🤠🐓

Hangman had been nice enough that first night, but after that it seemed as though he could care less about your presence at all. He wasn’t ever actively rude or mean to you, not at all, instead it was like you were just perpetually a stranger. Him snarking at you would be a step up, in your opinion. At least then you’d feel like he saw you as a friend, but as it stands now, his tight smiles and quiet chortles felt like a slap in the face compared to the mega-watt grins and regular peacockish behaviour he’d display with his other friends.

You hate yourself a little that it affects you so much. You know it shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. You liked Hangman. Although a little prideful and pricklish, you could see yourself getting along with him quite well, could exchange banter with him nicely, if he’d ever actually give you a chance. It certainly didn’t help that you weren’t immune to the way he looked, perfect in every single sense, smoulderingly hot even when he wasn’t trying. He was exactly your type, right down to a T, including, you suppose, the fact that he didn’t want you at all.

It had been bothering you more and more recently, and where once you would just shrug him off, now you realise, you’ve been actively avoiding hanging out with your friends, just to sidestep the kick in the guts that came every time he fixed you with a level, seemingly emotionless pity-smile. This week would mark one year since the night you’d been dumped and subsequently picked up again, and if you’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, you’d have agreed with Halo that you should have been celebrating with all your friends.

Phoenix easily waves down the boys, and soon enough your tall standing table is filled out with the rest of the team, and you let yourself relax for a moment as you accept several hugs, the longest of which is with Javy, who shakes you a little as he does, before he reaches for your drink and finishes it off in one.

“Happy one year, bay-bay!” he announces cheekily in the face of your protest, and you playfully swat him away. Coyote relents, but leans back just enough, with his mouth open, and you roll your eyes, before plucking the maraschino cherry from your now empty glass and placing it between his teeth.

The display is enough to make you laugh genuinely, and you watch with a far more relaxed and happy grin as Javy pushes back from the table, pointing at you, Phoenix and Halo.

“Another?” he asks, quickly gathering everyone’s orders and announcing the first round was on him as he disappears toward the bar. Unfortunately, that is when you realise his empty spot at the table is stepped into by someone else, and despite yourself, you can’t help but look.

If you hadn't known that he’d only just arrived, you might have fooled yourself into thinking Hangman been here all along, with how natural he looks leaning with one arm against the table, his eyes scanning the club behind you over your head as you take him in.

You refrain from cursing at just how good he looks in civvies. It was rare you’d see him in anything aside from either his flight suit or his tan uniform, and you’re fairly certain the only other time you had was at one of Dagger’s many beach parties, where he’d been barely dressed at all. Now though, Hangman is filling out a pair of dark wash jeans and a silk jade-green button down like nobody's business, his hair for once not slicked back and styled for work, and he has what you can only assume must be several days worth of stubble.

He looks goddamn good, and you almost vibrate all the way across the room because of it.

Bright green eyes suddenly lock on to yours, and you most hope he calls you out for staring, teases you relentlessly, but after a moment, he simply nods at you, and turns inward to the table.

“You look great,” he says simply, and after letting out a quiet sigh, you choose not to let this ruin your night.

“Thanks, so do you,” you reply, maybe a little sadder sounding than you intended. Hangman glances back over at you and your heart skips just a little when he lifts his chin at you.

“Same dress you were wearing the night that asshole dumped you, right?” His voice holds slightly more humorous inflection than usual and you hate yourself a little bit more for living for the crumbs he gives you.

“Yeah. figured it was thematic or whatever. Look at me now, and all that,” you wave a hand, and really try hard not to sound so glum this time, but you’re not sure it works. Hangman cocks his head, and you swear you see a playful glint spark in his eyes just as he opens his mouth, but unfortunately you never get to hear what he has to say, because Javy chooses that moment to reappear, placing down an armful of drinks and beers right between you.

With the reappearance of his friend, Hangman seems to go back to ignoring you, and you go back to pretending that it doesn’t bother you.

—

Five minutes ago you had been dancing wildly and laughing with Rooster and Phoenix, three drinks down and getting your giggle on. Now though, you’d managed to lose both your friends in the crowd, which had been okay at first, you weren’t exactly a wallflower and didn’t mind getting your flirt on with a stranger or two, but now, you were wishing hard that at any moment either Rooster or Phoenix might show back up again and save you.

While you weren’t a wallflower, you also weren’t anywhere near as cock-sure as Halo or Phoenix, you weren’t the type of girl who felt comfortable stamping on a creep’s foot and telling him to fuck off and that you weren’t interested.

Which is exactly what you wanted to do right now.

You were trying to be polite still, for some reason, but the drinks in your system prevent you from really reacting as necessary, even as you attempt to move the hands of the guy you're dancing with back to your hips and away from your ass.

“Hey, look, I’m going to get a drink!” you yell over the music, trying to extract yourself from this guy, but just as your luck would have it, he nods happily and makes to move with you, his hands still trying to feel you up.

You move anyway, hoping that at least you might be able to lose him in the crowd, but your new shadow seems determined to stick with you. You really don’t know at this point how to shake him, and as a last resort, you desperately begin scanning the edges of the crowd for any of your friends, so you can try and make eyes for them to bail you out.

Strangely, all your friends seem to have disappeared from the table you’d left them at, even Rooster and Phoenix are nowhere in sight, but you do catch sight of something familiar toward the bar. For once you don’t dread the sight of Hangman and his expressionless gaze, and for once, you attempt to maintain eye contact with him as he glances almost dismissively over at you.

Maybe it’s the look on your face that causes him to doubletake back at you when he briefly looks away, but whatever it is, you’re glad for it, because the next thing you know, the blond is frowning at you, his eyes flickering between you and your unwanted companion. You watch as he straightens up from leaning against the bar, his face filled with the kind of determination that you had only seen on him during the more heated rounds of pool at the Hard Deck.

You could almost let out a cry of joy when he pushes away from the bar and begins beelining towards you, seemingly making sure that he doesn’t lose sight of you even despite the throng of people that he has to weave in and out of. When he’s only a few metres away, his expression shifts from almost angry, into an easy cocky smile that he’s never directed toward you before. It nearly throws you off step, but even if it had, it wouldn’t have been an issue. In a few short strides, Hangman is in front of you, his arm smoothly slung around your shoulder and he uses it to tug you a few steps into his side, and away from your prior dance partner.

“There you are,” he says sweetly, actually sounding glad to see you for once. In your sheer relief at his rescue, you let your hand fall to his chest, your fingertips gliding over the soft silk of his shirt, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You blink up, mouth open to utter a soft thank you, and get ready to excuse yourself from the other man’s company, but a tugging at your hand cuts you off.

“Uh, I thought we were getting a drink,” the other guy interrupts, looking accusingly between you and Hangman. The blond barely even looks at him, an insult you know well, before he’s focused back on you, and arm around your shoulder pulling you even closer into him, and forcing your dance partner to release you.

“I’ll take it from here,” Hangman says to him, though he’s gazing at you, doing a damn convincing job of seeming lovesick. “You thirsty, sweetheart?” he adds as he begins to turn you, lead you away from the scene, and you find yourself embarrassingly speechless, only able to nod at for once being on the receiving end of Hangman’s notorious charm.

“Whatever, just so you know man, she didn’t say she was taken,” you hear from behind you. 

“She shouldn’t have to.” Hangman doesn’t even stop moving as he turns his head to shoot back, though his voice is filled with more annoyance than you’ve ever heard from him before. You could almost trick yourself into thinking he was actually mad on your behalf.

“Fucking slut.” The words are just loud enough for the both of you to hear, and even though you tense up at the accusation, you expect the both of you to keep moving, at least until you’re away from this guy. That doesn’t happen though. Hangman does stop this time, though unlike before, you don’t see a trace of anger on his face. Instead, he takes a step back toward the other man, his arm dropping from your shoulders to wrap snugly around your waist. He smiles wide and full, completely infuriatingly, and you see him size up the creep, look him deliberately up and down before he tips his head and opens his mouth.

“And yet, she’s still not going to fuck you,” he stays smiling, wide and cheshire-like. You feel yourself drop into a pool of complete and utter enamour with him, as at last he pulls you away again, leaving your unwanted partner behind, mouthing dumbly at the killer of a takedown he’d just endured, now totally forgotten by the both of you.

You’re still recovering from the utter annihilation when you finally reach the bar, and at last Hangman lets his hold on you drop, and he comes to stand next to you at the bar. He’s still grinning, though it looks like it's to himself, but it widens ever so slightly when he glances down at you while motioning for the bartender. He orders himself another beer, and the same cocktail Javy had stolen from you earlier before you’re finally able to get your thoughts straight again.

“Thanks for that,” you say, nodding towards the dance floor. Hangman looks almost surprised for a few seconds before he shrugs and pays the waiting barman.

“S’nothing.” he waves you off, but fixes you again with a slight frown moments later. “Are you alright? You looked pretty upset when you were trying to shake him.”

You think this might be the most genuine emotion the man has ever shown you, and you’re too far gone to question why, for now you simply want to bask in it.

“I’m no good at telling guys to piss off. Mostly they get the hint, but sometimes… that’s why I always stick with Phoenix or Halo,” you explain a little bashfully. You know how confrontational Hangman can be, you’d seen it for yourself tonight, so you know he likely sees your lack of assertiveness as some kind of weakness. Maybe that was why he didn’t like you?

Hangman frowns again, deeply this time, and hands you your drink. For a while he doesn't say anything, but it makes you anxious the way he doesn’t stop staring at you even as he takes a good long drink of his beer. After a moment he relaxes somewhat and glances away. You’re hoping maybe he’ll drop it, or maybe some of your friends will come along and spare you whatever comes next, but he doesn’t, and they don’t.

Hangman points back toward the dance floor with his beer hand and fixes you with a hard, intent stare.

“You feel like that again, you come find me, alright? I’ll tell them where they can go,” the blond tells you firmly, making you blink and splutter, but he holds up his hand and waves you off before you can deny him.

“Halo doesn’t always come out with us, and Phoenix and Rooster are currently eating face, so,” he takes half a step toward you and leans lower into your space, almost making you stumble back. “Next time,” he slings his arm across your shoulder again and grins almost maniacally. “Let Hangman sort them out for you.”

Six months later - June

            The ocean breeze was cold as it rolled off the waves crashing on the beach. You closed your eyes, basking in the morning sun, listening to the seagulls above you. You had found out that the beach was nearly deserted in the mornings, and it was the best time for you to come and clear your mind. You’d wake up, feed the cat that you had adopted (you named him Tybalt, the prince of cats), then lace up your sneaks and run for the beach. You had been living in California for the past several months, working at the writing center on campus before you started Doctor Hoffman’s program in the coming fall. 

            You missed Boston dearly, but you needed to get out. You had spent your whole life in Boston, and though you had good memories, nothing will ever be able to replace the bad ones. Losing your parents was the worst thing you had ever gone through, and you wouldn’t wish anything like that on your worst enemy. Lucy and Zeke had helped you pack up all your things. Zeke volunteered to drive across the country in the U-Haul while you and Lucy flew. They helped you unpack most things, and then shared a very tearful goodbye as you stood in the airport and watched the two most important people in your life head back to start their own lives. Lucy had promised you to include you in all wedding details. 

            Tybalt was waiting by the door when you arrived home. He was a cute little tabby that had an extra toe in each paw. His ear was a bit tattered and the woman at the shelter said that he had survived a house fire. You knew that he was the right one for you. You had asked your parents for a sign that you made the right choice to move, and they gave you Tybalt. 

            You scratched his ears as you walked towards the kitchen. He jumped up on the counter and meowed as you reached for the cupboard where his food was. 

            “What would you have with me?” You asked the cat, quoting Shakespeare, and filled his dish with food. The cat happily walked over to the dish and began eating, “Good King of Cats, only one of your nine lives!” 

            Your apartment in California was a simple studio apartment. You didn’t need a lot of space since it was just you and Tybalt. It was also one of the cheaper ones near campus. You decided to sell your car to help afford the move across the country. Zeke was sad to see the old honda civic leave, quoting all the memories that were shared from the times he hotboxed it with your brother. You sighed as you sat down at your small kitchen table and began checking emails. 

            Some days, you regret moving so soon after graduating. Sometimes the silence in the apartment was often too quiet for you to focus, and you’d end up playing music or staring blankly at your computer. Other times, your heart longed to be back in Boston. Back in the presence of the people who have become your family. In the presence of him. 

            — — — 

            Jake groaned as he sipped his overpriced cup of coffee as he walked through the cold campus with Bob. Bob had made a pact that Tuesday mornings where coffee mornings with himself and Rooster, trying to cheer Jake up out of his sour mood. Except this morning Rooster couldn’t make it, so Jake was left listening to Bob talk about black holes and space dust by himself. Jake was half listening trying to focus on not slipping and falling on the ice. 

“If it’s a boy I’m going to name it after you,” Bob blurted out and Jake snapped his head towards him. 

“What?” 

“Wow, you really haven’t been listening to me,” Bob rolled his eyes as he opened the door for the english building, “I said, Miranda and I are expecting. Found out about three weeks ago.” 

“Wow, Bob, that’s amazing,” Jake hugged his friend, “How is everything? How is she feeling?” 

“Well, morning sickness is a bitch,” Bob chuckled, “She’s doing okay. She’s telling her kids at school today. And I wonder how they’ll take it. This one kid, Jimmy, always gives me the evil eye when I visit her sometimes.”  

            “You got competition, Bobby,” Jake laughed. 

            “Who’s got competition?” 

            Jake’s blood ran cold at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t heard it in over a year, and he was beyond thankful for that. He used to love the sound of her voice, but now it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Bob had a look of complete shock on his face as he looked at the woman standing before him. Like Jake, Bob hadn’t seen Allison since she was kicked out of his house and showed up on Bob’s doorstep in the pouring rain. 

            “Oh don’t be speechless now,” Allison said, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked right up to Bob and hugged him. Bob looked at Jake with a confused expression on his face, “How are you, Bobby? It’s been a while.” 

            “Good, Allison,” Bob nodded, “Uh, I was telling Jake that Miranda is pregnant.”

            “Wonderful!” Allison smiled and then looked at her ex-husband, “Jacob.” 

            “Why are you here?” Jake asked and Bob glared at him, “What do you want?” 

            Allison gave him a tight lipped smile and sighed, “I came back to give you this,” Jake watched as she opened her purse and pulled out a ring box, “My mother heard from yours that you are considering marriage again.” 

            “Really?” Bob asked and now it was Jake’s turn to give him a glare. Bob held his hands up in defense and walked down to his friend’s office. 

            Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was unsure why Allison kept the ring or didn’t just give it to his mother in Texas. He knew that she was living on her parents ranch, something he had learned during his fall break visit. Allison licked her lips and looked down at the box. 

            “I guess your mother thinks one thing and you think another,” Allison said. 

            “No, she’s right, I am thinking about marriage again,” Jake said. 

            “Oh! Well, can I meet her? Your mother says she’s a real sweet girl. Cute, young, a writer. You really have a type don’t you.” 

            “She’s not here.” 

            “No?” Allison asked, cocking her head to the side. Jake hated when she did that. Allison was a smart woman, graduating Magna Cum Laude from the college of Business at Boston. She didn’t need to play dumb to get her way, but she did it anyway. And it irritated the hell out of Jake. 

            “She’s in LA, studying under Doctor Hoffman.” 

            “So it is true. . .  Nancy had said something but I didn’t think you’d be that dumb to risk your career,” Allison shook her head, “Does she know about our rendezvous?” 

            “No, and she never fucking will,” Jake snapped, “Give me the ring and go home. You have no more business here in Boston. And whatever shit of mine you find in the future, just send it to me. I don’t want to see your face again.” 

            Allison clenched her jaw and set the ring box in his hand. He snatched his hand back and turned towards his office. 

            “She won’t be enough for you!” Allison yelled. Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, “She’s too young and you know that. You can say all you want that you are okay with the way things are right now, but you are lying to yourself. You want things that she won’t give to you.” 

            Jake shook his head with a laugh, “And that’s where you are wrong, Allison. She gives me everything that I need. . . She gives me love.” 

            When Jake got to his office, Bob scrambled away from the door, as if he was not watching out the large window at the interaction between exes. Bob busied himself looking at the bookshelf as Jake slammed the door shut and walked over to his desk. He sat down with a loud sigh and Bob looked over at his friend. 

            “So you are proposing to Y/N?” Bob asked gently. 

            “Remember back in November when I went home?” Jake asked and Bob nodded, “My mom gave me my grandmother’s ring. . . to give to Y/N. And I totally freaked the fuck out. We got into a fight and I said things to her that I should’ve never said. And she ended up just leaving the next day.” 

            “Jesus,” Bob rubbed his head, “That’s why Zeke left the lab so quickly. I thought maybe the house was on fire or something, he left so quickly. So, then what did you do?” 

            Jake scratched the back of his head, and let out a sigh, “Hooked up with Allison.” 

            “No, Jake, what the hell?” 

            Jake shook his head, “I was drunk, a-and I know that’s not an excuse.” 

            It was the wrong place at the wrong time. Allison was sitting in the dimly lit bar, her skin glowing under the harsh red neon lights of the bar sign. Jake had every intention of ignoring the sight of her, drinking his bourbon in silence, but she sat down next to him. He was cold, and brash, not trying to engage in conversation with her. But she placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm, and ran her heeled foot up his calf. She knew how to make him crumble and she did it so perfectly. Jake grabbed her wrist and dragged her to her out front of the bar. The sex was rough, it was nothing compared to the passion and intimacy Jake had with you a night prior. Jake didn’t even cum, he pushed Allison off of himself and went into the bathroom of her childhood bedroom. He hung his head in shame and cried. 

            “I intended to fix things when I came home, but she had that fucking kid over,” Jake rolled his eyes. 

            “Derek?” Bob asked and Jake nodded. 

            “How did you know?” 

            “He’d come into the lab when Zeke was there. I never quite liked him. Thought he was a pompous ass.” 

            “He is,” Jake agreed, “And then graduation, I went, like you suggested and she ignored me. So I went over that night and wanted to apologize for everything but Derek was there.” 

            “Did you punch him?” 

            “No, but Zeke did. Kid’s got a killer right hook.” 

            “Of course he does,” Bob puffed his chest out in pride, “So what happened next?” 

            “You know what happened next. She left for Berkeley.” 

            That wasn’t entirely true, and Jake knew it as he looked at the photo booth picture strip of the two of you. You had an identical one hanging up on your bulletin board above your desk. For nearly two months, you and Jake dated like a normal couple. He took you for dates or cooked for you. He had finally come over to your house for a date (which was a bit weird with Lucy and Zeke). The two of you were nearly inseparable during that time, but like always, it was destined to fail. Jake knew that there was a looming deadline on the relationship, with you moving to California. He tried to shake it, every single time he held you in his arms or kissed you, but it was like his heart couldn’t just forget. 

            “I know she’s in California, but what happened? Are you two-” 

            “No,” Jake said, his green eyes shifting over to the letter you had sent him when you first moved out there. He was yet to read it, so it sat on his desk, unopened, “We did what we do best. Break each other's hearts.” 

            You tried not to focus on the polaroid picture that you had framed on your desk. You should’ve been looking over a list of pre-course reading material, but instead your eyes were locked on that photo. It was your last night in Boston. Jake took you out to eat at a very fancy restaurant, one that you had only dreamed of going to, he even invited Lucy and Zeke to come with. He had bought you a new dress to wear, wanting you to feel special on your last night. It was special, you were spending it with the three people who meant the most to you. You thought everything was going well. Jake invited everyone back to his house for drinks that night. The picture of you and Jake was taken in his backyard, next to a fire pit as you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped around you, two bright smiles on your faces. 

            It was after Zeke and Lucy left that everything seemed to hit the fan. You laid your head on Jake’s chest, still covered in a thin layer of sweat from rolling in the sheets. He ran his hand lazily down your spin. The thought had been playing in his head all week as you were verifying things for your move. 

            “You know, Boston has a nice grad program,” Jake said and you nodded, “Really good actually. It’s right here at home, you wouldn’t have to move across the country. You could be here with Lucy and help her-” 

            “What are you doing?” You asked, lifting yourself up and looking at him, “I know Boston has a good program. I looked at it. But Berkeley is my dream.” 

            “Couldn’t your dream be here?” 

            You raised your eyebrows in shock, “You want me to stay?” 

            “Well yeah, I do. I love you, why wouldn’t I want you to be here with me.” You shook your head and pulled back the covers, “Where are you going?” 

            “To Berkeley, Jake,” You said, grabbing your underwear, “Jake, this. . . Doctor Hoffman’s program has been my dream for as long as I can remember.” 

            “Dreams change.” 

            “Not this one,” You said, finishing putting your clothes back on, “This one will never change. And you know that. I can’t believe you’d even suggest that I stay here and pass up on my dream.” 

            “Well shit, I didn’t think staying with me was so fucking horrible.” 

            “Oh don’t even start,” You pointed at him, “Jake, this time I have spent with you has been the best time of my life. But I have worked too hard on this to let it go.” 

Jake stood up from the bed, walking to you. He grabbed your face in his hands, lifting it slightly to look at you. He had tears in your eyes, as you had tears in yours. 

“Please, think about it. If I can promise you a job-” 

“No Jake,” You shook your head, and grabbed his hands, “I have thought about it. And I am going to California. I am going to Berkeley. Whether that’s with your support or not. I’m going.” 

“So this is it. You’re going to get on that plane tomorrow and leave.”

“I am, Jake,” You said. 

 Jake sniffled, “I love you.” 

“And I love you too,” You said and ran your thumb over his hand. You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, “Goodbye, Jacob.” 

— — — 

AUGUST

The summer went by quickly, and before you knew it, you were picking up your textbooks and getting to meet some of the students in the grad program. You hadn’t quite met anyone who was like Lucy and Zeke, and you stopped trying to find someone like that. Lucy was busy getting ready for her first job at the Boston Post and Zeke was working full time in Bob’s lab. You haven't heard from Jake since you left for California. There was no text, no calls, no nothing. You knew the phone worked both ways, but you were too stubborn to make the first move. 

Campus was busy. There was a certain excitement in the air as the incoming freshmen were moving into dorms, various clubs and activities flooded central campus to promote themselves. You walked around central campus, just trying to find something to do. You couldn’t sit and stare at the computer screen or go over your schedule anymore. Lucy had called you this morning to see if you were excited for classes to get started, and you were. You were also sad, you were about to embark on a new journey, all by yourself. 

You let out a sigh as you looked around, seeing tearful parents drop off their children. You could remember when Ethan and Zeke helped move you in your freshman year. There were no tears, just an awkward hug from your brother. You wondered if your mother would’ve cried. You know she would’ve, she was always the crier.

Shaking your head, you started the trek back to your apartment. You couldn’t stand all the cheer on campus, and wanted to dwell in the comfort of your apartment with Tybalt. You rolled your eyes as your phone started to ring, knowing it was probably Zeke for the fifth time today. Without looking, you swiped the accept button and held it to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey,” You froze as you heard his voice. You hadn’t heard it in over seven months. You almost started to forget what it sounded like. 

“Jake?” 

“Yeah,” Jake answered, “How are you? Settling in?” 

“I’m good. I’ve been busy. Still unpacking some things.” 

“Really? Cause it looks like you are standing in the middle of central campus.” You felt your heart stop, and tears welled up in your eyes, “Turn around, baby.” 

You dropped your phone from your ear and turned around. There he was, standing there amongst the crowd. His green eyes were locked on you. Jake held orange roses in his hand. You took off running towards him, moving through the crowd. Jake caught you in his arms, holding you tightly in his arms. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, pulling away from him. 

“Did you really think I was going to let my girl move across the country by herself?” 

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Note: I'm not sure if I'm 100% over this series yet, cause I can't end things to save my damn life. . . so be on the look out for blurbs possibly an epilogue.

“Hey Leech,” you hear someone shout over the loud music and chatter of the Hard Deck. You carry on stirring the drink set on the bar in front of you, not thinking much of it until a cold, calloused hand is placed on your shoulder. “Leech, I was talking to you.”

You frown at the name, turning your head to see it’s one of your least favourite pilots, Razor. “What did you just call me?” You ask him and he curls his mouth up into a creepy smile.

“Leech,” he repeats for the third time. “We figured since you’re dating Rooster, you should have an honorary call sign.” He says.

“And Leech is what you came up with?” You ask in a bored tone, glancing quickly around the room for your boyfriend who is nowhere to be seen.

The pilot stood next to you moves in a bit closer and you almost gag at the amount of cologne he has on. “Well it wasn’t me that came up with it, your boy Rooster had the idea.”

You sigh, not really wanting this conversation to continue. You’ve never really liked Razor that much, he always creeped you out and gave you really bad vibes anytime you were around him. You know Rooster used to hang out with him a lot but since you and he got together, he hasn’t really had time for Razor.

Even though you know you’ll regret asking, your curiousity gets the better of you. “Why Leech?” You question, and his smile widens, as if he’s a hyena that’s just cornered it’s prey.

“Well you guys are always together, it’s like you’re stuck to him. Bradshaw used to be fun y’know.” You glare at Razor, not at all liking where this is going. “You’ve kind of sucked the fun out of him.” He sees the light in your eyes dim and knows he’s successfully winding you up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask coldly and Razor seems to be enjoying that fact you’re getting riled up.

The pilot in question continues his verbal assault on you. “Don’t know how he puts up with it personally, but with a mouth like that, I think I can guess what keeps him coming back.” You recoil, disgusted at his words and your skin crawls at the close proximity.

“Excuse me?” you bark out, unknowingly attracting attention from Phoenix and Bob a couple of tables over.

Razor just chuckles. “Well I mean I don’t really have to guess, Rooster’s stories don’t leave much to the imagination. I guess you don’t just suck the life out of him, huh Leech?”

You just see red, and before you know what’s happened, Razor has stumbled back, his nose bleeding and your fist hurts.

You hear a sharp “oh shit,” from behind you, followed by 2 pairs of footsteps. Phoenix and Bob appear, the former checking on you whilst her back seater acts as a barrier between you and the pilot who’s nose you’ve probably just broken.

“Y/N, hey.” Phoenix places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. “You alright? What happened?” You can’t really process the events that led up to you throwing a punch in the moment so you just shake your head, shrugging Phoenix’s hands away from where they’ve moved to your shoulder.

“Where’s Bradley?” Is all you ask and Phoenix is taken aback by your calm demeanour.

“Out front I think. D’you want me to go get him?”

You leave her question unanswered as you grab your bag from the seat you were occupying before it all kicked off. You flinch slightly when you hear a yell of “psycho bitch! “ come from where Bob is easily holding Razor back, nearly blocking you from view. You forget how strong Bob is sometimes.

Stepping around the chaos you’ve created, you make your way to the front door. Patrons of the bar warily move out of your way as you stride towards the exit, slightly concerned at how chilled you are after hitting Razor.

As you near the door, you spot Rooster stood outside with Payback, Fanboy and Hangman exchanging light conversation whilst drinking their beers, all of them blissfully unaware of the events that have unfolded inside the bar. Rooster looks up as the door opens and smiles at the sight of you walking towards him. “Hey baby,” he greets, moving forward to give you a kiss. Filled with rage, you dodge his lips causing him to frown in confusion.

The rest of the group can sense somethings off but it’s not until fanboy catches sight of your bloody knuckles they know there’s a real problem. “Y/N what happened to your hand?” Fanboy asks and you glance down to see your dominant hand has a bit of blood on it.

“Oh it’s not my blood, I’m fine.” The groups’ eyes widen collectively at your stone faced expression.

Rooster grabs your hand in his own and notes the slight swelling of your knuckles. “Babe, c’mon let’s take a walk yeah?” He coaxes you gently and you nod, sliding your hand out of his grip and walking away from the group.

Your boyfriend sends an apologetic look to his bewildered friends and follows you, needing to jog a few steps to catch up to you. “Hey Y/N slow down!”

You stop dead, feeling sand underneath your feet. “What the hell happened?” Rooster asks softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You shrug his arm off. “Y/N you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I punched Razor.” You whisper.

“What? Why?” He asks in reply.

“Apparently I’m a blood sucking parasite.” You state and Rooster takes in a sharp breath at your words.

“He called you Leech didn’t he?” You nod in confirmation, tears springing to your eyes as you realise that Bradley did in fact know about the ‘callsign’

You turn to him, “was that your idea?” you ask and he doesn’t meet your eyes. Looking down at his feet he nods solemnly.

“It was just a joke Y/N.”

“Was it a joke when you were talking about how I am in bed too?” You ask, a tear slipping from the corner of eye.

He decides to face you now, “hey that’s not fair. I was having a conversation with the guys, we were messing around.” You scoff, and move to walk away but Rooster grabs your arm. “We’d only just started dating. “ he tells you.

“How does that make it ok?” You yell. “You can’t just talk to random people about that shit Rooster! Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be sat at that bar with him saying he’s heard ‘stories’ about me?”

“He’s not ‘random people’, he’s a fucking friend.”

You yank your arm back from where it’s still in his grasp, “I honestly thought you respected me but obviously not.”

He sighs, “when you realise you’re overreacting, you know where to find me.” He says and you nearly lose your footing at his words. It’s like he can’t even understand how badly he fucked up.

“Fuck you Bradley.” You tell him. “I’m done.” And with that you walk back towards the Hard Deck, where the group that were stood outside with Bradley has expanded to include both Phoenix and Bob who no doubt have now filled in the rest of the group. They look sympathetically on as you walk up to them.

Holding your chin up, you wipe furiously underneath your eyes to rid them of the tears and address Phoenix . “Can you give me a ride home?” You ask her, your voice shaking.

She smiles sadly at you and nods, “yeah, c’mon let’s go.” She wraps an arm around your waist and the emotions you’vebottled up whilst you’ve been dealing with the situation come streaming out. You sob loudly and Phoenix pulls your head to rest on her shoulder as you walk to the car.

You recount the events of the night in their entirety to Phoenix as she drives you home. You don’t miss the tightening of her knuckles on the steering wheel when you mention exactly what Razor said to you. She listens in earnest, giving comments where needed and honestly you feel better by the time she pulls up at your house.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

Phoenix takes a deep breath, seeming to almost contemplate what she’s about to say. “I know Rooster’s an idiot and I fully support you if you never want to see him again but maybe consider talking to him when you’ve both calmed down a bit? It might help, give you some closure at the very least.”

You consider her words. Sure, Rooster’s no angel in the situation but he’s by no means the main problem, that’s Razor and you know that Bradley doesn’t hang out with him anymore so maybe he’s changed? The situation is still really confusing in your head.

“I- uh,” you take a breath. “I’ll think about it, thanks Phoenix.”

You walk up the path to your front door and pause as your phone buzzes. You pull it out of your bag and notice 17 text messages.

One of the messages is from Bob, ‘hope you made it home safe! P.S. that was one hell of a punch 👍👊’

The other 16 are all from Bradley. They start with variations on apologies, then morph more into worry, with the last one being. ‘Please let me know you got home safe, you mean the world to me. I’m sorry love B.’

You sob quietly as you read the message, collapsing against the inside of your door as you close it. Yeah you’re really fucking mad but you don’t want him to be worried so you text him back just one word.

There was simply nothing that could compare to the peace of watching the sun rise over Lake Tahoe.

You'd spent your younger years moving around quite a bit, being your father was military. Finally, you settled down here your sophomore year of high school. The house was your mother's parents, passed down to them by their parents and so on. Your parents spent a year or so renovating it before moving in fully. The house was something out of a dream, you thought. It almost felt like you were on an endless vacation whenever you were home.

None of your fellow pilot friends had ever visited the infamous lake. So, when the idea of the group taking a vacation together sparked, you were happy to offer your home as a place to stay. After all, your parents would be gone on their anniversary trip.

Being as the drive from San Diego would be just short of nine hours, you'd all taken a flight to Reno and from there, split up in two rental cars to drive the rest of the way. You ended up driving one since you knew the way home from the airport.

It was around nine in the evening when you finally arrived, as everyone had preferred an evening flight out of San Diego.

"Holy shit, your house is nuts." Phoenix leaned forward, admiring what she could see of the house as you pulled into the driveway.

"Damn, Venom." Hangman, who sat in the backseat with Bob, agreed.

You chuckled, giving them a condensed story of how the house had been in your family for years.

The other SUV that was being driven by Rooster pulled into the driveway behind you. Everyone piled out of the cars and started grabbing their luggage from the trunks. As you all did so, your parents were finishing up packing their car.

"Welcome, everyone!" Your mother greeted, hugging you first, then making sure to hug everyone else. It was her first time meeting most of the pilots, but not hearing about them. Your father was next, giving you a quick hug before starting to give everyone a overly-professional handshake.

"Admiral Simpson." Hangman greeted, a proud smile on his face. Jake was such a kiss-ass sometimes.

Your father was as serious as he always was, and not very talkative. You all chatted for a minute or two before your parents said their goodbyes and wished you all a great couple of days.

Everyone piled into the house, randomly claiming their rooms. There was plenty of room for everyone, but some of them had to use air mattresses which ofcourse they didn't mind. Once everyone was settled in, you locked up the house. It was getting fairly late so most everyone was relaxing or getting ready for bed. You watched about half of a movie that Hangman had turned on downstairs before you retreated to bed yourself.

You felt content as you fell asleep, happy to have all of your friends near and spend a couple of days with them. Drifting off to sleep was easy, and you slept pretty hard until you woke up at around two in the morning. You groaned to yourself, reaching for your phone that sat nearby.

You spent the next little while aimlessly scrolling, hoping you'd naturally get tired again. Usually reading would do the trick but you were not in the mood to pick up the book sitting on your nightstand. You decided eventually to head downstairs for a while, maybe grab a snack or something. Anything. You were tired of tossing and turning.

"Can't sleep?" Bradley's voice startled you as you crept out of your bedroom. He sat nearby in the upstairs den, which had a plain view of your bedroom door.

"S' not looking like it." You grumbled, glancing at him with tired eyes. He half smiled, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

He sat under a blanket, legs kicked up on the coffee table. The tv played quietly before him.

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, taking a seat next to him.

"I slept a lot yesterday so my sleep schedule is a little wacked out, I reckon."

You nodded, glancing up at the tv. Bradley shuffled a little closer, adjusting the blanket to cover your legs. You relaxed, letting out a yawn.

You and Bradley were pretty close. Being his backseater, you obviously spent a lot of time together. He was older, by nine years. That however, never hindered your friendship. Bradley was confident in himself, but never cocky. He was gentle and kind, being sure to reassure you whenever you needed it. Not only that, but he'd taught you alot— being as he had more years of experience. You always appreciated him. Truthfully, it was hard to imagine flying with anyone else— even if you'd only been his backseater for just shy of a year.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you both focused on the tv. You lost interest after a few minutes being as Bradley was watching ESPN highlights.

"Anything you wanna watch?"

"Doesn't matter." You said quietly, watching him flip through the channels.

You moved in your seat, leaning to absentmindedly rest your head on his shoulder, which you didn’t think much of. He didn't seem to mind as he settled on a random movie. Glancing at you, he noticed your eyes were closed. He moved, casually slipping an arm around you and letting you fall into his side. You blinked, taking in his scent. You'd always had what you considered to be a microscopic crush on Bradley Bradshaw. Maybe it was a little more than microscopic, but you hated to admit that to yourself. However, he never gave you an ounce of notion that he felt the same way. It was always strictly business between the two of you, Bradley often calling you 'kid' which you couldn't stand.

You kept your cool, nestling into his side and focusing on the tv again. You hadn't the slightest clue what movie he'd picked, but you knew that it wasn't entertaining. He also didn't seem the least bit interested. “Want me to turn on Netflix? There's probably something more entertaining on there—" You reached across him for the remote, clamping your eyes shut when you realized what you just accidentally brushed your hand over under the blanket. Bradley had tensed up a bit, grabbing the remote for you and handing it your way.

"I'm sorry— I didn't mean to." You stuttered, starting to sit up.

"S'alright." He cleared his throat, keeping his arm around you.

Your cheeks were burning as you fiddled with the remote. Embarrassment filled your entire being and you felt as if you could crawl out of your own skin. Bradley looked over at you, sensing how uncomfortable you were.

"Venom, it's okay." He chuckled. Ofcourse he wasn't the slightest bit phased. Unlike you, Bradley was far better at keeping his cool in certain situations.

"Okay." You whispered, unable to actually look at him.

You managed to type out your Netflix log-in, handing the remote back to him after. Settling back into his side, you had to stop yourself from squirming. You'd hoped that he couldn't feel your heart nearly beating out of your chest. It took everything in you not to panic and run downstairs. You'd started mentally preparing excuses. I'm thirsty. Need some fresh air. Want a snack. Hell, anything would suffice at this point.

"Stop squirming." Bradley muttered, placing a hand on your leg. "Everything is okay." He didn't look at you as his fingers brushed against the delicate skin of your thigh, stilling afterward.

You were sure you were going to explode. You were unsure of where your shyness was coming from. Usually, you kept Bradley on his toes— which was one of the many reasons he admired you. You'd been deemed Venom, being as you were what everyone called a "little shit talker". You'd surprised yourself, not being able to manage getting a word out. Maybe it was because you'd never been in such a close proximity with Bradshaw.

Your skin was practically burning under his touch as you mentally repeated his words to yourself.

Bradley knew damn well why you were squirming. He'd spent enough time with you to know you pretty well, or atleast he felt that way. You were easy to read in his eyes.

"Venom." He spoke, turning to look at you this time and deciding to bite the bullet.

"Hm?"

"You tell me if you want me to stop." His voice was deep, filling your senses. You swallowed hard, nodding at him as he moved to separate your legs, still sitting next to you. You were sure you looked like a damn deer in headlights, but the absolute last thing you wanted him to do in that moment was stop.

"Okay, Venom?" He pressed, not recieving a clear enough acknowledgment from you.

"Okay." Your voice was already failing you, sounding scratchy and pathetic.

You weren't sure that you were breathing, or actually awake for that matter. You swore this was a dream and you'd wake up in a cold sweat alone in your bed any minute now.

He reached to hold your cheek before he kissed you gently, testing the waters. You hesitantly kissed him back, feeling as if you were about to melt at the realization. He pulled you closer, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck. You laid a hand on his leg, starting to crawl in his lap. He stopped you, pulling away.

Bradley watched your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he reached to slide his fingers under the hem of your sleep shorts. You sat still, watching his hand— your chest rising and falling at an elevated rate. This was absolutely not happening on the first night of vacation. His fingers slid down the lace of your panties, coming to a stop over your covered hole. "Honey.." He cooed, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "What's got you so worked up, huh?"

You whimpered, watching as he tossed the blanket to the floor and started taking off your shorts.

"This okay, baby?"

"Yes, Bradley." You whispered, suddenly not caring that Hangman and Coyote could come out their shared room at any minute and witness the unthinkable.

He stayed beside you as he ran his fingers along you again, this time pulling the flimsy lace to the side. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed soft circles over your clit, your slick making it easy for him. "You're so fucking wet, honey." Bradley groaned, undeniably rock hard underneath his shorts now. He moved down, slipping two fingers into you with ease. You let out a long whine, breath ragged. "Shh shh." He coaxed, thrusting his ring and pointer finger in and out of you at a intoxicating pace. A lewd sounding squelch bounced off of the walls, the sound going straight to Bradley's dick. Thankfully, it wasn't very noticeable. You clenched around his fingers, eyes still glued to where his hand was working. "Cum around my fingers, sweet girl. I know you can." You squirmed beside him, hands gripping at the couch cushion beneath you. Turning your head, you met his gaze as you leaned up— so badly wanting him to kiss you. He caught on, lips meeting yours with an undeniable sense of hunger. A small groan left him as you placed a hand over his clothed cock, giving it a subtle squeeze. "Cum for me so I can fuck you properly." He begged, thrusting his fingers impossibly deeper and curling them into you. You reached up, gripping a fist full of his tee shirt as you felt yourself start to unravel. "Bradley— Roos- please." You managed to spit out, voice barely above a whisper. "I know, honey." He said into your ear, holding onto you as your walls fluttered around his fingers. Bradley watched as you came undone, your face contorting so beautifully and lips just barely parting as you gasped for air. It was the most glorious thing he'd seen in a long time.  "That's it, that's my girl." He cooed, riding you through it. As you came down you opened your eyes, watching as he pulled his fingers from you and stuck them between his soft pink lips. Your taste coated his tongue, driving him absolutely crazy. He was a goner.

Your doe eyes alone were enough to make him want to lose every ounce of control. He grabbed your panties from the floor, shoving them in the pocket of his shorts before he reached down to pick you up.

"Y' alright, Venom?" He looked at you with a smile as he walked the short distance to your room with you in his arms. You let out a small laugh, still the slightest bit embarrassed.

"I'm good, Roos." You confirmed. "Better than good."

He laid you down on your bed, flicking on the lamp on your nightstand afterwards. Bradley wanted to see what he was about to experience, not just the darkness of the night. As he turned the lock, he looked back to you. You laid in the center of your bed, body surrounded by your plush white comforter— your hair a beautiful mess. You still had on your tee shirt, which Bradley worked quickly to remove next. Then, you were left in your panties, the lavender lace taunting Bradley as he pulled off his shirt.

You gave him a genuine smile as you raked your eyes across his chest and toned abdomen, your cheeks still a burning pink. He returned it, sitting still for a moment as he looked at you fully. "You're so beautiful honey. Breathtaking." He breathed.

"I want to touch you." You spit out, pulling Bradley from his stare and making his cock twitch yet again. You were bound to be the death of him, he thought.

"Honey, you don't have to—"

"Please." You sat up, watching him move to sit on the end of the bed. You took to your knees, shyly pulling at the top of his shorts and working them down his legs before placing a few soft kisses to his clothed length. He was big, which you'd figured. You'd thought about it more than a couple times, unashamedly. Bradley watched your fingers pull at the hem of his briefs and he lifted his hips, letting you pull them off. You couldn't help but stare as you took him into your palm. He was rock hard— the tip a furious red and beading precum. You licked at it, earning a shudder from him. Bradley leaned back onto his elbows, giving himself a better view of you as you took him into your mouth. He let his head fall back and eyes shut, a beautiful sounding groan falling from his lips. One that only spurred you on. You swirled your tongue around him, taking him as deep as you could and relishing in the sounds he made he hit the back of your throat. "Goddamn, baby." He reached down, holding your hair back as you worked him, your spit dripping down to his balls. "Just like that." You kept up your pace, working your hand over what you couldn't fit into your mouth. After another few moments, Bradley was a mess, hips stuttering and teeth grinding. You pulled off of him, noticing he was getting close. He swallowed hard, pupils dilated. "Shit baby, you're so good at that." He pulled you up and into a sweet kiss, brushing your hair from your face. Your tongue danced against his, a gasp leaving your mouth when the tip of his cock brushed against your clit.

All you could think in the moment was you needed more. Needed all of him. You were nearly breathless as you gently pushed him back onto the bed. He chuckled lightly, a little surprised. You reached down, lining him up before you started to sink down on him. He held onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin. Every noise you made, every facial expression— Bradley knew they'd be engrained in his memory forever. He couldn't think straight and neither could you, both of you too far gone, tangled up in pure euphoria. Your palms pressed to his chest as you slowly let him fill you, a delicious burning stretch. "Holy fuck." He gritted as he bottomed out. "You were fucking made for my cock." You involuntarily clenched at his words, starting to move. Quiet whines fell from your chapped lips, growing more continuous as you picked up a pace that had you seeing stars and had Bradley about to lose his shit. He held tight onto your hips, starting to thrust up into you. "F-fuck, Roos" You cried, as quiet as possible. Your legs were tired, but you didn't give up, still moving yourself on his lap. "Look at you." He teased, running a hand up and down your back. "Pretty baby— working so hard to cum." You whined, eyes threatening to roll back in your head if he muttered another word.

Bradley noticed your legs giving out and gave you a sweet pat on your ass. "C'mere." He said, urging you to let him turn you over.

You did as he asked, your limbs feeling useless as you buried your face into the soft sheets. Bradley gripped your hips again, raising your ass up for him. He watched your legs shaking, and ran a soothing hand over your back again. "Doing so good, honey." He reassured, running himself along your entrance. He pressed the tip in, smiling to himself at the whine you let out. Your breaths were ragged as your teeth dug into the sheets in a desperate attempt to quiet yourself. Bradley started up a delicious pace, mumbling a bunch of sweet nothings that you were too fucked out to comprehend. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, knuckles white and hands shaking. You had never been this much of a mess for anyone. Truthfully, you don't think you've ever had sex quite like this. Your embarrassment was long gone, as it was far too late to be shy under Bradley's stare.

You were grasping for any sense of self as he tore you apart, leaning forward to press wet kisses to your spine. "Such a sweet, tight little fucking cunt baby." He huffed. "Taking me so good."

It was all toe curling, white hot pleasure. The kind that takes your breath away and hinders you from coming up with a coherent thought.

"Look at you, Venom— So fucked out." He said, teasingly. "Ain't much of a shit talker anymore, huh?"

"Fuck— Roos.." Your words were drawn out. "Please." You didn't have the will to say anything smart back to him.

Before you could spit out another word, his fingers were around your waist toying with your clit. You were absolutely wrecked, skin damp with sweat and your hair stuck to you. Tears starting to drip down your cheeks as you chanted his name over and over and over like it was all you knew. Without any further pursuasion, you fell apart underneath him.

"Fuck yes, honey— such an angel" His thrusts were sloppy as he drove you through what quite possibly was the most earth-shattering orgasm you'd ever experienced. Your head was spinning, world falling apart. It would truly be a blessing if nobody heard what the hell was going on in your room. Realizing you didn't exactly have time to notify him earlier, you muttered a quick "I'm on the pill" to Bradley, earning a groan from him.

"Such a good little fucking girl— M' gonna cum for you baby."

"Pl-ease, Roos, s' so good." Your whimper was enough to have him falling apart, hips stuttering and the most beautiful sounds, along with your name, falling from his lips.

You laid there as he stilled, walls fluttering around him, welcoming his hot release. Sounds of heavy breathing circulated the room freely as you both came to. Bradley pulled himself from you, placing a hand on your side and turning you over to look at him. Your cheeks were a pale pink and tear stained, an adorable look of satisfaction on your face.

"You sweet little thing." He sat down, leaning against the headboard and holding you against his chest. As you laid on his warm skin, your mind flashed to what's next? You knew you'd never be able to look at Rooster the same, nor him you. You only hoped in the peaceful moment that things wouldn't be weird. That you wouldn't regret what'd just happened. You hoped he felt the same.

Fingers gently touched your chin, lifting your face— eyes meeting his. He didn't say anything, just looked at you with a smile before his lips were placed on yours. You instantly relaxed, kissing him back for a few seconds before he pulled away.

"Y'wanna take a shower with me?" You nodded at his words, crawling off of him.

So, at 3am on a Friday morning there you were, getting into the shower with Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley crawled into bed with you that night, holding you close to him until you fell into a delicate sleep. He admired you for a while. How relaxed and at peace you looked in your sleep. The way your lips were just barely curled into a soft smile. He slipped out while later, returning to his room.

When you woke up hours later the sun had risen completely. You just laid there for a moment, trying not to fucking self destruct and put on your best poker face. Finally, the irresistible smell of what appeared to be hazelnut coffee pulled you from the warmth of your bed. As silly as you felt about it, you spent a few minutes trying to look presentable— as presentable as you could look in a hoodie and sweatpants. It was the week before Thanksgiving and the house was chilly, so you did your best to accommodate.

As you descended the stairs, you met the eyes of Phoenix who stood in the kitchen. "Good Morning." She greeted with a smile. You replied with the same, making a beeline to cut the heat up.

You made small talk with her, agreeing on what you should make everyone for breakfast. Both of you went to work, Bob joining you soon after.

"Where's everyone at?"

"Well," Natasha started, flipping a pancake as she spoke. "Jake and Javy went for a run, and Rooster, Mickey, and Reuben are still asleep, I think."

Bob nodded, thanking you as you slid him a cup of coffee. He offered to help with breakfast, but you and Phoenix had it under control.

As you had your back turned, Bob greeted Rooster who'd apparently made an appearance downstairs as well. You cut off the stove, turning your head and greeting him, Phoenix doing the same. He also offered to help, but was turned down too.

You and Phoenix placed everything on the dining table that sat nearby, your eyes meeting Bradley's as you did so. He gave you a warm smile before turning to switch on the tv. You smiled back, biting the inside of your lip as you looked away. Thank god it wasn't awkward. You did, however, feel like a giddy ass teenager— which you found funny.

Shortly after you called down the remaining sleeping folks for breakfast, Hangman and Coyote returned from their run. Everyone gathered around the table to eat and chat about what the plans were for the day. Being as it was cold out, you obviously had limited options.

Unfortunately, there was also a fairly decent chance of snow that evening, so you decided to make the most of the day since you could possibly be stuck inside tomorrow.

After breakfast, everyone parted ways once again. You decided to drag Phoenix to the grocery store with you, while the rest of the group headed outside to hike, kayak, etcetera.

It was almost a bitter cold, but thankfully the sun was shining.

You and Phoenix wandered through the isles of the grocery store, pushing a cart and collecting items here and there.

"So." She started, dropping a pack of paper plates in the cart. "Wanna tell me why you were making googly eyes at Bradshaw during breakfast?"

You scoffed, starting to laugh. "Was not."

"I knew you had a crush on him, but damn."

"You knew this how?" You pushed, making her laugh with you. Part of you was relieved that she didn't see right through your bullshit. You were close with Natasha, but not ready to share any confidential information with her. Not yet. Not until you figured out what the hell was going to come of the situation.

"It's so obvious, atleast to me." She smirked, continuing down the isle with you walking next to her.

"Okay well, yeah. I have a crush on Bradshaw. Sorry." You raised your hands up, smiling.

"So you should tell him." She said, watching you almost drop the cereal box you'd picked up.

"What, no!" You looked at her incredulously. Oh, Phoenix. If you only knew. "I am not telling him."

She chuckled. "Why though? Bradshaw is a good guy. He's been through so much shit— he needs someone like you."

You wondered silently why Bradley didn't have a girlfriend. He was everything you could ask for in a partner, and you knew that. A lot of people could see what he brought to the table. Girls always flocked to Bradley. That's just the way it was. Maybe he was picky, you thought. Scared of commitment possibly.

Either way, it would just be a small bumb in the road for someone.

"I'm probably too young for him."

"Oh so what— you're twenty-six. You're past halfway to thirty. You're not that young. He's only thirty-five anyways."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me that I'm nearly a grandma." You joked, placing some more items in the cart.

"No need to be scared, Venom. Who knows what he'd say back."

"First of all, for me to say anything to the man about my feelings I'd most definitely have to be intoxicated, So there's that."

She laughed with you, continuing your journey through the store. You'd accumulated nearly a cart full of items, mostly because you'd planned to cook for the next few days instead of going out for dinner, since you weren't sure about the weather.

Phoenix continued to poke at you and tease for the entirety of the car ride back to the house, weighing the pros and cons for you. Bringing up things you hadn't even had a chance to think about. You played along, not cracking under her watchful stare.

Upon your arrival back to the house, Bob and Rooster were sitting on the back porch and made their way around the house when they heard the car doors close. They helped you with the many grocery bags, Phoenix ofcourse nudging you in the side when Bradley walked away.

"He stayed here so he can spend time with you." She said, earning an eye roll from you in return.

"Or he's tired, or it's to cold outside, or-"

"You're no fun." She replied.

It took a while to take everything out of the bags and put them in their correct places. After you'd finished, Phoenix ofcourse ditched you, taking Bob with her. Bradley cleared his throat as he neared you, leaning against the counter as you closed the fridge. 

"Let's take a walk?"

You nodded, letting him know to give you a minute so you could go upstairs to grab a coat. He did the same.

Descending down the stairs again, you met his waiting eyes. He stood at the back door, bundled up and waiting— oh, and smirking.

"Stop looking at me like that." You chuckled, walking past him and out the back door. He was ofcourse close behind.

"Looking at you how?" He smiled.

"Like you've seen me naked!" You whisper-yelled, nudging your shoulder against his arm when he caught up and started walking beside you.

"Can’t help it." He laughed.

You started walking towards the water, smiling when the sun hit your face, filling you with needed warmth.

"I don't want you to think that last night was just a one time thing." Bradley said, looking at you as you stopped near the shore of the lake. “I don’t want to make things complicated between us since we work together, and maybe we can separate ourselves from that— I just don’t want you to think that was some hookup.”

“I trust you, Bradley.” You smiled, shading your eyes from the sun.

“We can take things slow, figure out what works for us naturally.” He added. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off of you, though.”

Your lips quirked, teeth gently gnawing on the inside of your cheek.

“You don’t have to.” Your voice was sweet, and for the first time in a while Bradley Bradshaw felt content. Exhilarated.

He shook his head with a laugh, wanting badly to touch you. Looking around for anyone, he pulled you close, earning a soft squeal from you. The kiss was short, but still raised chill bumps on your covered skin. He pulled away first, stepping away from you with a smile on his perfect lips.

Bradley surely never pictured himself in this situation. For as long as he’d known you, he surely enjoyed you being a friend and appreciated your kindness, work ethic, and ability to give him advice he needed in whatever situation presented itself. Ofcourse, there was attraction— but he simply never acted on it. It was risky, to say the least. Relationships with coworkers were not really ideal. But this, he didn’t regret one bit. Infact, he’d replayed those pretty noises you made the night before in his head over and over, doing a great job of torturing himself for a better part of the day.

The two of you walked around for a solid half hour, admiring the sights you’d grown very familar with over the past few years of living on Tahoe.

With rosy cheeks, you both walked back towards the house. It was a relief to be enveloped in the warm heat of the indoors. You shedded the coats, toboggans, and gloves, tossing them onto a table near the door.

Most everyone was inside now, cracking open drinks. With the assortment of alcohol everyone brought for themselves, you practically had an open bar. Everyone’s taste in drinks was very different throughout the group. So, everyone picked their poison and took a seat on the couch. Football was on, so ofcourse the guys were having a field day. You and Phoenix could care less, but still stayed to hang out.

The ‘what’s for dinner’ discussion came to an end rather quickly after it started. Jake had opted to grill, with Bob being his helper. Hangman was an amazing cook, and Bob was a close second. The others could cook, you included— but not like those two.

“Holy shit— what the hell is that?” Hangman said, grimacing after trying Phoenix’s drink. Rooster, who’d conveniently sat next to you, let out an adorable laugh. Phoenix grabbed her drink back, giving him a roll of her eyes. “It’s a blueberry jalapeño moscow mule.”

“No way.” Bradley pushed your hand away as you held your drink, the same as Phoenix’s, towards him.

“You guys are fucking boring.” You chuckled. “Men and their nasty beers.”

“You are so obviously in your twenties, Venom.” Hangman smirked, giving you a teasing look.

“Oh shut up.” You huffed, taking another sip of your drink.

“I’m surprised your daddy even let you have this many guys over.”

The other guys laughed at Jake’s words, some of them calling out a “Damn!”. You laughed yourself, shaking your head.

Yeah, and daddy would sure love that you fucked one of them on the first night here.

“Alright, Alright.” Bradley cut everyone off.

“Oh, cmon. She knows I’m teasing her.” Jake took another sip of his beer, looking back to the tv.

Bradley hadn’t put much thought into how your father would feel if and when he found out about the two of you. He knew if the time came, you’d talk to him about it the right way. Simpson had always been a fan of him, but Bradley knew this could change everything. Either way, you were a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. That didn’t mean your father had to like said decisions, but Bradley couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d probably never really like any man you chose. Bradley could see himself being the same way as a dad. Protective. Demanding respect. Wary of any men trying to sweep his daughter off her feet.

Two moscow mules later, most of the guys were out by the grill. You and Phoenix stayed in, prepping some of the sides for dinner. Both of you were a laughing mess. Natasha may have put a double shot in the drinks you’d both had. You were by no means drunk, but you were pretty damn close to it.

“Please don’t chop any fingers off, I can’t do all the blood.” She begged, watching you chop up an onion.

“I’m fine!” You chuckled.

Silence fell over the kitchen, and your thoughts started eating you alive. The alcohol flowing through your veins let the next couple of words slip out far too easily. She was your bestfriend anyways. She deserved to know.

“Can I tell you something without you freaking out?” You asked, voice low.

Phoenix squinted her eyes at you, starting to smirk.

“Shoot.”

“I fucked Bradshaw.”

part 2 coming soon.

🏷️ list:

@xoxabs88xox @godsfavoritebabe @everything-i-love-in-life @lost-on-stage @callsign-joyride @unluckymonaghan @ivyaugustetc

Jake had been distant for weeks. Everyone could see it, not just you. You thought you were going insane, thinking that maybe he was just being cold towards you, but even Coyote noticed that Jake wasn't being his usual cocky self.

You had been planning this dinner for weeks. Not only was it your third year anniversary with Jake, you also had exciting news to share with him. About two weeks ago you had come down with what you thought was the stomach flu. But when you looked at the calendar on the fridge, it had dawned on you that your period was late. You called Rooster in a state of hysterics and he came over almost immediately with a box of pregnancy tests and chocolate.

Humming a song to yourself, you finished wrapping the gift that housed a framed picture of your ultrasound and a onesie that said "baby's first flight suit" (something that Bob had actually bought for you). Your heart started racing as you heard the sound of Jake's truck pulling into the driveway.

"Y/N?" Jake called out to you as he shrugged off his bomber jacket. His head turned at the sound of your heels clicking across the floor. He felt his heart drop at the sight of you. You were dressed adorably, in a cute baby blue dress that fit your body just right. Your hair was curled and your makeup was just a step up from what you normally did.

"Welcome home, handsome," You kissed his lips.

"Babe," Jake said and you grabbed his hand. He followed you wordlessly as you brought him into he dinning room. The guilt that he was feeling now suddenly felt like cinderblocks tied to his feet as he looked at the set dinning room table. Two plates set with a delicious meal and candles lit giving the room a soft glow.

"Happy Anniversary," You smile.

"Yeah, Happy Anniversary," Jake moved quickly, and pulled out your chair for you. You thanked him and sat down, pushing your chair in, "You made this yourself?"

"I did," You nodded, Jake sat down at the head of the table, "Your mom said it was your favorite celebratory meal."

Jake didn't say anything as he grabbed the knife and fork, digging into the meal you made. Dinner was relatively quiet, minus the conversation you tried to make with him. Every answer you got from him was short and a bit snippy. You tried to push down the feeling that maybe he forgot your anniversary.

"God, sweets, this was good," Jake said, leaning back in his chair and wiping his face, "Even better than my mom's, but don't tell her that."

You giggled and took a sip of your ice water, "Desert?"

"You made desert?"

"I did," You answered, "Lava cake brownies."

"You're too good for me," Jake said, batting his green eyes at you. You shook your head with a smile and got up from your spot. Your heart was racing as you walked to the kitchen, serving up a plate of the brownie and grabbing the gift box.

"You can do this," You whispered to yourself, as walked back into the dinning room. Jake's eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at his phone, typing away on it. That was strange, you thought, Jake never used his phone at the dinner table. In fact, he almost always kept it in another room while the two of you shared meals together.

"Everything alright?" You asked, setting the plate down in front of him.

"Y-yeah, Coyote had a question about something," Jake said. Your heartskipped a beat, Jake was lying. You shook it off as he looked at you, "What's the box?"

"Your gift," You said, setting it down on the table and then sitting back in your spot.

"Babe," Jake grabbed his hand, "I'm so sorry, but I totally forgot about our anniversary. I've been so busy with work, it slipped my mind. But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

"It's okay, Jake," You said. You were a little hurt, but you could brush it off, "This is enough of a gift for the both of us."

Jake nodded and grabbed the box from the table. You held your hands to your lips as you watched him carefully slide the bow off and open the box. Jake's breath hitched in his throat as he came face to face with the picture frame. He felt like throwing up as he gently touched the glass and then looked up at you.

You expected to see the look of shock and love in his green eyes, but the look on his face had you second guessing everything. His green eyes looked guilty as he looked at you and then back down at the frame.

"You're not happy?" Your voice cracked.

"No, I am, I really am," Jake said and shook his head, "It's just. . . I have been so fucking horrible to you that I-I don't deserve this."

"What are you talking about?" You ask, and Jake just looks at you, his eyes turning red, "Jacob, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm so sorry. . ."

He didn't need to tell you, you already knew what he was sorry about. You scoffed and looked away from him, feeling tears running down your cheeks.

"Again?" You laughed, "You did this to me. . . AGAIN?!"

"I'm sorry, it just happened and I-"

"When? When did this happen?"

"After the uranium mission."

"Nine fucking months ago!" You yelled, standing up from the table.

"Babe, I'm-"

“Why can’t I ever be good enough for you?” You whispered. Jake's heart broke at the sight as you began to pace the floor. He looked back down at the picture and felt sick.

"I forgave you after the first time you did this to me. And everyone told me I should've just left. That I should pack my bags and go back home because a man like you will never be satisfied. A man like you will never ever settle down and love one woman. But you know what Jacob. . . I ignored them. Why? Because I knew that you better than they did. That you loved me. That I could be your one and only, that I could be enough for you."

You slammed your hands down on the table, making the dishes clatter and Jake jump in his seat, "I trusted you! I gave you everything I had!”

"Sweetheart, please settle down, it's not good for the-"

"Don't you tell me to settle down right now, Jacob," You sneered and shook your head. Red, hot anger was coursing through your veins as you started laughing, "It was Nat. . . wasn't it."

Jake looked down at the picture again and nodded.

"Oh my fucking god. . . her baby. . . it's yours, isn't it."

"Yes."

You laughed, covering your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. Jake looked up at you, like you had officially lost your mind. Natasha had found out she was pregnant not long after the Uranium Mission, and told everyone that it was her boyfriend's baby. Nobody thought otherwise, believing the story that she had said.

"Y/N, please, sit down," Jake said again.

"Nope," You shook your head, still laughing, "Get the fuck out."

"Y/N. . ."

"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!" You screamed. Your laughter had turned into tears, "Now! Or I swear to god I'll start screaming fucking bloody murder. GET OUT!"

Jake scrambled up from his seat and walked to the door, "Please, can we talk about this."

"There's nothing to fucking talk about," You said, opening the door.

"Y/N, don't do this," Jake said, standing in the doorway and grabbing your hands. You looked at him. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear.

“I will never forgive you for this.” 

You pulled your hands away and slammed the door in his face.

“Seems like a question you’ll have to take up with her don’t you think?” McGee smirked as he casually jogged up your set of stairs, coffee in hand as he shoved the key to your townhouse into the lock on your front door. “Y/n? Hey it’s us! We got a—“ McGee didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was staring down a sight in the living room of your home he wished he’d never had to bear witness to.

You were his boss's daughter, his partner. The sight of you sleeping on the couch in what he could only describe as one of those sheer babydoll dresses, wrapped in a mess of legs and muscular arms. Bradley Bradshaw who was still very much exposed. His junk still pressed against your ass as you slept. One wrong move and he’d be on full display for the entire world to see. Sleeping soundly with his face a mess in your hair. Still damp. Cheeks squished against the junction of your shoulder.

Since the moment Bradley decided enough was enough after having watched you aimlessly drift around the Carlton looking for your room, he knew he wanted you in his life in some way shape or form. After having spent the majority of the afternoon guiding you around the carrier—you exchanged numbers, emails, socials, everything. A friendship un like any other he’d ever known quickly bloomed out of thin air.

Bradley Bradshaw was happy to have you in his life as just that, a dear friend he’d walk across a burning hell to get to if you called. If you needed him. But let’s be honest here—Rooster didn’t have a lot of people in his life. His father Nick had died when he was three, his mother Carole had passed only a few short months before he was accepted into the Naval Academy, and the only father figure he’d ever really known had done the absolute unthinkable. Pulled his Naval Application. So when he started to realise you held a bigger place in his heart then he’d initially anticipated? Bradley knew he was down bad. He’d never had a best friend that was so effortlessly easy to love in so many ways.

And as for you? Bradley Bradshaw had managed to weasel his way into your heart from the moment he stopped you in your tracks on the Carlson. You weren’t a love at first sight kinda girl—but you quickly became the ‘My best friend is the love of my life but I’m too afraid to admit that to him or even myself bitch’.

So, as the years went by—mutual feelings developed fast, quickly and became increasingly fucking noticeable. The line between friendship and relationship blurred to something nonexistent and you and Bradley went about your lives perfectly happy with that. Until you both decided enough was enough—someone had to give, crack under the immense sexual energy that constantly radiated off the two of you.

It was Bradley. He was the one to crack first. He’d come to visit the week before he started his TopGun training. He’d always been very careful to keep his life with the navy, his aviation career and his colleagues and friends separate from the life he lived with you. Domestic, loving. Call him selfish but he wanted you all to himself. Bradley didn’t want to share or inadvertently collide his two lives. He had an irrational fear that maybe wasn’t all that irrational when you think about it, he was scared the moment he finally accepted the friendship and love you had always given him wasn’t a fever dream he’d lose you to some higher power. The same higher power that had taken everyone he ever loved away from him.  

“Hey woah, hold on a second—“ Bradley didn’t know what to make of the situation unfolding before him. What the actual fuck were you up to. “I was walking by but this caught my eye.” Pushing the bathroom door open more as he walked in. “What’s going on in here?”

“Stop—“ You beamed at Bradley through the mirror as he stood behind you. A cautious hand coming to rest gently on your hip. The silk fabric of that dangerous white babydoll you wore under his rough palm.

“What’s this?” He asked again with more interest, a shit stirring grin evident on his face as he beamed back at you. Trying to make out what the fuck you were trying to achieve.

“This is—“ You tried to explain before Bradley cut you off with a chuckle full of glee.

“Oh yes, yes please do tell—“ Bringing his other hand up to play with the hair that was twirled tight around the legging of the pair of pants currently on your head.

“I’m curling my hair!” You couldn’t help but to laugh as Bradley eyes you down with shock in his eyes. That was not what he was expecting you to say, sure he didn't really know what to expect but it definitely wasn't that. “I’m serious it’s a legit thing Bradshaw—“

“With pants!?” God Bradley couldn’t believe it. In all the years he’d known you, this was never something he'd imagined you do. “What the fuck, is this something new?”

“It’s better for your hair because there’s no heat—“ That was a legitimate fact. Heartless curls were in fact in. A trend that had a chokehold on you.

“Where did you see this?” Bradley’s tone was quick to change as he asked more pressing questions. Who had filled your head with stupid hacks like this. But more importantly how was he supposed to control himself when you were wearing something as scandalous as a goddamn babydoll with such ease around him. Were you trying to kill him? He understood he was in your home, your safe haven. But were you honestly just unaware of how much of an affect you had on him? Or were you doing it just to fuck with him?

“I saw it in TikTok.” Oh. Yep. There it was. That’s just blatant stupidity.

“Oh my—“ Bradley threw his hands up dramatically. You missed his touch instantly. “In the year of our lord and savour twenty twenty two, we’re using pants to curl our hair now?”

“Yes!” You beamed, still working to twirl your hair around the pant leg.

“What is this! What even is this?” Bradley once again taunted you as he played with the loopy pant leg that hung by your neck twisted in your hair. The side you’d already done. “What’s going on here huh?”

“Rooster stop, I'm trying to get it all done right.” You only ever very rarely used his call sign, but when you did it melted Bradley’s top worlds together just a little more. His eyes on yours, looking at you with lust and need and all the admiration in the world through the mirror of your main bathroom.

“I’m so invested—when do I get to see the curled hair?” Watching as you finished the side you were working on. His hands coming to rest on your hips again, a wave of electricity racing through your body at his touch. Your skin hot with need.

“Are you ready for the finale?” Turning in Bradley’s grip that never faulted, you leaned against your bathroom countertop as he trapped you between strong arms like just looked way too fucking unreal in that plain black T-shirt. Biceps about ready to burst the hems open. He’d gotten noticeably bigger over the past few months, so noticeable you were even able to pick up on it via zoom. He’s been training a lot, preparing for TopGun. You were not opposed.

“Oh please, please show me—“ Bradley begged. He couldn’t wait for whatever stupid thing you were about to show him.

“You have to tuck the ears.” Pulling the two separate pant legs that held your hair in curls behind your head before folding them up and into the waistband that covered your head. “And then plop—“ You looked as if you were wearing a bonnet from the mid eighteen hundreds. Bradley Bradshaw had never laughed harder at how ridiculous you looked. But in the most beautiful way possible. For a brief moment, he wondered if you’d marry him one day. Because a life with you seemed not only one he’d wake up and pinch himself about every morning, but it seemed like fun. A life with you seemed fun and exhilarating because you were fun and oh so exhilarating.

“Oh you are just adorable.” He cooed, hands needing at your flesh under the silk that adorned your hips. “You are my favourite person. This right here?” Letting go of you as he circrled his hand around your face. “Is my favourite version of you ever— hands down.” Before bringing his hand back to you, your arms wrapping around his neck casually as he glared his way.

“I invite you into my home and all I get in return is taunted and teased for my beauty routine.” You snickered softly as the gap became smaller and smaller. Bradley had even gone as far as to gently pick you up and sit you down on the countertop. Your exposed thighs on either side of him as his sweatpant clad legs. “You’re so rude to me—“ It was just so natural to be like this, act like this. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. To you anyway.

“Am not.” That was all Rooster could really muster as a coherent response because he was so lost in your eyes, so lost in the moment, so lost in the fact he was one hundred percent committed to the fact he was about to kiss you for the first time that there was no brain power left to formulate anything else but a two word answer. His mind flooded with the possibility of rejection, but how could he ever really know unless he went for it.

“You just wait, these curls are gonna be show stop—“ Before you could finish, Bradley had his hands cupping your cheeks. Keeping you close as he pulled you towards him. His lips crashing into yours with so much passion behind his cry for love that you forgot how to breathe. It felt like tears but it was only mere seconds before he was pulling away to read the room.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just really wanted to do that since like—“

“Carlton, since the Carlton.” You finished Bradley’s sentence seamlessly because it’s the exact way you felt. Crashing your lips back against his you both fell into a needy state of just wanting to be close to one another in a way that had yet to be explored. Fuck the consequences. To know what it felt like to touch one another, to love one another even just for a moment in such an intimate way was worth the risk of losing it all.

“Hey! McGee! What’s taking so long?” That's what led to this very moment. Anthony DiNozzo didn't want to disrespect a boundary you had obviously set. He didn't want to step through the threshold of your townhouse if you weren't expecting him to be there. There was an obvious reason you had given Mcgee a key but not him. He just didn't know it.

He had tried his best to wait by the car, but time was precious and you were already running late. Hence the house call. Running up your porch stairs DiNozzo clapped his hands together as he entered your home, rounding the same corner mcgee had a few moments ago.

“C’mon people—chop chop! What happened to rule number three?” To his shock he stood beside Tim who was still trying to process the sight before him. Anthony pealled his sunglasses from his eyes as he scoffed aloud. “Holy fourth of July weenie roast, what the hell am I looking at?” Stirring awake shortly after your eyes fluttered open as you tired to stretch out. Bradleys body stopping you from moving too much as his arm splayed over your waist, holding you flush against his chest. “Good Morning–” DiNozzo smirked as your eyes bugged out of your head at the sight of him and McGee standing in your living room.

“Jesus Christ!” An audible gasp left your mouth as you flailed in shock, rolling off the couch onto the ground with a thud. Leaving Bradley totally exposed.

“Oh my–” DiNozzo was quick to quip as Mcgee looked up at the roof. Raising a horrified brow as Tony  looked at you with concern. Gesturing to his own forearm in pure jealousy. “We may need to take a detour to the emergency department Mcgee.” Bradley Bradshaw was definitely blessed, but DiNozzo was over reaching just a tad. “Get the man something to cover up will you Y/n.” You were quick to throw a decorative pillow at Bradley’s junk trying to preserve whatever modesty he had left. The Thud it left against him jolted him awake with a quick snore.

“What the hell are you two doing here!?” You hissed as you gathered the nearest throw blanket, wrapping it around yourself as you threw another one Bradleys way as he stirred awake. “It's sunday!”

“Gibbs called, we got another case.” Mcgee answers as he stepped towards you, handing you the coffee he’d ordered you from the cafe downtown. “We’ll give you a moment to uh, change. meet us in the car?”

“Uh, like hell we will.” Tony scoffed again as he stepped forward, Bradley had woken up enough to realise what was going on although he stayed quiet. “One, this man who is very genetically gifted mind you has your federally issued handcuffs cuffed around his right wrist.” Fuck you’d forgotten about that. “Two, who are you and what are you doing with our Gibbs?” You could not have rolled your eyes any harder than you did as you worked to unlock the cuffs on Bradleys wrist with the key that was sitting on your coffee table.

“Uh, Yeah I’m Bradley.” You tried to say he didn't have to introduce himself like this as he rubbed his wrist, kissing you gently on the forehead. God you were so fucking embarrassed, and after such a good night too. But Tony beat you to it. His eyes wide and a cheshire cat grin evident on his face.

“You’re flyboy!” Tony bellowed through your townhouse. So enlightened with the situation that was unfolding. “Oh this is amazing, you finally made a move on flyboy!”

“Who?” Bradley turned his attention back to you as you huffed out a sigh of disbelief. Squinting your eyes shut in embarrassment as you felt the heat in your cheeks rising. Sitting beside him as he beamed your way. “Whose flyboy–?”  

“You are, well, unless there's another Bradley who she drowns on and on about.” Tony taunted as he looked around your living room. “We started calling you flyboy before Junior here slipped up and gave us a name, does not shut up about you man– we even put a jar on her desk that she has to put a dollar in everytime she mentions you or somethin about you.”

“I think that fund is single handedly paying for the staff christmas party this year, right Tony?” Mcgee just had to jump in on the fun even if just for one small jab.

“Flyboy huh?” Bradley chuckled as you hid your face in his shoulder. “That's kinda adorable.”  he’d never really known, but that was and always had been his name in your cell. Flyboy Bradshaw.

“Tony, we should go wait in the car.” Mcgee tried to be the voice of reason, but DiNozzo was having the time of his life. He never really had any dirt on you, but now? Oh this was his time to fucking shine baby. He liked you alot, as a colleague and friend. But god did he like to taunt you. It had to be fair game though, simply because your father would slap him upside to head if it wasn't.

“I'm telling Gibbs.” You stood with a look of horror as you held the throw blanket under your armpits. Coffee in one hand.

“I will shoot you in the fucking foot!” Pointing a finger DiNozzo's way you gritted your teeth. “I will tell my dad, myself.”

“I vote we don't, like at all.'' Bradley smiled nervously as he wrapped the blanket around his waist. Standing with a groan because much like you, he’d been curled up on the lounge all night after having gone another round after an impromptu snack. “Not until we at least talk?” Kissing the top of your head as he pulled you into his side, Bradley glared down the two NCIS agents that stood before him. “How about instead of flyboy you guys call me Rooster?”  sticking his hand out the shake Tony’s, Tony was quick to reciprocate the gesture by taking Bradleys frimley. “Or Lieutenant Bradhsaw.”

“There a story behind that callsign, Lieutenant?” Although you always spoke highly and alot about Bradley Bradshaw, you never really spoke all that much about Rooster. To you he was two different versions of the same man you loved. You respected him too much to go about your day telling anyone and everyone who would listen about all the nitty gritty details about his life. You would of course drown on about how much he made you laugh, his smile, activities you would get up to, if he was visiting. All that jazz. But never would you out his private life.

“Perhaps over a beer sometime?” Bradley smirked softly as he shook McGee's hand. “Although it's good to finally meet you both I feel like the circumstances could have been better and less exposing.”

“And less rushed, Gibbs we really have to go–Older, more frightening Gibbs is blowing up my cell.” Mcgee gave you a worried smile. “We’ll be in the car.” Watching as th two agents that had taken you under their wings left your home, you let out a sigh as you let your head fall into Bradleys chest. His arms came to wrap around your shoulder as you both dropped your blankets.

“I am so unbelievably sorry about that–about them.”

“Don't be.” Bradley chuckled to himself softly as he kissed your head over and over. “Just uh, promise we’ll talk after you get back?”

“Yeah, uh yeah of course, I don't know how long I'll be but my keys are in the bowl at the front door and there's gas in the tank so please feel free to do whatever.” You mentioned to Bradley as you pulled away, sipping the coffee that was just perfect. “I'm going to go get ready really really quickly and I'll be right back.” You weren't kidding, Rooster probably counted a whole three minutes before you were racing down the stairs again.

“Don't forget these.” Throwing you the handcuffs you’d used to cuff his hands behind his back last night. “I won't lie, that was a little embarrassing.” He’d managed to find his sweatpants in the time you were gone. Standing to meet you mere the front door as he handed you the key to the cuffs. “But I wouldn't mind doing that again.”

“You wanna maybe get dinner tonight? There's a really nice place a few streets down that serves really nice fusion.” Nodding, Bradley was careful as he placed the stray hairs that had fallen across your face behind your ear.

“I'd like that, yeah.” He was trying to downplay it, but his heart was doing fucking backflips right now. “It’s a date.” The horn of DiNozzo’s car interrupted before you could stay in the moment any longer.

“Alright I'm coming!” You shouted. “Don't get your knickers in a knot!” Turning back to Bradley you kissed his cheek. “See you later.”

“Bye honey, have a great day–” Bradley beamed with a tasing smirk as you ran down the stairs. You didn't know it, but the second Rooster shut your front door he was cheering. He had gotten the girl of his dreams.

“Hey, why does Mcgee have a key to your house and I don't?” Tony asked as he looked at you as you slithered across the backseat.

“I forgot he even had one honestly, he watered my plants the last time I went out of town.” You answered the all pressing question as you clipped in. “But you can sure as shit give it back after that fucking invasion of privacy.”

****~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~

"Hm?"

Glancing over, he finds her looking distractedly out of the window again. She glances back toward him, then answers, "Oh! No. No, not first time, but um…I mean kinda! First time in a long time."

Bradley hums sympathetically, glancing up as an air host comes by with headphones. He holds his fingers up for two, thanking them before holding a pack out to the woman beside him.

"Here."

"What?" She turns to look at him finally, and spots the packet. "Oh! Thank you, I didn't hear them, uh…Yeah. Thanks."

"Sure."

He leans back in his seat, glancing down the aisle. The plane is nearly completely full. It won't be long now.

"Oh…Fuck," He hears. He glances around to the window and finds that the slight drizzle of rain has turned into a full-on downpour. The woman grasps the headphones tightly, the plastic crinkling beneath her hands.

Bradley has two options. He can plug his headphones in and let her deal with this in her own way. Or—

"…It'll be okay," He offers.

"No, sure...Probably, just…That's a lot of rain."

"Once we get out above the clouds, it'll be more chill."

The woman glances at him nervously. "It's not the being up there that worries me so much as the…Getting up there."

He nods a little. He could sugarcoat it. Or—

"It's gonna be a little bumpy," He agrees, "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, some turbulence. And then," He raises his hand, simulating a flat line. "Smooth sailing."

She gives him a flighty little smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's the longest that she's held his gaze. It gives him a chance to see how tired she seems—there are heavy bags under her bloodshot eyes.

"Do you fly a lot?" She asks. He chuckles, nodding.

"Oh, yeah," He admits. Her brow furrows.

"Wait, you were—You boarded when they said any military, right?"

"Yep."

"Air force?"

"Navy," He corrects. She mouths the word, nodding. She seems set the say something else, but the jolt of the plane going backward makes her eyes widen, her hands flying down the grasp the arm rests. Bradley watches her little packet of headphones fall to the floor, out of sight.

"It's alright," He offers, "We're just taxiing."

She swallows thickly, nodding.

"I always just—This is gonna sound so silly," She warns, "But I hydroplaned in my car once and I'm just imagining the plane…Spinning."

Bradley smiles a bit, unable to help it.

"That is a little silly," He admits, "But I can see what you mean. Especially with how wet it is out there."

It's the wrong thing to say. He hears the slight creak of the armrests as her grip tightens. His brow furrows a touch as her eyes dart between the window, and the screen on the back of the seat in front of her.

"If you don't mind my asking," He hedges, "Why did you pick a window seat?"

"It was the only seat available," She mumbles. Bradley hums sympathetically. He'd offer to switch with her, but it's too late for that. He glances away up as the safety announcements begin. He only half-watches. The other half of his focus is on her, and the way she gives the announcements her full attention. He can feel the plane picking up speed; he can hear her breathing becoming tighter, and shorter.

Bradley has two options. He can let her ride this out, cope alone, and plug in his headphones. Or—

Bradley gently lowers his hand beside hers, palm open, his thumb brushing her pinky. Her gaze drops to his hand, then darts up to his face.

"There if you need it," He offers with a soft smile. She pushes out a relieved breath, sliding her hand from the rest, into his. Her palm is clammy, and their fingers don't fit right the first time. He maneuvers them so that their hands are interlocked, pressed tightly together as they round to take off.

"Squeeze it if you need to," He urges over the popping of their ears, and the increased roar of the engine. She nods hurriedly, and he watches her eyes slam shut, her face screwing up as they begin to lift off of the ground.

He'll never get tired of it—the swooping feeling of lifting off, like you've left your stomach back on the ground; the force of the engines, and the brief near-feeling of weightlessness as your altitude climbs. It's freeing.

But the way she grasps his hand is grounding him again. He turns to look at her, and finds her eyes still closed. That may be for the best. Looking outside, he finds them completely surrounded by grey clouds. Beyond the wing looks like a simulation—like a video game that hasn't rendered yet. He gives her hand an encouraging squeeze in turn. He grimaces as she sucks in a tight breath when the plane wobbles, hitting a pocket of turbulence.

"It's alright," He soothes, even as her expression pinches further. "Few more minutes. It's gonna be fine."

"You promise?" She mumbles, peeking one eye open at him. He lifts his other hand, raising two fingers.

"Scout's honor," He says with all seriousness. She cracks a small smile, looses a shaky little laugh that puts him at ease.

"I'm Bradley," He offers, trying to keep her mind off of the plane giving another shake. She swallows thickly, gives his hand a thankful squeeze, and tells him her name. He grins, repeating it before he tacks on, "Nice to meet you."

--

"See? This isn't so bad."

She grunts in response, but she doesn't seem convinced. Her hand is still holding to his, though they're out in clear air. There's a line of pristine blue cutting over the layer of clouds.

"The wing is wiggling," She mutters.

"What?" He laughs.

"The wing is wiggling!" She points with her free hand at the slightly shaking piece. "Should it be doing that?"

"It's only wiggling a little."

"But should it be wiggling at all?"

"Look, if it does that at 575 miles per hour at 35,000 feet, about six miles off of the ground, I'm glad it only wiggles a little."

Bradley reaches around with his free hand and tugs down the window cover. She turns to him, eyes bright with indigence as he grins. He raises to package of headphones to his teeth, ripping them open and drawing out the wires. It's only then that she seems to realize that she's lost hers. She frowns, looking around, and is just as confused as Bradley plugs the jack into her screen.

"Take the left one," He urges. She does, watching him draw the wire wide and raise the right headphone to his ear.

"So," He leans in, "What are we watchin'?"

--

He's never seen so much House Hunters in his life, but he doesn't mind. All of the episodes are focused on Veterans. It's encouraging, seeing his fellow service men and women retire safely, and happily.

"We can watch something else," She offers for the fifth time. Bradley glances down at where she's resting her head on his shoulder, smiling a little.

"Nah, s'alright," He shakes his head. "Gives me a chance to plan for the future."

"Mm…What do you and your partner want in your future home?" She asks. His brows raise.

"Who says I have anyone?" He plies.

"I dunno. You seem pretty sweet. It'd be nuts for you not to be snapped up." Her admission makes him prickle with flattery, his smile widening.

"Then again," She goes on, "You haven't shrugged me off, so you're either a genuinely nice guy, or you're a dick." She tips her head up to look at him, and they both go still and quiet as their noses brush together. His eyes wander her face, tracing the line of her nose, lingering on her lips as she adds:

"…I'm really hoping you're not a dick," She admits quietly, gaze darting between his eyes and lips, "Be kind of a shame for a dick to have such pretty eyes."

His lips twitch with a smile.

"Hell," He murmurs, "I can't let you down now."

Her smile widens before she repositions her head on his shoulder, eyeing the screen again.

"So?" She presses.

"I don't have anyone," He answers. She grunts, and nods.

"Do you?" He adds.

"Nope."

"Mm."

"Hm?"

"Nothin'. Just. Mm."

She gives a mimicking hum before she snuggles closer. He lowers his head to rest atop hers. His gaze darts toward the closed window. A little part of him is dying to look outside, but…

He glances down, eyeing her head, and their still-clasped hands. He hones in on the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume, and her sleepy murmur of, "I think they're gonna pick the ranch style," And he smiles.

"Not the craftsman?" He asks.

"Pfffft. Heck no. That's way out of their price range."

"Yeah, but it has a pool."

"Pool-schmool. No way is she gonna go for that one."

As the screen flashes to the chosen house--the ranch style, he mutters, "Well, I'll be damned."

"Stick with me, Bradshaw," She yawns widely. "You'll get the hang of it."

You'd just finished a particularly troublesome paragraph – How your two stubborn protagonists were ever going to set aside their differences as they made their way through the enchanted wood, you weren't one hundred percent clear on. But sometimes it was best to skip the mental obfuscation and jump straight into a part you were excited to write … their eventual love scene was beckoning you.

You worried your drink's straw between your teeth, eyes unfocused, pondering how to get Ser Marcus out of his shirt and beneath Lady Lucy, when he walked in. 

Him.

The tall drink of water with broad shoulders and dirty-blonde hair. With a million-watt smile he graced to whichever barista happened to be handing him his coffee that day.

He looked like a Ken-doll, if you were honest. But not in a bad (junkless) way. More of an All-American, conventionally attractive way, if he'd asked you. Not that he had. You had certainly seen him here before. But you weren't sure the same could be said of him. 

You watched idly as he breezed past you to place his order in a damp shirt that was veritably plastered to his torso, and running shoes that squeaked with rainwater, the noise making its way over the dull din of the shop. 

Perhaps he'd been out for a run when the rain had started.

He spoke to Monica the barista at the counter, out of earshot, though the easy way he leaned against the counter and smiled at her made it clear he didn't mind his own state of dress. The sort of easy handsome of an Eastwood.

You had turned back to the blinking cursor of your doc, thoughts buzzing with handsomely tanned skin and wet clothes, when the unmistakable shadow of a person loomed over you.

You glanced up, only to be simultaneously thankful for your screen protector and greeted with –

"Hi there," he breezed. 

It was Ken. In the perfect plastic flesh.

And, really, it was the fact that his torso was directly in your seated eyeline (and no other reason, you swear) that allowed you to notice (appreciate) that his already-rainwet and plastered shirt hugged his torso in such a way that allowed you to observe (appreciate) that you could see the outline of every. single. one. of his abdominal muscles, as though his shirt was made of flimsy tissue paper that might tear away beneath your touch.

No, this was fine.

"Uhhh." You were articulate, you swear. "Hi."

"Would it be alright if I sat with you while I wait?" He gestured over his shoulder with a pointed thumb vaguely in the direction of the pickup counter. "It's a little crowded in here today, and this is the only open seat."

Ah. An arrangement of convenience, and not that he wanted to sit with you.

You bit down your disappointment long enough to ease your lips into what you hoped resembled a smile, gesturing openly to the seat.

"By all means."

He shot a grateful–if not cheeky– wink your way as he pulled the seat out, angling himself to maintain eye contact with you, while still keeping one ear open for his name.

"Thank you, ma'am," he conceded politely, voice still warm and easy, as though no one had ever refused him a paltry request in his life. (And maybe they hadn't.) "I didn't exactly want to stand there in my wet clothes."

"No," you agreed. "Sitting in wet clothes is much more pleasant. Especially in those tight, Baby Gap-sized t-shirts. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone," he agreed, eyes twinkling and allowing you to appreciate just how green they were, glimmering, verdant and mossy, like the forest bedecked with fresh rainfall. How fortuitous, then, that he'd choose to sit with you on San Diego's one rainy day per year. "Teacher? Grading?" He nodded at your laptop, gem eyes flitting over the fading, curled stickers slapped onto the back.

You couldn't help yourself. You giggled.

"No," you shook your head. "Novelist."

"Ah," he conceded. "So whatcha writing?" 

And as you made to open your mouth to tell him that he shouldn't really ask a writer those types of question, he perked, and held up a finger as if to say "hold that thought," as he shot up to retrieve his beverage from the counter.

He must've heard his name. Ah well, it was nice while it lasted. You tried not to feel disappointed that your one encounter with hot coffee shop guy had come and gone in the blink of an eye. And tried not to beat yourself up that you hadn't caught the name when it had been called…

To your surprise, he turned back and plopped himself back into the seat opposite you, expectant eyes awaiting your answer as he blew into the small hole at the lid of his coffee cup.

"Ehm," you continued. "It's… a … novel," you finished, lamely. Flushed with the prospect of having to admit to this guy that you wrote high-fantasy erotica for a living, your self-preservation instincts kicking in before you admitted something you wouldn't necessarily have the chance to come back from if he decided to make fun of you for.

And he was ridiculously handsome. The sort of guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of the type of book you were writing, billowing unbuttoned shirt, and all... Maybe he'd pose if you asked?

If he was annoyed or put off by your evasiveness, Ken-doll didn't show it, that million-watt grin easing its way back onto his very pleasing face, prominent jaw and white teeth on full display as he played along.

"I might've guessed," he said. "I'm Jake, by the way." 

He held out his hand for you to shake. You responded in kind, allowing his hand to envelop yours with both size and warmth as you pumped your arm in a firm, decided handshake.

"I might've guessed," you parroted. 

He shot you a quizzical look; brows furrowed.

"It's on your cup," you nodded in the direction of the cup clutched in his other hand, the corner of your mouth titling into a smile. 

"A dead giveaway," he agreed, pleased that you had thought to make the observation. Maybe you were this way with everyone, he thought. All sweet smiles and starry, foxlike eyes, discerning but decidedly available. Selfishly, perhaps — he hoped that wasn't the case.

"Unless of course they had gotten the wrong name, and it's really, like, Jack, or James, or something," the fizzling pleasure of his hand on yours and the swelter of this coffee shop was really doing a number on your head, because now you were rambling. "Then if I had called you Jake based on the cup, I would've been both presumptuous and stupid. Like a 'Mark-with-a-C situation… Cark," you finished, unhelpfully.

"Now that's just unlikely, sweetheart," he disagreed. "You're clearly too sharp for that… Bridget." He squinted at your cup, greeting you with a name that was not your own.

"Oh, no…" you laughed, the pleased sound meeting his ears despite the relative staticky-din of the late-morning rush around him, "My name isn't Bridget," you explained, sheepish about the relative silliness of the game of being friends with one of the workers. "Uh, Monica likes to give me a new name every day I come in. Sort of to mock me for how often I come, I guess? We've known each other awhile. So, she's allowed."

If Jake thought it was childish or silly, he didn't let on, instead nodding and smiling at your explanation, still incomprehensibly interested in what you had to say…

"So that's why I see you in here so often," he conceded. "A novelist who writes in a coffee shop, where she knows everyone. Cute."

Out of any other mouth, it might have sounded condescending. But there was no hint of condescension in his honey-smooth voice. Only the facile twang of Southern charm and genuine earnestness. 

But all you heard was that he'd seen you before. He had seen you.

And you must've asked this out loud, because the next thing you knew, he was all smooth laughter and glimmering teeth,

"Yeah, I've seen you," he agreed. "You always look so concentrated, I never want to interrupt. My mama raised me better than that. But today I actually had the chance to say hello. So, uh, thank the rain, I guess…" he eased.

And you'd really hoped that the pleased warmth of flirtatious embarrassment wasn't inclined to show itself in any way, across your face or the exposed skin of your shoulders. Because you were certain those sparkling eyes of his were shrewd enough to tell. And how could a guy like this not be aware of his effect on women? So, you pressed on, closing your laptop lid, the better to focus on him with.

"And what do you do, Jake? If you're out for a run in the rain, you're clearly committed. Let me guess," you tapped your chin in mock-consternation, voice trailing in thought. "Model? Please say no because that would be a lot for me."

Jake barked a laugh at this. And perhaps you'd incidentally, dangerously boosted what was already a high ego. But he continued in good humor –

"No, sweetheart. Not a model. Naval aviator," and he'd actually shrugged at that, like it was no big deal. "I'm at the base down the way. So, yeah, I guess you can say I'm dedicated."

You groaned, teasingly, fucking your head into your arms, "Oh fuck, no. So just a civil servant who looks like a model. You can get the fuck outta here with that." You leaned across the table to teasingly shove one of his (ridiculously sculpted) shoulders, pleased at the feel of him beneath your fingertips.

"It's my honor to serve you, ma'am," he straightened in his seat, taking on his best "official" voice. (Oh, god, this was doing a number on you.) He continued,

"In fact, I think you should let me take you to dinner…?" He trailed off, perhaps in realization that he still didn't know your name.

You twisted in your seat to pluck a pen from the messenger bag hanging from the back of your chair, turning back to pluck his cup from his very hands in a move so cheeky you would swear you were having some kind of out-of-body experience. You were never this bold.

But the attentions of this, okay, let's be real… this veritable Adonis before you was likely doing something dangerous to your own ego, never mind his. Your head was somewhere in the clouds (a place he was clearly comfortable, being a "naval aviator, ma'am," and all)..

You tugged the pen cap off with your teeth, your attention fixed on the label.

Huh. Vanilla soy latte. 

You didn't comment on his drink of choice, choosing instead to strike through his name with the pen, and ink your own, your phone number printed clearly and neatly beneath it. Handing the cup back to him when you'd finished, recapping the pen as he twirled the cup in his hands to read what you'd put on the label.

He parroted your name back to you, the way his mouth worked out the letters an image you'd likely think about for a little too long, ya know, later... and the sound of it from his throat ringing in your ears.

"I'll text you," he assured, winking at you as he made to stand, rapping his knuckles on the corner of your table before mock-saluting you with two fingers to his forehead and an easy, charming grin on his lips. "I look forward to hearing about that novel over dinner, ma'am." 

With that, he walked out of the shop, taking with him the air in your lungs and your certainty that that had actually just happened, and leaving you with the faintly buzzing feeling of lofty flirtation and the blooming promise of a fucking date!

Eager to capitalize on the fizzy feelings, you opened your laptop lid and turned back to your unfinished section now, wan smile borne of fresh flirtation affixed to your lips, your thoughts swimming in a seafoam green ocean of emerald eyes, breezy flirtation, and, yeah, tight t-shirts...

"It was then that Lady Lucy swung her leg astride Ser Marcus, devilish fingers peeling his tunic from his toned stomach. With a smirk painted across her features, she dipped her head, allowing herself to trace her tongue along the ridges and planes of her lover's stomach, reveling in the feel of each prominent abdominal muscle beneath her tongue. Greeted with the delightful sound of her beloved's surprised gasps, manifestations of pleasure at her attentions…"

And no, you reasoned with yourself as you typed. You totally weren't thinking of green-eyed, handsome Jake as you wrote. These desires were your character's, not yours – you swear.

And no, your thoughts also were definitely not on his promised text message, either, that lit up your phone as you glanced at it. Greeted with the proposition of "Dinner Thursday?" No, you totally weren't thinking of him…

It's life that imitates art, after all... (Or was it the other way around?) And you hadn't had the chance to taste those abs for yourself. (But hope springs eternal...)

--

Phoenix told him you’re his caretaker, looking at how you always make sure he had his dentist apointment scheduled on his phone calendar, you cook for him sometimes because Bradley would not have made it this far if he only had boxed mac and cheese and frozen pizza stocked at his refrigerator to survive. Payback mentioned in his drunken state on Hangman's birthday how you are Rooster's guardian angel and he wished he had someone like you, who would pick him up after a crazy shenanigans resulted of too many drinks just like you who got Bradley’s back to make sure he is sober enough to function the next day. And it’s a funny memory to him when Halo one day asked him if his girlfriend is kidnapped or what because she hasn’t replied her text since yesterday but to call you as his girlfriend seems too much (he’s not sure if you scolding him when you 'found out he didn’t use warm temperature to wash his white clothes to make it as clean as possible and Bradley got more earful from you when he said he didn’t even wash his white and colored linens separately to avoid color transfer' count as a girlfriend thing to do because Bob says it is), to put friends with benefits label just like what Hangman said is kind of not right because although you two spent few nights got tangled and panting each other’s name, he didn’t merely just see you for someone to please his biological needs.

To put it lightly, in Bradley's mind, you’re more than what he could’ve put in words.

But what he surely knows is that, he didn’t take it well when some-officer-he-didn’t-know-what-his-name-is tried to give it a try to ask you out last month. He didn’t straight up ask you yet though, he asked Bob after training saying if that girl you’ve gone grocery shopping for BBQ night at Fanboy’s with is spoken for, and Coyote who stood next to Bob swore he never saw Bradley gave someone a death glare that hard before. Coyote took the matters into his own hand for the sake of Bradley’s sanity (and for whoever the poor guy is to live longer), and instead of meeting Bob’s reply, he was met with Coyote's “She’s in a whatever relationship with someone, I suppose. Saw her came in to The Hard Deck with a guy last night.” Coyote didn’t specify who is the guy, but everyone who’s present at The Hard Deck last night knew he’s talking about Bradley. Poor that guy for not knowing though, and Bradley wouldn't say it.

Whatever relationship? Well, that works too. Maybe whatever is right. It doesn’t matter what relationship you and Bradley have, because you’re always with him and he’s always seen with you. Maybe having no label to the relationship wouldn’t make it weird for further rendezvous you're get caught up in. He’s not sure if you’re up for a relationship, considering you have had your fair share of unsuccessful relationships before, and Bradley assumed he carries so much emotional baggages to even start a relationship, let alone a serious one.

He was in a deep thought to the point he didn’t hear a feminine voice from a woman who’s standing next to him pointing to an empty seat next to his, apparently she's been trying to get his attention by asking him ‘Sir, is this seat taken?’ to which he said no (honestly, it’s kind of taken; you sat on it few minutes ago but now you’re not.. so it should be vacant, right? And if you’re back and found that your seat has been taken, Bradley would offer you his lap sit on. Ha. Sly. And kind of smart.) Bradley shakes his head, let the woman sit and setting his gaze at you again. You’re now bending over the pool table, brows furrowed to make your shoot but Hangman being the menace he is, checking you out from behind and all Bradley wanted to do was drown him or smack his big head.

“I’m like new in town and I have no idea what to order.” A voice beside him surprised his train of thought, he didn’t think the woman would want to make a conversation with him but honestly, who is he kidding? He’s charming, it’s no wonder people would take their chance to try with him, and it would be so stupid to not at least indulge him for a convo or two. He thought for a bit and said, “Maybe a beer.” He knew it sounded somewhat rude, why didn’t he say something like ‘What’s your preference?’ or ‘The bartender is good at giving recommendations, you can ask him. Sorry I can’t be a help’ but in Bradley’s defense, he didn’t know much about drinks despite the amount of time and money he spent at The Hard Deck (Penny jokingly said the reason why Amelia took a piano class is because Bradley gives the best tip, he laughed).

“Beer sounds good.” He heard her called a new bartender Penny just hired last week, Gio, asking him for two bottles of beer. Bradley still had his eyes on you, who’s now laughing at whatever jabs Payback threw at Jake. He ponders for a bit, has he ever made you laugh like that? Because Bradley didn’t think he had a good sense of humor, thanks to years of being so tense in attempts to build his walls so high no one would be able to get in.

He felt a cold sensation on his arm, and he looked to his right and saw a bottle of beer shoved to him by the woman whose name he didn’t recall because he’s been looking at you the whole time instead of making a small talk.

“You didn’t have a drink so I suppose buying you one wouldn’t be a bad idea.” She said with ease, smile gracing her feature when he accepted the beer out of politeness, and she clinked the head of her bottle to his and took one small gulp.

(He didn’t have his drink on him because you brought it with you, and he felt butterflies in his stomach when he realized you drank from the same bottle as him so it should count as indirect kissing, no? And he found it funny at the thought because you two have been down at each other’s throat before, done more than kissings and make outs, and oh god he has seen your naked figure too! So why did the idea of you drinking from the same bottle as him made him weak at the knees? This whatever relationship has started to mess up his brain, he thinks.)

He said thanks, and the woman started to make a move by starting a conversation with the infomation that she just moved to San Diego few days ago as a result of her friend’s recommendation. Bradley gave what a good friend you have as his answer and she chuckled. She took his answer as a green light to prolong the conversation, asking what does he do, if the job is worth the salary, if he frequents the bar often, if he just got back from a summer Hawaii trip and got the shirt as souvenir, she babbled about it’s kind of sad the owner of the place she’s staying at didn’t allow any pets, thus she couldn’t bring her dog with her and suddenly all the sound around him is muted and he couldn’t hear what is she saying when she explained about her next door neighboor who didn’t have a pechant of shame for having sex at 2am, because there you are, a human form of sunshine, walking to him.

He sat up straight, unconsciously fixing his shirt (there’s nothing to fix), placing his beer at the counter behind him. Your hair is a bit damp due to the heat the bar produces and how hard you tried to win the game, few strands of hair falling all over your face, and you smiled so bright he’s sure the sun would’ve wanted to put its job to rest and have you up there instead. You reached for your slingbag when you arrived in front of Bradley; it’s slung over Bradley’s broad and wide shoulder, it’s kind of a cute sight because your yellow slingbag matches the yellow Hawaiian shirt he chose to wear tonight. You pointed it out earlier when you get on his Bronco, and he asked if you had a blue slingbag because maybe you can match again for next week BBQ night at Mav’s.

You rummaged through your slingbag for a while. Bradley didn't say anything, like it's a common occurrence to have your bag with him and he keeps an eye on it. The woman next to him asking him something like if he knows a good Italian restaurant and when he apologized for not having a knowledge about it, he felt a small fist from you swatting his chest lightly and you grumbled, there's one that we frequent to, how could you forget! and when he looked at your expression, he saw you pouting, not because he didn't remember he went to an Italian restaurant with you, but because you didn’t find what you’re looking for in the bag.

Bradley tried his best to not kiss you and opted to ask you what's gotten you pouting.

“Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah. My hairtie. It’s so hot here,” you fanned yourself with your hands, lifting your head and had your eyes scanning for someone before it lands on the new bartender, “Hey, Gio! Tell Penny to have the cooling system near the pool table fixed!” Bradley chuckled because you have already told Gio the same thing few days ago, but it seems like the news didn’t deliver to Penny well. That’s the main reason why he had a black hairtie on his left wrist, because you didn’t have it too when you need it few days ago despite you insisted you already put it in your bag beforehand.

“Turn around.” He said, though you’re kind of confused as to why, but you did anyway.

You were about to threw some jokes asking if he is going to lift your shirt up and splash you cold beer on your back when you felt Bradley’s hand gathering your hair in place, and you realized he’s not trying to splash you, he’s trying to tie your hair into ponytail. He asked if it’s too high or too low and you said to lower it a bit as you wanted it to be mid-height ponytail. Bradley did what you asked, and you felt his free hand trying to catch any hair that comes loose around the base of your neck and gather it back. You felt his big hand smooth around your top, bottom and the sides of your head, and then his hand moved to brush the hair at the nape of your neck upwards. You can feel your cheeks getting warm, and you can’t hold the stupid smile that's started to make its way to appear. You’re thankful Bradley can’t see it though, or you will be embarassed for life for being super giddy over Bradley trying to tie your hair.

Bradley pull the hair tie off his wrist and onto your ponytail – not too low not too high. He pulls the ponytail through the hair tie, twist it two times and it’s done. Bradley looked a his first ever ponytail work proudly, hands moving to your hips and and turn you around to face him again.

Here you are, standing in between his open legs and few strands of baby hairs falling in front of your face. Bradley put them behind your ear, quietly making a note to bring some of hairclips next time because your bangs is getting longer too and it gets on your eyes. You smiled to him, sweet smile reaching your eyes. You move your body forward a bit, Bradley's protective hands stilled on your hips trying to balance you in case you're kinda drunk to stand up straight.

He practically can hear the sound of his heart beating so fast due to the close proximity (for god’s sake he had been in much more close proximity with you before!), and for a while he thought you’re going to give him a hug as a thank you, but to his disappointment, you reached for a beer in which he puts at the counter behind him earlier. You took one gulp and pressed a big soft kiss on his left cheek. His cheeks that felt warm earlier now feels like it’s freezing cold under your cold and wet lips. If you felt his body froze at the sudden kiss, you didn’t say anything about it and you gave him a wave as you make your way back to the pool table and happily said, “Thanks for being my hairdresser and the beer! I love you!”

He couldn’t move a single muscle on his body, his hands awkwardly unmoved in the air and he felt a warmth in his heart after hearing what you said. He blinked a few times and sheepishly rubbed his neck when he found his muscles back to its function in his body, his ears ringing he couldn’t remember what’s the song and the lyrics from the jukebox is about as the only thing his mind registers is Thanks for being my hairdresser and the beer! I love you!

I love you!

I love you!

I love you!

I love you!

You love him.

And he loves you for that.

“Wow, no wonder my attempts to flirt with you didn’t work. You have a girlfriend.” The woman from earlier pointed something Bradley been too afraid to voice out, and he had a big stupid smiley face because a total stranger who didn’t know the nature of your relationship just call you as his girlfriend and it’s because she just saw him tied your hair? How ridiculous, a friend can do that too! Right?

But as much as ridiculous it sounds, he liked the sound of that.

Maybe calling you his girlfriend is not too much.

You’re his gilfriend. And because he loves you and he's a gentleman at heart, he will ask you out on a proper date as his girlfriend.

And you will say yes because you love him.

“BAAAAABYYYYY!” Jake whines, flopping into the passenger side of your car, “You came!”

You check your rear view mirror to see Rooster, Bob and Coyote filing into the backseats. Bob is squeezed in between Bradley and Javy but he seems content enough.

Jake plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek and you smile, he’s still a charmer even when he’s drunk.

“Of course I came darling.”

You can hear the boys snickering in the back and Javy snorts,

“Came!”

Him and Bradley burst into laughter whilst Bob tries to shush them with an apologetic look on his face. You can hear Jake giggling in the seat next to you as well.

Just as you begin to pull out of the spot you had parked in Bradley gasps loudly. You stall the car, worried something bad has happened before he speaks up,

“Guys… has anyone seen my sunglasses?”

You sigh looking back at him, obviously they’re on his head.

The boys are giggling again and Javy reaches across Bob to swat Bradley’s sunglasses down so they rest on his nose.

“Thanks Baby.”

Javy turns his nose up slightly but it makes you sniff with a laugh. You continue pulling out of the parking spot and start the drive back to Javy’s who lives closest to the bar. It’s still a good 30 minute drive from downtown San Diego back to Fightertown. The boys are chattering away absentmindedly in the back and you can feel Jake’s gaze on your profile.

“You look so beautiful right now.” Jake simpers.

You scoff, you’re wearing one of Jake’s large t-shirts and a pair of leopard print pyjama shorts. All paired with mismatching thick socks peaking out from your beaten up converse. It was late when Jake called.

Bradley and Javy make fake gaging noises at Jake’s expense but Bob leans forward, elbows on his knees propping up his face.

“Gross you’re like literally our parents, do you mind?” Bradley points out.

Bob counters Bradley, “Surely if they’re our parents you’d want them to love each other, right?”

Javy contemplates for a second, “Deep Bro.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to think about them fucking!” Bradley exclaims.

The car goes mostly silent and you try to muffle your giggles.

“Literally who said anything about that?” Bob laughs at Bradley.

Jake cackles and reaches over to grasp your hand nearest to him. He kisses your knuckles.

“Mon amour.” He wiggles his eyebrows, egging another round of wretches from the boys in the back.

You play into his game and wink, “Lover boy.”

“It’s just like damn why rub it in our faces, you’re in love we get it?” Bradley grumbles once again.

You finally pipe up, confused at Bradley’s seemingly annoyed demeanour, “Brad, who pissed in your beer?”

Jake, Javy and Bob all share a knowing look with growing smirks on their faces. Your curiosity grows, they don’t say a word. Clearly they’re exchanging words with their eyes, silently contemplating whether you’re allowed to be let onto whatever had occurred earlier on in the night.

“uhgirlthrewadrinkinmyface.” Rooster mumbled as quickly as he could

“What?” You strain.

“Some girl threw a drink in Rooster’s face!” Javy chuckles from behind you.

“Bradley! Why?” You feel slightly like a scolding mother so you try and neutralise your tone.

“What did you do?”

It doesn’t necessarily work.

“I just want to say before you find out, that I love women and I would never disrespect them, you know my mother raised me better-”

“He told some girl she had nice jugs!” Jake splutters out, clearly amused by Bradley’s misfortune.

You’re in slight disbelief, not believing Bradley would say such a thing when Bob jumps into his defence,

“Okay, that’s not what he said. He asked her where she got those jugs from, in reference to the sick beer tankards she was holding.”

You cant help but laugh at Bradley’s slip of tongue,

“God you’re such an idiot.”

You can feel the back of your chair shaking from how hard Javy is laughing. Bradley pipes up, still riding a wave of anger and embarrassment,

“Javy, I don’t know why your laughing when you almost decapitated some college students whilst dancing to soulja boy.”

Javy immediately silences himself whilst everyone around him begins to snort.

“It’s okay babe, we all get carried away sometimes.” You smile.

Javy sticks his tongue out at Bradley in retaliation and Bradley fires back with a middle finger, Bob looks mildly distressed to be stuck in the cross fire.

“Play nice boys!” You really did feel like their mother.

Jake had been silently watching you handle all his friends and their petty drama, it warmed his heart and hardened his dick to see you so caring for him and the people he loved. There was no doubt in his mind that you would actually be parents together some day. You and Jake had talked about having kids in length and both decided it was something that you wanted, maybe Jake more than you in this current moment. You finally turn slightly to check on Jake, he’s staring at you with a look you know all to well. You just hope he can keep his mouth shut for the next ten minutes whilst you drop the boys off.

Jake’s strong hand slithers onto your thigh, it’s comforting but you know he has slightly malicious intent. You give him a warning look that does nothing of the sort.

Javy is humming along to the radio behind you, Marvin Gaye is playing and Bradley joins in murmuring the lyrics. Bob finally relents, nodding his head to the beat. The sight is sweet, like a kind of tragic musical trio at a distant relatives wedding.

You’re pulling up to Javy’s house as the song ends, and he lets himself out of the car.

“Bye guys!” He still has far too much energy, “And thank you for the ride, angel!”

The boys yell their goodbyes and you tell Javy it’s no worries, because it isn’t.

Bradley’s place is only five minutes from Javy’s and he’s already dozing off on Bob’s shoulder. “Light” snores already coming from his mouth. You watch as Jake reaches behind his seat to pinch Bradley’s nostrils together, before he can you slap his hand away.

“Ow!”

At the exclamation, Bradley jolts awakes, knocking Bob’s glasses up slightly as he goes.

“We’re almost at yours, Brad.” You smile at his sleepy face.

He yawns as he tries to speak, “P- perfect.”

Bradley finally stumbles out of your car as you pull up outside of his house. He walks round to your rolled down window and gives you a slimy kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks darlin.”

You smile at his sweet gesture but wipe at the wet mark on your cheek once he’s out of sight. Jake is grumbling about his lack of thanks and you roll your eyes, placing your hand on his thigh to calm him.

“Can we fuck now?” Jake whines, his green eyes staring pleadingly at you.

Your eyes widen as your hear Bob splutter, still perched in the back seat.

“Shit sorry Bobby, forgot you were still here.” Jake winks back at his friend. “You know how it is.”

You look back apologetically at Bob, who’s cheeks are thoroughly rouged.

“I can walk back?” Bob questions.

“Yes.” “No!”

“Jake!”

“What! He offered.” Jake states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You are not walking Bob! It’s less than a five minute drive.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Bob shrugs sweetly.

“He doesn’t want to impose Baby!”

You roll your eyes, not dignifying Jake with a response and continue your drive. Jake is singing happily along to the radio, now playing an old Rick James song.

“Thank you for picking us all up,” Bob smiles as you begin to slow the car in front of his house.

You smile back, still bashful of Jake’s comment, “It’s no problem really.”

“But please don’t fuck in your car outside my house.” Bob chuckles and walking away.

Jake rolls down his window and shouts out, “No promises!”

You can only hope Bob’s neighbours are asleep.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

a/n: JAKEY AND HIS GF MY LOVES, this could be seen as more jake x penny’s niece!reader but also separately :0

hope everyone loves, i’m planning smth longer w bob but i’ve also had this bradley request in my drafts for weeks so hopefully i can finish that soon 😫

pls reblog, comment or send me and ask and tell me what you think !!!

requests are open!!

thank u for readinggg :)

Mickey steps forward, squinting into the afternoon sun. “There’s a girl too.”

At this point, the rest of the boys have crowded around Bradley’s legs, fighting one another off as they try to climb up his body. Despite the ruckus, Bradley seems to be having the time of his life, holding a twin boy in each arm as the rest of the brood takes turns trying to tackle him to the ground.

“Seriously, where the fuck are all these little people coming from?” Jake mutters as a little girl runs barefoot across the beach toward Bradley.

Natasha gives him a hard smack on the shoulder. “Bagman, language!”

Jake looks over at her with a shocked expression, rubbing his arm in bewilderment. “Phoenix, you can’t just go around hitting people. What kind of example are you setting for the juveniles?”

Phoenix shoots him an annoyed glance as Bradley crouches to set the twins down. He’s got one knee on the ground and a huge grin on his face as he stretches his arms out toward the little girl. Meanwhile, the rest of the kids are vaulting him tirelessly. Bradley laughs, bracing himself to stay upright.

The little girl finally arrives and Bradley scoops her up into his arms, standing up and holding her tightly against his chest. She lays her head on his shoulder and he rests his cheek on top of her hair. “Hi princess,” he says, swaying back and forth as he cradles her against his body.

“Hi daddy,” the girl says sweetly.

Jake’s eyes widen as he glances between Natasha and Mickey. “Daddy?” he mouths in utter shock.

Natasha can’t formulate a response because she’s just as surprised as Jake is.

“I missed you, daddy,” the girl says.

“I missed you too, angel,” Bradley mutters softly, squeezing her tighter as the boys bounce around the two of them, goofing off in the sand.

“I count twelve,” Jake says, his eyebrows scrunched up. “You?”

Natasha looks over at him with a grimace. “There are seven. No, wait. Eight, with the girl.”

Jake nods with his jaw jutted out musingly. “I may have counted some of them twice. They move so fast. And they all kind of look alike.”

“They all kind of look like Rooster,” Mickey points out.

Bradley strokes his little girl’s hair as he cranes his neck to observe a figure walking in the distance. He smiles as you approach, your long sundress flowing in the breeze. You’re carrying tiny sandals in your hand.

“Is that the wife, Bradshaw?” Reuben calls out as Bradley’s kids begin to circle his legs. Reuben cups his hands over his package protectively, wincing as they swarm around him.

“Are you kidding?” Jake says. “He wishes; that woman is way out of his league.”

Bradley turns to give Jake a smirk. “I agree.”

You smile at your husband, having heard the latest interaction. Bradley glimpses back at you, squinting slightly from the sun, and holds out his arm toward you with your daughter still on his hip. You lean into his side and he instantly pulls you closer, kissing you passionately on the lips.

“Rooster, there are children present,” Jake says, cringing.

“And very immature adults,” Natasha adds.

Jake gives her a pointed look. “At least you’re self-aware,” he retorts.

Rooster ignores his friends’ exchange, giving you some additional kisses on your lips, and then peppering the rest of your face with quick kisses. You laugh and his hold tightens around your waist as he continues kissing you over and over again. You feel his lips spreading into a smile as he chuckles over your temple, but he doesn’t stop kissing you until you finally pull away.

You look at the stunned faces around you with a sheepish grin as Bradley watches you with a mixture of pride and admiration on his face. He kisses your daughter’s head and sets her down gently. Then, he approaches you with a mischievous look. His shirtless body is glistening with sweat and you struggle to not objectify your husband. But you haven’t seen him in weeks and he looks so good that you find yourself failing miserably at this task. Bradley’s smirk indicates that he’s amply aware of just how much you’re craving him and, once he’s close enough, he wraps both arms around your waist and tugs you forward.

“Looks like we’ve got some babysitters,” Bradley says in a low voice.

You chuckle. “I don’t know, eight aviators versus eight of your kids? I’m not optimistic.”

Bradley laughs. “I have faith in my squad.” You look around his massive shoulder to see Jake pick up one of your boys and flip him upside down. Your son screams with glee while the rest of your kids rush toward Jake to get a turn. Natasha is watching on with a small smile, her arms folded over her chest. Before you can respond, Bradley leans down to place his arm under your legs. With his other arm supporting your back, he swiftly lifts you off the ground as you yelp in surprise.

“Alright, kids,” Bradley says. “We’ll be back.”

“Just to clarify,” Jake says, now holding two of your children by the ankles while they wriggle in his grasp. “We’re the kids you’re referring to, right?”

Bradley nods at him. “Children, keep an eye on Uncle Jake, he can be a handful.”

Jake scoffs with a laugh. “What about you, Phoenix?” Jake turns to look at her. “Ever think about having little crotch goblins of your own?”

Bradley shakes his head at Jake. “That is possibly the worst pickup line I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

You laugh, hiding your face in the crook of Bradley’s neck. As he carries you away, you hear Natasha say, “Not until today.”

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in future Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 My Rooster tag list might be overflowing 😅

@simp-for-fictional-people

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@peoniarose

"Who is it?" you mumbled while brushing your teeth.

"Liam," he read off the screen. Bradley felt as if that name should be telling him something like he knew you had mentioned that person before but at the moment, nothing was coming to him.

"What?!" you yelled out. The surprise left you with your mouth slightly open, making you aware of it only when you felt the toothpaste running down your chin.

"Don't get toothpaste on my shirt!" Bradley called after you while you ran back into the bathroom to spit the foam out and wipe your face. "Who's Liam?"

"Don’t even get me started about Liam fucking Jones." You emerged from the bathroom, your hand tightly gripping the poor toothbrush as if it was responsible for some heinous crimes. "He was an amazing man up until we started dating like he just decided that he can stop giving a shit after getting a girl. In the one year we dated, he worked for a whole one shift at Dunkin’ Donuts. One goddamn shift! He stole money from me and refused to eat anything remotely fresh. The longest distance he’d walk was to the convenience store. And then I was the bad guy for ever mentioning anything! He used to say that if I really loved him it shouldn't matter if he's a bum. I still can’t believe I wasted two years of my life on this guy."

In a way, Bradley couldn't wrap his head around the idea that you got together with someone who didn't "deliver". He remembered when he had just met you and your assertiveness, although sparked some yearning and excitement inside him, was also a reason for his quiet anxiety - he could tell from the very first conversation that you don't take shit and rather do not tend to look back. Bradley knew that if he fucks up, he's done for good so Liam's curious "success" seemed more than odd to him. Perhaps, it was exactly that guy, Jones, who brought out of you that alluring and entirely tempting edge of confidence and self-respect.

"What does he want?" you asked in an uncharacteristically serious voice. Bradley seemed amused at your sudden change of mood. It was as if you suddenly found yourself on the battlefield and not in your own bathroom, brushing your teeth.

"Looking past all the sleazy and lame flirting, he's asking if you're still in San Diego and want to meet."

"Text him back 'no' and do not send a picture of yourself, Bradley."

Although he knew you weren't joking, Bradley laughed to himself remembering that one time someone tried to chat you up in your direct messages and you asked him to text that person back because you were busy finishing some last-minute work. The picture he sent simply to rub the rejection in, getting a rise out of the fact that none other than him was the blessed man taking home the red-hot girl - it was, undoubtedly, a pride thing.

Bradley, being himself, waited for the moment you disappeared back into the bathroom to take a picture of himself lying shirtless in the white bedsheets. Your blurry silhouette was visible in the corner of the photograph. Snickering to himself, he hit "send" and tossed the phone right back at the nightstand.

"Can I get my t-shirt back?" he asked when you were walking out of the bathroom.

"You'll have to take it yourself, dear."

"Yes, ma'am." He didn't need anything more to finally get out of bed.

The thoughts of Liam Jones quickly left your mind as you were a little too preoccupied with how engaging daily life with Bradley was. It seemed as if that man simply hated sitting down for a moment, always ready for an adventure or at least some thrill.

It felt as if you had barely made it out of bed when the sun began to set. One of the things you absolutely loved about this part of the world was the fact that evenings didn't come with cold winds, it was quite the opposite - even nighttime could be spent in shorts and crop tops. There was something oddly romantic in toasty midnights.

Like on many other Saturdays, Bradley and you were joining his friends at the Hard Deck to drink a few beers, win a few pool games and laugh a little. It was a great tradition of keeping life a little lighter, a little brighter, than military reality could provide. Walking from the car to the bar, you ran into Maverick who couldn't pass up the opportunity to call Bradley "kid" and get a groan out of him. Teasing Rooster was a pastime you both adored and it seemed as though, although he was never going to admit it, you were members of a very small circle of people who were allowed to do so.

Then, you heard someone call out your name in a bizarrely questioning manner as if that someone wasn't too sure they matched the right name to the right face.

You turned around only to be stunned in surprise for the second time that day: Liam Jones, flesh and bones. He looked different than how you remembered him, a lot more... well-behaved. In a way, it felt strange to see him wearing a polo shirt and loafers, something he had sworn never to put on simply because it was too much like his father. His dark hair looked slightly greasy with the number of styling products he put into it. To your horror, he was holding a quite large bouquet of flowers.

"Liam? What are you doing here?" Somehow, you managed to slip out of Bradley's tightening grip on your waist and rushed to the man in hopes of getting rid of him rather quickly - before he could cause a scene.

"Jesus Christ, not this clown," Bradley groaned but you were already too far to hear him.

"Who's that?" Maverick asked. A teasing smile crept unto his face when he noticed the annoyed expression on Rooster's face. "Oh, you got competition?"

"Please," Bradley scoffed at the ridiculous suggestion. It wasn't that he convinced himself he had no "competition" - he knew it and you made it fairly obvious to everyone. "Don't compare me to a guy in loafers. It's her shithead ex-boyfriend."

"Hey, Bradley, have you ever given her a bouquet even close in size to that one?" Maverick was, clearly, having fun teasing him. He could see how Rooster clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, his face becoming redder as anger only continued to boil inside him.

The flowers smelled lovely but you really wanted to throw them away in an instant. Instead of a gift or courtesy, they were more akin to the fascinating exterior of a dew plant. Additionally, it seemed that two years weren't enough for Liam to learn about your love for Birds of Paradise. Bradley, on the other hand, needed one sentence and soon your house was flooded with those exotic flowers and attached love notes. Liam's bouquet felt uncomfortably heavy in your hands as if you were holding something you weren't quite supposed to.

"I manage my dad's company now," he gloated. It was either a ruse or he really did get a New York accent. "I'm a busy, rich man, baby girl." The pet name, although had been so normal while you were together now made you shudder. It was more than inappropriate for him to use it. "Actually, I had to turn down a few beautiful ladies to be here now."

"Good for them, I guess," you whispered to yourself. "Look, Liam, I don't hate you. I'm genuinely happy you're doing better now, I really am. I just don't want to have anything to do with you. I'm over us, over you. It's been literal years. We had our chance and it didn't work, simple as that. No hard feelings. Let's just live on, man."

Liam's lips tightened in a thin line as if he was holding back his anger. It made you realize that although he looked and sounded like a new man entirely, he was exactly the same dead-end layabout you had known and that Liam Jones did not, in fact, change at all.

"I really want to punch him," Bradley said to Maverick, although it sounded more like he was speaking to himself. His hand was already clenched and the warm night suddenly felt nearly as hot as early afternoon. "I'm gonna throw up," he mumbled while watching Liam try to kiss the back of your hand but you pulled it back before his lips could touch your skin.

Bradley couldn't see your face, only your back but had just the perfect view of Liam's slimy grin filled with misguided self-confidence. He could tell that guy had less than no respect for your relationship and, in a way, it hurt his pride that he was regarded as replaceable after being with you for a few years. Another thing was the annoying sheer audacity Liam needed to have in order to assume he could be a wedge driven between Bradley and you.

"Oh, would you look at this, Bradley!" Pete exclaimed in a theatrical manner and pointed at the ocean - in the opposite direction of you and Liam. "Such a nice view! I’ll just turn around and stare at it for the next few minutes."

"Thanks, Mav," he said while patting Pete on the back before storming toward you and Liam, set on getting his point across.

"You're giving up that easily?" It was the first that Bradley heard coming out of Liam's mouth and it only made his anger rise. "Come on, we were great together! Have you forgotten all about it? You were a queen in a castle." It's pretty ironic for him to say all that when that very night was the first time he has ever given you flowers.

"Dude, you had your shot and you missed shooting your own fucking foot." Bradley's sudden appearance surprised you. For some reason, you had assumed he went inside with Maverick. "You just look stupid."

"Him? 180 pounds of douche? Really?" Liam asked you while rudely pointing at Bradley with his index finger and completely ignoring the comment. His cheeks were slightly raised in contempt. "Come on, baby girl, you can do so much better. You deserve so much better." Bradley rolled his eyes at the clear implication that Liam was the "better option" in his own opinion.

Before you could prevent the two men from starting a cockfight, Rooster swung his fist at Jones's jaw, making the man stumble back as he struggled to keep his balance.

"What the fuck, man!" Liam yelled out while holding his red jaw. It was slowly starting to swell.

"Peace out!" Rooster yelled back before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you toward the bar. To make matter worse, he took the flowers from your hands and threw them in the general direction of Liam.

It would be a euphemism to say you were shocked at Bradley's behaviour but, to be perfectly honest, you weren't that far from throwing hands yourself; talking to Liam was like arguing with a wall. You just didn't quite like the thought of him getting into fights left and right.

"It was really unnecessary to hit him, Bradshaw," you scolded him. Bradley looked at you in with a both surprised and hurt expression as if he had truly expected you to be eternally grateful for his actions. "But it was kind of hot. You're like the first guy to get into a fight for me but I'd rather it's the last one, alright?."

"Kinda hot, you say?" he asked with a playful grin. "Maybe I'll try not to make it a habit."

an- companion piece to this 0.6k drabble one time thing but that is not required reading - pretty much all of ott is revisited in this fic

i really, really don’t know how I feel about this one but i've been tinkering and agonizing over it forever and i have to be done so LOL here ya go

credit for the cs violet goes to my soulmate @justfandomwritings thank you for loving angst as much as i do, thank you for being brilliant

title courtesy of it ain't over - the black keys

tagging those that were upset with me for the ending of one time thing - @unstablecaffeinatedmind / @ahopelessromanticwritersworld / @gigisimsonmars / @flashyourgreeneyesatme / @forever-sleepy-sloth / @gingerbreadandpaper / @lovingjakeseresin

also - @mandylove1000 ily

Virginia Beach, 2019

Jake’s glad the packed bar gives him enough cover to stay hidden when he overhears Bradshaw asking his new roommate if she’s interested in him.

He bites back a huff of annoyance, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He talked to her for all of five seconds before mustache boy strutted up to make it very clear his friend was off-limits, was barely even flirting with her. Charming smiles are basically a reflex of his at this point.

“That man has never given a girl an orgasm.”

Jake rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth shut. It’s categorically untrue, but who cares what Bradshaw’s roommate thinks?

Your back is to him too, but he hears you hum in agreement, stifling a laugh. Jake’s hackles suddenly raise, and he briefly wonders why it irritates him so much that you seem to agree with that statement.

Rooster chokes on his beer. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs, fidgeting with her drink. “You were asking if I was into your friend – Hangman, was it? That should be enough of an answer.”

“I don’t really want to think about Seresin’s like in bed.”

“You’re breaking my heart, little bird,” Jake drawls from behind Rooster, figuring he should let you guys know of his presence before you get any further. “And here I thought we had something special.”

You roll your eyes before pushing your stool back. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.”

Jake immediately wonders what the appropriate amount of time is before he can excuse himself too.

+

“If you wanted to know what I’m like behind closed doors, you could’ve just asked, darlin’,” Jake murmurs from behind you, having found the corner of the bar you disappeared to. “I’d be happy to give you a lesson. I’m very hands-on.”

“Hard pass, Hangman.”

He smiles lazily, turning the charm up to full wattage and leaning on the bar next to you. Not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough to make you avert your eyes from his bicep and shift a little in your seat.

“I have a pretty good idea already.”

His smirk goes a little sharp around the edges, a predator locking in his prey. “That so? And what idea might that be?”

You raise an eyebrow. The derision you manage to convey in one unimpressed glance goes straight to his cock.

His eyes flash, fingers clenching around his beer, but he makes sure the infamous smirk stays put. “Think you’ve got me figured out?”

You shrug. “Guys that look like you are rarely anything more than a disappointment in bed.”

He smiles at that, leaning towards playful instead of goading, wondering if you’ve realized what you just admitted. “I think you’re pretty too, sweetheart.”

“You’re intelligent enough to know what you look like. It’d be stupid to pretend otherwise.”

He rolls his beer between his palms, gaze far away and calculating.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, feigned innocence taking over as he brings his eyes back to you.

“Stop thinking about how you’re gonna get me to sleep with you.”

The problem for you is, Jake sees the way you look at him. And it’s nothing like the polite boredom he’s witnessed you grace guys with when they truly don’t have a chance with you.

“Tell me one thing, Violet,” he says, your callsign rolling off his tongue like honey. “Why is it that you’re so nice to everyone else, but so mean to me?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you that much,” you answer, but the barbs in your words are undermined by the way your eyes dart to his chest. He wants to pat himself on the back for going home to change out of his flight suit and into a threadbare grey t-shirt before coming out tonight.

Jake purses his lips, nodding like he’s seriously considering your words, leaning in, and lowering his voice. “Or maybe, you like me a little more than you’d care to admit.”

You shoot him a dirty look for invading your space. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

Your thighs press together, almost imperceptibly. If he wasn’t completely attuned to you, he probably would’ve missed it.

Bingo.

“Tell me to fuck off and I will,” Jake rumbles, mouth ghosting over your ear now, too close to be played off as a joke. “Or let me prove you wrong.”

When you lift your eyes to meet his, refusing to shy away from him towering over you in your seat, there’s something dark, something glazed taking them over.

“A one-time thing and I’ll never bring it up again,” Jake promises. “I have new orders for Lemoore anyways; I leave in two days.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Take me home before I change my mind, Seresin.”

+

You’ve been gripping his hair for what seems like hours, thighs still shaking where they’re bracketed around Jake’s head.

“What was it – I’ve never given a girl an orgasm?” He asks smugly. “I must be some kind of prodigy, then.”

“Don’t ruin my afterglow,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re still far too coherent for his liking, and Jake ducks his head back down, savoring the broken moan that rips from your throat.

He doesn’t stop until the only word you can form is his name.

North Island, 2020

“Look who showed up,” Jake calls from across the Hard Deck, eyes running down your body. He shifts, adjusting himself as subtly as he can. “If it ain’t Violet.”

As generic as your uniform is, all he can picture now is the body he knows lies beneath it.

“Hangman,” you say, not quite able to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Glad to see we have a runner-up for the TOPGUN trophy.”

You look almost, dare he say, fond? “Your ego hasn’t dimmed a bit, has it Hang?”

Jake gives you another obvious once-over, smirking to balance out the warmth he can’t keep out of his voice. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

+

Jake’s skin has been buzzing all night, high off his win, drunk off being within inches of you outside the Hard Deck after thirteen weeks of having you just out of arm’s reach.

“Congratulations,” you say, and you don’t even seem that sore about it. Your eyes linger on where his shirt has slowly been coming unbuttoned as the night wears on when you add, “Can’t believe you beat me for first place.”

“An inevitability, darlin’.” Jake leans in, pleased to see your mouth part in his proximity. “Don’t tell anyone, but I might’ve worried you were gonna give me a run for my money for a second there.”

You scoff, but don’t move away, if anything you sway closer. His fingers twitch at his sides, fighting to pull you against him, aching to run his hands up your bare legs and under your flimsy sundress, to see if you’re as wet as the heat in your eyes suggests.

You turn to face the ocean, which just pushes your hips in closer to him and makes Jake’s mouth water. “Obviously. You barely won.”

He winks, knowing you’re keeping tabs on him from your periphery even as you pretend to study the crashing waves in front of you. “That’ll be our secret. Care to congratulate me in private?”

“Thought you said that was a one-time thing, Seresin.” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice and in that moment, Jake knows he’s won for the second time today.

“Shut up and meet me at my truck.”

You smirk, turning on your heel without another word.

Jake doesn’t take his time with you this time. Only immense self restraint and the threat of being slapped with a public indecency charge keeps him from bending you over in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

It doesn’t help that you seem less than willing to wait too, running delicate fingers along the inseam of his jeans, letting your skirt ride higher and higher as you shift in the passenger seat, giggling as he swerves when he catches a glimpse of red lace between your thighs.

By the time you reach his house you’re practically dragging him up the stairs by his belt loops, looking like you’re heading for the bedroom before he pushes you back up against the front door and takes you right there.

The second round you only make it as far as the couch, but he at least manages to get your clothes all the way off.

When you finally end up in his bed you’re both still panting and spent, Jake curling around you even though he’s tacky with sweat.

“I’ll be in Lemoore, now that I’m done with TOPGUN,” you whisper when you’re forming coherent sentences again, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the wind whipping against his bedroom window. “I think it’s short term, but we’ll see.”

Something warm lights up in Jake that he doesn’t want to examine very closely. “Good, everyone there is shit at pool. I’m in need of some actual competition.”

You smile against his skin and he drops a kiss to the top of your head, wondering if you can feel his heart speeding up.

Lemoore, 2021

You’re tracing mindless shapes across Jake’s chest, playing with his chest hair when you rip the rug out from underneath him.

“Got my new orders.”

It’s always amused him how fond you are of his chest hair, so it takes a few seconds for your words to sink in. When he does, his entire body flashes hot, then cold. He hopes you don’t notice the rigidity suddenly running through him. “When do you leave?”

Your face is blank, frustratingly neutral. “Tomorrow.”

Jake takes as deep of a breath as he can manage without being noticeable. Which given your proximity to his chest, is not very. He wants to be mad you didn’t tell him sooner, but the rational part of his brain reminds him he has no right to be.

“Where to?” He asks after a few beats of silence when he’s pretty sure it’ll come out even.

“Fallon.”

The scoff he lets out is genuine, at least. “Gross.”

Your indifference breaks as you giggle against his skin at his derision and he forgets that this is the last time he’ll get to have you like this. For now, at least.

“Are you spending the night?”

Jake doesn’t know why you ask anymore, in the last year he’s said no to sleeping in your bed zero times. He's turned down the opportunity to save you from sleazy guys hitting on you in dive bars even less than that - which is to say he does it without being asked and without even checking if you want his help anymore. Tact really is his middle name.

But like always, you ask and like always, he fights to keep the eagerness out of his voice. He’s fortunate to have decades of practice of keeping his tone level under his belt. “If you want me to.”

“I do,” you whisper, face still tucked into him, but he manages to see your lips purse, looking like you want to say more.

You don’t, though, and Jake hides his smile in your hair rather than commenting.

“Good. Wanna wake you up with my mouth on you,” he murmurs, trailing said mouth against your soft skin. He wills himself to say something else, to tell you he’ll miss you, that he doesn’t want whatever this is to end.

But his tongue stays stuck, arms tightening as his body says what his lips can’t.

North Island, 2022

Jake’s fists are clenched by his side, nails digging into his palms, pinpricks of pain the only thing keeping him from seeing red.

“I’m sorry?” You look confused. Scarlet edges into the corners of his vision. “That I didn’t tell you they sent me back to TOPGUN too? I haven’t seen you in almost a year, Jake.”

“Don’t act like we haven’t talked since then.” Jake doesn’t want to know what his face looks like, his normally careful façade shattered in favor of quiet outrage. “I think you know you were supposed to mention it.”

You had talked. Mostly sporadic, surface-level texts. Memes of an exasperated Chris Pine on his press tour he knew you would get a kick out of. In return, he received a graph detailing Leonardo DiCaprio’s age versus his girlfriends’, noting a clear age limit. You kept your jokes about him being a future Leo to a minimum, at least.

And on one memorable occasion, you called him drunk, and he got to talk to you for an hour after you snarkily admitted to missing him.

Neither of you mentioned it the next day.

You deflate. “Maybe. I don’t know what you want from me. We were always playing by your rules here.”

Jake’s mouth forms a tight line. “Right. My rules.”

Some bullshit he said, before Lemoore, way back in Oceana. Before you’d slept together, before TOPGUN, before he’d gotten to know the real you, before you’d gotten under his skin.

“Let’s just get through this mission, it’ll be easier if we’re not fighting. You do enough goading with Rooster.”

Jake’s so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t even bother to protest about Rooster. He’s grinding his teeth, jaw clenched so the rest of his body can remain still. He knows, on some level, that he’s probably overreacting. But he mentioned this return to TOPGUN to you last week and he can’t help but feel like he’s playing catch up when suddenly you’re here too.

If there’s one thing Hangman doesn’t allow, it’s being left behind.  

He doesn’t know why this is on the laundry list of things you refuse to talk about. That’s probably the most frustrating of it all. You’ve always been the puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

“We’ll stay out of each other’s way,” he finds himself saying, mask slipping back into place. “Focus on the mission.”

“Yeah, focus on the mission,” you echo, and Jake wonders if it feels hollow to you too.

+

Your head is on Jake’s chest again, bare legs tangled with his and the tension is finally bleeding from his body.

“Don’t like fighting with you,” you mumble, muffled by his arms wrapped around you.

“Ended well,” he jokes, magnanimously gesturing to your naked state just barely covered by the thin sheet. “Gave us a vigor we haven’t had in a while.”

He feels your cheeks grow warm where they’re pressed against his skin, clearly thinking back to the adrenaline laden, ‘thank God we’re alive sex’ that lead to the casualty of at least one lamp.

Jake silently thanks Maverick for being such a hot mess that the Navy is unlikely to worry about a few broken items in his bunk.  

He smirks at your embarrassment, as if falling into bed together is anything new. It’s the post-orgasm glow, he knows it is, but Jake feels the truth bubbling to the surface. Wouldn’t it be so easy not to let this end?

“Yeah.” You sigh, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. All the arguing, then making up so we can fool around. It’s time for us to grow up, don’t you think?”

Jake lets the words die on the tip of his tongue.

“Probably,” he manages.

He kisses you deeply, saying what his lips won’t. He doesn’t mean for it to turn heated; he just can’t bear to let you go yet.

Making love is the only way to describe what comes next. You’ve been at this for a long time, going on three years, and you’ve fucked; hard and fast and fiery. You’ve slept together; gentle and languid and easy.

It’s never felt quite like this.

When he slides into you for what he knows will be the last time, he tries to memorize every line of your face, every gasp from your parted lips, every flutter of your lashes. It’ll be months before he forgets the soft, unguarded shine of your eyes, the way your fingers feel tangled on the nape of his neck.

It feels like goodbye.

North Island, 2023

Your name is out of Jake’s mouth before he can stop himself, longing bowling over his reasoning abilities. Every urge to text you that he stomped out over the last year shows itself as a waste since any sense of self-preservation goes out the window once he lays his eyes on you.

It doesn’t hurt any less to see you without warning in Coronado, but at least this time he holds onto the reigns tightly enough to keep his tone level.

Your voice is happy when you turn towards him, and Jake tries not to outwardly react. “Hangman, hi.”

He wants to rush over, grab onto you, and never let go. Wants to tuck his nose into your hair, smell warm citrus, and have that niggle in the back of his brain soothed.

He waves as you stride towards him instead, boots cemented to the floor. “Back in California already?”

You chuckle, the adorable, lyrical sound raising goosebumps on his arms beneath his flight suit. “Thank God. Fallon’s a shithole.”

Jake’s mouth is open to respond when he clocks someone with curly dark hair behind you, moving forward decisively to your side.

“Babe,” the guy says, and Jake’s spine stiffens, noting the inch or two he has over this mystery guy out of reflex. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

There’s a split second where your expression shutters, where Jake thinks the fight or flight thrumming through him might not be necessary.

But as quickly as it shows up it’s gone, and he finds himself hoping the boom of jets taking off covers up the sound of his chest cracking open.

“Brandon, this is Hangman. We were in the same class at TOPGUN.”

Jake’s mouth is dry, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth as he internally winces at the obvious reduction of your history.  

“Riot,” Brandon says, sticking his hand out to shake. Jake tries not to crush the bones in his fingers.

Riot and Violet, he thinks sarcastically. How cute.

“You’re with the Eightballers.” Jake glances at his patches, making sure to keep his tone neutral.

Helicopters. He wants to roll his eyes.

Riot nods and you grin, letting it light up your whole face. “His friends can’t believe he ended up with a jet bro. Can you imagine the shit I have to endure, hanging out with these helo knuckleheads?”

You're unmistakably fond, and Jake feels bile rising in his throat. Mercifully, he’s saved from having to answer by a group of pilots trying to get your attention.

“It was good to see you." Your smile softens as you turn to leave, the sun shining around your head, painting you in gold.

He nods. “I’m sure I’ll see you guys around.”

Jake doesn’t sprint to get away from you, he’s too calculated for that, but it’s a near thing. If his strides are just a touch longer than normal, no one has to know.

North Island, 2024

“It’s nice, what you guys have,” Jake's mouth is saying outside the Hard Deck, celebrating your fucking engagement, of all things. The words taste like acid on his tongue.

“Don’t tell me, eternal bachelor, Jake Seresin is thinking about settling down. The women of California will be knocking down your front door.”

Jake wants to laugh, that that’s still what you think of him. But knowing it’ll just come out thick and wet, he keeps the noises to himself. He hasn’t done much in the last year to combat that reputation – Coronado’s smaller than he’d like and you’ve never seen him with the same girl twice because he hasn’t been with the same girl twice.

What’s that they say about old habits?

He takes another sip of his beer instead. “No.”

The teasing is still lighting up your features, barely visible in the moonlight. “Just an introspective mood then, huh? Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Thinking about what it might’ve been like.”

“What?”

“To be with you.”

You blink.

“You never gave me a shot,” Jake continues. He can’t help himself. “You were always convinced I wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I don’t think you would have.”

“I think you’re wrong. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?”

Jake tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. He can’t help but reach out for you, squeezing your wrist one last time, studiously avoiding looking at the diamond on your other hand. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

It’s only partially a lie.

+

Jake wishes he could say the noise wakes him up, but he’s already busy staring at his ceiling fan and its endless circles when he hears the pounding on his front door.

He knows it’ll be you before he finishes rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Jake scrubs his hand over his chin, nose scrunching. “Sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night.”

You glower at him in response.

Whether it’s for the term of endearment or the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut in the face of your blinding diamond ring or some combination of the two, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that you have every right to be mad at him, after spilling secrets he’s held close to his chest for years.

He sighs, wishing he could say the timing was an accident, but he can’t lie to himself quite that well. “Come inside at least, so the neighbors don’t call the cops.”

Apparently, your earlier question was rhetorical because the moment the door is closed, you’re rambling, talking at him, really. After a couple of minutes of watching you spew a bunch of nonsense to skirt around the issue at hand, with no end in sight, Jake sighs again and moves into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

The wooden chair creaks as he settles his weight into it, sliding a glass over to you wordlessly. He’s not even sure you’ll notice it’s there, but you pick it up and gesticulate wildly with it before taking a sip. He’s somewhat impressed you don’t spill a drop.

You haven’t sat down, can’t seem to stop moving and Jake wishes he had a toothpick.

“We were so chaotic, Jake. We wouldn’t have worked.”

You finally look at him, taking a deep breath. Jake wonders about your lung capacity since you clearly haven’t breathed since barging into his off-base housing.

“I’m not arguing.”

You’re pacing back and forth, frustration bleeding from every pore. “What do you want me to say?”

Despite everything, Jake manages a smirk at that, albeit dimmer than normal. “I haven’t said anything for, like, ten entire minutes.”

The scowl he gets for that little comment is unbearably cute. He tries to ignore the tightening in his chest, stay in reality. “Is that what you stormed over to my house in the middle of the night to tell me, that we shouldn’t be together?”

You visibly deflate. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

There’s an inkling in the back of Jake’s brain that says he does, but he tells it to shut up.

You do not have a history of sticking around when it comes to verbal confrontation, and he’s painstakingly aware that one misstep could have you sprinting out the door.

It was something that worked well with you two, at the beginning, when everything was easy and fun. Blowing off steam with the competition, neither of you had ever been any good at talking so you figured why bother?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why now? Don’t you think your timing sucks a little bit?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a lie.

He knows. As much as he’d like to tell himself he was overwhelmed, seeing the ring on your finger, watching everyone congratulate you and your fiancé, deep down he knows that’s not true.

Like everything he does, it was deliberate. There was something telling him this was his last chance. Is his last chance.

“If I could stop loving you, I would.”

You drop down into the chair across from him, stalling as your brain clearly restarts.

“Loving, present tense?”

There’s a weariness to your voice that he doesn’t like one bit, which makes his heart drop into his stomach as he’s reminded of the risk in telling you this. A calculated risk, but still a risk. One where he’s already bet big, his chips all in, but the river is flipping over, and his gut tells him before he sees it that it’s not the card he needs.

He takes a sip of his Balcones, hoping the burn scorches the rampage building beneath his ribs.

You purse your lips, waiting for a response.

Jake shrugs, but he’s aware it doesn’t have the effect he’s going for when the tension refuses to bleed from his shoulders.

You look like you’ve forgotten how to breathe and will pass out any minute now. Jake debates the merits of passing out to get out of the hell that is this confession.

He avoids your eyes instead. Coward, his brain screams at him, willing him to look up at meet your gaze. “I’ve tried to stop.”

Hangman makes strategic withdrawals. When someone can’t be needled into responding, he pulls back. This is different. He’s never backed down from confrontation out of fear and he hates it, like he’s just discovered his skin doesn’t quite fit him.

Your mouth opens and closes several times without a noise leaving and it frustrates him to no end. When he grits his teeth, he doesn’t know if it’s to hold back the pleading and desperation or frustration at having flayed himself open only to receive silence. “Say something.”

“I’m shipping out,” you tell him as if that’s any sort of answer. “On Monday.”

Jake blinks. That's only three days from now, he wants to say. Opens his mouth and closes it, once, twice. Doesn’t bother with a third time. It won't change anything.

Maybe that is his answer. Let this go, this hope he’s carried onto multiple aircraft carriers, through several states, across endless miles of sky.

This is you telling him to let you go. To start over.

Hawaii, 2025

Some things have changed in 2025. Jake’s ability to control his mouth at the sight of you is not one of them.

“Where’s our helo hero?”

He feels pretty good about that one. As hard as it is to see you, as much as his entire being aches to touch you, he’s going to be normal with you and your fiancé. He owes you that at least.

Unfortunately, for him or for you – he doesn’t know who suffers more at this point – normal includes the patented Hangman barbs he just can’t seem to let go of.

“Seresin,” Phoenix whispers harshly.

Jake immediately thinks he’s missing a puzzle piece, that he’s flying blind, making a drop decision without a laser. Unwilling to admit anything he does what he always does; he rolls his shoulders back and smirks.

You shift from on your feet, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s not coming.”

He can’t resist the jab, but it feels sticky in his mouth. “Aw, come on, the rest of us managed to sync up our leaves, but helos are just too important?”

Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose, scowling at him, murder in her eyes. “Hangman, shut up.”

He tries to pretend that look doesn’t send chills down his spine, but he’s man enough to admit that Natasha Trace could put the fear of God into just about anyone.

You cough, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Uh, we broke up.”

Jake looks around, sure the world is suddenly tilting the wrong way on its axis. Fortunately, the rest of the group seems to be trickling in, so you and Phoenix don’t detect his crisis.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly while Phoenix is distracted by Bradshaw strutting towards them. “I didn’t know.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, a mask so familiar he feels like he’s staring into a mirror. Jake’s seen this cover before, it’s fight or flight. In the next few seconds, you’ll either be pretending he doesn’t exist, or you’ll be cutting through his armor with a few well-placed, very specific remarks.

You angle away from him, surveying Fanboy and Payback to your left. “All good, Hang.”

Flight it is.

+

Several bars and a few too many shots later, Coyote elbows Jake in the side. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“Just bored of beating y’all in darts,” Jake insists with a cocky grin he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. He just hopes no one notices.

Luckily for him, the only person that always sees straight through his bullshit smirks is you. And you’re at the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender, politely making conversation with some cheesy tourist.

A guy in an atrocious Hawaiian shirt (that he probably bought yesterday at the nearest ABC store, his internal monologue snidely adds) is clearly hitting on you and Jake forgot what it’s like to watch this. Because it’s been years since you were single, he forgot how it feels with sharks circling in the water around you, seeing you make small talk with strangers who have no reason to stop because you’re so goddamn kind and there’s no boyfriend for you to mention that will abruptly end their interest.

There’s a chance you actually want to talk to this chump, but Jake promptly tells that line of thought to kick rocks.

He kind of wants to throw himself into the ocean and drift away from this stupid vacation he should’ve never agreed to. Mrs. Lee will be fine watering his plants if he never comes back, right?

Because once upon a time, in a shitty bar in Lemoore, he’d save you so you wouldn’t have to turn anyone down and he’d tease you, that no one that’s seen you in the air, so quick and decisive and cunning, would ever believe you’d need a knight in shining armor to keep the creeps at bay. You’d tell him to shut up before dragging him out of there by his belt.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. As it stands, the ocean is probably his best bet.

“Pool?” You ask when you return with a fresh mojito, sans cheesy Hawaiian shirt, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Miss the Hard Deck already, Vi?” Fanboy teases.

Even though the ice between you hasn’t completely thawed yet, Jake ignores him in favor of getting up, making his way toward the table in silent agreement. He figures it’ll give him something to do besides staring at the side of your head.

If his mid-game trash talk is a little pointed, a little too on the nose; well, that’ll stay between the two of you.

+

Jake tenses as he hears the back door of the bar swing open behind him, footsteps heavy and likely belonging to a number of people he doesn’t want to explain his sour mood to right now.

“Surprised you and Vi aren’t still going at it at the pool table, thought it was about to be a rematch of TOPGUN in there,” Rooster says.

“Couldn’t beat me then, can’t beat me now." He chuckles out of reflex more than anything, but it feels hollow and forced. "Sometimes I just like to rile her up, get her out of that shell she always wears on the ground.”

Rooster hums in agreement. “Better than the last time I saw you two together. You barely looked at each other then.”

During the Maverick mission, Jake hears lingering in the silence in the humid Hawaii air.

“Sure,” the blond says, willing to agree to anything that stops this train in its tracks.  

“There a story there?” Rooster asks slowly, careful as ever.

“No,” he answers, but it’s rote, automatic. Even Bradshaw isn’t dense enough to miss the friction between you two, Jake knows that.

Rooster raises an eyebrow and Jake pointedly ignores him in favor of pulling a toothpick out of his pocket.

“How’s your girl, Bradshaw? Are you guys ever going to stop living in sin and tie the knot?”

He doesn’t comment on the abrupt change of subject, shrugging. “We’re happy. She’s pretty focused on her career right now. But when she’s ready.”

“I guess when you start fucking your roommate it’s nothing but sin from there on out, anyways, huh?”

The other man grins. “Jealous?’

Jake can’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, an admission in its own right. Just not for what Rooster's implying. “Maybe.”

“Planning on coming after my girlfriend? Gotta tell you, Hangman, back in Virginia she was never very impressed by you.”

“She’s not my type. Any girl that’s into that atrocious caterpillar above your lip clearly has impaired vision.”

The other man brushes aside the dig easily. “That’s right. You only had eyes for Vi back then.”

Jake fights a full-body cringe, blaming the fact that he just walked straight into Rooster’s trap on the shots he took with Javy earlier. “What do you know? You hated me in Oceana.”

“Who says I don’t hate you now?”

“Touché.”

Rooster sighs, long-suffering like he can’t believe he’s the one that got saddled with the job of making sure Jake isn’t gonna lose it and ruin their vacation. “Seresin, you’re not the only one who notices things.”

Jake doesn’t need to dignify that with an answer. He’ll turn in his wings the day Rooster is more observant than him.

“Seems like forever ago, now, but I always thought she had a thing for you too.”

“I don’t know where you got that from, she was always arguing with me.”

Rooster waves it off. “Pulling your pigtails. Sound familiar?” He shoots him a knowing look that Jake pretends he doesn’t see, which unfortunately just gives mustache boy the idea he should continue.

“Yeah, sure,” Jake agrees, not without an air of sarcasm. Rooster may be right but it’s not like he’s going to genuinely admit that.

“D’you ever play Sudoku? My mom always loved it.”

Jake tries not to get whiplash, schooling his face into something neutral. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of Bradshaw’s childhood, but enough to know the other man’s putting a lot of faith in him by bringing his mom up at all.

“Did she?” he echoes, for lack of anything better to say.

Rooster nods, eyes far away, unfocused. “The thing about Sudoku is, you have to think about where you’re placing the numbers, so they don’t interfere with numbers in other boxes and lines.”

Jake barely bites back the word obviously, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

“When we started dating, things weren’t always easy. We went from zero to sixty at the beginning, already living together.”

“But your mom loved sudoku,” Jake says, albeit dryly. “So, you knew to look at the puzzle as a whole.”

Rooster knocks their shoulders together in agreement, now you’re getting it.

“We had to slow down, take a look at what we were doing, where we were going, talk so that we didn’t fuck it up before it could even start.”

The blonde sighs. Leave it to Rooster to use some convoluted metaphor for Jake to parse out when his brain already feels like it’s been muddled alongside the mint in your mojitos.

“M’not the guy you should go to for relationship advice, normally.”

Jake snorts. “No shit.”

Rooster shoots him a bit of side-eye for that but nonetheless barrels on. “But I’ve known you and Vi a long time. For the better part of a decade.”

And isn’t that a thought, that Bradshaw of all people would be the one to know you and Jake better than anyone else?

“Is this your long-winded way of saying Vi and I need to slow down?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just gotta figure out the key. Whatever that looks like for you guys.”

Jake turns it over in his head a few times, pushing down his every instinct to blow this off, to make a joke that breaks the intensity that’s thicker than the Hawaii humidity.

“Patience,” he mutters, because of course it would be that for Bradshaw. “Trusting you’ll get there when you get there, not letting the pressure get to you guys.”

“Hm?”

“That’s your key.”

“Yeah,” Rooster nods, before taking a pull of his drink. “But maybe our puzzles are different.”

Jake scrunches his nose, so unused to metaphors and convoluted thinking. His head is still a jumbled mess, unpacking everything he’s learned in the last twelve hours.

“Sometimes you have to drop down and take the shot. Don’t pretend like that’s not in your wheelhouse, Seresin. You’ve always held back with her. Too scared she’s the only one that can keep up with you, maybe. That she's the only one you won’t shake off your tail.”

Rooster is frighteningly insightful tonight. Jake resolves to switch to whatever he’s drinking the moment he goes back inside.

“What would you have me do?” He asks, maybe a little more abrupt than Rooster deserves.

“Basic, normal, human communication would be a start.”

Jake flips him off.

“Not letting her go again, would be the next.”

+

It only takes Jake one Dark ‘n’ Stormy (of course, Rooster was drinking something that Jake felt like an idiot ordering) to build up the courage to follow you outside.

“You called it off.”

It’s not what he planned to say when he saw you sneaking out the back door of the bar. He was going to let you bring it up, maybe goad you into telling him what happened.

But he’s starting to realize his puzzle is less of a Sudoku and more of a jigsaw. He doesn’t know all the steps to complete the goal and won’t know until he’s in the middle of it. Each step comes up when it needs to, and he’ll have to figure it out then.

At least, he thinks that’s the point Bradshaw was trying to make. You two have to talk about something real, at some point, but patience hasn’t gotten him anywhere with you in the last five years.

You nod, staring into the distance, eyes focused on the water ahead.

“When?”

“Right before I deployed.”

Jake balks. He’s not sure what he expected your answer to be, but it wasn’t that. “And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”

You look down at your hands. Jake suddenly feels like an idiot, for not thinking anything of your bare ring finger. He should’ve known. He just assumed you’d become one of the many pilots that’s allergic to wedding rings.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t know what to say.”

There’s something working its way into the edges of his earshot, a timer dinging, the buzz of the right answer chiming. He laughs but there’s no humor in it. It’s only because otherwise, he’ll scream, as the puzzle pieces finally fit together.

“That was almost a year ago,” he mutters because he’s a glutton for punishment.

You continue staring at the water, still refusing to meet his gaze.

And he remembers, you’ve never been good at saying the hard things. As fierce as you are in the air, you temper your words on the ground, too wary to cut someone to the bone.

Shrinking violet, he thinks, wondering who was even well-read enough in your first squadron to know that reference.

He takes your silence for the answer that it is, nodding curtly and squeezing your wrist before turning to go back inside, a mirror of the last time his chest felt like candy glass, just waiting for the director to start the next take so it could have its turn to be shattered.

You finally turn to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Jake, I…”

He can’t wait for you to finish, doesn’t want to hear an excuse. Patience has never been his strong suit.

Jake shakes his head, biting his cheek to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen him cry and he’ll die before he lets that change on the back patio of this kitschy tiki bar. “Message received, Vi.”

Fucking Rooster. This is why he put this off for so long. It’s excruciating.

“No, Jake—that’s not what I—”

“Loud and clear, Violet.”

“I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way once I was single,” you say suddenly, and it stops him in his tracks. “You seem to forget you never said anything until I was supposed to marry someone else.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

Jake wants to pull his hair out. “Why did you call off the fucking wedding? Because it sure as shit wasn’t for me or you would’ve mentioned it sometime in the ten months.”

“I was with him for two years, Jake. That doesn’t just go away. I didn’t want to tell you before I knew where my own head was at.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Silence.

He turns to leave again, knowing the panic is showing itself in his shaky hands and uneven voice. Desperately, he wishes he had a toothpick or a beer label, something to tear at so his expression could remain carefully blank, tone collected.

When you finally speak again, your voice is thick and heavy with emotion, muffled by unshed tears. “Because.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, not bothering to figure out what expression is playing itself out on his face.

You clear your throat. You play with the hem of your dress. You look anywhere except his eyes.

Fight or flight, he says silently. What’s it gonna be, Vi?

He hopes to God it’s fight.

“Because you don’t marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning of your words to register. He feels like he’s underwater, slow and sluggish, when he finally asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Takes more than love to make a relationship work, Jake.”

It’s funny, how you choose the words Jake has repeated to himself in his weaker moments. When he wondered if loving you was enough, if it could overcome that you two are so much more similar than anyone would guess. You might have a reputation for mincing your words, but he’s the only one that takes that for what it is – a mask. He’s spent enough time underneath one to recognize it when he sees it. It’s your way of keeping people at bay, staying in control, not letting anyone climb those walls you’ve spent so long carefully building.

Someone would have to take their hands off the controls, even for a second. Neither of you knows what it’s like to rely on someone else. To not take the lead. To let someone else have your back.

“You have to be able to give me a chance sometime,” he counters, as gently as he can manage. “Let go of the reigns enough to let me try. Trust me to take the shot.”

“I’ve never been very good at that, especially with you,” you say, nodding and Jake’s chest is getting lighter by the second, that you've thought about this. “But I also knew it was going to take me time, to work through ending things with him. I couldn’t ask you to wait.”

“I did anyways.”

You raise your eyes to him at that. “You did?”

“I told you if I could stop loving you, I would have already.”

You exhale shakily, fingers twitching like you want to touch him, but just falling short in the air between you. “I didn’t – By now I thought you would’ve – fuck, Jake. I didn’t think you meant that. Thought you just needed time to get over me.”

He wants to laugh, feels it twitching at the corners of his mouth. “In less than a year? Have you met you?”

You grin at that, rich and bright and open like he hasn’t seen in far too long, and there’s something loosening in your defensive posture. “A lot of people would say ten months is a long time.”

Jake feels fuzzy, from his chest to his fingers as he reaches to pull you into him. You fold back against him, and he ducks his face into your hair, nudging around to get his lips on your jaw, letting his words get muffled by your skin. “Ten months is a blip on the radar.”

He feels you melt into him and finds the courage to lay the rest of it on the line.

“Doesn’t matter anyways because it hasn’t been ten months. It’s been six years. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“Sorry, I’m so slow. Hard to keep up with the infamous Hangman. I hear he flies like his ass depends on it.” The teasing is back in your tone, and it spreads warmth all over him.

You reach up to where his forearm rests on your collarbones, where he can’t bear to loosen his hold on you, his fingers twisting in the strap of your tank top.

The entire line of your back is touching him, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck smelling citrus and vanilla and home, but it’s still not enough, as far as Jake is concerned. Too many years spent apart, too many moments with you just out of reach have him itching for more.

“It’s okay,” he breathes against your neck. “As long as we get here in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whisper. “You know that right?”

He nods, fighting a shiver as your hand drifts across from his elbow to his hand. You run your thumb across his pulse point, fingers encircling his wrist. You squeeze, and he feels your promise.

This time he gets to start over with you.

"because you don't marry someone when you're in love with someone else" was stolen from michael westen in burn notice, episode 2.15 sins of omission (fantastic show!) although i changed the wording a little bit

thanks for reading!