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sorchathered · 2 months

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Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 6

A/N- sorry I’ve been so behind lately guys! Life has been kicking my ass and writers block has reared its ugly head. But I’m finally here, we are going to do a couple of time jumps in the future but if you’ve read Lover you know we have a happy ending, so don’t worry!

Summary- Jake and Stormy hadn’t seen each other in a month, finally a long weekend sees our lovers reunited, but not everything is smooth sailing.

Warnings- Drinking, language, a little bit of violence, smut (save a horse, ride cowboy Jake 🤠). Minors DNI.

Song inspo- “I miss you”- Adele

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

It had been nearly a month since you’d seen Jake, your perfect week in San Diego heavy on your mind as you packed your bag for the holiday weekend. The two of you had been swamped with work but every available hour of free time was spent on FaceTime, most nights falling asleep together through the phone.

Stepping out of the airport brought it all back, sometimes you still couldn’t believe he was really yours, especially when he was scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style to his truck, giggles pouring from your lips at his need to be touching you at all times.

He’d missed you so damn much, he’d barely made it in the door before he’d taken you up against the wall (you knew that sundress had been a good idea) and then again in the shower before you both finally collapsed in the sheets of his California king bed he’d let you pick out before you went back to Florida.

Waking up to him would always be your favorite thing, he looked so at peace and almost boyish in the mornings it made your heart clench as your eyes took him in. Heavy body half slung over yours, perfect hair in complete disarray as he let out little snores (that he vehemently denied were a thing).

You’d spent the day at the beach catching up with the daggers and getting all the hot gossip from Phoenix and Bob’s wife Ellie. Rooster had been relocated to the Golden Warriors due to an altercation he’d had with Jake on your last visit, he and Mirage were apparently working on a relationship and she was still very much pregnant. You had ripped him to shreds before you left and hoped he would get his shit together so it was refreshing to hear that he at least seemed to be trying for his future child. Ellie also spilled the beans that she and Bob’s newest baby would be a little girl, their very first and you had to laugh and say a silent prayer for her 3 big brothers, sweet little thing would no doubt be spoiled rotten.

—————————————————————-

Dinner and drinks at the Hard Deck were a must, you never thought you’d be so nostalgic for one of Penny’s greasy cheeseburgers and a night of pool with your friends. You offered to grab the next round of beers, copping a feel of your super hot boyfriend as you passed, truly the man had no right to look this good. It made it more and more difficult to leave San Diego being in his orbit, he’d clearly been spending way more time in the gym without you around and it definitely showed, you were pretty sure one wrong move would split the sleeves of his button up from the swell of his biceps and it had you hot and bothered already.

Penny rang up your beers as you two chatted and got caught up, but you noticed a concerned look from her in the direction of your group that had you craning your neck to see the issue. You’d barely been gone 5 minutes and already two of the little tag chasers that frequented the bar every weekend were crowding Jake and Javy, barely there tops and cut off shorts leaving very little to the imagination as you caught one of the girls place her hand on Jake’s chest.

“Hey no fighting in my bar Stormy, you know the rules” Penny said with a gentle hand on yours, she should practically see the steam billowing from your ears as you took the scene in.

“I know the rules Pen, I promise to be sweet as pie” you scooped up the beers and gave her a wink, she groaned and facepalmed as she mentally prepared herself for what you had in store for those poor unsuspecting idiots.

Natasha caught your eye as you placed the beers on the table, probably a little rougher than was necessary and she tried to catch your arm but you easily slipped from her grasp as you looped through the crowd of your friends. Jake looked a little panicked when he saw your face, he had tried to warn them off that his girlfriend was here and he wasn’t the least bit interested but these girls were persistent, one had even gone so far as to suggest you could come home with them and watch and Javy had to stop himself from laughing directly in her face. You didn’t share and you certainly didn’t take kindly to someone trying to touch your man, so when you’d crossed the threshold to the pool table everyone seemed to stop what they were doing, very interested in seeing where this situation would go.

One of the girls had her hand on Jake’s bicep as he was trying to let her know his girlfriend was behind her, as she whipped around to say something snarky but it all died in her throat when you grasped a handful of her hair and yanked her backwards.

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” You said as you pushed her towards her friend, both of them stumbling backwards in their ridiculous stilettos.

“Look honey I get that you think you’re something special but your “boyfriend” isn’t the relationship type, he’s told me so before several times after we’ve hooked up so I-“

She didn’t get very far before you lunged at her, it took Jake, Javy and Mickey to hold you back as the bell rang out from the bar. You hadn’t hurt anyone yet but Penny decided it was best to send both girls packing before she had to call a coroner to collect them. You were fuming, once they’d been sent overboard the boys let you go, you smacked all of them on the arms as you wrenched yourself from their grasp, stomping out the back exit with your middle finger in their general direction. Jake was on your heels with a promise that he’d keep you from hunting them down, catching you just as you slammed your fist into the weathered wood of the building.

He grabbed your hand before you could do anymore damage and you half wanted to rip his head off, looking every bit your callsign with the storm raging in your eyes.

“Baby, come on, look at me please? Don’t worry about those girls, you know they don’t mean shit to me…right?” He suddenly looked very worried at the thought that you might not believe him. “You do know that don’t you?”

You swiped the tears from your eyes before you could get more emotional and let him pull you into his arms, you weren’t really pissed at him and deep down he knew that. “Of course I do Jake, you’ve never lied to me, it's just still new with us, sometimes I forget just how many of these girls have been one night stands, I’d be lying if it doesn’t make me feel a little jealous. I feel like I need to keep you locked up in the house, it should be illegal for you to look this good.”

He throws his head back and laughs at that, but you’re serious. He’s yours now and you want everyone to know that the only girl Hangman is taking home is you.

You slide your hand across the back of his scalp and give a sharp tug, making his eyes fly open as he tries to stifle a moan.

“Does it look like I’m joking Seresin? You want to swagger around here in your half buttoned shirt and slutty jeans, getting me all hot and bothered? You like making me jealous? Maybe we need to go home so I can show you who you belong to since you seem to have forgotten.”

His pupils are blown and irises nearly nonexistent, you can feel him hot and hard pressed against your thigh, you know this side of you has got him right where you want him.

“You just say the word sugar and we can head home, I’ll even get on my knees and beg you to forgive me.” He says a little shakily, he’s not at all used to someone else being in control but damn he wants to see where you take this, it may be the hottest thing he’s ever seen watching you be dominant and a little mean to him. He’d fuck you right on the pool table in front of everyone right now if you asked, he’s starting to worry the two of you might not make it home without him taking you.

It didn’t take much convincing to leave the group shortly after, you were still angry and Jake was definitely too turned on by it to continue playing pool. You barely said a word on the ride home, and didn’t give him the chance to open your door as you marched into his house, disappearing down the hallway to the bedroom. He shook his head and chuckled a little, it was hard to take you seriously when he knew the end result would be the two of you fucking but he had no idea what you had in store.

——————————————————————

You’d planned on making this weekend a little adventurous anyways but now you were angry and determined, overcome with the need to be in charge. So when Jake stepped into your space seeing you stripped down to your lingerie you refused to let him touch you, swatting his hands away and pushing him towards the mattress.

“C’mon baby you aren’t still mad are you?” Jake huffed as you took both his hands and bound them with the rope you’d originally brought for him to use on you.

“You promised you’d beg for forgiveness Jakey, so that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. No touching, no cumming until I say so, by the time I’m done with you I’ll have you a ruined mess. How’s that sound?” You were eyeing him with curiosity, you’d always let him take the lead in bed but you had a feeling he would like this more than he had ever let on. You definitely weren’t disappointed as you saw his eyes darken, he was practically salivating at your words and you hadn’t even touched him yet. Grasping his chin between your fingers you hovered your lips against his, every time he leaned forward you pulled back and by the third time he was whining, you knew he’d be putty in your hands but this was better than you’d expected.

“Baby I-I’ll do whatever you want, fuck just-just kiss me please and then you can string me up six ways to Sunday, I’ll be good I promise.” He had the cutest little pout going and you couldn’t help but lean in and give him what he wanted, running your hands through his golden hair and licking into his mouth as he tried to scoot closer to you, poor thing probably didn’t even realize he was doing it until you stepped away from him completely soaking in his pink cheeks and glazed eyes.

“Alright sweet boy, you got your kisses. Sit still and be good, promise I’ll make it worth your while. I need you to tell me if it’s too much though, ok?” You lean in to press kisses to his forehead as he nodded enthusiastically and you try to stifle a laugh, he’s like a damn puppy just trying to get your attention.

“Alright baby, lay back. Think I might give you something you’ve been asking for first, gonna let me ride your pretty face? How’s that sound?”

He scoots to the headboard as fast as he possibly can with his hands tied, gazing up at you as you remove your skimpy underwear and climb up his body, pressing kisses and nips to his skin and oh you might just be hooked on all the little noises he’s making. Finally settled above his face he gives you that million dollar grin you love so much, and licks from your entrance to your clit, testing the waters as he goes through all the little tricks that have proven to have you a moaning mess, the room filling with sounds of you both and the lewd wet noises as Jake ate at you like a starved man. Once he’d sent you over the edge, white knuckling the headboard as you cried out for him you felt a little more at ease, but you wanted more. He had a bit of a kink for edging you and you’d always wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, so you climbed off of him with jelly legs and splayed your naked body on top of his, pressing his tied wrists above his head as you tasted yourself on his tongue and ground your obscenely wet pussy all over his clothed cock, he was hard as a rock bucking up into you at the delicious friction. Pulling him from his briefs caused him to hiss into your mouth, and you pulled back to nip at his jaw, seeking out the spot on his neck that was most sensitive.

“Oh fuck, baby come on now, you can’t just tease me like this forever- Jesus Christ-“

You’d found the spot evidently, that combined with you grinding yourself across his erection, letting your clit bump against the head as he flexed his hands against the rope. “Shhhh, let me have my fun baby, ohh ohhh it feels so good, shit you feel so fucking good” you were close again already and Jake was losing his mind, in reality he could get out of these knots fairly easily but he’d promised to be good, maybe he had a death wish but saying underneath you like this would be a damn good way to go. He felt himself getting close, you could tell he was nearly there when you wrenched yourself away from him and watched the look of shock cross him as the neediest whine you’d ever heard came from your big hulking boyfriend.

He was leaking like a damn faucet in your hand, tip angry red while his chest heaved, an artist couldn’t begin to try and sculpt how gorgeous he looked to you, your mouthy over the top man was quickly being reduced to a puddle and you were thrilled with the result. You proceeded to play with him and back off two more times with your hands and mouth before he was thrashing his head back and forth, a sob bubbling up from his chest.

“Please-please baby I can’t anymore you win, next girl that comes near me is gonna know I’m yours before she even gets close enough, f-fuck shit I can’t- love you so fucking much”

You laved your tongue over the head of his cock and batted your eyelashes, you definitely got the appeal now as you took in his sweaty form, poor Hangman; reduced to near tears in under an hour just from his sweet little girlfriend, if you were honest you enjoyed it a little too much. Sliding back up his body you removed the ropes, kissing at his wrists and he sighed in relief, he kept his hands to himself as he waited to see if you’d give him what he needed.

“Go ahead Jakey, take what you want baby I’m all yours.”

He flipped you both over immediately, sucking on your tongue as he slammed into you, loud moans and harsh slapping noises coming from your bodies as he sought out his release.

“Fuckin mean, toying with me like that sugar. You know you’re all I’ve wanted, think about this pretty pussy gripping me tight all fucking day, give anything to fuck you like this every night. Nobody makes me feel as good as you do- no one. Love you so goddamn much.”

Now he’s turned you into the moaning mess, playing with your clit as he fucked you hard, you were on the edge again he could feel you pulsing around him, pulling your face into his he sucked your bottom lip and came, desperately grinding up against him as you rode the aftershocks together.

You couldn’t believe what had come over you and you put your hands over your face and giggled. He laughed at how cute you looked and stole kisses, you both needed to get up and shower but these little moments were so scarce these days that he couldn’t help but stay put as long as you’d let him.

——————————————————————

Sunday morning was lazy lovemaking and breakfast in bed, before he finally had to help you pack up to head back to the airport. You’d been a bucket of tears the whole car ride, practically in his lap in the truck the second he’d parked.

“We got this baby” he’d said as he walked you to security, and your heart broke with every step you had to take to get on your plane. Once a month would never be enough, you both wanted a lifetime, it was time to make some changes.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

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#top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman smut #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman imagine #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fanfiction #sacred new beginnings #snb #Jake and Stormy

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bobluvbot · 2 years

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bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years

Text

It’s Only My Heart (Save Yourself)

about: Rooster’s very bad, terrible day. Super angst and maybe a glimmer of hope at some point.

word count: 7.3k

warnings: angst, language

masterlist.

"My God, if you are not a sight for sore eyes," Jake Seresin shook his head, slowly taking you in from top to toe.

"You're all dressed up," you smiled, acknowledging the Navy's traditional ceremonial kit and gloves. "Very slick, Bagman."

He gave you his trademark, megawatt grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. "What are you doing here? Thought you were tearing up the East Coast, living the dream!"

Completely embarrassed, you hated that nothing could be further from the truth. But that was a story for another time. He enveloped you in a warm hug as you gave him a gentle smile. "Gig," you motioned behind you to the band setting up, the gentle thrum of a snare drum and bass echoing gently.

"You're playing?" he pulled back with a raised eyebrow. He blinked, almost like he didn't believe your answer.

"Yeah," you smiled at his confusion. Something reflected in his bold blue eyes and he held up a finger.

"Hold that thought, huh?" he gently released you and wandered away, catching a look over his shoulder as you went back to your bandmates to warm your vocals up a more.

There was still plenty of time before the wedding reception, but you always wanted to give your all, and ensure the best part of the day was the happy couple cutting a rug on the dancefloor, with love, joyous grins and laughter. "Where's the playlist?" you asked your guitarist and band manager, Tom, as he handed you the info. It was perfect. The couple's first dance was to Adele's version of "Make You Feel My Love". You adored it and knew how to make it perfect for the couple too.

“Jesus Christ," Rooster sighed to himself. This could not be happening. Not today, of all days, this just could not be happening.

Removing his cover and sitting it protectively under his arm, he debated his dumb luck. There you were, eyes closed and lost in the song you quietly rehearsed. Still magical as you basked in the late afternoon light that poured through the bay windows behind you. Fucking ethereal, he realised. He had to get to the bottom of this as he carefully walked into the reception hall of the hotel the wedding was being held. His throat tightened as he approached you, the lyrics of the song clearer.

"'Dream a little dream of me,'" you crooned and grinned as the band gave themselves some kudos, ready for the evening's festivities. You turned your back to face your guys and chatted about switching up a few songs, depending on the vibe of the wedding party and guests.

"That was really beautiful," some guy told you, affectionately patting your shoulder as you ducked your eyes bashfully. You were never one to take a compliment easily.

Before he knew it, Rooster was before you. "It is you," he said, just quietly enough for you and your bandmates to hear, a little bewildered, as you and your bandmates turned to face him. If you weren't holding the mic stand, you might have lost your footing.

"Holy shit, Rooster. What are you doing here?" a blink and you'll-miss-it fondness gracing your features. He didn't return it.

With a gentle scoff, he replied, "What do you mean, what am I doing here? I thought you were in New York."

"I have been back a few months," you admitted. God, you were getting sick of admitting that. It sounded more pathetic every time.

"Of course you have," he started pacing. He paused, raised his long index finger, and continued to pace. If it wasn't so dramatic, it would certainly be comedic as your bandmates behind you bit back their chuckles.

"Uh, do you know this guy?" your band's manager, Tom, whispered, standing with you.

"Ex-boyfriend," you answered softly, heat prickling your face.

"Ex-boyfriend?" Rooster's ears pricked up and his deep voice cracked a little, and you cowered a little. "I think I was a little more than that." True. He was the love of your life.

"Okay, okay. But Rooster, you need to calm down. Maybe I should have mentioned I was back, but you made it pretty clear when we broke up that you didn't want to see me again.”

"You broke up with me to go to New York," Rooster calmly reminded you. "Follow your dreams, or whatever. Do not pin this... on me."

"Do you need something, man?" Tom asked. "Because all you're doing is intimidating her and that's not cool with us."

Rooster stopped and inhaled. This Tom dude wasn’t wrong and Rooster reflected, hoping to recall his cool, reminiscing on all his years of psychological training to put his body and mind through the worst of human conditions. All of that training escaped him as the moment unfolded. Of all things, he'd never want to scare or hurt you. "You have absolutely no idea, do you?" he almost accused. "I fucking texted you about this."

"I didn't get it," you said, softly. "Sorry, Rooster." He'd been blocked on your phone for so long... it had hurt too much to keep receiving his texts and you having nothing but failure to respond with.

"Well, you hadn't responded to any texts for years, why would you have started with that one?" He'd definitely fine-crafted the art of sarcasm.

"What the hell is going on, Roost?" you asked softly, embarrassed for this scene he was causing.

"This is my goddamn wedding!" he exclaimed, loosening his tall collar. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack and retreated himself. He needed air, his throat constricting.

You felt as if your heart fell out of your butt, a horrible concoction of shock... and terrible sadness. "Oh," was all you said. Well, this escalated into literally the worst day in a matter of seconds. "I didn't know - "

"How do you not know?" he demanded. "You're the fucking wedding singer."

"She's not the MC, she's never the MC," Tom spoke up. "I talk, book the gigs; she sings."

"Just the singer," you told him meekly as Tom looked over the call sheet and handed it to you and you about wanted to die. "Lt. Bradley Bradshaw and Ms Hayley Wills. Okay. Roost, I'm sorry," you looked at Tom, panicked. "I won't do this, I'll go. I won't ruin the evening for you guys."

Tom nodded, patting your shoulder. "It's okay - "

"How did you not know?" Rooster refused to understand. "This is my wedding day. Has my name not crossed your band's lips once?" he was astounded.

"No, only your bridezilla and all the changes she wanted to make up until about two hours ago," Tom warned as you raised your hand, not wanting to hurt Rooster more. "Hardly mentioned you. Can't imagine why, though," he sneered.

"Tom, it's okay," you didn't need him making the situation much, much worse.

"It's cool, man. We'll return the deposit and start packing up - " Tom continued, giving your bandmates the sign to wrap it up.

"You can't go. I've got 100 assholes I don't know watching me get married in - " he checked his watch. "Less than five minutes, depending on how late Hayley wants to be and make me sweat more than I already am."

Sighing, you carefully stepped off the stage and approached Rooster, guiding him with a light touch on his bicep that he didn't shrug away (even if it scalded him). You moved him away from your confused, protective bandmates who were about ready to take his head off. Without a word, he followed you outside into the choking humidity, no relief from the breeze off the water. “Go get married. I will leave; the band can stay. No one has to know - “ you tried as he whipped his arm away from you.

”But I’ll fucking know,” he hissed, pounded his chest, wanting to scream it at the top of his lungs. The last thing he needed to do was draw more attention to the situation.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. I get that you're upset, but I didn't know and clearly neither did you, so we're both equally as pathetic here. Your day can still go on without a hitch. I'm sure your bride is on her way now and your guests are probably wondering where the fuck you are. So stand up straight," he immediately did so. "Go find a mirror, take a shot with Bagman, and man the fuck up," you hated every word you said.

He frowned, his height towering over you suddenly. "I hate this."

You wanted to ask if he meant you or the day, but kept your trap shut. You were beginning to think a little of columns A and B.

He inhaled sharply, in hopes of calming himself. "I told myself I would never allow myself to be alone with you ever again," he looked back at your bandmates through the sheer blinds of the reception room. They'd taken the initiative to put your guitar away and start putting your kit near the door. Bless them, you thought. "And here you are, on my wedding day. I don't even want to get married," he confided. "I never did. Even when we were together, it was just a piece of paper. Why do you need it if you love someone? Shouldn't love be enough?" he rambled.

You nodded, with a shrug. "Sometimes people just need it, Rooster."

"But I don't. And she," he waved towards the rest of the hotel, putting his bride-to-be in the 'people' category. "She does. She needs the fanfare, the show. The dress. The band," he spat the last part as Hangman came into view and approached you both steadily. "Make sure I'm in my uniform. Make sure everyone knows who I am, what I do. My badges gleaming. It's 75 fuckin' degrees!"

"Rooster... Hayley is here and the guests are asking questions," Hangman said quietly. "Do you want me to go and say something?"

"What do I say?" Rooster retorted and Hangman was understandably speechless. "Just buy me some time."

Hangman nodded and made a very hasty exit.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked you. "I cannot get married, knowing you're here."

"I'm leaving. You'll never have to think of me again," you tried reassuring him. "Tom can cover the singing, he will find a believable cover for me in case Hayley asks questions. Just breathe, and try and have a good day."

"No," he shook his head, finally meeting your gaze. "No. Know that I know you're back? I can't - I don't - " Rooster struggled to get out and you stopped, desperately wanting to hold him - hating how angry he was at you, how much he despised you in this second. "I was madly in love with you, and you left me like I was fucking nothing to you. You broke my heart! I thought about following you every day for a year and you didn't call or text me once."

Panic washed over you a few moments later when you heard, "What do you mean, 'he's just getting some air', Jake?"

Tears streaming down your face now, you dropped your eyes. The situation was escalating much faster than you had the ability to process. Guilt-riddled and in a predicament you never thought imaginable but you weren't veiled in an invisible cloak of obscurity and people could see you both now. And just to Rooster's side in your eye view, a vision in white approached, her dress moving whimsically around her. She was beautiful, everything you'd ever imagined for him. Just spectacular.

"Fuck," he rubbed his face. His entire relationship was hanging by a moment and he hoped and prayed that you both couldn't make more of a mess of this than you'd done already.

"Bradley, sweetheart? What's going on, why aren't you inside?" she asked nervously. "Is something wrong?"

He had the balls to reply, "Baby, I don't think I'm supposed to see you yet," he kept his back to you, his eyes telling you not to make a goddamn sound. No problem, you had no interest in acquainting his fiancee.

Credit to her, Hayley wasn't buying what Rooster was selling and she stiffened. "Don't bullshit me. Why are you out here? Are you getting cold feet?"

Of course he is, you wanted to reply. Things like this weren't natural to Rooster... he hated being the centre of attention, he choose when and how he'd be put on display and you knew this just wasn't him. Eloping? Yes, you could see him eloping. On a beach, a sunset, some tropical island, a cocktail function later with a handful of people you'd bothered to invite - and just like that, those thoughts you'd pushed to the back of your mind years ago were bopping in your heavy brain again. All those dreams of when you thought you and Rooster would celebrate this day and you just wanted to be sick.

"I'm just nervous," he admitted, turning to face her, bad luck be damned (how could it all get worse though?). Even he had to admit, even at his worst, she looked absolutely stunning and she was right there... waiting for only him. "You look beautiful."

"Who is this?" she disregarded Rooster's terms of endearment.

"I was just getting some air, walking past," you kind of lie. Argh. Shut up, you told yourself. Let Rooster handle this. You glued your eyes to the decking below you, wishing it would disintegrate and you'd just disappear.

"No... you're the singer," Hayley realised.

You waved gingerly. "Hi."

"Hi," she broke into a small, relieved smile. "Baby, are you coming in?" she asked Rooster as he tensed.

"I will be right in," he said. And you didn't know how well Hayley knew him, but you know without seeing those soulful hazel eyes that this man was lying through his teeth.

"Hold on... Do you two, like, know each other or something?" She certainly wasn't buying anything, you gave her credit, she had learned the wiles of Bradley Bradshaw. She was smarter than you were giving her credit for.

"No," you both lied terribly. Hayley stepped back to gaze at you both in her focus. "Brad, is there something you need to tell me?" Ew, he hated being called Brad.

His resolve breaking, he introduced you only by name although you figured she'd know that, but different contexts now. "My ex."

"Your ex-girlfriend?" Hayley asked as so calmly that it cooled your blood.

"Yes," he replied numbly.

"Oh, my God," she said softly. "The wedding singer?" she asked incredulously. "How the fuck could I have been so goddamn stupid?"

Right?

"Did you do this on purpose? Not tell me?" she suddenly flared up, the accusation in her voice rising as she closed in on Rooster.

"No, I didn't," he answered. "Trust me... there is nothing I would have wanted less. Believe me, when I tell you I simply did not know. You were pleased with the band, frankly, that's all I needed to hear. You've done all this yourself..." he rambled. But Rooster's eyes changed. You had only seen this rage once or twice, not including today, but his ability to keep his rage in tact had always been a slight downfall of his. Oh dear, you hated when Rooster smartened up because reason had found him and good things never happened when Rooster let the beast out. "Because like everything in this wedding, it's been what you wanted. If you wanted the band, you were just going to get the band anyway,” his tone must have stung his bride-to-be because the wave of bitterness hit you like a little ton of bricks.

Oh, that didn't help the situation, you thought, turning to try and leave. "Don't you go anywhere," Hayley hissed.

"This is between you two - " you tried.

"True. But you've always been there," Hayley said evenly, moving past Rooster to approach you. "Always like a shadow in the background. When I met Bradley, he made it no secret he had been hurt before and that he needed someone who he could trust fully. And that is me."

"I don't deny that," you admitted.

"You destroyed him."

And while it hurt to hear Rooster say, it felt a shit tonne worse to hear someone you didn't know say it so explicitly.

"I brought him back to life, my family adore him, only for you to come back today. How could I be so goddamn stupid? It's like I practically invited you to wreck our day," she paused to retrieve her gorgeous heel from where it was caught between the wooden planks through the layers of sheer fabric.

"I swear, I'm not here to ruin anything. I didn't know Rooster was getting married today."

Hayley gave a bold, mocking shrug. "Well, I guess now you do."

"Okay," you said, your nerves shot, you'd had enough. "You two are a mess. Clearly, the issues between you are way bigger than me. I've tried to be polite to now, but fuck it. Hayley, Rooster, good fucking luck to you both if you manage to get yourselves married today. You clearly belong to each other. I don't need this shit. Goodbye, good fucking riddance. Your dress is lovely, by the way," you told her quickly, it really was, as was the woman who wore it before her, as you desperately held back the bird and walked away.

"It's Rooster's mom's dress," she replied after you and you slowed to look to Rooster as his eyes dropped. He gave you credit, you knew exactly what Hayley was wearing and commended you for keeping your trap closed.

"This is Carol's dress?" you played up for him and him only but he didn't reply. He knew you were just trying to poke the bear.

"You knew her?" Hayley asked.

"Yeah, I grew up down the street from Rooster." You stopped yourself before you told her she let you dress up in it all the time as a child, it was your dress well before it was ever hers. That would certainly have been the final nail in the coffin of an awful, terrible day.

"So this was probably supposed to be your dress too," Hayley exploded, face red with rage. "Jesus, get me out of this place. Get me out of this shitty dress," she turned, and for the first time, you noticed a couple of dozen people around you, bearing witness to what was embarrassing to you... was probably a helluva lot worse to Rooster and Hayley. "And get me the hell away from him."

It took hours for you to stop thinking about the horrors of the previous day. The last time you checked the clock was about 2am and the alcohol in your system had helped you finally pass out, amidst the misery of your bedroom spinning and thoughts of lost love tearing you apart.

Hearing an incessant knock at whatever time it was frightened you as you noted the time on your phone. 4:30am, it blared as you sighed and reached for your UVA hoodie. "Good Lord," you muttered as the knocking continued. You shuffled down the hallway to the door, telling whoever it was to calm the fuck down. Opening the door to Rooster, maybe you weren't entirely surprised, but a little alarmed as he almost fell through the doorway. "Woah," you tried to help and pushed him upright.

He was still in his suit nix the jacket, the collar undone, his curls unruly and his face flushed from booze and frustration.

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly.

All you could ask was, "You lost?"

"Must be," Rooster replied, exhausted as he slumped against the doorframe, chewing his lip. "She, uhh... she thought it was best we not get married... today," he mumbled.

"Oh, Rooster - " you said, eyes welling as your heart broke for him.

"Or ever," he drawled.

"I'm so sor - "

"Yeah, I know. You're sorry. The sorriest you've ever been," he said meekly. "You know, I didn't even realise this was still your place. I just assumed you got rid of the lease when you left," he rambled. "Lucky guess, huh? Could have really pissed someone off if this wasn't your place," he snorted.

Failing to see the funny side, you replied, "I sub-let. What are you doing here?"

He inhaled sharply. "Nowhere else to go. Penny had to close the bar at some point. Can't go to Hayley's. Too embarrassed to show my fuckin' face on base."

”Come in, Roost,” you took his clammy hand in yours, guiding him into the apartment, and he followed numbly. "Drink?"

”Least you can do,” he said, voice terse. "I drive past here to our - Hayley's place - all the goddamn time and always see the light on. Now I know you were there, just living your life..." he stopped at a photo of you and Pheonix at the zoo one day, grinning and giggling, both gorgeous and sun-kissed. "She knows you're back, right?"

"She's known a while," you confirmed. Pheonix had seen the whole showdown between yourselves and Hayley and followed you home, damning any nuptials Rooster and Hayley may have had. She brought over the first 2 bottles of wine you shared to drown your sorrows together - a true friend.

"Can't believe she kept it from me." You knew it must have hurt him to learn his close friend keeping such a big secret from him.

"I asked her to keep quiet."

"She did a good job. She didn't know you were working yesterday?"

"Not your wedding," you sniped. "This isn't about her, Rooster. Please don't drag her into it."

"No, no," he agreed calmly. "You're right. I'm just wracking my brain, right?" he drawled. "How have we not bumped into each other? This is a small town."

"I'm not dumb enough to go where you frequent, Rooster," you rolled your eyes. Seemed fairly obvious to you.“Take a seat,” you instructed with a sigh as he meandered into the living room. It looked the same as when he spent every waking minute there. You went to the cabinet and collected a tumbler, a double shot of whiskey. You knew he’d already been drinking but this poor bastard… you helped ruined his life today.

Wandering back to him slowly, you watched him sit in his old spot and look up at you. “I don’t know why I’m here. I shouldn't have come to see you,” he accepted the glass and sipped, easing back and rubbing his face. “Hayley put me back together and you walk back into my life for five minutes and destroy it all again.”

Wasn't getting any easier to hear.

“I can’t believe this has happened,” he put his face in his hands before looking back up with an incredulous smile, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves half up his forearms. You didn't like that smile.

”I don't know what you want me to say, Roost.”

”Stop calling me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore," he warned, there was no humour in his tone.

“Okay. I'm kind of fucking sick of talking anyway,” you sighed, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table before him. He was wretched and still as beautiful in his way. Maybe as handsome as before. The boyish innocence was gone though, and there was a man about to start his life over again. The guilt was swallowing you whole.

“Hayley's a good girl. She cares about me, she loves me,” he looked up and was simply defeated, you wanted to hold him desperately and fought every urge not to do so. “I’ve never been more embarrassed. Having to tell everyone that there wasn’t going to be a wedding today. Thought her old man would put his fist through my teeth. But I maintain that I didn’t do anything wrong."

"You didn't," you reassured him. It was on you both.

"And here I am anyway," he reasoned with his demons and continued to internalise.

Answering would only end up with a barrage of pain and insults so you stayed quiet. Rooster leaned forward, sipping the amber liquid just like he had a million times before in the same seat he found so much comfort. His eyes started from above your messy hair, they softened when he met your eyes. “And you haven’t changed a bit. Just as beautiful as the day I dropped you at LAX, with your dreams that were bigger than me and fuckin’ suitcase. I looked you up Fleet Week last year,” he confided. “I saw you had a show in Brooklyn and I was gonna come see you, make sure you were okay. Just to see with my own two eyes that you were okay in the big city without me."

"Did you come?" your eyes were trained to stay with his, but the pain dripped from his eyes unbearably.

He shook his head, but after all the booze he'd consumed, it was just a messy roll of his head. "I thought it best I didn't."

"I would have loved to have seen you."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you would have. Whipped into a frenzy of old memories before you up and left again like I was fuckin' nothing to you."

"Do you have a single thing to say to me that isn't in the shape of an insult? Because I'm kind of done with this today. You can leave if you don't have anything constructive to add," you muttered, eyes watery. His face softened as he scooted closer to the coffee table, legs wide and he grabbed your ankles and dragged you closer to him, his palms grasping the hoodie for dear life. You were clinging to each other and it was killing you at the same time. The word vomit spilled from your lips before you could stop your, restraint failing in his close proximity. "When I left... I didn't call or text you, Rooster, because I knew the second I heard your voice, I'd be on the first plane back home, begging you to take me back. Begging you forgive me and my fucking ego. Thinking that I had a chance to ever make it."

He sighed, gently wiping a tear away with his thumb. "You deserve all the success in the world, sweetheart. You took your chance. It took me a long time to understand that. I guess I thought that maybe one day you'd come back to me... but I couldn't expect you to stay here while I was gone for weeks and months on end. I was a selfish asshole too."

True.

You stayed silent for a while, happy to study him, reaching to touch the scar that ran across his Adam's apple. It bobbed under your touch and Rooster swallowed hard. "Please don't touch me," he begged. "I will lose all resolve."

But you ignored him as your finger continued tracing the others that ran scant on his chin and the left side of his jaw. You knew what the sensation did to him, and it wasn't the intent to drive him crazy, but the temptation of him so close was starting to affect your mind and body. "Did she love these as I did?" you dared ask; and your heart raced as his eyes fluttered closed, his cheek falling lightly into your palm. "Cherish every blemish because she knew what you went through to get them?" you continued, your thumb padding his bottom lip as his breath hitched.

"Please, stop," his tired eyes half-lidded. A mix of lust and drunk... on you. His phone sounded abruptly, interrupting the revelry. You looked down, saw the callsign and dropped your touch as he sighed. You picked up his phone and he didn't stop you.

"It's okay, Mav. I've got him."

"Thank Christ," Pete sighed. You were hearing his voice for the first time in years. "I thought he'd done something stupid."

"He has. He's with me," you told him. A small chuckle replied you and the line went dead.

"Why did Mav call?" you asked. Rooster and Mav's long-running feud saddened you.

"Long story," he sighed. As long as he had Maverick back in his life, you hoped Rooster was a little less lonely.

"Does everyone hate me?"

"Naw," Rooster said softly. "Worse, they miss you. When Hangman told me you were here today, he felt like he'd seen a ghost. Like someone was playing a practical joke on him," he bit back a laugh, a half-smile gracing his features and he relinquished your touch, falling back into the couch. "I get the ghost bit though."

"I'm here, Rooster."

"Yup. In my UVA sweater that you never gave back," he licked his lips, dragging in a deep breath.

"I love this sweater," you admitted, bringing the collar to snuggle into your face. And it was all I had left of you after I walked away from you.

"Always looked better on you anyway," he gave a slow chuckle.

"Roost?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, easing back into the couch, his eyes closed as he nursed the whiskey to his lips. He took a slow sip and raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain his attention but the alcohol had taken over, the heat of the moment had gone with Mav's call and you were both back to your corners, preparing for the next round. Deciding against telling him how much you missed him and were happy to see him, even in the day's circumstances, you told him to put the glass on the table and lay down. You'd get him a blanket and pillow so he could finally give in to the sleep that was beckoning him. "You're probably right."

"I'll be right back," you told him, getting off the coffee table and walking slowly to your room, finally able to breathe. Realising that since you opened the front door, it was like someone was standing on your chest. Rooster was back in your life in a way that you'd never expected. But he was back and it was like you'd never found the courage to leave him. You had no idea how you'd be able to get over him this time.

Finding a blanket in the cupboard and a pillow from your bed, you wandered back down the hall to find him exactly how you'd guided him, snuggled into the cushions on his side and already asleep. Not surprisingly, the adrenaline had to wane at some point. You took a mental picture of how sweet and relaxed he looked for the first time today and lightly covered him with the blanket before you went back to your bed. But there was no way you could sleep again, not with him just a room away. Checking your phone, you went to his number and unblocked it, littered with all the texts you never saw when you left. Hundreds. A lot that he missed you, did you miss him? Can I visit? Are you coming home for the holidays?

Then nothing for a year. Finally... the last one, six months ago:

I'm getting married.

And there it was. "Shit," you bemoaned, realising how easily avoidable today was in hindsight. But also? How relieved you were now you had Rooster back in your life. What does that look like? You didn't know. But he was mere feet away and you would be patient to find out. As long as you could find a way to be near him, laugh with him again, it would be enough.

He was an enigma to you now. So close, yet so far. For three years, you tried your best to pretend that Bradley Bradshaw didn't exist and in a single moment, he came back screaming into focus. He still looked every bit as handsome as you'd remembered, even the moustache, new for you, surprisingly wasn't a dealbreaker, just so masculine. He was definitely in better shape, losing the last of the puppy fat that you always adored but Hayley had reaped the benefits. But his voice... oh, God, his voice, even when angry at you could still bring you to your knees. The gravelly rumble was still delightfully laced with honey, maybe deeper now with age.

Convinced the last three years were a mistake, you put your head in your hands and cried for all the failures, but also for the strength you had to walk away from a man you were so terribly in love with the try and see if you could make it without him. Maybe you could have, but the universe had other plans for you both. Not knowing what else to do, you picked up your phone and texted Natasha.

You: He's here and I don't know what to do

You weren't surprised when you saw the little dots indicating she was texting right back to you. "Just don't tell him you're still in love with him. Not yet. Do you want me to come and get him?"

You: No, he's passed out in the living room atm. Why are you up?

Pheonix: Left sound on my phone in case R texted or whatever. Kind of expected the worst tonight tbh

Pheonix: You know he's in love with you. But you can't rush this. You know what's coming: good things. But now you have to adjust to being in each other's lives again 🫣

You: Bullshit logic. Hate fucking could be amazing 🥵

Pheonix: But you don't hate each other. That is why you found it so easy to hurt each other today...

You: Deep 🫡

Phoenix: Try and get some sleep. But don't be surprised if he's not there when you wake up.

You were more surprised when you saw him at the door to your room when you woke up, still in what he wore last night, but barefoot. Stretching and hangover in full effect, your eyes raw and like sandpaper, you tried to look like a functional human adult as he gave a half-smile. "I made coffee," he said. "But you didn't have any sweetener," he nodded to the cup on the bedside table he'd left before you rose.

"Thank you," you smiled appreciatively, taking the warm mug into your palms and letting the aroma envelope you. "I don't take sugar anymore," you admitted after all the years he tried to get you to quit it.

"Imagine that," he said, amused at the development.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he admitted. "Head killing me, body feels like it's been ejected about two hundred times."

You stayed quiet. You didn't need to talk about that kind of stuff this morning.

He remained in place, very good after years of being told to stay to do it exactly. He was scared to cross the threshold to your bedroom, but you didn't want him to approach either. You'd be a lost cause if he took another single step. "I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday."

"What, like your horrible ex-girlfriend wrecked the biggest day of your life?" you slowly sat up. Thinking about it, you added, "Honestly, how were you supposed to act?"

"Better," he told you and it quietened you. He didn't want your apologies, he was taking ownership of the situation and you were so proud of him. "I know better. I was a dick, and I hate how I treated you - both of you."

"I accept that. But you don't have to apologise. It was a lot," you tried to reassure him, but it was his redemption hour and he was on his box.

"You didn't mess it up. I did," he sighed and sat down, stretching his lean legs out as he leaned against the doorframe. "I never wanted to get married - I just thought it was the logical next step, you know? I was spiralling and you were the one there that took the brunt of it."

"I shouldn't have come. I will do better research next time about who I'm singing for," you pledged (and would continue to do so).

"Hayley wanted you there. She didn't know."

"Well, now she does."

"And so does everyone on the Island," he rubbed the back of his neck, tensing, his lips in a tight line. "I thought marrying her was the right thing. I'm not getting younger."

"Yeah, how old are you now? Like 63 or something?" you teased the two-year age difference between you.

"Knock it off, I'm not dead yet," he rolled his eyes. "We're not spring chickens anymore. What are we doing with our lives?"

"Clearly making messes of them."

He actually laughed, a hearty, raspy, oh-so fucking sexy Rooster laugh. "I said knock it off. You're such a pain in the ass."

"Hey."

He hummed in reply, sipping his coffee, and looking at you over the rim of the mug.

"It's not like you do to do what's expected of you, Roost."

"Mav said the same thing," he said, quietly.

"I'm so glad you two cleared the air. Whatever happened was worth it," you told him honestly. "You need him and he needs you. You're family."

He shrugged, nonchalant. "Only took half-killing us, though," he bit his lip, knowing you would ask what the fuck he was talking about.

"WHAT?" you howled.

And he proceeded to tell you the story about the squad and their near-brush-with-death mission. And even though he made it out relatively safely in the end, you kind of wanted to kill him yourself. And Mav, for what it was worth. "Oh, my God," you said, eyes watering, body shaking by the end of it. And although you knew you shouldn't have, you bolted from the bed into him, crushed against his chest, openly wailing that you could have lost him and you would have been no better for it if Natasha had to tell you as such.

A gentle 'oof' escaped his lips as your force made contact with his torso and he smiled. "It's okay, it's okay," he said softly, patting your back tenderly. "I'm still here and making terrible life choices."

"It was a fucking one-way ticket to your grave, you idiot! I am not even surprised with Mav."

Rooster chuckled quietly. "It's okay, really. He saved us."

"You're both idiots," you conceded.

He gently pulled you back and wiped away the tears from your face. "Oh, darling. I lived to tell the tale. Don't live in the past," he whispered the latter part. "Or at least that's what my shrink says," he adjusted your posture and sat you across his lap - close, intimate and forcing you to face your demons head-on. "God, you beautiful disaster," he teased, a gentle laugh escaping his lips and he combed his long fingers through your hair lightly, tangling in your hair as they did so many moons ago, gently calming you. "Did you mean what you said last night? About if Hayley loved me like you did - "

Hiding your eyes, you played with his collar instead. "Can we not?"

He ignored you. "No one has ever loved me like you," he said softly, terribly nervous again. "I've been through some shit. But losing you was the worst thing I've ever been through as an adult. It took me a long time to learn that I pinned too many things to us; a home, a family, a life. Then you were gone and I was debilitated. But now you're back, I'm not expecting anything. I know I'm a mess too. But if - after..." he tried, stumbling over his words and holding your chin to meet his gaze. "I just want to be your friend. Just to be in your life, that will be enough for me."

Thought it killed you to say, you told him, "Things are complicated now. More than they ever were before."

"I know," he nodded. "We're older. No one said wiser." Swallowing, he continued, "Tell me this is all in my head, and I will believe you," he said confidently.

"It's not in your head," you told him delicately. "I have missed you every day since I left. Leaving was the stupidest thing I ever did. And I regret it every minute. But you have a lot of stuff to clean up... and I'm not sure I should be there for that. You need to see Hayley and apologise and sort your life out. I don't need to overcomplicate or distract you."

"But you're such a good distraction," he mewled, he thumbed your cheeks in his rough warm palms. His eyes tested you, dared you to look away.

"Don't," you warned again. You were waning though, and he knew it better than you did. He was watching you keenly, just waiting for his chance. You brought yourself here, he'd remind you, just like you used to. A position like this was never romantic, it always led to a certain wildness in you both -

"To be honest," he said. "If Jake didn't see you yesterday... we wouldn't be here."

"So we thank Bagman?!" you asked incredulously as Rooster laughed heartily, his head lolling back and resting against the doorframe and it was absolute bliss - god, you'd missed that breathy tinkle of joy and you sighed, able to fight just a moment more to keep him serious.

He relaxed and his eyes dropped, nodding. "Yeah, okay. You're right."

"Bradley," jolted back to your gaze by his name on your lips, you added. "I am so in love with you. I've always been in love with you. I'll wait for whenever this all works out for us."

"I know," he nodded, a glimmer of hope returning to his handsome features, he leaned forward and kissed you, just once, just chaste, just to test the waters. He inhaled, evening his breath - how lucky for him considering you'd stopped breathing somewhere in the conversation.

"Don't start, I swear. I'll be a lost cause if you kiss me," you begged, your fists clutching his collar and your knuckles turning white, taunting you just like you had the night before when you reminded him how you knew every devastating scar on his skin. You loved and moved each other in a way no one would ever understand.

"Don't start what?" he whispered, moving your hair from your face to trace the rim of your ear with his steady finger. A tactile asshole when he wanted to be, the use of his hands was his love language and he was going straight for the jugular. He knew every nuance of your body and mind and it left you brutally exposed for defeat.

"Rooster," you warned. "Don't."

He laughed quietly, your tone betraying you - not force, just accepting your fate and you'd lost. "I'm not doing anything," in his other palm, he gripped your wrist and brought it to his lips, the bristles of his moustache as he placed a tender kiss on your pulse. "It's racing," he tormented you. Goddamn heartbeat selling you out. It raced like a hummingbird when you were in his presence. It never changed. Its effect on you still pushed you to the absolute brink and made your head spin. "Just say the word and I'll stop."

But the words were lost as you moved to your knees and brought his face to yours. He adjusted his legs, allowing you more room and his face remained passive, daring you to say no. But as in most instances with him, the words were lost only to the actions.

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

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