Somewhen in the future, Bradley and Jake are happily married. Their twin girls are sometimes true menaces (and really nobody blames Mav for that, why would you think so?) but usually they are just adorable 5-year-olds who love their dads and grandpas endlessly. So it's no surprise that they are over the moon when Bradley tells them that all of them will spend more than just Christmas with their grandpas.
What Bradley had been hinting at is a vacation in the mountains, all six of them spending a week in a cozy wooden cabin. Bradley and Jake go skiing, the girls have a hell lot of fun building snowmen, more often than not Mav and Ice are dragged into snowball fights with them (again, totally not Mav's idea and no, Ice really doesn't get overly competitive, who'd say that?) and if not, Ice has a good time finally reading the books he's always wanted to but never had the time for while Mav keeps the girls occupied otherwise.
One day, after a particularly serious snowball fight, they are all soaked to the bones and freezing. So while Ice gets the girls and himself into dry and cozy clothes, Mav lights the fireplace and prepares hot chocolates for the four of them.
Hours later, Jake and Bradley come back from their day of skiing only to find their girls snuggled up to their grandpas in front of the fireplace, all of them fast asleep. It's a wild knot of limbs and blankets and pillows but they all seem happy. With smiles on their faces, Bradley and Jake watch them for a moment before carefully throwing another few logs of wood into the fire and cuddling up on the couch themselves, enjoying a rare moment of peaceful togetherness, just the two of them.
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Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Jake 'Hangman" Seresin
Summary: Bradley and Jake's son asks them innocently "Are you friends?" It sends Jake into a spiral and Bradley saves the day.
wc: 1.2k
a/n: @mothdruid and i agree that FOB and Bang the Doldrums is hangster coded. Enjoy the fluff ♡
Jake was treading lightly in the darkened living room, dimly illuminated by the golden lights from the upstairs hallway.
His green eyes focused on the mahogany wood flooring in front of him as his arms cradled a sleeping boy, the orange heeler plushie tapping his back with every step. The soft snores and puffs of warm breath against his neck almost deterred him from not making a sound. Did he say it was that panel? He thought as he carefully stepped over a board his husband swore he was going to fix. Husband, he let out a quiet scoff at the title Bradley Bradshaw held. After all this time he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Making it to the stairs, he clutched on tighter to the boy in the airplane pajamas. Before he could take a step, the stuffed animal slipped from the 5-year-olds hand and collided with the floor. The boy twitched followed by a soft whine. Perhaps he could leave it there till morning? “Bingo,” he whined, calling out for the toy.
Jake rolled his eyes, “Hold on, Nicky,” he grunted, turning to bend over and pick up the beloved toy. “Let’s get to bed.”
Nick nuzzled his face in his father's neck and gripped tighter onto Bingo’s tail as Jake started to climb the stairs. “Is daddy gonna read me a story?”
“I’m sure he will, son," Jake cooed, peering around the corner. His words came soft and slow as he turned into the bedroom, drawing them out for signature dramatics, "looks like it," he whispered just in time to see Bradley pull open the blanket from the once neatly made bed.
Jake stood still a moment to take it in; Bradley's hazel eyes flashed upward, a soft smile forming on his lips. He traded in his Hawaiian shirt that night for a dark gray Henley, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The blond's heart stopped for the briefest of moments as the yellow stars from Nick's night light danced across his husband's tanned skin.
He wanted to make some snarky comment about all his Hawaiian shirts being dirty and earn a cold look from the older man. But he didn't, the want of savoring this moment outweighed any remark; he put it on file in his mind to bring out later.
"How are you still awake?" Bradley sighed, smirking as he stood to full height. Nick turned in his dad's arms and shrugged before being sat down. "You're just like your dad," he remarked, covering Nick's legs with the blanket and pressing a scratchy kiss to his temple.
"Seresin resilience," Jake winked. He lowered himself beside the child, his arm splayed across the pillows while Bradley sat at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed.
As the two men lowered their eyes at each other in trademark annoyance, Nick reached for the picture books resting on his lime green bedside table. He smiled as he flipped through them, ultimately landing one of his favorites. The book was written by a friend of his grandpa's, a vibrantly colored one all about unlikely friendships and how to work as a team.
Nick looked up from the cover, his hazel eyes shifting between his two fathers. They did this a lot; staring at each other not knowing if tense words were going to be exchanged or a long slow kiss. He held the book against his chest as fell back against the pillows, rolling into Jake's side. "Dad…" the men broke out of their trance and immediately diverted their gaze, "Are you and daddy friends?"
Friends.
There was a small pause, the men’s faces slightly scrunching as they processed the question. “Well we’re married, son,” Jake avoided the answer. He didn’t really know the answer, he just hoped it was enough for the five-year-old; it was never enough for Nick, he was the type of kid who needed a solid yes or no answer, no highway option.
The boy pouted and sunk lower into Jake’s side, “Well,” he sighed impatiently, “Rebecca's parents are married and she told me on the swings that they hate each other."
"We don't hate each other, Nicky," Bradley entered the conversation.
"So are you friends?" Nick tilted his chin upward at Jake.
The world felt sour on Jake’s tongue. Friends. Were they friends? They’d known each other most of their adult lives and carried several titles in their relationship, Jake could even count most of them. Friends seemed like a gray area.
The moment their eyes locked back in flight school, they were off. Flying after each other faster on the ground than in the air. Jake could remember him back then, thin and bare upper-lipped; he could vaguely remember how smooth it felt when Bradley kissed his neck. Were the late night rendezvous to watch television and make out sessions behind the planes enough to consider them friends? Lovers maybe? Lovers from the start.
But maybe they were friends at some point in their history somewhere in between quickies and long nights spent in messed up sheets. After training, most days, they'd sit in the bed of Jake's truck, limbs innocently tangled up in each other and looking up at the planes zooming past them thousands of feet in the air. Jake shared the stories of growing up in Texas, knee deep in old money he'd never receive a cent of.
Bradley kept tight lipped about his past until a training detachment in San Diego when he nearly lost it. Tears threatened to fall from a young Bradley Bradshaw when his toes hit the sand of the beach his father took him as a child. The two men sat in the middle of the sand, Bradley's head on Jake's shoulder while he poured his heart out to him. Because that's what friends did.
Jake snorted at the thought of them as "ex-friends", that was a better definition of their relationship. The fallout was bitter with scathing words they didn't mean and wounded prides. Bradley slammed the door so hard it came loose off the hinges while Jake opened it forcefully enough to rip it clean off chasing after him. Took years off their relationship; near death took them apart but it also put them back together.
It was better that way. Easier for his brain to compute. Jake looked down at Nick who was looking up at him with wide hopeful eyes. He opened his mouth, prepared to fumble a sentence that would go right over the child's head.
"Best friends," Bradley intercepted. Jake tried to hold onto a straight face, but the shock and awe of his face journey made his husband laugh.
Nick smiled brightly and that was enough for his parents. He snuggled against Jake and held his plushie close to his chest, prompting the stunned blond to read.
He was asleep by the third page.
"So," Jake started as he closed the bedroom door behind him, taking one last look at their son before looking at Bradley with a signature cocky smirk, "Best friends, huh?"
Bradley looked unimpressed, his lips dipped downward into an annoyed scowl. "You want a friendship bracelet or something?" He asked sarcastically as they walked down the hallway, his hand finding purchase on Jake's lower back.
Jake playfully slapped Bradley's chest, "Yeah if fact I do. Yellow and red, like your helmet," he answered, taunting him.
A week later, on his desk, Jake came back to his office to see a handmade friendship bracelet. And a week after that, a black and green one showed up on Roosters.
OK OK LAST ONE! trying not to get too worried when one comes home too late at night with hangster por favor
worry-wart jake is cute imo
Jake was trying not to let it bother him. He really was. Trying his damnedest, truth be told. There was an itch scratching at the inside of his brain, an uncomfortable one. It was an itch that was telling him to text Bradley, ask where the fuck are you, B? But that would be clingy Jake thought. Not like he really cared.
He did but didn’t.
He cared about Bradley’s well being, not about if Bradley thought he was clingy. Which Bradley's well being was currently on the front of his mind. Being propped up by this stupid fucking itch, that he would never be able to reach.
Fuck it, Jake thought as he searched the apartment for his phone. He found it in the bedroom, on the wireless charger Bradley had got him for Christmas. Jake sent a silent thank you to Bradley for it, cause he would have pulled the charger out of the wall if it was attached to his phone. There was no new notification from Bradley, not even one from Nat about Bradley’s location.
“Where the fuck are you, asshole.” Jake spoke as he typed out the text, replacing the word asshole with bird-brain instead. He didn’t want to be too aggressive.
They weren’t the couple that was up each other’s asses. They didn’t text every hour of every day. It’s not like they really had time to with their job. They enjoyed having their space, spending quality time when in the presence of one another. But Bradley was currently late. Really fucking late.
Jake’s pointer finger tapped incessantly against the back of his phone. He was staring, waiting for the sent mark to change to delivered. It didn’t. Jake tossed his phone on the bed, deciding that he was done worrying. If Bradley didn’t want to come home tonight, then fuck him.
Soft footsteps were all that filled the apartment, Jake heading towards the front door. Worry had now turned into annoyance, annoyance that was telling him to lock the door. Yeah, Bradley obviously had a key to the apartment but at least now he would have to unlock the door when he came home. That’s how Jake always told him he was mad, a locked door when he came home. Jake went to reach for the door handle, only for it to meet him halfway.
It scared Jake, him stepping back as the door opened. Bradley scooted around the door, closing it then turning to Jake. He gave Jake a big smile and a small wave. Jake flared his nostrils, not reciprocating the pleasantries.
“Hey.” Bradley said. He walked over to press a kiss to Jake’s cheek, resting his hands on Jake’s hips.
“Where were you?” Jake asked.
“Last minute paperwork. Kind of put it off until I couldn’t anymore.” Bradley chuckled, trying to break the tension.
“No text though?” Jake leaned back.
“I’m sorry, I should have but my phone died. I forgot to charge it last night.” Bradley had an honest look to him. One Jake couldn’t be mad at.
“Fine, but you owe me.” Jake leaned in and kissed Bradley hard.
Here's a little sneak peak of some new hangster fluff I can't wait to finish writing:
In the following weeks, Jake found out that Bradley had become quite a good cook and Jake couldn't hold back tears when Bradley told him that he had actually never given up on learning how to cook just because of him, building on what Jake had taught him during the few weeks of their first relationship.
Still stirred by the emotions of all these past memories, Jake reaches the door of their condo. Already now, he can hear music playing from the inside. A good sign in his hopes that Bradley has already started to prepare dinner. There's basically always music playing when Bradley is at home, that is unless they're watching TV or Bradley is playing piano himself, of course.
What is surprising, not to say utterly confusing, is that the sound Jake hears coming through the still closed door is undeniably country music. If there's one genre of music that Bradley isn't shy to denounce it's country music. He has told Jake probably a zillion times since they've known each other that there's nothing he hates more than this type of music. He's exaggerating, of course, and they both know that there definitely are things he hates more than country music, olives for example, but that doesn't change the fact that Bradley doesn't like country music at all - or at least that's what Jake has thought until now.
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Weekend Trip [hangster] - Barbecue and Baby Goose (Ch. 3)
Chapter 3 is up now!
Fanfic Summary: Jake's first weekend with Bradley in the Mitchell-Kazansky house. It's chaos and banter and maybe also a bit embarrassing. Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw, Tom 'lceman' Kazansky x Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell.
Content/warnings: 18+, Bradley's POV, early relationship hangster, fluff, hangster smut, lots of banter, married!icemav, icemav smut implied, tiny bit of hurt & comfort.
Happy Birthday Abby! Can I request a prompt from the roommates list for hangster combining ' cooking for one another' and 'maybe one learns to cook the other's favorite meal as a treat, the gesture absolutely melting their heart'?
here you are!!! some cute hangster!!!
Bradley wasn’t the best cook, opting more for take out and the occasion burger on the grill. Jake was the person who cooked for them. It was like a silent agreement. Jake cooked and Bradley cleaned up afterwards. Tonight would be different though. Bradley was the one cooking tonight. Not only was he just cooking, he was making Jake’s favorite comfort food. Chicken corn soup with rivels.
When Jake first mentioned rivels to Bradley, he got confused. Bradley thought they were just dumplings, but Jake insisted they were not. It wasn’t until they took a trip to Jake’s family ranch that he was proved wrong. Rivels were in fact not dumplings. Similar, but not the same.
Just as Bradley finished the rivels, about to add them into the broth and vegetable mixture, the front door opened. Bradley perked up at the noise, listening to the softer noises that followed. There was a soft huff Jake made when he toed off his shoes. It was a signal for Bradley, letting him know that Jake would be making his way into the kitchen shortly. Bradley grabbed the small bowl of finished rivels, throwing them into the broth just as Jake walked in.
“My my, what smells so good?” Jake said, exaggerating a big sniff.
“I’m surprised you don’t recognize it.” Bradley teased, stirring the finished product on the stove top.
Jake quirked an eyebrow, continuing his way over to the stove. Bradley moved over a little for Jake to look in the pot. Bradley stirred with the wooden spoon, watching as Jake’s face started lighting up.
“Is this what I think it is?” Jake asked. “Mom’s recipe?”
“Yeah,” Bradley smiled and nodded, “got it from her the last time we visited.”
The two of them got bowls, filling them up and heading to the table. Jake discussed work as they ate, talking about his most recent project. Bradley listened happily, taking in the information while keeping an eye on Jake eating. With each bite Jake smiled, silently telling Bradley that he completed the recipe correctly. When they finished, Bradley stood up and grabbed both bowls to take them to the skin. Jake grabbed at the hem of his shirt, stopping him.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. I needed that.” Jake said with a smile.
A warmth blossomed through Bradley. That was why he made it. Jake had been stressed out due to work. Jake didn’t need to tell Bradley he was stressed. Bradley noticed every extended morning in bed, Jake snoozing his alarm over and over again. The silence when Jake came home, opting to head for the bedroom for ‘just five minutes of quiet time’.
“I know.” Bradley leaned down and kissed the top of Jake’s head.
