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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

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slow dancing in a burning room - three

word count: 4.4k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

two.

You arrived home at the same time as Rooster a few nights later, a slow grin on your face, excited he was home at a reasonable hour (though quietly panicked if there was a reason he arrived home so early).

He raised a gentle palm in greeting as he parked the Bronco a few spots down from yours and you couldn’t resist, skipping to his driver’s side window, leaning in to kiss him a welcome home.

God, he could get used to this kind of homecoming, he loved seeing you with that smile, that special one just for him. “How was your day, handsome?” you asked as you twirled a loose tendril back into place and he smiled faintly. Looking down, you noted his flight suit rolled to his waist. “My favourite,” you couldn’t resist commenting. But honestly, anytime he was in uniform… you were putty in his hands. You let out a teasing, appreciative whistle as he chuckled quietly, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Evenin’, sweet girl. Day was okay,” he admitted, unbuckling, and watching you keenly open the door for him. He couldn’t bite back his gentle huff of laughter as you ushered him out and pulled him to you, your fist clutching his dog tags, causing him to stumble a little and bringing his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. He hummed enthusiastically, a low grumble that was almost spiritual to your ears. That voice… one of the many beautiful things about Bradley Bradshaw. “I like this hello,” he smiled eagerly against your lips, his calloused palm resting on your waist, drifting to massage your ass, not particularly concerned about your neighbours encroaching on your special greeting at any time. “A lot. What’s got you so happy-go-lucky?” his fingers teasing the seams on your tights, threatening to spill over lower. He kissed you again for good measure.

“Just happy to see you,” you told him simply and it warmed him to his aching bones. “Pizza and wine tonight?” you pecked his lips again as he held you just that little bit tighter, pulling you just that little bit closer. He opened his eyes slowly, savouring the feel of your lips against his and he nodded.

“Sounds great.”

“Tired?”

“Sore,” he confessed. It really was no secret he was exhausted, absolutely pushed to his limit and at this point, he simply could not wait to get on the boat, get the goddamn mission over and done with and get the hell home to hibernate for the foreseeable future with you snuggled in around him. He was mentally and physically wrecked.

“No gym. Aren’t you sore?” you frowned, tracing his dark brow as his eyes fluttered closed under your touch. His shoulders slumped and his arms surrounded you, burying his face into the curve of your neck.

“Uhh, no. Just wanted to get home to you,” he declared as you took his hand and spun under the arch his shapely arm created. He had to laugh again, your mood in-fucking-fectious. “Someone clearly had a great day,” he noted. “Look at you, beaming like fuckin’ sunshine.”

“My man is here, and I missed him, sue me,” you replied, starting on the stairs to your apartment and he allowed you to drag him up after you. His legs were like lead, his shoulders burned, his palms red and raw and his head was splitting. He couldn’t endeavour to fight as you guided him to the door, pushing him against it. He held back his laugh at you, little you, asserting yourself but he would let you have a moment of control over him if that was what you truly needed.

“This your attempt to declare some kinda dominance over me, kid?”

“Is it working?” you asked optimistically as his laugh made it to his honey-coloured eyes.

“Sure,” he shrugged, licking his lips, and leaning down to kiss you. “If it makes you feel better…” he whispered into your kiss, his hands surrounding your waist and moving you with ease, trapping you against the door just where you hoped he’d stay. You pouted; in a position you weren’t prepared for but probably should have been expecting. “Nice try, though,” he leaned down and his forehead rested against yours, slow his big, strong hands wrapped around your ribcage, thumbs drifting against your underboob. He knew he didn’t imagine that sweet moan. His velvet tongue was smooth as it traced your lips, sneaky and silky against yours. The faint taste of peppermint from the stash of mints he kept in the dash of his Bronco on his breath. God, you loved kissing him. Each time was better than the last and each one left you a stuttering mess afterwards, wanting and needing more – of that he knew for sure.

“Couldn’t let me have it just once?” you muttered, breathless in his arms. He pecked your forehead and nuzzled his nose against yours, a thumb cheekily sweeping across your nipple and shrinking a little, resting against his thigh to avoid slipping away.

“I can get on my knees to make it look believable for you,” he teased as you raised your brow, and he laughed as you rolled your eyes, brushing him back to unlock the door.

“Moment killer,” you teased, feeling him dig his strong palms into your hips and his heavy sigh against your hair. Exhausted didn’t seem like a fair word to describe him.

Wearied, you wondered if that suits him better.

Bradley wandered in after you, his gentle hands keeping hold of you before he dragged you back to him, the tickle of his moustache against the soft skin of your neck, his strong chest against your back. He breathed you in, your perfume, the faint outlier of chlorine from hours in the pool today as his lips brushed against your pulse. He pressed his large palms flat against your belly, his nose buried in your hair, and it was hard not to soften against him, your palm reaching back and tangling into his tight curls, a low grunt in response catching him unaware.

He was needy, wanting affection and affirmation of your love for him. “I should get on my knees,” Bradley continued into your skin, firming in his earlier stance, his tender lips sweeping against your skin as you pushed back against him, breathing his name out. He turned you to face him, his fingers drifting up and cupping your jaw. “I will always be on my knees for you.”

“I would never expect that from you,” you told him as he searched your face, and though he had it memorised, he was trying to etch it into his brain and kissed you again, petulant in waiting to taste you, his kiss a little more demanding. The ease that he lifted you into his arms would always impress you and he deepened the kiss as you fastened your legs around his waist. It didn’t need to go further, but he didn’t want to release you either. He needed you easy, and pliable and wanting him as much as he wanted you.

“Do you have an early start tomorrow, or can I keep you up all night tonight?” you asked as he smiled, pleased.

“Real early start so you better keep me up,” he pleaded of you. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

You fondly held his face in your hands, taking in his golden skin, flushed cheeks, and honey eyes drowning with desire for you. But the way he gazed back at you, utter devotion. His eyes were the key to his soul, and they reassured you how in love he was. You never used to believe in bullshit like soulmates. In fact, the concept still blew your mind, but if his name appeared tattooed somewhere on your body, it wouldn’t be a complete shock because Bradley Bradshaw was made for you and knew he thought of you the same.

His slow grin made you want to rip the rest of his flight suit off his hips, whip off his compression tee and just take him where he was. He had this way of making you feel insatiable in ways that mere months ago might have shamed you. You’d never fallen so openly, so brutally for someone – sure, there had been crushes, many of them, lovers who did their best to please you as well as they could and you guessed at the time they were the best you’d had, and the partners who had wanted more than you’d ever allow and turn away when your hang-ups got too much.

But never Bradley. He worked hard to make you trust him and to keep that smile he was so fascinated with on your face. But he had to realise, he didn’t have to work too hard. He was absolute perfection in your eyes. Yes, he had a line of women waiting for him going around the corner, and every night you ventured out together, you felt the gaze of others trying to vie for his attention. Okay, it was… unpleasant occasionally because he’d humour them politely, but he made no secret he was taken, happily in a relationship with the love of his life and bore them if they allowed him to talk about you. He was devout to you and after all this time, you couldn’t believe that Bradley Bradshaw was in love with you. And you could not imagine a life without him and that is what stung so much about this mission…

Not that you’d ever tell him how scared you were, how thrilled you’d be if he wasn’t to be called upon. He could keep his pretty ass on the carrier and his squad could do the dirty work. You knew how cold and selfish the thoughts sounded and how you hoped his gripe with Mav was deep enough for Mav not to trust him enough to do the run. You hated yourself for even thinking it, and that’s why you would never tell him.

“Where are you? You’re drifting, love,” he said delicately. Bradley had your heart on a string, it took one look, and you would be grovelling to him, for his body, his kiss. “Come back to me.”

“I’m with you,” you promised, kissing him again as your stomach growled embarrassingly, breaking all revelry in its entirety. His eyes widened in surprise as you buried your face in the curve of his thick neck, humiliated and he cackled, tightening his grasp around you as you tried to escape. He gave your ass a swift thwack as you sucked in a sharp breath from the sting. “Nope, you’re not going anywhere! Good lord, you eat at all today?”

You made a face; it would be a complete scowl and he never adored you more. “Of course.”

“Jesus. Talk about shattering a moment,” he tormented you, lowering you gently to your feet as you buried your forehead on his chest, mortified and he laughed again. “I’ll order pizza, you go open that wine you’ve been eying for a special occasion,” he lowered you gently.

“Special occasion? It’s a Tuesday,” you replied, muffled against him.

“Yeah,” he smiled, swatting your ass away as you went to the living room, face in hands that you could embarrass yourself like that. But it would never bother him. Grumbly tummy, burp, fart. You were only human. God knows he was repulsive when he wanted to be. And you recovered okay from that dutch oven last week (even though you hated him for a while after it), he giggled like the menace he was at the thought. You had scolded him later that he was far too comfortable with you and he did not disagree one iota. You weren’t perfect, and you’d never claim to be, but you were as sure as shit closest thing he’d get to heaven and that meant more than anything to him. “Exactly.”

He sighed quietly, watching you walk away, patting – or cursing – your tummy as he licked back the smirk that threatened to escape. You wandered to his record player first, moving to your knees to flick through his collection. You looked up with a grin and showed him, sweetly. His sweet girl. He nodded, walking over to watch you put the vinyl on the turn table and lower the needle, something you weren’t terribly comfortable with (and nervous you’d scratch one of his treasured LPs). “Good girl,” he encouraged sweetly as the sounds of Otis Redding rang low through the living room.

“I love this album.”

“Yeah, love. Me too.”

“Come dance,” you pulled yourself up to meet him as the opening crackle seeped through the speakers, your chest skimming his torso and his kind smile, he gave his hand to you and collected you close, resting his chin on your hair, his warm palm pressing into your back, resting on your hip. It gave you the same butterflies he caused all those months back at the wedding and you’d never tire of his ability to absolutely surround you and make you feel whole. Safer together.

And as usual, he’d be the one to fuck it all up.

…he’d talk to you after dinner. You were in the best of moods and after a few rocky weeks, he could only put your peace first.

“God, I love pizza,” you admitted, belly full, soul replenished. You tossed your last crust towards the box (you missed it, Bradley made amends for you by polishing it off) and eased back against the couch behind you. You grinned, absolutely gratified. “Knew I could trust you, big boy.”

He winked. “No problem, kid,” Bradley huffed a chuckle, wiping his greasy fingers on kitchen paper. He tossed it in the empty box, closed the lid and moved it away. “Love?”

“Hmm?” you sniffed the wine quietly and took an eager sip.

“My seabag is in the car, I have to pack tonight,” he spat out, knowing he ruined the moment wholeheartedly and without warning, but he didn’t know how else to tell you.

“Tonight?” you frowned. “But you don’t leave for another week.”

He exhaled, rubbing his eyes, his word vomit on the tip of his tongue. “Mission parameters have changed. I ship out at dawn. We got word this afternoon.”

“Shit,” you muttered faintly, putting the wine back on the coffee table.

Bradley nodded, watching you, waiting for the sadness, anger, and confusion. When it didn’t appear to come, he thought that apathy might have been the worst out of any reactions you may have had. “Sorry.”

After a beat, you reminded him, “Don’t apologise, you don’t make that call,” you stayed remarkably light. “I guess the quicker you go, the quicker you come home.”

He shrugged but agreed. “Hope so.” He watched you, frankly the lack of emotion triggered him. He wondered if he was seeing you retreat like you had said you did as a child.

“Have they told you any more about what you’re going into?”

He knew you were digging, and that you were more than aware of what he would and could tell you. And what he knew, he wasn’t going to tell you. At this point in his training, he kind of wished he didn’t know either. It was a two-edged sword.

On one hand, he was desperate for his next promotion. Though liked to keep that stuff to himself, he had a plan. And that included a promotion. He knew proving himself in this mission, as difficult as it had been with Maverick, would be just another step to cross off the list. But the more he and his detachment learned about it? He’d be lying to say it had kept him up a few nights. And God knows he didn’t need to scare you more. You were, sadly, a champion of things like this. You’d been through the trials and tribulations of being a junior and with him, a military wife, he hoped. Something you had always said you wouldn’t be… but you couldn’t help who you fell in love with.

He watched you rise delicately to your feet, his teeth chewing into his lower lip, anticipating your next move. Relief swept through him as you positioned yourself in his lap, small against him. He tenderly stroked your hair as you breathed him in, reminding yourself of his cologne, his smell so heavenly, and how his strong chest felt.

He sighed low, not wanting to agitate you with his apprehension. Bradley knew he would never fly another mission like this and could only hope and pray he was able to return from it.

With his hopes for his career, he hoped that he was selected as part of the team, however that may translate… but also that he wasn’t as well. He finally had everything he wanted in his life and along this comes. If it went awry, it might have been the last night you spent together. To now everything was so black and white. There was never a risk because, until you, there was nothing to fear about dying.

Fear was the one that took up real estate in his brain. Before, he could leave anything up to chance. Burning in wasn’t something that scared him. He’d made peace with death long ago, but he wanted that chance to get everything he deserved, even if that meant reconsidering what he needed in his career.

“Do you love me?” you asked him, your thumb tracing the wiry scar on his chin and his lips chased the gentle pad. He nodded solemnly. “Show me.”

While you somehow found sleep that night, Bradley didn’t. He never did on nights before he shipped out. He had packed the night before while you lay on the bed, pillow collected to your chest as you watched him meticulously organise himself for sea, undistracted.

Fuck, he would be so glad to get home and amalgamate all your things. His stuff in Virginia Beach was travelling across the country to his parent's house as he tossed and turned, just adding to the trepidation that surrounded him.

Since he’d decided on taking ownership of his parent's home again, he’d been conscious of things he never really focused on much before like bank accounts, social security, 401K, and his (non-existent) will. He never had an interest in where all that stuff landed when after he died. Donate the cash, and let the city take care of the house. But things changed. You were his partner, and he’d been working quietly to align all the things in joint names if he weren’t to return.

He didn’t want to concern you with it, but he had put the information together into a short-form email to you, so you knew whom to contact and all the other legal shit that came with it, CC’ing his lawyer and rep at his bank, set to send at about midday when he was somewhere out in the Pacific. The legally signed stuff was in a safety deposit box at the bank, something he never considered ever needing, the password sitting in your delicates drawer.

He wanted all bases covered and wouldn’t hear an argument from you.

He watched you sleep momentarily, shifting in your dreams and he fondly touched your bare shoulder before finishing up.

‘You are my one and only beneficiary should anything happen to me. Don’t let this stuff scare you because I’m coming straight home to you. But in case anything changes, you will be well taken care of, roomie.

Please don’t delete this. I know it’s a rude awakening. But everything is in place for things to run seamlessly if you need any access to cash, my lawyer, the bank. Whatever.

I love you. B x’

Seabag waiting by the door and you in his old Navy tee exhausted hours before sunrise wasn’t the most wonderful start to a day, remembering as a child, goodbyes were said the night before and your dad or Viper was gone well before you were awake the next morning. You weren’t going to get used to saying goodbye to Bradley in a hurry.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” you asked him again. He shook his head, seriously. “I love you,” you said, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Hurry back, okay?”

“I will be home before you know it, love,” he murmured in your ear. “Keep that California King warm for me.”

“You have one thing to do,” you told him as he watched your lips. “Don’t do anything stupid. Do what you must, get back on the fucking boat and come home,” you instructed. It was so simple. “That’s it, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he swore. “I will be home before you know it and then we’re going to move into our place, okay, roomie?”

“I can’t wait,” you admitted. “Roomie.”

“One more kiss and I gotta go,” Bradley said earnestly. He straightened up, so handsome in uniform as you nodded. You’d been so brave, with no tears, no smartass comments. He was thankful for the harmony, and he kissed you, feeling you surrender in his touch. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Don’t find some other guy to fall in love with before I get back, okay?”

“Impossible,” you promised, voice laced with emotions, your body rigid to keep your emotions in check. He was surprised as you quietly started to shudder against him. You tried so hard to keep your shit together, making the morning easy for him. Remain aloof, even impassive to him leaving but you knew this wouldn’t be like other tours, you hated the thought as it kept nagging at you, this felt different, and you knew he understood...

Because this might be the last time you ever see him again.

“As soon as I have phone reception, I’ll be back in contact, okay?” he swore as you looked up and his heart broke.

You nodded as he thumbed away a few searing tears that slipped and as he forced himself to pull away, he knew there was nothing he could do now. He watched you close in, wrapping your arms around yourself and he kissed your hairline one more time before giving you an impish grin. He picked up his bag and caressed your cheek, whispering a simple ‘bye’ and left, closing the door after him as you put your face in your hands and cried.

It was a few days later that your world would be turned upside down. You’d received a text from Natasha that they were returning – all in one piece, thank god – but Bradley coming home via HSNS Mercy and would be admitted to NMCSD for a few days for routine check-ups, post-incident. In your wildest dreams, you couldn’t imagine what had happened to him, but the radio silence was infinitely deafening. Bradley wasn’t responding to texts, and you couldn’t get a hold of Natasha again.

Hell, you’d even desperately tried Jake, but you guessed they were still in the deepest and darkest.

And that’s how you found yourself at Grandpa’s house at 11:30pm, a drained wreck.

“Darling, what are you doing here so late?” Nanna asked curiously, opening the door in her nightgown. “Are you okay?”

“Something happened to Bradley,” was all you could say as Grandpa came into view from the staircase, a concerned look on his face.

“What’s going on?” he asked sternly.

“I don’t know. I can’t get a hold of anyone. No one will tell me anything…” you said as Nanna pulled you into her arms, the look she gave Grandpa unnoticed by you as you cried softly. “Will I have to deal with this my whole life? Will our whole life be fucking redacted because we don’t have a piece of paper to suggest otherwise?”

“Sweetheart, this part isn’t new to you,” Viper said sympathetically, coming down the stairs and brushing away your tears.

“I don’t know what to do. I just have to wait?”

Sadly, yes. You did. Viper sighed. “Oh sweetheart… I don’t know how far it will get me, but I’ll make some calls, okay?” he promised you but knew he held no authority to even pick up the phone regardless of the distinction he held. He addressed your grandmother. “Take her to her room and get her settled, dear. She will stay here tonight, and get some sleep. Bradley will be home soon. He’s safe, sweetheart. He’s coming home. I’ll do what I can.”

“Sir, what do I owe the pleasure?” Beau Simpson asked, astounded to hear from his one-time mentor and first admiral. Sadly for him, Viper knew Cyclone would rue picking up his call. “I hope you’re well - ”

“Son, it’s not that kind of phone call, unfortunately,” Viper said, keeping the pleasantries in his voice.

“My apologies, sir,” he replied uncertainly.

“Simpson, I may not have the credentials anymore, but you tell me right now if Bradshaw is in one piece.”

“Sir – ”

“Beau, is Bradshaw okay?” he repeated, the coolness in Viper’s tone telling Cyclone meagre military jargon wouldn’t save him today.

With a beat of silence, Simpson found his voice. “Viper sir, it pains me to say this but the mission report is private and confidential. You know you do not have the authority to be seeking this information from me.”

“Cut the bullshit, Beau. My granddaughter gets a call from her friend – not CACO - that her partner is coming home, there was an incident, but they tell her nothing else. Where is the fucking protocol?”

“Sir, I understand wholeheartedly. But she is not Bradshaw’s next of kin,” Cyclone said quietly.

“He has no fucking next of kin, who the fuck else would be his next of kin?”

“I understand that sir,” Cyclone remained passive. “Let me reassure you, Lt. Bradshaw is well. The assessments he will undertake are routine, and he will be released after a night or so in Bob Wilson.”

Viper knew the words; they were his he taught to Iceman and subsequently Cyclone and he’d taught them so well. “There had better not be a scratch on his face, Simpson. Or so help me, God.”

“Yes, sir.”

Viper heard the meekness in the Vice-Admiral’s voice. “He means a lot to many people, Beau. Not just my granddaughter. You do not make Bradshaw dispensable again.”

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