerly pried your hand off the armrest and held it with a softness you didn’t expect from him, “look at me.”
You tore your eyes away from the flight tracker on the display in front of you, worried you’d see judgment in his dark eyes. But his expression was everything soft.
He smiled when you met his gaze. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me, I’ve flown a plane or two.”
You laughed despite the plane suddenly banking upward.
He squeezed your hand as the plane leveled. “So here’s the deal: you keep looking at me. You can only panic if I start panicking. Deal?”
You nodded. “Deal.”
He held your hand and your eyes until the plane kissed the blessed tarmac. By then, the pit in your stomach had been flooded with a mushy feeling you simply did not have time to drain because the seatbelt sign dinged off, and you had a rental car to secure.
Getting out of the airport went as smoothly as possible. Within 20 minutes of deboarding, you and all your luggage was crammed into a rental Prius. Bradley’s nose crinkled when he first saw it, but he folded himself into the passenger seat without complaint.
You fiddled with the radio until you got it to play a throwback ‘70s station, then peeled out of the airport. Soon, the dusty city of Reno and its casinos were in the rearview, and the Sierra Nevadas loomed large on the horizon. When the road lifted off the desert floor and began winding through the foothills, childhood excitement drummed through your veins. As the car screamed along the highway, desert scrub blurred into pine trees that jutted straight up toward the endless blue sky. Patches of snow bloomed in their shade.
“Wow,” Bradley said as the trees grew thicker like a tightly stitched blanket over the mountains. Snow carpeted the ground. Little cabins shone through the forest and snow like jewels.
“Wait until we get around this mountain.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You carefully made a sharp turn, the mountainside steep and unwelcoming. But as the car straightened out, the trees yawned apart, and you caught Bradley gawking at the lake out of the corner of your eye.
Nestled between snow-draped mountains, it shone like a sapphire in the late morning sun.
You’d spent several summers splashing in its frigid waters with your cousins until your skin was so covered in goosebumps that Grandma Sybil threatened to pluck you for Christmas dinner. The same lake was the backdrop to hundreds upon hundreds of ski runs and one trip down the mountain with ski patrol. Your arm still ached to think about that late February day, even all these years later.
“It’s beautiful,” Bradley said, and you agreed wholeheartedly.
Your phone’s navigation system stated that there was only 20 minutes until you reached your grandparent’s cabin. You sucked in a breath between your teeth and cracked a window, hoping the cold, piny air would help settle your stomach. It didn’t. But you still had to finish giving Bradley the family rundown.
“My parents are Sean and Catherine,” you said. “My dad might try to intimidate you, but don’t worry, he’s a softie.”
“Ok.”
You couldn’t be sure he was paying attention, as his face was all but pressed against the window, soaking in the spectacular views. Even if you wanted to be mad, you really couldn’t blame him.
You stepped on the breaks as the road started dipping down a little. “My mom will be the most problematic. I swear sometimes she can read my mind. Whatever we do, it’ll be hard to convince her.”
“We’re going to be there in 18 minutes. Next time, a little more heads up please?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Just tell her that you take me to Vino in La Jolla and buy me flowers.”
“Is that what your ideal man would do?”
Would it be so bad if you just drove off the road? The steep mountainside looked more inviting by the second.
“Shut up.” You froze your gaze to the winding road. “I have a brother, his name is Tommy.”
“I know,” he said. “I think I’ve met him once – when he was in San Diego for spring break?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” you said. “Well, he and his girlfriend Georgia are high school sweethearts. They’re the perfect couple, and it makes me sick.”
Bradley chuckled. “Noted.”
“So first goal: be believable.”
He laid his hand on your thigh. “Done.”
“Good.” His hand was burning hot. The car swerved ever so slightly as you lost focus on the road for a moment. “Second goal: be a better couple than Tommy and Georgia.”
“Let’s not try to overshoot this. We’ve only been dating for 4 months.”
You laughed in spite of yourself. When you eventually found your real partner, and everyone gathered in Tahoe again for Tommy and Georgia’s wedding, or a wintery ski trip, or whatever comes next for your family, you’ll come clean. You’ll cling to your partner and tell everyone all about your good friend Bradley Bradshaw and how the two of you never really dated. Your grandparents’ anniversary will be a hazy memory, but everyone will remember the tall, good-looking naval aviator and his (totally out of season) Hawaiian shirts and giant mustache. There would be shock, but eventually it would be an inside joke for years to come. You just had to get through this weekend.
Too soon, you were pulling into the cabin’s long, steep driveway. The cabin itself jutted off of the mountainside, its tapered roof giving it a harsh look, though you swore when you were little it just made it look cozy and inviting. Its windows were like glassy eyes following the Prius.
You put the car in park and turned to Bradley.
“Ready?” You asked.
“Ready, babe.”
Before you could fully register the fact that he called you babe, the cabin’s front door slammed open, and your family bursted out to greet you and the mysterious man you’d arrived with.
Ongoing Series: For the Love of Love | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.
warnings: fluff, some angst, fake dating, swearing, alcohol consumption, pining and yearning, brief mentions of violence, some descriptions of misogyny, reader is meant to be younger, so age gap
Parts:
Part 1
*ongoing series -- more updates to come!
Let me know if you'd like to join my taglist for this series :)
I’m new here but this paragraph sold me completely on your writing:
“You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.”
😭 I wish Bob would whisk me away on a respectful and very platonic weekend
i’m so glad you like my writing 😭 🫶
i don’t have any bob fics posted, but i am working on some right now! i hope they do him justice 💕
Hii :) I absolutely love your writing! If you have a taglist, can I please be added? Thank youuu💕💕
This had me blushing -- thank you so much, I'm so glad you like my writing!
Since there seems to be some interest in my Bradley series, For the Love of Love, I've decided to make a taglist for it. I will definitely add you!
If anyone else wants to be on the taglist, you can comment/like/reblog this post and you'll get added. If not, no worries, just don't interact with this post.
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Summary: You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.
Word Count: 2.4K
Warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, fake dating, reader is supposed to be young, so age gap?
a/n: this is my first series, yay! I hope y'all enjoy x
The night before you were expected – along with the rest of your family – at your grandparents’ Tahoe cabin, you called up your childhood best friend to help you drown your sorrows at the Hard Deck. The air in the bar was dense with a steady throb of ‘80s music and the slur of dozens of drunken conversations. There were so many people that, even though you immediately shed your jacket, a bead of sweat rolled down your back before you even reached the bar. Still, the Hard Deck was like a second home to you, and its chaos enveloped you with all the warmth of a hug from a friend who was a little more drunk than they’d admit.
Nat was already at the bar. She had a beer in one hand, another waiting for you in front of the empty barstool next to her. You smiled. She must have put up quite a fight to keep that seat for you on such a busy night.
You hopped up on the barstool and snagged your beer, relishing in its coolness more than its taste. How long until Nat gave up on trying to get you to like IPAs? At least this one was potable, unlike the last one she tried to get you to drink.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Sorry, I was packing.” You had to yell over the clash of noise between you. “Do you know how hard it is to pack winter clothes? I have, like, three suitcases. Full.”
Nat laughed. “Excited much?”
You slammed your bottle of beer down on the counter like an inebriated judge making a ruling. “I’m actually not going to go.”
“To your grandparents’ 60th anniversary?” Nat arched her brows.
“Yes. Think about it.” You sat up straighter. “I’m alone with my family in the mountains. I’m the only grandchild not in a relationship. We’re all there to celebrate love. My grandma tells me fourteen times that she had two kids by my age. Auntie Marnie will get wine drunk and ask why I’m not dating anyone when I’m such a catch. All the cousins will bring their partners and they’ll hold hands and make googly eyes at each other and kiss each other in the kitchen. Everyone will be so in love, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I can’t even bring you with me because you’re working. Ugh, this is going to suck.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Nat took a swig of her beer.
“Didn’t I tell you about Sabrine’s wedding?” You knew you had. Your cousin’s wedding was sweet and intimate, and of course you were happy for her and Matt. But there were moments that sent you teetering toward something akin to an existential crisis. And the constant comments from your aunts, the snide remarks from your brother, and the oppressive sense of love in the air definitely did not help. Slightly buzzed in your aunt’s backyard the night before the ceremony, watching everyone declare their love in a thousand small ways (an easy brush of the hands, a fork of pasta held up like an offering, a future planned by spoken word), you couldn’t help but draw up your feet and stare at the stars like they had an answer for you.
Nat shrugged this off. “Then bring a date. There’s plenty of eligible bachelors in this bar right now.”
As if her words were a spell, a seaman tapped on her shoulder. Nat was in civilian clothes, so her high rank wasn’t visible to ward him off like on most other nights. She snapped around. Her teeth must have been barred because she sent him skittering into the crowd in record time.
“Oh yeah,” you sipped your drink, “plenty of eligible bachelors.”
“Shut up. I’m not the one leaving on a flight tomorrow morning, desperately lonely, heading for a fate as terrible as celebrating love.”
“Who’s celebrating love?” Jake appeared like a demon summoned straight from hell.
When Nat first introduced you to the Daggers, they had all been intimidating. But only Hangman had you on edge. You’d softened up to the guy in the years since, but you didn’t need him knowing about how “desperately lonely” you were. In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too.
Nat tipped her beer toward you. “She doesn’t want to be the only single person at her grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary this weekend.”
God. There he was. Popped up right as you expected – and dreaded. His loud Hawaiin shirt poorly concealed his heavily muscled arms. His aviators hung off his undershirt, and they rattled against his chest as he laughed at your predicament. You couldn’t even look at his face.
“I just know my family’s going to give me a hard time,” you said in panicked defense. “Even if they don’t mean to.”
Bradley draped an arm over your shoulder. He’d done it so countless times in knowing you, like it never fazed him. It probably didn’t. He did it to Hangman and Phoenix and Bob, too. However, you had never gotten used to the feel of his skin against your own. Your face got hot, and you hoped he couldn’t feel the sweat spreading under your shirt
He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.”
You wriggled out from under his arm, and he doubled over laughing. So did Hangman and Phoenix.
“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Nat said after collecting herself.
You rolled your eyes. He was already under your skin. Had been from the moment you first laid eyes on him. Spread like an itch that was always there, but one you could never scratch.
“C’mon, let’s play some pool.” Jake vanished into the crowd, knowing the three of you would follow.
You had never been so thankful to be around the pool table, even though some nights you dreaded it. Every one of the Daggers could outplay you in pool; you always felt bad for whoever was unlucky enough to be your partner. And normally, you felt a little awkward when the conversation turned to work. Fighter jets and naval bureaucracy were not things you were well versed in, but that night, you were grateful for the work conversation to overshadow the conversation about your lack of a love life.
Unfortunately, when you and Nat were down three-nothing, somehow your love life took center stage again.
Jake sank the cue ball – such a rare occurrence the four of you stood still against the wave of bar patrons for a solid five seconds before you and Nat cheered.
“Nice going, Seresin.” Nat patted you on the shoulder. “Set her up real nice.”
Jake scoffed.
Bradley winked at you as you set the cue ball on the table. He mouthed good luck, and you – along with your chances of winning – were a goner.
You had a perfect opportunity to sink the ruby red 7 ball. You lined up your shot, pulled back on your cue stick, took a shallow breath – that did not calm your nerves – and completely missed. The cue ball jumped around the table, smacking into solids and stripes alike. Everyone leaned in as it collided with the 8 ball, sending it hurtling toward the corner. By some small miracle, it missed the pocket by a breath. Both the 8 and cue balls rolled to an unceremonious stop.
“Well, that could have been worse.” Nat sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.
“Jesus,” Jake said. “No need to worry about your boy troubles if this is how you play pool after two years of practice with the best.”
Your cheeks warmed. Usually, you could at least hold your own. Your partner would have to do a lot of heavy lifting, but they could count on you to sink a few balls. At the very least, they could count on you not to do whatever the hell that just was. You could feel everyone staring, Jake’s mishap long forgotten. You could especially feel Bradley’s gaze on you. It was hotter in the bar than when you first arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing a thumb against the sticky skin of your upper arm.
“Don’t you think she should just bring a date to the anniversary?” Nat asked the two other aviators as Bradley lined up his shot. “That would keep her family off her back.”
You dug your nails into your skin to keep from lunging at her over the pool table.
Hangman grinned, his teeth flashing against the neon lights. “Sure. Any luck with those dating apps?”
“Ha ha,” you said. “It’s no use. Besides the fact that they suck ass, my plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”
Bradley sank two stripes in one shot. Before taking another, he gestured around the bar. “And these fine men don’t meet your standards? They are members of the American Armed Forces, after all.”
“I’m not taking a stranger on my grandparent’s 60th anniversary trip, thank you.”
Bradley shrugged. He missed the 15 ball.
Nat leaned over to take her shot. She looked up at the boys, flashed a smile at you, then said, “What if she took one of the Dagger boys?”
Your hands flew to the edge of the pool table for support, otherwise, you might have gone down.
“What, should she take Bob?” Jake’s voice was laced with alcohol and utter delight in your misery. “He’d have a heart attack trying to keep up a ruse like that.”
Jake and Bradley shared a good laugh, only to be quieted when Nat went on a run and sank four solids before finally missing.
She straightened and used her cue stick to point at them. “Y’know, I was kind thinking about one of you two.”
Your blood just about froze solid in your veins. What the hell was Nat thinking? You’d rather die than spend a long weekend at Jake’s side – you just couldn’t bear a constant barrage of snarky comments and showboating. And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking.
Jake smirked. “Surely there are easier ways to ask us out.”
“Yeah, we don’t bite.” Bradley laughed. “Before I consider the offer, how nice is this cabin?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m dying to go out with the both of you. How could you see right through me?”
You prayed that no one could see right through you. Especially as your heart rate quickened when Bradley’s gaze settled on you, clouded with thought.
“Assholes,” Nat grumbled as Jake sank the rest of the stripes and the 8 ball in three easy shots. You two were down four-nothing.
Your night of drinking with Nat was ruined. You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.
Reality settled in and you figured you might as well get a good night’s sleep before braving the cold mountains and your family.
“I think I’m gonna head home.” You hugged Nat. “Sorry for being a shitty pool partner.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.” She dropped her voice and whispered in your ear. “Sorry for pimping you out like that.”
You shook your head. As much as you had wanted the ground to swallow you, you appreciated her efforts to make your weekend less miserable. Even if she was a little out of line.
You said goodbye to the boys, gathered your purse and your jacket, and left. The noise of the bar melted into the cool, quiet night. You pulled out your phone and ordered yourself an Uber. A slight breeze chased away the sheen of sweat on your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment’s respite under the moonlight.
“Hey.”
You spun around. Bradley was standing there, his hands in his pockets.
“Hey.” Your voice was a little too loud. You’d been yelling all night over the noise of the bar, after all. “Did I forget something?”
“No. I just wanted to say sorry.” He smiled. “For teasing you about the whole no date thing.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Goosebumps raised on your arms.
“Y’know, I’ve never been to Tahoe.”
“Oh really?” You started to struggle on your jacket to fight the chill. Bradley held a hand out, and you gave him your purse so you could slip your jacket on easier. “Thanks. You’ve never been to Tahoe?”
“Nope.” He handed your purse back.
“Thanks,” you said again. “That’s a bummer. It’s beautiful, especially at this time of the year. A late snowstorm just rolled through, it should be a winter wonderland up there.”
“Well,” he took a step closer to you. “I was thinking. I’ve never been to Tahoe, you still need a date, I enjoy your company…”
You swallowed hard. Were you dreaming? “Bradley, my flight leaves early tomorrow.”
“So? I’ve got leave. I’m used to early mornings.” His smile was nearly blinding in the full moonlight.
“Did Nat put you up to this?” You tried to catch a glance of her through the large windows, but the Hard Deck was just too packed.
“A little. But to be honest, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I think it could be fun.”
You fiddled with a button of your jacket, unable to look at him. Before you could think of an excuse to reject his offer, you blurted, “Pick me up from my place?”
“Of course. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop?
“I’ll book your ticket,” you said over the jackhammering beat of your heart. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just be at my apartment at 6:00.”
Your Uber pulled up to the curb.
“I’ve gotta go.” You edged toward the car. “But, just – thank you so much. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it.”
He winked. “Anytime.”
As you settled in the back of the Toyota Camry, you took a deep breath. What the hell did you just get yourself into?
Summary: You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.
Word Count: 2.4K
Warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, fake dating, reader is supposed to be young, so age gap?
a/n: this is my first series, yay! I hope y'all enjoy x
The night before you were expected – along with the rest of your family – at your grandparents’ Tahoe cabin, you called up your childhood best friend to help you drown your sorrows at the Hard Deck. The air in the bar was dense with a steady throb of ‘80s music and the slur of dozens of drunken conversations. There were so many people that, even though you immediately shed your jacket, a bead of sweat rolled down your back before you even reached the bar. Still, the Hard Deck was like a second home to you, and its chaos enveloped you with all the warmth of a hug from a friend who was a little more drunk than they’d admit.
Nat was already at the bar. She had a beer in one hand, another waiting for you in front of the empty barstool next to her. You smiled. She must have put up quite a fight to keep that seat for you on such a busy night.
You hopped up on the barstool and snagged your beer, relishing in its coolness more than its taste. How long until Nat gave up on trying to get you to like IPAs? At least this one was potable, unlike the last one she tried to get you to drink.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Sorry, I was packing.” You had to yell over the clash of noise between you. “Do you know how hard it is to pack winter clothes? I have, like, three suitcases. Full.”
Nat laughed. “Excited much?”
You slammed your bottle of beer down on the counter like an inebriated judge making a ruling. “I’m actually not going to go.”
“To your grandparents’ 60th anniversary?” Nat arched her brows.
“Yes. Think about it.” You sat up straighter. “I’m alone with my family in the mountains. I’m the only grandchild not in a relationship. We’re all there to celebrate love. My grandma tells me fourteen times that she had two kids by my age. Auntie Marnie will get wine drunk and ask why I’m not dating anyone when I’m such a catch. All the cousins will bring their partners and they’ll hold hands and make googly eyes at each other and kiss each other in the kitchen. Everyone will be so in love, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I can’t even bring you with me because you’re working. Ugh, this is going to suck.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Nat took a swig of her beer.
“Didn’t I tell you about Sabrine’s wedding?” You knew you had. Your cousin’s wedding was sweet and intimate, and of course you were happy for her and Matt. But there were moments that sent you teetering toward something akin to an existential crisis. And the constant comments from your aunts, the snide remarks from your brother, and the oppressive sense of love in the air definitely did not help. Slightly buzzed in your aunt’s backyard the night before the ceremony, watching everyone declare their love in a thousand small ways (an easy brush of the hands, a fork of pasta held up like an offering, a future planned by spoken word), you couldn’t help but draw up your feet and stare at the stars like they had an answer for you.
Nat shrugged this off. “Then bring a date. There’s plenty of eligible bachelors in this bar right now.”
As if her words were a spell, a seaman tapped on her shoulder. Nat was in civilian clothes, so her high rank wasn’t visible to ward him off like on most other nights. She snapped around. Her teeth must have been barred because she sent him skittering into the crowd in record time.
“Oh yeah,” you sipped your drink, “plenty of eligible bachelors.”
“Shut up. I’m not the one leaving on a flight tomorrow morning, desperately lonely, heading for a fate as terrible as celebrating love.”
“Who’s celebrating love?” Jake appeared like a demon summoned straight from hell.
When Nat first introduced you to the Daggers, they had all been intimidating. But only Hangman had you on edge. You’d softened up to the guy in the years since, but you didn’t need him knowing about how “desperately lonely” you were. In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too.
Nat tipped her beer toward you. “She doesn’t want to be the only single person at her grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary this weekend.”
God. There he was. Popped up right as you expected – and dreaded. His loud Hawaiin shirt poorly concealed his heavily muscled arms. His aviators hung off his undershirt, and they rattled against his chest as he laughed at your predicament. You couldn’t even look at his face.
“I just know my family’s going to give me a hard time,” you said in panicked defense. “Even if they don’t mean to.”
Bradley draped an arm over your shoulder. He’d done it so countless times in knowing you, like it never fazed him. It probably didn’t. He did it to Hangman and Phoenix and Bob, too. However, you had never gotten used to the feel of his skin against your own. Your face got hot, and you hoped he couldn’t feel the sweat spreading under your shirt
He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.”
You wriggled out from under his arm, and he doubled over laughing. So did Hangman and Phoenix.
“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Nat said after collecting herself.
You rolled your eyes. He was already under your skin. Had been from the moment you first laid eyes on him. Spread like an itch that was always there, but one you could never scratch.
“C’mon, let’s play some pool.” Jake vanished into the crowd, knowing the three of you would follow.
You had never been so thankful to be around the pool table, even though some nights you dreaded it. Every one of the Daggers could outplay you in pool; you always felt bad for whoever was unlucky enough to be your partner. And normally, you felt a little awkward when the conversation turned to work. Fighter jets and naval bureaucracy were not things you were well versed in, but that night, you were grateful for the work conversation to overshadow the conversation about your lack of a love life.
Unfortunately, when you and Nat were down three-nothing, somehow your love life took center stage again.
Jake sank the cue ball – such a rare occurrence the four of you stood still against the wave of bar patrons for a solid five seconds before you and Nat cheered.
“Nice going, Seresin.” Nat patted you on the shoulder. “Set her up real nice.”
Jake scoffed.
Bradley winked at you as you set the cue ball on the table. He mouthed good luck, and you – along with your chances of winning – were a goner.
You had a perfect opportunity to sink the ruby red 7 ball. You lined up your shot, pulled back on your cue stick, took a shallow breath – that did not calm your nerves – and completely missed. The cue ball jumped around the table, smacking into solids and stripes alike. Everyone leaned in as it collided with the 8 ball, sending it hurtling toward the corner. By some small miracle, it missed the pocket by a breath. Both the 8 and cue balls rolled to an unceremonious stop.
“Well, that could have been worse.” Nat sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.
“Jesus,” Jake said. “No need to worry about your boy troubles if this is how you play pool after two years of practice with the best.”
Your cheeks warmed. Usually, you could at least hold your own. Your partner would have to do a lot of heavy lifting, but they could count on you to sink a few balls. At the very least, they could count on you not to do whatever the hell that just was. You could feel everyone staring, Jake’s mishap long forgotten. You could especially feel Bradley’s gaze on you. It was hotter in the bar than when you first arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing a thumb against the sticky skin of your upper arm.
“Don’t you think she should just bring a date to the anniversary?” Nat asked the two other aviators as Bradley lined up his shot. “That would keep her family off her back.”
You dug your nails into your skin to keep from lunging at her over the pool table.
Hangman grinned, his teeth flashing against the neon lights. “Sure. Any luck with those dating apps?”
“Ha ha,” you said. “It’s no use. Besides the fact that they suck ass, my plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”
Bradley sank two stripes in one shot. Before taking another, he gestured around the bar. “And these fine men don’t meet your standards? They are members of the American Armed Forces, after all.”
“I’m not taking a stranger on my grandparent’s 60th anniversary trip, thank you.”
Bradley shrugged. He missed the 15 ball.
Nat leaned over to take her shot. She looked up at the boys, flashed a smile at you, then said, “What if she took one of the Dagger boys?”
Your hands flew to the edge of the pool table for support, otherwise, you might have gone down.
“What, should she take Bob?” Jake’s voice was laced with alcohol and utter delight in your misery. “He’d have a heart attack trying to keep up a ruse like that.”
Jake and Bradley shared a good laugh, only to be quieted when Nat went on a run and sank four solids before finally missing.
She straightened and used her cue stick to point at them. “Y’know, I was kind thinking about one of you two.”
Your blood just about froze solid in your veins. What the hell was Nat thinking? You’d rather die than spend a long weekend at Jake’s side – you just couldn’t bear a constant barrage of snarky comments and showboating. And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking.
Jake smirked. “Surely there are easier ways to ask us out.”
“Yeah, we don’t bite.” Bradley laughed. “Before I consider the offer, how nice is this cabin?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m dying to go out with the both of you. How could you see right through me?”
You prayed that no one could see right through you. Especially as your heart rate quickened when Bradley’s gaze settled on you, clouded with thought.
“Assholes,” Nat grumbled as Jake sank the rest of the stripes and the 8 ball in three easy shots. You two were down four-nothing.
Your night of drinking with Nat was ruined. You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.
Reality settled in and you figured you might as well get a good night’s sleep before braving the cold mountains and your family.
“I think I’m gonna head home.” You hugged Nat. “Sorry for being a shitty pool partner.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.” She dropped her voice and whispered in your ear. “Sorry for pimping you out like that.”
You shook your head. As much as you had wanted the ground to swallow you, you appreciated her efforts to make your weekend less miserable. Even if she was a little out of line.
You said goodbye to the boys, gathered your purse and your jacket, and left. The noise of the bar melted into the cool, quiet night. You pulled out your phone and ordered yourself an Uber. A slight breeze chased away the sheen of sweat on your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment’s respite under the moonlight.
“Hey.”
You spun around. Bradley was standing there, his hands in his pockets.
“Hey.” Your voice was a little too loud. You’d been yelling all night over the noise of the bar, after all. “Did I forget something?”
“No. I just wanted to say sorry.” He smiled. “For teasing you about the whole no date thing.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Goosebumps raised on your arms.
“Y’know, I’ve never been to Tahoe.”
“Oh really?” You started to struggle on your jacket to fight the chill. Bradley held a hand out, and you gave him your purse so you could slip your jacket on easier. “Thanks. You’ve never been to Tahoe?”
“Nope.” He handed your purse back.
“Thanks,” you said again. “That’s a bummer. It’s beautiful, especially at this time of the year. A late snowstorm just rolled through, it should be a winter wonderland up there.”
“Well,” he took a step closer to you. “I was thinking. I’ve never been to Tahoe, you still need a date, I enjoy your company…”
You swallowed hard. Were you dreaming? “Bradley, my flight leaves early tomorrow.”
“So? I’ve got leave. I’m used to early mornings.” His smile was nearly blinding in the full moonlight.
“Did Nat put you up to this?” You tried to catch a glance of her through the large windows, but the Hard Deck was just too packed.
“A little. But to be honest, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I think it could be fun.”
You fiddled with a button of your jacket, unable to look at him. Before you could think of an excuse to reject his offer, you blurted, “Pick me up from my place?”
“Of course. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop?
“I’ll book your ticket,” you said over the jackhammering beat of your heart. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just be at my apartment at 6:00.”
Your Uber pulled up to the curb.
“I’ve gotta go.” You edged toward the car. “But, just – thank you so much. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it.”
He winked. “Anytime.”
As you settled in the back of the Toyota Camry, you took a deep breath. What the hell did you just get yourself into?
i’m so excited for this! i love a good destination fake dating fic! the reader being childhood friends with nat works so well, i can truly believe they’ve been friends for ages just from this first chapter. and my my my bradley is a right and proper FLIRT in this! he seems so confident and outgoing, i’m excited to see how that plays when he’s on boyfriend duty. can’t wait for the next chapter! 💕
In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too. - oh good LORDDDDDD she is down so bad for him and i LOVE it
He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.” - okay first i would be BLUSHINGGGGGGG and then the cheeky lil joke is so perfect
And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking. - like what i said above, i would be sent into an absolute tizzy with mr confident and outgoing by my side as my fake boyfriend (the winking would be my downfall)
He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop? - ☺️ but also 🥺
Ongoing Series: For the Love of Love | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.
warnings: fluff, some angst, fake dating, swearing, alcohol consumption, pining and yearning, brief mentions of violence, some descriptions of misogyny, reader is meant to be younger, so age gap
Parts:
Part I
Part II
Part III
*ongoing series -- more updates to come!
Let me know if you'd like to join my taglist for this series :)
For the Love of Love | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader | Part I
Summary: You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.
Word Count: 2.4K
Warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, fake dating, reader is supposed to be young, so age gap?
a/n: this is my first series, yay! Let me know if you'd like to join the taglist! I hope y'all enjoy x
The night before you were expected – along with the rest of your family – at your grandparents’ Tahoe cabin, you called up your childhood best friend to help you drown your sorrows at the Hard Deck. The air in the bar was dense with a steady throb of ‘80s music and the slur of dozens of drunken conversations. There were so many people that, even though you immediately shed your jacket, a bead of sweat rolled down your back before you even reached the bar. Still, the Hard Deck was like a second home to you, and its chaos enveloped you with all the warmth of a hug from a friend who was a little more drunk than they’d admit.
Nat was already at the bar. She had a beer in one hand, another waiting for you in front of the empty barstool next to her. You smiled. She must have put up quite a fight to keep that seat for you on such a busy night.
You hopped up on the barstool and snagged your beer, relishing in its coolness more than its taste. How long until Nat gave up on trying to get you to like IPAs? At least this one was potable, unlike the last one she tried to get you to drink.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Sorry, I was packing.” You had to yell over the clash of noise between you. “Do you know how hard it is to pack winter clothes? I have, like, three suitcases. Full.”
Nat laughed. “Excited much?”
You slammed your bottle of beer down on the counter like an inebriated judge making a ruling. “I’m actually not going to go.”
“To your grandparents’ 60th anniversary?” Nat arched her brows.
“Yes. Think about it.” You sat up straighter. “I’m alone with my family in the mountains. I’m the only grandchild not in a relationship. We’re all there to celebrate love. My grandma tells me fourteen times that she had two kids by my age. Auntie Marnie will get wine drunk and ask why I’m not dating anyone when I’m such a catch. All the cousins will bring their partners and they’ll hold hands and make googly eyes at each other and kiss each other in the kitchen. Everyone will be so in love, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I can’t even bring you with me because you’re working. Ugh, this is going to suck.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Nat took a swig of her beer.
“Didn’t I tell you about Sabrine’s wedding?” You knew you had. Your cousin’s wedding was sweet and intimate, and of course you were happy for her and Matt. But there were moments that sent you teetering toward something akin to an existential crisis. And the constant comments from your aunts, the snide remarks from your brother, and the oppressive sense of love in the air definitely did not help. Slightly buzzed in your aunt’s backyard the night before the ceremony, watching everyone declare their love in a thousand small ways (an easy brush of the hands, a fork of pasta held up like an offering, a future planned by spoken word), you couldn’t help but draw up your feet and stare at the stars like they had an answer for you.
Nat shrugged this off. “Then bring a date. There’s plenty of eligible bachelors in this bar right now.”
As if her words were a spell, a seaman tapped on her shoulder. Nat was in civilian clothes, so her high rank wasn’t visible to ward him off like on most other nights. She snapped around. Her teeth must have been barred because she sent him skittering into the crowd in record time.
“Oh yeah,” you sipped your drink, “plenty of eligible bachelors.”
“Shut up. I’m not the one leaving on a flight tomorrow morning, desperately lonely, heading for a fate as terrible as celebrating love.”
“Who’s celebrating love?” Jake appeared like a demon summoned straight from hell.
When Nat first introduced you to the Daggers, they had all been intimidating. But only Hangman had you on edge. You’d softened up to the guy in the years since, but you didn’t need him knowing about how “desperately lonely” you were. In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too.
Nat tipped her beer toward you. “She doesn’t want to be the only single person at her grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary this weekend.”
God. There he was. Popped up right as you expected – and dreaded. His loud Hawaiin shirt poorly concealed his heavily muscled arms. His aviators hung off his undershirt, and they rattled against his chest as he laughed at your predicament. You couldn’t even look at his face.
“I just know my family’s going to give me a hard time,” you said in panicked defense. “Even if they don’t mean to.”
Bradley draped an arm over your shoulder. He’d done it so countless times in knowing you, like it never fazed him. It probably didn’t. He did it to Hangman and Phoenix and Bob, too. However, you had never gotten used to the feel of his skin against your own. Your face got hot, and you hoped he couldn’t feel the sweat spreading under your shirt
He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.”
You wriggled out from under his arm, and he doubled over laughing. So did Hangman and Phoenix.
“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Nat said after collecting herself.
You rolled your eyes. He was already under your skin. Had been from the moment you first laid eyes on him. Spread like an itch that was always there, but one you could never scratch.
“C’mon, let’s play some pool.” Jake vanished into the crowd, knowing the three of you would follow.
You had never been so thankful to be around the pool table, even though some nights you dreaded it. Every one of the Daggers could outplay you in pool; you always felt bad for whoever was unlucky enough to be your partner. And normally, you felt a little awkward when the conversation turned to work. Fighter jets and naval bureaucracy were not things you were well versed in, but that night, you were grateful for the work conversation to overshadow the conversation about your lack of a love life.
Unfortunately, when you and Nat were down three-nothing, somehow your love life took center stage again.
Jake sank the cue ball – such a rare occurrence the four of you stood still against the wave of bar patrons for a solid five seconds before you and Nat cheered.
“Nice going, Seresin.” Nat patted you on the shoulder. “Set her up real nice.”
Jake scoffed.
Bradley winked at you as you set the cue ball on the table. He mouthed good luck, and you – along with your chances of winning – were a goner.
You had a perfect opportunity to sink the ruby red 7 ball. You lined up your shot, pulled back on your cue stick, took a shallow breath – that did not calm your nerves – and completely missed. The cue ball jumped around the table, smacking into solids and stripes alike. Everyone leaned in as it collided with the 8 ball, sending it hurtling toward the corner. By some small miracle, it missed the pocket by a breath. Both the 8 and cue balls rolled to an unceremonious stop.
“Well, that could have been worse.” Nat sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.
“Jesus,” Jake said. “No need to worry about your boy troubles if this is how you play pool after two years of practice with the best.”
Your cheeks warmed. Usually, you could at least hold your own. Your partner would have to do a lot of heavy lifting, but they could count on you to sink a few balls. At the very least, they could count on you not to do whatever the hell that just was. You could feel everyone staring, Jake’s mishap long forgotten. You could especially feel Bradley’s gaze on you. It was hotter in the bar than when you first arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing a thumb against the sticky skin of your upper arm.
“Don’t you think she should just bring a date to the anniversary?” Nat asked the two other aviators as Bradley lined up his shot. “That would keep her family off her back.”
You dug your nails into your skin to keep from lunging at her over the pool table.
Hangman grinned, his teeth flashing against the neon lights. “Sure. Any luck with those dating apps?”
“Ha ha,” you said. “It’s no use. Besides the fact that they suck ass, my plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”
Bradley sank two stripes in one shot. Before taking another, he gestured around the bar. “And these fine men don’t meet your standards? They are members of the American Armed Forces, after all.”
“I’m not taking a stranger on my grandparent’s 60th anniversary trip, thank you.”
Bradley shrugged. He missed the 15 ball.
Nat leaned over to take her shot. She looked up at the boys, flashed a smile at you, then said, “What if she took one of the Dagger boys?”
Your hands flew to the edge of the pool table for support, otherwise, you might have gone down.
“What, should she take Bob?” Jake’s voice was laced with alcohol and utter delight in your misery. “He’d have a heart attack trying to keep up a ruse like that.”
Jake and Bradley shared a good laugh, only to be quieted when Nat went on a run and sank four solids before finally missing.
She straightened and used her cue stick to point at them. “Y’know, I was kind thinking about one of you two.”
Your blood just about froze solid in your veins. What the hell was Nat thinking? You’d rather die than spend a long weekend at Jake’s side – you just couldn’t bear a constant barrage of snarky comments and showboating. And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking.
Jake smirked. “Surely there are easier ways to ask us out.”
“Yeah, we don’t bite.” Bradley laughed. “Before I consider the offer, how nice is this cabin?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m dying to go out with the both of you. How could you see right through me?”
You prayed that no one could see right through you. Especially as your heart rate quickened when Bradley’s gaze settled on you, clouded with thought.
“Assholes,” Nat grumbled as Jake sank the rest of the stripes and the 8 ball in three easy shots. You two were down four-nothing.
Your night of drinking with Nat was ruined. You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.
Reality settled in and you figured you might as well get a good night’s sleep before braving the cold mountains and your family.
“I think I’m gonna head home.” You hugged Nat. “Sorry for being a shitty pool partner.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.” She dropped her voice and whispered in your ear. “Sorry for pimping you out like that.”
You shook your head. As much as you had wanted the ground to swallow you, you appreciated her efforts to make your weekend less miserable. Even if she was a little out of line.
You said goodbye to the boys, gathered your purse and your jacket, and left. The noise of the bar melted into the cool, quiet night. You pulled out your phone and ordered yourself an Uber. A slight breeze chased away the sheen of sweat on your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment’s respite under the moonlight.
“Hey.”
You spun around. Bradley was standing there, his hands in his pockets.
“Hey.” Your voice was a little too loud. You’d been yelling all night over the noise of the bar, after all. “Did I forget something?”
“No. I just wanted to say sorry.” He smiled. “For teasing you about the whole no date thing.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Goosebumps raised on your arms.
“Y’know, I’ve never been to Tahoe.”
“Oh really?” You started to struggle on your jacket to fight the chill. Bradley held a hand out, and you gave him your purse so you could slip your jacket on easier. “Thanks. You’ve never been to Tahoe?”
“Nope.” He handed your purse back.
“Thanks,” you said again. “That’s a bummer. It’s beautiful, especially at this time of the year. A late snowstorm just rolled through, it should be a winter wonderland up there.”
“Well,” he took a step closer to you. “I was thinking. I’ve never been to Tahoe, you still need a date, I enjoy your company…”
You swallowed hard. Were you dreaming? “Bradley, my flight leaves early tomorrow.”
“So? I’ve got leave. I’m used to early mornings.” His smile was nearly blinding in the full moonlight.
“Did Nat put you up to this?” You tried to catch a glance of her through the large windows, but the Hard Deck was just too packed.
“A little. But to be honest, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I think it could be fun.”
You fiddled with a button of your jacket, unable to look at him. Before you could think of an excuse to reject his offer, you blurted, “Pick me up from my place?”
“Of course. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop?
“I’ll book your ticket,” you said over the jackhammering beat of your heart. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just be at my apartment at 6:00.”
Your Uber pulled up to the curb.
“I’ve gotta go.” You edged toward the car. “But, just – thank you so much. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it.”
He winked. “Anytime.”
As you settled in the back of the Toyota Camry, you took a deep breath. What the hell did you just get yourself into?
Summary: It’s a February weekend and Jake has a surprise for you — but you don’t know if you’re ready.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: LOTS of fluff
a/n: My first Jake fic! This was inspired by the fact that I just found out Glen Powell was at my work at the same time as me, and I didn't know (I could have met him 😭). I might have cried a little when my coworker told me lol. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy this x
You loved weekends with Jake. You loved the soft falling sunlight that woke you instead of the alarm clock, the extravagant brunches he cooked instead of spoons clanking hurriedly against cereal bowls, and the prospect of spending the whole day together instead of a quick kiss in the doorway and a promise that he’d see you that evening.
So when you, half asleep, reached for him and your hands skimmed over bed sheets instead of his broad chest, you snapped awake, just as if your alarm had gone off.
“Jake?” You rubbed away the sleep in your eyes.
No answer.
Sometimes he worked weekends, but he would have told you if that was the case. And you couldn’t hear him in the kitchen, much less smell bacon or coffee. With a groan, you realized you would have to get up to investigate. You scooped Jake’s naval academy hoodie off the floor and pulled it over your head. It smelled like him, mixed with just a hint of your perfume.
The house was empty, no weekend warmth to chase out the chill that fell whenever you were home alone. It didn’t help that the sun was heavily curtained by dark gray clouds.
On the kitchen counter, there was a folded note. Your name graced the paper in his boyish handwriting.
Good morning sunshine,
I had to run some errands, be back in a few.
If you want to wear something nice, I was planning on taking you to the beach when I get back. I’ll stop and get us breakfast, so don’t cook yourself anything.
Sorry I left before you woke up, I hope you’ll accept my apology.
Love,
Jake
P.S. I love you beautiful
The P.S. was punctuated with a little doodle of you. It wasn’t exceptionally well done, but it made you giggle.
You tucked the note into your pocket and carried it with you to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
You’d nearly finished when you heard his car pull into the driveway. You set down your brush and tore through the house, nearly tackling him with a hug as he walked through the door.
“Woah, precious cargo,” he said, as he wrapped an arm around you, a paper bag full of breakfast tacos crushing against your back. An iced drink sloshed in his other hand.
You pulled back to see he’d also brought your iced coffee order from your favorite cafe. A cold feeling spread through your core.
“Did I forget something? It’s not our anniversary is it?” You asked.
“No,” he laughed. “You didn’t forget anything. Can’t I just treat my girl?”
“Of course.” You took a sip of coffee and tried to let it wash away your unfounded worries. Jake loved treating you, but something about his demeanor felt different, just a little bit on edge. There was a tick in his jaw as he set the bag of breakfast tacos on the table like they were breakable. The cold feeling spread to your fingertips.
It disappeared when you joined him at the table, and a genuine smile softened his features. You dug in, dousing the breakfast tacos in salsa verde.
“So good,” you said.
“I’m gonna have to bring you home, these breakfast tacos have nothing on the ones in Texas.”
Your heart fluttered at the thought of going home to Texas with Jake. Plunging into cool watering holes in the peak heat of the day, when the sun scorched so brightly you couldn’t walk outside without sweating. Hot summer nights where cicadas sung and you could see more stars than you ever thought possible. A football game under giant stadium lights, and he’d kiss you when his team won.
You’d never been to the state, but to hear Jake describe it, it was true love. Second only to you, of course.
Jake snuck a few sips of your coffee.
“Hey!” You plucked the cup out of his grasp. “That’s mine. Didn’t you get your own?”
“Already drank it,” he said around a bite of breakfast taco.
Try as you might, you couldn’t stay mad at that face, and you pretended not to notice the next time he stole a sip of your drink.
“So,” you dabbed a napkin to the corner of your mouth after you’d finished your second taco. “What errands did you have to run at the ass crack of dawn?”
“That is a surprise,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yep.” He swept the trash into the takeout bag. “Do you want to go find out?”
You wanted nothing more.
The clouds were like gray marble over the world and the wind ushered a chill into the late morning air. Even though you’d picked out the cutest outfit, you grabbed Jake’s hoodie and threw it on before you walked out the door. It was your favorite piece of clothing – it enveloped you like a hug – but you much preferred Jake himself sitting next to you in the driver’s seat, holding onto your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. With him by your side, everything was better. Even his car smelled sweet, like fresh fruit.
He glared at the cloud cover. “I should have picked a better day.”
“It’s fine. I love this weather.” You rubbed your free hand over his bicep, and his hand relaxed against yours.
Soon, the ocean crested over the horizon. It churned dark gray, like a reflection of the sky, broken only by whitecaps. It wasn’t sunny like the beach days you and Jake had spent with the Daggers the past summer, but the sight was still beautiful.
Jake pulled into a parking lot on the bluffs overlooking the beach. As soon as you got out of the car, a gust of salty wind buffeted you. Jake tried to apologize, but your laugh rang clear over the whipping wind, and he had never known a sweeter sound. If he could hear your laugh for the rest of his life, he would be buried without a single regret.
He grabbed a picnic basket out of the trunk, took your hand, and walked you down to the beach, where the wind was creating chaos out of a picnic blanket and a bundle of pink and red balloons. Jake ran to bring order, but there was nothing he could do against nature itself.
“I’m sorry,” he said. A balloon bounced against his head. “It looked so nice when I set it up. This wind…”
“It’s ok. It’s still beautiful. Thank you.” You pecked him on the cheek. You were thankful, of course, but the surprise picnic loosened something inside of your chest. Why had he planned it? Had you actually forgotten an important day?
You sat criss-cross on the quilted blanket. With your weight holding it down, the blanket stayed in place against the wind. The balloons, however, shed their tether and danced away. Jake sprung up and gave them a quick chase, but they were much faster, and floating up towards the gray sky. He jumped, but he missed the ribbons by a few inches. Still, he ran after them for a few more yards.
When they were well out of reach, Jake jogged back. He was breathing heavily, and sand caked his feet and calves. You stopped him before he could try to apologize.
“I enjoyed them while they were here.” You looked up to see them still floating, heavenbound. “I’m still enjoying them now. Plus, I got to watch you run after them like a dork.”
“Hey!” He protested through strained breath.
“Kidding,” you said.
Jake started unpacking the picnic basket with flair. First, a bouquet of flowers – more than a dozen roses of your favorite color nestled between fluffy baby’s breath and sprigs of soft eucalyptus. Holding it made you feel like a bride.
A pang of anxiety struck you. You loved Jake. You couldn’t imagine your life without him. But you’d been dating less than a year, and you knew the rumors that servicemen moved fast. What would you say if he pulled out a ring?
You didn’t have time to worry; he was already pulling out a bowl of fruit. Strawberries, mangoes, kiwi, some cut into little hearts.
“Did you do this?” You grabbed a slice of kiwi shaped like a heart and popped it in your mouth. When he nodded, you asked, “How? When?”
“In the supermarket parking lot this morning. I brought a cutting board and a knife.”
He was dead serious. The thought of him, cutting board on his dash, carefully carving fruit for you in a parking lot made you laugh. No man had ever done anything that thoughtful for you.
Jake wondered if communion wine was as sweet as your laugh, as capable of salvation. He decided not.
He pulled out a bakery box last, and you noticed how carefully he held it. This must be the surprise. Your chest felt heavy as you imagined what could be inside.
You didn’t know what you would do if you opened the box to a cake that said Will you marry me? If you looked up and Jake was on one knee, his eyes sparkling like the ring in his hand, launching into a monologue about how he wanted to spend his life with you. Because you couldn’t deny how much you needed him, like cut flowers needed water. This brilliant man whose hard exterior crumbled with one look at you. Who knew you like an extension of himself. Who sat in a parking lot and cut heart-shaped fruit for you because he wanted to see you smile. You would do anything for him to stay yours. Yours to please. Yours to hold. Yours to love.
You couldn’t say no. You couldn’t lose him.
He set the box in front of you and took your hand in his. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready for the past few hours.” You gave his hand a squeeze. This was it. You were on the precipice. The ocean roared down below. If he asked you to jump with him, would you?
Your breath caught in your chest as you lifted the lid. Inside, a frilly pink cake. In white frosting on the top, Will you be my Valentine?
A laugh shook you, and relief unfurled under your skin. You wrapped your arms around him with such force that you both fell onto the picnic blanket.
“Yes,” you said as you attacked his perfect face with kisses. “Yes, yes, yes.”
When he couldn’t take your onslaught any longer, he wrapped his giant arms around you and crushed you against his chest. There was no place safer for you in the entire world. You swore your hearts harmonized, both perfectly in time with the beat of the waves against the sand. You could have stayed like that forever, but eventually, Jake succumbed to the sweet allure of the cake and let you go. As he cut into the soft pink shells of buttercream, your mind drifted somewhere to the future. Your hands melded with his around a knife handle, slicing into another cake – this one at least three tiers tall and white.
Jake shook you from your daydream by offering you the first slice of pink cake.
It was delicious. Your favorite flavor and his, married perfectly between layers of dark and pale pink buttercream. As you ate, the impenetrable cloud cover finally yielded to the wind, and the sun stretched its lazy rays over the two of you. Somehow, Jake ended up with a dab of frosting on the tip of his nose. You swiped it away with the pad of your thumb and licked it clean.
You felt some relief at not getting engaged. But with the taste of cake in your mouth, and the golden sun warming Jake’s skin, you felt a tinge of bittersweetness. Maybe some part of you had wanted him to ask, even though it was so soon.
But you looked at the picnic spread – the heart-shaped fruit, the bursting bouquet, even the balloons, long since claimed by the sky – and you were assured it would not be long before he got down on one knee and asked for your hand.
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Put a Bow on It | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: You find out that Bradley's present-wrapping skills are... less than stellar, so it's up to you to save Christmas.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: fluff, a few very light sexual references, incompetence of a grown man, fluffy fluff fluff
a/n: Thank you for the love on my previous posts — I’m really thankful to everyone who reads my silly little stories. Hope y’all enjoy this one, Merry Christmas!
“You can’t look at me like that,” Bradley says.
“Like what?” You ask, though you know exactly what he means.
It’s not that you mean to look at him with such pity, but who can blame you?
You weren’t exactly sure how he got himself into such a mess when you were only in the kitchen making coffees. Wedged between a stack of boxed Barbies and no less than 12 rolls of wrapping paper scattered across your living room floor, Bradley looks less competent aviator and more like an unsupervised 5th grader. Tattered strips of Santa wrapping paper curl around him, scraps of tape line both of his exposed thighs, and he’s so flustered he hasn’t even removed the bright red bow you tied around his head earlier. You both look down at the lumpy present sitting on the rug in front of him. For all his efforts, it wasn’t a spectacular result.
“You did great.” You have to hide your face with a drawn-out sip of coffee because you know if he catches a glimpse of your expression, he will call you out for your bald-faced lie.
He can tell anyway. “I’m not sure lying is the best way to get on the nice list.”
You do feel bad. It was your idea to get involved in the neighborhood toy drive, and despite his protests, you pleaded for Bradley to help.
“It will be fun,” you said before kissing his pouty lips. “I’ll make us coffees and you can light a fire and it’ll be so festive.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he cupped your face with his hands, “but I’m not lying when I say I can’t wrap a present to save my life.”
“You’ll do great.” You gave him another quick kiss and considered the matter over.
So, he didn’t do great. Could you really blame him? He tried to let you know beforehand, and it’s not like his military career was spent doing arts and crafts. You take another sip of your coffee before setting both mugs down and padding over to sit on the floor next to him.
“Am I off the wrapping duties?” He gives you a lopsided smile and slides his hand around your waist.
“You wish.” You reach over his lap and undo his wrapping job. “Get ready to learn a thing or two.”
He laughs when you use his own words against him, as you have throughout your entire relationship.
When you two weren’t yet dating – but still very much infatuated with each other – Bradley used pool as an excuse to get close to you, though no excuses were needed. You were putty in his hands already.
“Get ready to learn a thing or two,” he’d murmured in your ear. It was a Friday evening and The Hard Deck was packed, so he had to get close — mustache-ticking-your-ear close — so you could hear him over the rowdy crowd of sailors. And he was teaching you how to make a combination shot, so he had to wrap his arms around you so he could guide you through the motions. And you were a receptive student, so you had to lean against him so he could feel the curve of your ass — just so he knew his technique was working.
Now, nearly a year later on the rug of your living room, you slide up behind Bradley like he did that Friday night, your fingers gliding down his thick biceps towards his hands. They’re huge under yours, earning a laugh from both of you.
“Sweet girl, I’m not sure this is gonna work,” he says as you rest your chin on his shoulder. The curled ribbon from the bow in his hair tickles your check.
“Well, I know how to play pool thanks to this little trick. I’m sure I can use it to teach you how to wrap a present.”
You guide one of his hands toward the pair of scissors and another towards the pile of wrapping paper.
“Since I’m a great teacher, I’ll even let you pick which paper to use,” you say.
He lingers over the rolls for a moment, ultimately choosing a cranberry red paper with prints of cars carrying snow-dusted Christmas trees.
“Ok, now let’s roll it out. Look at me, Bradley.”
He pulls back a little so you can make complete eye contact. Even after months of dating, his warm brown eyes undo something in you, leaving you feeling like you’re brushing shoulders with the clouds. How did you ever get so lucky?
“It’s very important to measure the paper before cutting,” your voice softens as you drop the strict teacher act. “Put the Barbie at the edge of the wrapping paper, then you kinda fold up the other edge and see if it’s long enough.”
He takes a moment to soak you in before he can bring his attention back to the present. Up close, he can fully appreciate the graceful curve of your lips, the exact shade of your eyes. In the weepy, late morning sunlight, you are radiant.
The fire crackles in the background. The only other sound is your synchronous breathing.
You lean in slightly. “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but I promised Cathy that we’d deliver the presents by 2, so you need to get moving.”
“You should boss me around more often.” He stares at you for a second longer before turning his attention back to the present.
You’re glad he turns around so he can’t witness the violent shade of red your face flushes — nearly as red as the wrapping paper.
Once the paper’s measured, you show him how to cut it with one swooshing glide of the scissors.
“It’s like I’m a professional,” he says.
“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.” You squeeze his hands gently. “We’ve still got to tape this sucker up.”
He groans as you peel the scraps of tape off his thigh.
“How did you even do this to yourself?” You collect all the tape into one big wad. “You’re a grown man”
He shrugs. “I guess my mom was gone before she could teach me.”
At the mention of his mom, your heart melts. What you wouldn’t give to have her here for him, to walk him through this process he should have learned years ago. To spend another Christmas with her boy. You run your fingers through his sun-lightened locks. One night when you two first started dating, you sat on your porch alone. Under soft-falling moonlight, you promised Carole that you’d be there for her son; promised her that she and Goose could count on you to make sure he’d always be ok.
Something in Bradley’s face makes you think you were doing just fine on your promise. You can’t help the heat that rises to your checks when you catch him staring at you.
Then, with a mischievous smile, he swipes the tape wad from you, aims it, and launches it right at your face.
You try to get mad, to lecture him about the children who will be let down on Christmas morning without their Barbie doll, but the grin on his lips washes away any amount of anger you could dredge up. He wags his eyebrows and you can’t contain your laughter as it spills out of you and fills up the living room.
“You can’t be trusted with this dangerous weapon.” You grab the tape dispenser and wipe a tear from your eye. “I’ll rip the tape for you so you can just focus on folding.”
He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m actually trusted with dangerous weapons daily at work.”
You roll your eyes, but to his credit, Bradley is willing to learn. You gently guide him through the folds, but he picks it up pretty quick given that he doesn’t have to juggle the wrapping paper and the tape.
“That’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.” He holds up the present, admiring the sharp folds and the perfectly festive wrapping paper. “And I’ve got the perfect girl to thank.”
You dodge his incoming kiss, instead patting his cheek and standing up.
His brows knot in confusion before he realizes what you’ve gotten up to retrieve: a roll of velvety green ribbon.
You hold it up triumphantly. “One final touch.”
The absolute pain on his face steals the grin off yours.
You sink back down to the floor and wrap him tight in your arms, sliding your hand up his back to rub circles between his shoulders.
“Sweet girl,” he murmurs against your chest, “I really don’t have that in me.”
You kiss the top of his head. If Bradley draws the line here, you’re more than happy to finish the wrapping. Hell, you’d even lace his fucking shoes if it spared him the torture of tying any more bows. You are head-over-heels for Bradley Bradshaw, and you know he knows it. It’s a good thing he’s equally head-over-heels for you.
“Ok, Bradshaw, I’ll tie the bow, but I’ll need a little help.” You break away from him and begin unspooling the ribbon. “I know your mom taught you this.”
And he smiles because he knows what’s coming.
You twist the ribbon around the package, cross-crossing it over the top. You look to him, and already he’s jumping into action. He ceremoniously raises a finger and plants it perfectly on the intersection of the ribbon.
“Perfect.” You steadily finish the bow. It’s really good, you have to admit: entirely symmetrical, huge and bouncy like a cartoon.
And then Bradley is on top of you, pulling you into his lap, smushing kisses along your jaw, working his way to your lips. His kisses are hungry, but not sinfully so. You’re hungry too. Hungry to share the rest of your lives together. To wrap presents for your kids on Christmas Eve while they pretend to be asleep down the hall. To savor early Christmas mornings in matching pajamas, sipping hot chocolate while a fire sings in the hearth. Late Christmas evenings where he pulls you into his lap on the piano bench and plays your favorite carols — a little sloppily from the spiked eggnog and having to reach around you.
“I’m not in your way?” You would ask, already knowing his answer.
“No, you are right where you need to be.”
And he would play long into the night, celebrating the fact that he gets to spend Christmas with his sweet girl. No December 26th would pass without you waking up to find you had both lost your voices.
Your phone rings, rudely barging into your domestic dreams of the future. You’re tempted to ignore it, but Bradley accepts the call and brings it to your ear, leans his forehead against yours.
“Hey, Cathy,” you say.
“Is there any chance you can get the presents here sooner?” You and Bradley can both hear how harried the toy drive organizer sounds. “Sorry to even ask, you know I appreciate you, but some paperwork got messed up and —”
“Sure thing, don’t worry about it.” You break in to spare her the breath.
“Thank you,” she says. “And bring that sailor of yours, too. I might need help loading the truck.”
You laugh. “I’ll make sure to bring him along.”
“Thank you so much, sweetie. See ya soon.”
“See you soon.” You hang up your phone and toss it on the floor.
You peck Bradley on the check. “Ok, ready to put those new skills to good use?”
“Ready.” He smiles and runs his hands through your hair. “Ready to do anything for you.”
You scramble out of his lap because if he keeps looking at you like that, you definitely won’t get the presents to Cathy on time.
You turn on the TV and fetch your still-steaming coffees from the table. Quickly, you and Bradley settle into an easy wrapping rhythm, the hum of a carol floating out of your TV, accompanied by the silent promise of all your Christmases — and many wrapped presents — to come.
