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"I need you to be my date to a wedding."
Bradley chokes on his beer. It takes a second, but when he's finally able to breathe, he stares up at Jake Seresin, confused. "What?"
Jake rolls his eyes, sighs like Bradley is being unreasonable. "I need you to be my date to a wedding," he repeats slowly, like Bradley's an idiot.
Bradley narrows his eyes at him, trying to figure out if this is one of Seresin's infamous pranks. "Not interested."
Jake huffs, sits opposite him. They stare at each other, and Bradley realises Jake isn't joking. "You're serious."
Jake leans back in his seat, steals Bradley's beer and takes a sip even as Bradley protests and tries to steal it back.
"You gonna give me an answer, Rooster?"
He's still trying to process the request. "You hate me," he reminds him.
"I do," Jake agrees casually, "so?"
"So-?” he asks incredulously, “are you out of your mind?!"
"Probably," is Jake's quick response, taking yet another sip of Bradley's drink. Jake's eyes are two pools of green, and frustrating emptiness. "So, you'll do it."
It should be a question. It's not.
This only serves to aggravate Bradley even more.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow," Jake informs him, after a lengthy silence which Jake obviously takes as agreement but is actually Bradley's brain unable to process the sheer audacity of Jake assuming he can just come here and tell Bradley what to do. "Pack for a week, and there better be none of those ugly Hawaiian shirts of yours."
He plans on saying no. "What do I get out of it?" he says instead, because he's an idiot, and he's tipsy.
Jake blinks at him. "What?"
"You heard me," Rooster says as he leans back into his chair, "what do I get out of it?"
"Free vacation," he starts, leaning forward, "free food, and- best of all-“ he spreads his arms, lips spreading in an infuriating grin “my company."
Bradley shakes his head as he takes a sip of his beer. "You almost had me with those first two, but that last one..."
Jake rolls his eyes. "I won't mock your flying for a whole month."
Bradley considers it. "Three."
"Two," Jake counters immediately.
Bradley pretends to thinks about it.
"Great!" Jake says with a too wide smile, hopping out of the booth without waiting for a confirmation. "See you in a couple weeks, Bradshaw."
Bradley can only watch as he turns on his heels and walks away.
He's not going.
"I'm not going, Nat!"
"Uh-huh."
He glares at her. "Aren't you supposed to be my best friend?"
"I am your best friend," she tells him, "which is how I know you're going with him to that wedding."
"I am not going!"
Just a day later, Bradley finds himself packing. He's angry at himself for being so predictable, and more so for not being able to say no to Jake fucking Seresin.
His phone chirps with the sound of a text.
Ten hours.
🖕
Roo, that hurts my feelings.
He scoffs.
He grabs a shirt off the rack, hesitates.
there better be none of those ugly shirts of yours, he remembers Jake saying and just to spite him, he packs not one, not two, but three of his brightest, ugliest Hawaiian shirts.
Jake's waiting for him outside his house, leaning against his car. Legs crossed, sunglasses on, hair perfectly styled, shirt tight and jeans hugging his thighs like they're painted on. He looks like he just stepped out of the cover of a magazine, and it only pisses Bradley off because it's 5 am and no one should look this good.
He breezes past him.
"Good morning to you, too, Rooster."
He ignores him, puts his bag in the back, then opens the passenger door and gets in. Jake pushes off the car and makes his way over to the other side.
"I got you coffee," he tells him, starting the car.
He eyes the cup dubiously.
Jake rolls his eyes. "I didn't poison it, Bradshaw."
Bradley still doesn't pick it up.
"Fine," Jake snaps, then seems to catch himself and smiles like he’s got no care in the world, "more coffee for me."
Bradley picks up the cup before the other man can. He takes a sip and nearly chokes on it. He looks from the cup to Jake.
Jake turns his head to take a quick look at him, one eyebrow raised.
"How did you know how I take my coffee?"
Jake shrugs.
Bradley purses his lips, doesn't say another thing the entire drive to the airport.
He does drink his coffee though.
They get to the airport a little earlier than intended, and in wordless agreement, they separate, each going in a different direction. Bradley wanders around, picks up a couple of books, one he's been wanting to read for a while now and one he thinks Jake will like, but only buys the one for him.
He walks out of the book store and into a small cafe, buys them both breakfast because it's only fair since Jake bought the coffee.
When he gets back to the spot they agreed to circle back to, Jake's on the phone, his back to Bradley. He's tense.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Stef?- yeah, I know, I know it's gonna piss him off, why do you think I'm doing it?"
Bradley stops in his tracks, torn between wanting to listen to more of this, or letting Jake know he's there. In the end, Jake decides for him.
"You think I'm not tired of him treating me like shit? I-" he turns, and their eyes meet. Bradley holds up the brown bags he got, and Jake nods. "Stef, I have to go," he says. He listens to whatever this person has to say, and his face softens slightly. "Love you, too."
They eat their breakfast silently, Bradley trying to resist the urge to ask about the phone call, and Jake staring off into the distance like he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The flight is mostly uneventful, and thankfully smooth. The seats beside them, on the other side of aisle, are occupied by two adults and a child, who's currently in his mother's lap, screaming his head off.
Bradley winces, feels a twinge of annoyance, followed by guilt.
Jake, on the other hand, turns around and sticks his tongue out at the kid. The boy's breath hitches, he stares at Jake like he's torn between wanting to go back to screaming his head off or retaliating.
Ten seconds later, he's playing peek a boo with a one year old, and Bradley can't take his eyes off of him.
Jake entertains the boy for a few more minutes, sits back casually when the kid yawns and leans back against his mother's chest. The woman is relieved, and very thankful. It’s annoying and even more so when Jake waves her off bashfully, because in what world is Jake Seresin bashful?
When Charlie manages to fall asleep, his mother turns to face Jake. "Thank you so much," she rushes out. Bradley resists the urge to remind her that she’s already said that. "My husband's usually the one who manages to distract him on flights, but he's just had a surgery and-" she cuts herself off, blushing, "sorry, you don't wanna hear that- just, thank you so much for helping."
Jake smiles brightly, Bradley can heair it in his words. "I should be thanking the kid for helping me kill some time."
"You mean I should be thanking him for taking you off my hands," Bradley says quietly, but the woman hears it and lets out a laugh. Jake turns to him, eyes narrowed.
"What's that supposed to mean? I'm a delight."
"Sure you are."
"Ignore him," Jake tells her, "he gets cranky when he's not the one flying the plane."
"Oh, are you two pilots?!"
Jake beams at her. "Yes, ma'am," he replies, all southern charm, and they start up a conversation about their jobs.
Bradley sits back, doesn't say much. He just watches Jake.
There's no one waiting for them at the airport.
"No one's coming to pick us up?"
"Nope," he tells him cheerfully, "we're taking a cab."
Bradley finds it weird, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut and follows Jake.
"We're in the same room?!" Bradley manages to get out through his gritted teeth as he drags Hangman to the side. They get weird looks from one of Jake's cousins, who's been eying Bradley suspiciously since Jake introduced them, and both smile at her. "Why the hell would you think that's a good idea?"
Jake subtly shakes his grip off once she turns her back to them. He's still smiling though. Bradley wants to wring his neck. "Maybe because my whole family's here, and it would look suspicious if we were in separate rooms when we're supposed to be dating."
Bradley scoffs, tightens his grip on the strap of his duffel.
When they get to the room, Jake immediately heads for the bathroom.
Bradley sits on the bed and silently fumes.
When the other man emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, clad in nothing but a towel, all thoughts evaporate and the only thing left is a foggy haze of desire.
Bradley swallows.
Jake looks up, smirks. "See something you like, Roo?"
Yes. "Get over yourself, get dressed and sit your ass down because you and I are gonna talk."
Jake smirks, drawls out, "yes, sir" just before he drops the towel.
Predictably, they don't talk.
Not until after a very awkward lunch with Jake's family during which Bradley tries his best to fly under the radar and stuff his face with food to hopefully keep anyone from engaging him in any type of conversation.
Jake is a different person around them, quieter, more serious. His sense of humour isn't affected, though, and neither is his ability to hit right where it hurts. He's just kind of muted.
Bradley's curious, despite his best effort not to be, and so he watches him, picks up on the tension between Jake, his brother, and his soon to be sister in law. The obvious apathy between him and his father.
It's a relief when Jake stands up, excusing them from staying beyond the 30 minutes they'd agreed to, and offers Bradley a hand.
Jake's mother smiles at them, so does his brother. His father just looks away.
Jake doesn't seem to be bothered by it at all.
"We'll see you guys on the beach?" Jake's sister in law, Melody, calls after them.
"Sure," Jake responds, not bothering to turn around.
Yeah, Bradley thinks, there's definitely something going on here.
Bradley wears a red shirt with a beige and green print of leaves on it, khaki shorts, and white sneakers. He's supposed to meet Jake and the rest of the wedding party on the beach in half an hour, so he takes the time to find a good spot to sit and unwind.
He grabs a plastic chair, sits on it and just- looks out at the ocean. It's peaceful, and some part of him is happy Jake chose him to be his fake date- he hadn't known how much he really needed a vacation until this very moment.
He hears Jake before he sees him, arguing loudly, and then laughing at whatever the other guy's response is. Bradley looks to the side, spots him easily, and watches him as he makes his way closer. Jake's head is swivelling left and right, and Bradley realises just as their eyes meet that he's been looking for him.
He lifts his hand up, waves just once. Jake does the same, walking over with a group of eight people.
"Hey, sweetheart," Jake greets him. He puts on hand on the back of the chair, the other on the arm, and leans down to kiss him. They'd had a very awkward, very brief conversation about the dos and don'ts of this fake dating thing. First off, kissing is allowed, but nothing that lasts more than three seconds, and no tongue. Hugging is acceptable, but not preferable, and so is hand holding.
It's a good system, Bradley thinks, and tries not to lose himself in the kiss. He also doesn't think too much about the fact that he almost doesn't want him to pull away. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Melody, soon-to-be- sister in law, look away.
Interesting.
"Hi. You're late," he mutters, just to piss him off.
"You're early," Jake counters. He takes Bradley's hand in his, tugs him up. "Come on," he says as he all but drags him out of the chair when Bradley isn't fast enough for his liking. He stumbles into him, steadies himself by putting both hands on Jake's shoulders and they end up standing there chest to chest. Bradley's heart starts beating erratically, so he puts some distance between them, without letting go of his hand.
Jake's hand in his is warm, and when he lets go a few seconds later, Bradley privately mourns the loss of his warmth.
.
.
They share a bed.
The sofa in the room is stiff and uncomfortable and half their height, so they share the bed and they don't talk about it.
It's not the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when he's right on the edge of the mattress, not wanting to take up too much space, while Jake practically hogs the bed.
The other man is asleep before his head hits the pillow, while Bradley tosses and turns.
Two hours later, he’s still awake and there's a shuffle, a rustle of sheets and then Jake's turning. He's curled up, facing Bradley, and he looks so peaceful that he feels himself soften.
Bradley scowls.
Bastard.
.
Bradley wakes up sweating and wrapped in Jake's arms. It's comfortable, he realizes bitterly, and has to force himself to move away from him instead of burrowing closer.
Bradley has been to exactly two weddings in his life, and neither of them was a destination wedding, so he's feeling a little awkward.
Jake's a natural, faking sunny smiles and greeting people left and right. He's always touching Bradley, who's about ready to combust.
Fast forward an hour into the rehearsal dinner, and he's this close to jumping off the cliff and into the ocean just to escape the sheer amount of passive-aggressiveness this family seems capable of.
"So, Bradley," Jake's aunt starts, red lips stretched wide in a shark-like smile he's all too familiar with. He swallows thickly, and her eyes follow the movement. "How did you and Jake meet?"
He panics. He and Jake hadn't agreed on a story, and he curses their stupidity as he tries to think of an answer.
She raises an eyebrow, and he settles for the truth.
"Flight school, ma'am."
She waves him off, "Sophia, please."
Bradley nods.
"Was it love at first sight?"
He snorts. "No offense, but your nephew never leaves a good first impression."
She laughs too loudly, and for far too long, drawing the attention of everyone at their table- which means Jake's entire family.
Bradley folds in on himself, praying for the ground to swallow him whole.
It doesn't.
"What's so funny?" Dean, Jake’s father, asks, unamused, and Sophia recounts what Bradley said. Word for word.
Jake, who was with his mother making the rounds, catches the tail end of the conversation and clutches his shirt, right where his heart is, in mock hurt. "Roo, I thought you loved me."
His heart skips a beat. "I do," he protests, breath stuttering, "the you I met four years ago, though? Not so much."
Jake's aunt turns to him sharply. "Roo?"
"Short for Rooster- my call sign," he explains shortly, "it's a navy thing."
"And what's Jake's?"
Bradley hesitates.
"Hangman," Jake answers for him. It sounds like a challenge.
"Why hangman?" His brother pipes up, curious and hesitant.
"'cause I always hang people out to dry, big brother," he answers, quoting Nat- and probably many people before her- word for word. It makes him ache, for some inexplicable reason.
Melody snorts. "They sure have you pegged, Jakey."
"Whoah, Melody," Jake exclaims, "that's something dear old dad would say if he actually talked to me," he says pointedly, "have you been spending too much time with the old man?" He looks from her to his father, then back to her. "Looking to downgrade again?" It's pointed and a little mean, and everyone within earshot goes quiet. There are varying reactions, Bradley realizes, ranging from anger to resentment to embarrassment. Bradley and Jake's uncle, Vernon, are the only two who seem stunned by the implication of Jake's words.
His brother flinches. Melody turns beet red. His father slams his hand on the table.
"That's enough," the older man grits out, "if this is how you're going to be, then you best be on your way, boy."
Jake stands up immediately, nearly knocking his chair back. He's smiling like the cat that got the canary. "It would be my pleasure," the huge smile on his face is only betrayed by the way he glances hesitantly down at Bradley, unsure. As if he’s going to stay after all of that, as if he wouldn't follow him anywhere.
Bradley stands up, offers Jake his hand.
Jake takes it gratefully, after a second of hesitation.
They take a step away from the table, and Bradley hears a murmur of what sounds like, "good riddance," from his father and Melody responding with "hear, hear," and he's filled with so much anger that he stops in his tracks and lets go of Jake's hand in order to stalk back to their table. "I'm not a morning person, I'm always the last one up, and-"
"Is there a point to this?" Melody asks mockingly.
"Yeah,” he uses the same tone, glaring at her, “the point is- the nicknames mean jack shit," he grits out. "He doesn't leave people hanging, not when it counts."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because I wouldn't be here if he did."
"You didn't have to do that."
Bradley turns his head lazily, looks at him questioningly, "do what?"
Jake shrugs, uncomfortable. "Defend me. I don't care what they think about me."
"Yeah, you do," he counters, raises an eyebrow at the sharp look he receives. "What? You do!"
"I try not to."
That, he believes.
"You and Melody; what's the story there?"
Jake shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."
Bradley wants to shake him until all his secrets spill out of him one by one.
"Come on, you have to tell me," he needles him, and Jake sighs.
"Not much to say, really. I loved her, at some point, but I wasn't enough, and I was away too long, so she fell in love with my brother and they’re getting married in about two days. The end."
"That..." Bradley trails off, speechless, "it's extremely fucked up, you know that, right?"
He shrugs. "It is what it is."
"You still love her?"
Jake looks over at him, stares for a little while longer than is strictly necessary, then looks away, shaking his head. "No, Bradshaw," he sighs, "I'm not still in love with her."
There's a beat of silence, before Bradley speaks again.
"Why am I here, Hangman?" he doesn't want to burst their bubble, but he also really needs to know why he chose him, when he could have gone with anyone else.
Jake blinks at him, shrugs. "I don't know, Rooster, why are you here?"
He closes his eyes, tips his head back. "You seriously gonna do this, man?"
"I'm not doing anything, Roo," he protests, and Bradley knows it would be so easy to let this go, to sweep it under the rug along with every conversation that ever mattered.
He shouldn't push, and yet- "you dragged me out here with no explanation, and this is all I get?"
"I didn't drag you out here," he protests, rolling his eyes, "I asked you to come, you agreed."
Bradley scoffs, can practically feel his blood boiling. "You didn't even really ask-"
"And you still came," Jake exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath. "I don't know what you want from me here, man."
"The truth, why am I here when you could’ve brought anyone else?"
"Because I told you to come with me and you did," he bites out.
"For once in your life," Bradley grits out, "be honest with me."
"Why does it matter?"
"Why," he repeats, "me?"
"Because you're the only one I can-" he cuts himself off, looks away.
"I'm the only one you can what?"
Silence.
"Oh come on, don't get shy on me now, Hangman," he needles him.
"You're already here," he exclaims, standing up, "why can't you just let it go?"
.
They spend the rest of the night ignoring each other like their lives depends on it. Then it's time for bed, and though he thought it wasn't possible, the atmosphere is somehow more suffocating, and the silence is louder than ever.
"You don't get to be upset with me for wanting the truth, Seresin," he tells him quietly, words soft.
A hitched breath, then- "I know."
"Are we good?"
Jake turns to him, eyes shining in the darkness. Bradley can just make out the outline of his messy hair, his sharp jawline.
"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake says, turning away, "we're good."
.
"Melody apologized," Jake tells him softly the next day. "Riley did too."
Bradley puts the remote down and walks over. He sits on the bed, leaving a careful distance between them. "Is that a good thing?"
Jake shrugs. "Does it matter? They apologized, I'm not gonna hold a grudge."
I am, Bradley thinks immediately but doesn't say.
"So that's it? You forgive them?"
"Of course not," he scoffs, "I'm just going to pretend I do.”
Bradley says nothing, just watches him.
Jake notices, but he keeps looking away. "It's easier that way."
Bradley isn't sure he would agree, but he nods anyway.
Jake scratches his nose.
Bradley rolls his eyes and turns around to grab his wine glass, drains it in one gulp. The idiot seems to think they're in a spy movie, because that's their agreed upon signal for the fight they're supposed to have at the wedding- something that was news to him.
Jake seems to think it's a good plan. "Show them the cracks before I tell them we broke up a month from now," he'd said.
Bradley knows it's a stupid plan, and it'll only make things worse for Jake, but he'd just nodded.
Bradley walks over to him now, and Jake straightens up in anticipation.
Several eyes follow him, as they have all night. Not for the first time, Bradley has to stifle the urge to strangle the people who have made it their mission to watch Jake and Bradley's every move.
He stands in front of the other man, offers him a hand. Jake gives him a look as he puts his hand in Bradley's. There's a furrow between his brows that says 'what the hell are you doing?'
Bradley makes a split second decision that he's sure will piss off Jake. "Dance with me?" he asks, loud enough to be heard over the music.
Jake smiles tightly. There's a glint in his eyes that says Bradley will pay for this later, and it inspires both dread and a thrill he hasn't felt in a while.
He drags him onto the dance floor, holds him close as they sway to the music, and for a short while, he forgets what this really is, and gets lost in the moment.
They're at the table with Jake's weird cousin, his aunt Sophia and his mother, fielding question after question, when Melody comes to sit with them, along with Jake's father and his brother.
"I just realized we know next to nothin' about you two- how long have y'all been together?" She asks forcefully, smiling politely in a way that makes her look like she'd just swallowed a lemon.
He turns to Jake. "How long has it been, sweetheart? Five- no, six months, right?"
Jake nods. "Sounds about right."
"I thought you didn't like pet names," Melody comments bitterly, taking a sip of her wine.
Jake looks at Melody for what seems like the first time. "Excuse me?" He says it mildly, but Bradley can recognize that tone, knows an ice storm is brewing beneath the calm.
"You told me you didn't like-"
"You're married, Melody," Jake cuts her off, eyes holding a dangerous glint, "to my brother- I shouldn't have to remind you."
"Now, now," Riley interjects, face flushed from embarrassment or maybe anger, "this isn't an appropriate conversation to have right now."
"Tell that to your wife," Jake says icily, clenching his fist.
"At least I got married, I moved on. Look at you. This?" she points between them, "I don't buy it."
She sways in her seat, and Bradley realizes then that she's drunk.
He doesn't know what posses him to say it.
Maybe it's the fact that Melody seems to think it's okay to bring up their history and throw it in Jake's face, maybe it's his brother allowing her to do this to Jake and staying silent, maybe it's Jake's whole family treating him like a ticking time bomb, maybe it's the fact that his father hasn't spoken to him or Jake, except for his outburst at the rehearsal dinner, instead communicating with snide, mocking comments that he doesn't even have the decency to direct at them.
Or maybe it's the two beers and four shots of tequila he drank in the past hour alone.
He doesn't know what posses him to say it, but he opens his mouth, and the words come out.
"Jake and I are actually getting married."
.
The door to their room flies open and Jake stalks in. "What the hell were you thinking, Bradshaw?!" He shouts, advancing on him until they're standing nose to nose, and with every breath Jake takes, their chests touch. If Bradley sways closer just a little bit, their lips would touch.
It is maddening.
"Answer me."
"It wasn't right," he protests, throwing his hands up, "she was just- I don't know what the hell happened between you two exactly, but I can guess, and it doesn't give her the right to say stuff like that to you. And your brother," he growls, "just letting it happen. He's a piece of shit. And don't even get me started on the rest of them."
Jake deflates. He’s not angry anymore, he's something else entirely. Bradley can't read him.
They're quiet, still. Jake's chest heaves with every breath he takes.
Jake looks away first. He takes a step back, pivots on his heels and walks out of the room without a word, leaving Bradley bewildered and angry at being ignored.
He sits on the bed, determined to wait up for him.
An hour passes, then two.
Bradley falls asleep alone, sitting up.
He wakes up covered with a blanket, but still alone.
When Jake finally shows up, it's to tell Bradley his mother wants to meet with him.
"What?" he panics, "what do you mean? What does she want?"
Jake just shrugs.
"Dude, are you really not gonna tell me why your mom wants to see me?"
Jake shrugs again, smirking. He leans down to grab his phone off the bed, and Bradley gets a lungful of his cologne along with a hint of his aftershave. It's honestly addicting , and he has to resist the urge to lean in closer.
Their eyes meet, faces inches apart. "Good luck," Jake mutters, breath fanning against Bradley's lips. "You're gonna need it."
Bradley reels back, and Jake straightens up, grinning.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You made your bed, Roo. Now you gotta lay in it."
.
Jake's mother is a tiny, terrifying woman who loves her son fiercely, and Bradley regrets every choice he's made that led him to this point.
Every single one.
"What are your intentions with my son."
He blinks at her. He'd only said hello.
"Well?" she says impatiently, staring him down.
"I, uh-" he stutters, and at her raised eyebrows, Bradley pulls himself together, "I intend to marry him, ma'am."
She hums, sips her coffee, and delicately places the cup on the table. "Do you love him?"
Bradley chokes on his water, coughs, and all the while, she's just staring at him, not ever blinking. It's eerie.
"Do you love my son?" she asks again, impatient.
"I do, ma'am," he answers hoarsely, and god help him, it doesn't really feel like a lie- why doesn't it feel like a lie?- "wouldn't have asked him to marry me if I didn't."
She eyes him silently for a few seconds, then folds her hands on the table and leans forward. Her eyes are softer now, warmer. "My son's track record with love isn't the best, and his taste in lovers is even worse," she informs him, "for the longest time, I thought he'd given up on love. But then you came along," she smiles softly, "I've never seen my son look quite so alive around someone. He loves you."
Your son hates me, he thinks, a little hysterical. We once tried to beat the shit out of each other.
She pushes her chair back, stands up. "You break his heart, Bradley Bradshaw, and I'll break your neck."
Like he said, terrifying.
.
"So? Did she give you the shovel talk?"
"She did."
"Did she ask about the wedding?"
"No."
"When is the wedding?"
Bradley stares at him. "What, do you want to get fake married, too?"
Jake just grins.
Bradley grabs the strap of his duffel bag tightly as he stands opposite Jake in the airport. This feels awkward in a way nothing between them has so far, and Bradley tries not to think about it too much.
Jake's the first to take a step back. "I'll be seeing you, Rooster."
"Yeah, Hangman," he says quietly. "I'll see ya."
He clears his throat; a tell that he’s nervous, or maybe just uncomfortable. "Thank you, for coming with me.
Bradley can tell he's sincere, so he smiles. "You're welcome. I gotta say though, pretending to like you was no easy feat, and this is coming from the guy who dropped a bomb practically blind."
Jake rolls his eyes, huffs out a laugh. "You know, Roo, you're not a very good liar. You like me."
"I tolerate you," he corrects him.
Jake lowers his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose, grinning widely as he walks backwards. "You lo-ove me," he calls out, obviously joking.
Bradley just shakes his head and grins back.
He's halfway home when he realizes he hadn't denied it.
ONE MONTH LATER.
Bradley wakes up to his phone ringing and groans. He hides his face in his pillow, hopes whoever it is will just give up.
The ringing stops for a blessed moment, then starts back up again.
He answers without really checking the caller ID. "'ello?"
"Bradley, honey, this is Lauren speaking."
He's struck dumb. "Lauren?"
"Lauren Seresin? Don't tell me you already forgot me," she laughs.
He shakes his head, remembers she can't see him, and says, "no, ma'am, of course not."
"Good. I won't take up much of your time, I just wanted to know when you'll be here. I can't get a hold of my Jake so I thought I might ask you."
He blinks. "I'm sorry, did you say when we'll be here? Here as in Texas?"
"Yes," she says slowly, impatiently, "where else would you be spending Thanksgiving?"
Not in Texas, he thinks but doesn't say.
"Has Jake not told you yet? I'm gonna wring his neck," she mutters under her breath, then raises her voice, "it was good to hear your voice, hon, I'll be seeing you soon!"
Then she hangs up. He blinks down at the phone, wonders if the call was a fever dream.
Ten minutes later, he doesn't have to wonder anymore.
The text he gets from Jake is short and to the point. It's also infuriating.
Hey, future hubs, looks like we've got plans for Thanksgiving.
No we don't.
Oh?
Remind me, Bradshaw, who was it that announced to my whole family that we're getting married?
He starts to type a response, but instead calls him.
"Good morning, Rooster, how are you-"
"You didn't tell them we broke up?"
"No, I did not."
"And why is that?"
"Because it hasn't even been a month, man- I thought I had more time."
Bradley pauses. "You forgot, didn't you?"
"I may have forgotten, yes."
He doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. "So when are you going to tell them we broke up?"
"Not on Thanksgiving, that's for sure."
"I am not pretending to be your fiancé, Seresin. Tell your mom."
"On Thanksgiving?! I am not ruining Thanksgiving for my mother, Bradshaw. It's just three days."
"Three days of pretending to like you," he reminds him.
"Like that's a hardship," the cocky bastard retorts. Then, much like his mother, he hangs up on Bradley without saying goodbye.
Thanksgiving with the Seresins is somehow worse than the wedding because, though it still involves alcohol, there's nothing to do but sit there and talk to people- which wouldn't be a problem if they weren't all (mostly) assholes.
"Are you hiding in the bathroom?"
"What gave it away?" He asks, deadpan. He's sitting on the floor of the bathroom, the bath very visible behind him. "I never thought I'd say this, but compared to some of them, Jake's a saint."
Nat smirks. "Oh, he's Jake now?"
"Shut up."
She lifts her hands up in surrender, laughs at him silently. He glares at her, makes to say something, but a knock on the door interrupts him.
Bradley groans, hangs up on Nat without saying goodbye, and stands up to open the door.
"Bradshaw," Jake sounds and looks taken aback when he finally opens the door, "what are you doing here?"
He stares him down.
Jake rolls his eyes, pushes past him. Bradley considers leaving the bathroom, but then he catches a glimpse of Jake's aunt Hilda, who talked his ear off about her cheating ex-husband and would've continued to do so if Bradley hadn't excused himself to the bathroom, and immediately closes the door.
Jake stares at him. "Do you mind?"
Bradley shrugs. "I was here first."
Their eyes lock, and neither of them looks away.
Jake cocks an eyebrow. Bradley doesn't budge.
The younger man's hands are slow as they go to his belt, slowly undoing it, then the buttons of his jeans, then finally the zipper. His pants drop to the floor.
Bradley swallows, struggles to keep his eyes from straying down to where Jake's hand is. Jake's smirk widens, and Bradley only manages to catch a glimpse of a trail of hair and tanned skin before he turns and bolts out of the bathroom. He takes a turn, then another, and finds stairs.
He takes them two at a time, enters the first room he finds.
Bradley closes the door behind him, leans his head against it.
What the hell is he doing?
Jake Seresin may be attractive as all hell, but he's also a cocky asshole who doesn't seem to give a shit about anyone or anything other than himself. He takes a deep breath, takes a couple of steps forward and falls onto the small twin bed that's shoved into the corner of the room. There's a picture on the nightstand of a much younger Riley holding a five or six year old Jake in a headlock, both of them smiling widely. He smiles, takes a closer look at it. Realizes Jake’s smiles hasn't changed all that much.
Being attracted to him is not an option.
Falling for him is not an option.
And yet-
Bradley sways on the spot, and tenses when an arm wraps around his waist to steady him. "Having fun?" is whispered into his ear, and he immediately relaxes after recognizing it's Jake.
"Not really," he mutters into his third, or maybe fourth, glass of whiskey.
Jake snorts, puts some distance between them. Bradley absolutely does not miss his touch, or his warmth.
"I thought you weren't much of a drinker."
"I'm not," he confirms, "but I figured it would help drop the chances of me strangling someone by at least 50%."
"Did it?"
Bradley blinks. The sound of Jake's uncle's nasally, booming laughter reaches them, and he remembers being subjected to that laugh after a horrible joke at his expense vividly. He grits his teeth. "Nope."
"Oh, look, everybody, Melody and Riley are here,” Sophia, Jake’s aunt, announces as the happy couple enter to cheers and warm welcomes.
Bradley flashes back to the underwhelming, practically non-existent welcome he and Jake received and scowls.
When Melody and Riley are only a few feet away from where he and Jake are standing, the room goes quiet, no one even breathing as eyes move back and forth between the two brothers. Bradley's eyes don't leave Jake though.
That's why he catches the man's eye roll before he sets his beer down and makes his way over to his brother. Their handshake is a little awkward, and so is the nod of greeting Jake aims at Melody. When that's done, Jake turns to his family, claps his hands once, and smiles so big that it has to be fake. "Show's over, folks," he announces, grabbing a bottle of vodka before he walks out.
The eyes shift back to him, but since Bradley isn't a fan of theatrics like Jake is, he simply ignores them and follows after Jake.
.
He finds him on the porch, chugging vodka straight from the bottle and winces, hesitating only slightly before he crosses the distance separating them and grabs it from his hand. Jake makes a half-hearted grab for it, but Bradley just bats his hand away. "Are you trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning?"
Jake huffs out a small laugh. "Would be better than spending the rest of the weekend with this bunch."
Bradley wouldn't disagree, but still- "you must not totally hate it if you keep coming back every year."
The younger man just shakes his head. "Only reason I do come back is to see my mom and my sister. I put up with the rest of these assholes for them."
Bradley doesn't say anything- doesn't think there's anything he can say, so he stays quiet.
"I'm sorry I dragged you along."
Bradley turns sideways, and Jake stops swinging long enough for him to settle before he starts moving the swing again, this time a little slower. Jake looks tired, weighed down. It doesn’t suit him.
Bradley looks away. The swing starts to slow down so he picks up the slack.
"Why did you?" he asks after a few minutes of silence, "drag me along, that is. You could have made an excuse."
Jake doesn't answer. When he looks at him, his eyes are closed, and Bradley thinks he's pretending to be asleep to avoid the question. "Seresin," he says quietly, exasperated, "hey, man, come on." Again, no answer. Bradley scoots closer, so close his knee touches Jake's thigh, and puts a hand on the other man's shoulder, shaking it gently. "Jake."
Jake's head lolls to the side, and in the process, he topples sideways. It's instinct when Bradley's hand lands on Jake's cheek and he guides his head slowly to his shoulder. It's also instinct to stroke his cheek. He's just going through the motions- at least, that's what he tells himself.
The front door opens and Bradley tenses. Jake's mother pokes her head out.
He can't tell for sure, but he thinks her face softens when she spots them. She steps out fully, comes closer. "He okay?"
There are so many things he wants to say to this woman, nut not all of them are kind, so he settles for a shrug and a quiet, "I think he's just tired."
It’s not a lie, but it’s only a half truth.
Her only response is a hum. She leans back against the porch railing, eyes piercing. It takes everything in him not to squirm.
"Thank you for coming with him. I know this isn't easy."
He remains quiet.
"When she left him, it really did a number on Jake," she tells him softly, "he thought she was it for him."
Hearing the words he's thought of said out loud is unexpectedly painful and inconvenient. "He loved her that much?"
To his surprise, she shrugs. "He certainly thought he did."
He blinks up at her, shocked, and she smiles. "I've only seen my boy in love once, Bradley," she mutters, pushing off the railing, "and it's with you."
At that, he freezes, heart in his throat. She moves closer, leans to press a kiss to Jake's forehead. To Bradley's surprise, she cups his cheek as she smiles down at him. "Thank you."
He watches her go, and when she's disappeared inside, he looks down at Jake. He’s sleeping peacefully, looking young and innocent in a way he never does when he's awake.
He desperately wants to hold him closer, but he doesn't, pushes the impulse away.
He presses a little, fleeting kiss to Jake's forehead, even if there's no one there to see it.
"Bradley?"
He looks to Jake, frowns. "That's your mom, right?"
Jake nods, sprawled out on his childhood bed like he doesn't have a care in the world. Bradley nudges him with his foot. "Hey," he says, "what does she want?"
Jake stares at him. "How am I supposed to know that, dude?"
"Bradley?" She sounds closer. He panics.
Jake rolls his eyes. "Just go, Bradshaw."
"I hate you," he grumbles.
"Love you, too, babe," Jake responds sarcastically, smiling widely before he goes back to his crosswords.
He's glad, because that means he doesn't see Bradley freeze in the doorway, or the widening of his eyes. He knows Jake doesn't mean the words, but they still make his heart skip several beats.
There's a knock on the door. "Bradley? hon? You in there?"
Bradley goes shopping with Lauren, who turns out to be just as sharp and quick-witted as her son, and when he comes back, he finds that everything has gone to shit.
"What's going on?" He asks Jake's cousin Harvey, the only seemingly decent person in Jake's extended family, and receives a shrug. "Don't know, man, uncle Dean just told Jake to join him in his office, and ten minutes later, the yelling started."
Bradley winces, rubs his face.
"We both know what this is really about, so cut the bullshit and just say it," Jake shouts.
The next words are muffled, Dean shouts something back about Jake making him the villain, which makes Bradley roll his eyes.
Jake's next words aren't loud, but two seconds later, the door flies open. Jake looks at everyone gathered in the hallway, and for a second, when he looks at Bradley, his mask crumbles. But then he looks away, moves past him and everyone else as he makes a beeline for the door.
Jake misses lunch.
No one seems to notice.
"Is this how it always is with you guys?" Bradley asks mildly, barely keeping a tight lid on his anger.
Lauren frowns. "What do you mean, honey?"
He looks at her like she's grown two heads. "Your son has been gone for two hours. He's gonna miss lunch. He- you're all acting like nothing happened," he says with a pointed look at Dean, who keeps eating, unruffled.
Jake's mother pats his hand. "I saved him a plate, hon."
"That's not the point, ma'am," he counters, "the point is that he's upset and he's god knows where, and none of you seem to care."
"He's in the shed," she tells him, "I checked on him a half hour ago."
He checks her face for any trace of a lie, any worry, but there is none. He nods.
Dean scoffs.
Bradley tells himself to ignore it.
He can’t.
"Something funny, sir?" He's glad his voice is even, glad he manages to make sir sound like the insult it's meant to be.
"Just- you and this whole charade," the older man says, putting his fork down and giving Bradley his full attention for the first time since he met him. "You think you love him, but do you even really know him?"
Bradley laughs. "And you think you do?"
"I know him better than anyone in this room does, which is why he hates me."
"He hates you," Bradley counters, "because you're-"
"Roo, stop."
It's said softly, from the doorway, and he goes quiet, turns in his seat to take him in. Jake's a mess, shirt drenched in sweat, hair flying every which way, but it's his face that worries Bradley. There's no emotion, just a blank, stony expression that Bradley's only ever seen once before, back when they were in flight school, and they ended before they even began.
Jake doesn't say anything else, just makes his way to the staircase and starts to go up.
Once he's sure the other man is gone, he turns his attention back to the people at the table. "You don't deserve him," he tells them plainly, "and Jake's a better man than me because if I were him? I'd have cut you all out of my life a long time ago."
When he goes upstairs, Jake is sitting on a chair by the window, a glass of brandy in his hand. "Hey."
"Hey."
"You okay?"
"Could be better."
He sits on the bed in front of him on the covers and doesn't say anything else. Jake doesn't either.
"We can leave if you want."
Jake shakes his head slowly.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?"
Jake sits up. "I don't-"
"You come back here, time after time, and all they so is cause you pain. Then you leave, and the next time you come back here, the same thing happens all over again. Why do this to yourself?" He repeats, less soft now, more demanding.
"My mom-"
"Your mom would understand," he interrupts him, "pretty sure she'd come to you instead if you asked."
Jake stays silent, takes another slow sip.
"Jake?"
"That's the first time you called me that," he mutters into his glass.
Bradley startles, wonders if it really is the first time, then realizes Jake's just distracting him. "You didn't answer me."
He slams the glass down on the bedside table, leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Do you know what it's like to grow up with a father who doesn't love you, Bradshaw?" he doesn't let him answer, and it's a good thing, because he's not sure he'd be able to find anything to say. "He can love Riley, he can love Stefany, but not me. It makes me so goddamn angry," he hisses, "and that anger turned into this... monster; a monster that's always hungry, always right there in the shadows, waiting to take over." He finally looks at him, and Bradley aches for him. "I hate that man with every fibre of my being," he says it matter of a fact, like it's the truth, and maybe it is, "but I will never stop wanting him to love me, and every time he proves he doesn't, the monster grows."
He hesitates, but then extends a hand and rests it on his knee. "He's a piece of shit."
He smiles, crooked and self-deprecating, "guess I get it from him, huh?"
"No," Bradley counters, "you're nothing like him."
"Huh," he sits back in his chair, "is that a compliment I hear, Bradshaw?"
Bradley rolls his eyes. "Shut up."
"Hey, Roo?"
"Yeah?"
He raises his glass in his direction. "Thank you."
"I was thinking," Jake's mother starts when she manages to corner them, "you two should get married here."
Jake freezes. Bradley wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "Mom-"
"Hear me out," she interrupts him, smiling excitedly. "We have the space, we have a party planner- you know Stef would love to do it, and we're all here together- it'd be perfect."
"Mom, we can't," Jake says curtly, "we've got a lot to figure out and this isn't- it isn't a good idea."
"But, Jakey-"
"Mom," Jake says through gritted teeth, "drop it. Please."
He downs his drink in two big gulps, then walks away, leaving Bradley and Lauren to stare after him. When he can turn back to her, he finds Jake's mother watching him with a look of quiet understanding, and a hint of sadness; he thinks it can be pity, and he hates it.
Lauren finds him back on the swing after everyone has gone, sits beside him. She hands him a warm cup of either coffee or tea, and doesn't drink any herself.
He takes a sip, and the coffee burns his tongue but he doesn’t care.
"You and my son aren't together."
He chokes on it.
She pats his back. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"Uhhh," he says dumbly, hoping Jake will magically appear in the doorway and rescue him.
"It's okay." She starts swinging, the movement gentle and soothing, though it doesn't help with the wild beating of his heart.
"How'd you know?"
She hums, looks to the side. He doesn't expect to see kindness, but it's right there and all over her face. "I know my son, I know what he's like when he's in a relationship."
"The other day, you said-"
"-that he's in love with you? He is."
This time he chokes on nothing but air.
She's amused, shakes her head. "And you, you're not that subtle either, Bradley."
"Guess not," he mumbles into his cup.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," he nods.
"Why aren't y'all together?"
Bradley shrugs. "We met in flight school a few years back, we were top of our class, I pissed him off because there were a few things he couldn't beat me at, and you know he loves to be the best," he smiles at her.
She lets her head fall back against the swing. "God knows I do."
"And so insults became the only way to talk to each other. Sometimes, it felt like we were building up to something, weird as that may sound, but then my papers got pulled- long story- and I got held back a couple years."
"How did you meet again?"
"Well, we were selected to be on a mission together, and-"
"You became friends?" she guesses.
"No," he snorts, "he was still an asshole the whole time, until I was picked to be on point and he- he believed in me, stepped up when it mattered. And then-" he takes a deep breath.
"Then?" she prompts.
"Then- he saved me and the man I consider my father. He didn't say it, but I heard he was ready to fly even before the order was given."
She smiles softly. "That's my boy," she says proudly, "he thinks he's not capable of love, that he's no good at it, but he's got the biggest heart. You have to be patient with him, though."
"I don't think he really wants this, ma'am."
"Sure he does," she scoffs, "why do you think he invited you along the second time?"
"To keep up the charade?"
She smiles, shakes her head. "No. My boy's always felt alone in this house, in this family, even though I tried my best to not let that happen. You changed that. I think he liked being alone with you, Bradley, and that's why he brought you along this time."
His heart is racing, and so are his thoughts. Loving Jake Seresin, and being loved by him, was not something Bradley thought was an option, so he'd always tried to put the thought away, never to be considered. But now- now it's all he can think about.
"Hey, would you mind if we left early?"
"No," she says, standing, "I wouldn't mind at all. Goodnight, Bradley."
"Goodnight."
“Your mom knows,” he says it quietly, in the over of darkness.
Jake tenses. “How?”
“She figured it out,” he tells him, “and it didn’t feel right to keep lying to her.”
“That wasn’t your decision, Bradshaw.”
He rolls his eyes. “Would you have kept lying?”
He doesn’t receive an answer. “Jake.”
Nothing. Then-
“No,” he says miserably, “I wouldn’t have.”
.
He doesn't sleep that night, watches as Jake does. He's aware it's a little creepy, but he can't help it. And all he can think about is Lauren's words.
Could it be possible? Could they somehow get their shit together and actually have a frank conversation?
Eventually, his eyes start to droop, and he falls into a fitful sleep.
.
Jake wakes him up.
"Good morning," he groans, stretching. He opens his eyes, catches Jake looking at where his shirt has ridden up. He doesn't make a move to lower it, doesn't pretend it didn't happen. Instead, he just watches him, and when their eyes meet, Bradley doesn't look away.
"I think we should leave today."
When they come down the stairs, the family's gathered in the living room, and at their arrival, all eyes are turn to them.
Jake's mother stands up hurriedly, hand anxiously fiddling with her ring as she meets them at the foot of the stairs.
He and Jake both put their suitcases down on the ground.
Jake takes a hesitant step towards her. "Mom?"
Her face crumbles, and tears gather in her eyes at the almost innocent way Jake says it.
Bradley's heart sinks. They know.
Then she says, quiet enough that only they can hear, "they know," and Jake's face turns white.
"You wanna tell me why the hell you would pull this stunt?"
Jake's fist clenches at his side, but his expression remains cool as he looks steadily at his father. "Nope."
The anger on the older man's face is a living, breathing dragon right there in the Seresins' too big living room. Melody seems smug, Riley is confused, while the others seem to be there for the drama. It hurts Bradley, knowing that is what Jake had to grow up with.
"You lied to us-"
"You're the last one who should be lecturing me about lying, dad," he says it casually, "or have you completely forgotten about Victoria?"
His mother takes a sharp breath, and Jake looks at her apologetically. "Sorry, mama, had to be said."
"You better watch your mouth, boy."
Jake takes a step towards his father instead of backing away, bringing them nose to nose. "Or what, dad? What are you gonna do?" He mutters the words, but Bradley hears the provocation loud and clear.
He grabs Jake by the back of his shirt, pulls him back. Jake's jaw is clenched so tightly Bradley thinks he'll hear his teeth grinding if he listens closely enough, and as he stands between Jake and his family, he looks at him steadily, sees the fear Jake's got locked away behind the mask of indifference. "Don't do this," Bradley tells him quietly. "Don't give them the easy way out."
The mask cracks, and Bradley knows he got through to him.
He nods, Jake nods back, and Bradley moves away. "We're leaving," Jake starts to say, voice steady and eyes never leaving his father's, "and I'm never coming back to this house."
Lauren’s hand flies to her mouth. “Jake-“
"Fine by me," Dean scoffs. "There's the door."
Bradley closes his eyes, imagines how good it would feel to strangle the man, and opens them to find Jake's halfway to the stairs already, while the others just watch.
"You still owe us an explanation," Riley says quietly.
Jake doesn't stop, doesn't falter. "And you owe me a lot more than that, big brother."
"Do you still love Melody? Is that why you brought him- to convince us you're over her?"
Melody looks smug as Riley says it. Riley just looks defeated.
"No," Jake does stop at that. He stops, stalks back towards his older brother, and bursts out, "I don't love Melody. I do not love you," he says it to her directly, "hell, I don't think I ever loved you." She gasps, taking a step back. "You know the first thing I felt when I found out about you two? Relief- because then I wouldn't have to go through with the wedding."
Bradley’s breath rushes out of him like the words were a punch to the gut. Jake had almost married her?
Riley shakes his head. "If that's true then why the hell can't you talk to me without biting my head off? Why can't you treat me like you used to-"
"Because what she did hurt, but what you did was worst. Because you- I looked up to you, man. I loved you. You're my big brother, Riley. And you chose her over me."
"I didn't-"
"You didn't even have the decency to tell me yourself. I had to find out in front of everyone. Do you know how humiliating that was?"
Riley winces. "What do I have to do to make you forgive me?" he says, a little desperately.
Jake's eyes fill with tears, and Bradley can tell he’s trying to hold them back. "Admit that what you did was wrong."
Riley takes a step closer. "I did."
"No," Jake says through gritted teeth, "you didn't. You never even apologised. You just pretended it didn't happen and expected me to go along with it, like everyone else did."
"I'm sorry," Riley says pleadingly, "I'm so sorry, bud."
Jake's lips tremble, and he shrugs, looks away.
Riley takes a couple of steps towards him, raises his arms hesitantly. Jake doesn't move closer, but he also doesn't move back. Riley closes the gap between them, pulls him in. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm so sorry."
Jake buries his face in his brother's shoulder, nods once at whatever Riley mutters in his ear.
Jake's the first to pull away, and immediately goes to hug his mother tightly. "I'm sorry, mama."
She shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry, baby- for not protecting you better. Bradley was right," her eyes flicker to him, then back to Jake, "I should've done more."
"It's okay."
"It's not," she says with a sad smile, "it's not okay, my sweet boy, and you shouldn't pretend it is just to spare my feelings."
Bradley grabs their suitcases as Jake says goodbye to his sister, brother in law, and nieces. He gets a strange satisfaction from Dean's red face when Jake ignores him. Melody, at least, has the decency to look guilty.
They walk out together.
Their hands brush. Jake moves away, when all Bradley wants is to pull him close.
He doesn't know what comes next, and he doesn't dare ask.
The ride to the airport is silent, and so is the flight.
Bradley wants to say something the whole time, but Jake seems to be far away.
Their flight lands, and then they're at the airport doors.
"Jake-"
"Brad-"
There's a pause, then they both laugh. "You go first," Bradley says.
"Thanks for coming with me, man. I know you didn't have to." He pats his shoulder, starts to walk backwards. "I'll see ya around, Roo."
Just like that, he walks out of Bradley's life.
Bradley is so stunned, so paralysed, that he can only watch him go, but then, just before Jake disappears from view, he realizes he's tired of this game they're playing, he's tired of hiding.
No more stalling.
So he runs.
"Jake!"
He trips over a bag, apologizes and keeps running, thankful he doesn't fall. Jake disappears from view, so Bradley runs faster.
He bursts out the doors, looking around wildly, hoping against hope that he hasn’t somehow missed him.
He sees him then.
He's waiting for a cab, looking withdrawn and tired, but he's still the most beautiful thing Bradley's ever seen.
He puts a hand on his shoulder, startling him. "Bradshaw? Did you forget something?"
"Why did you pick me?"
He rubs a hand down his face. "This again?"
"Tell me."
"Why? Why do you want to know?"
"Because we've been on the edge of something for years, and I'm tired of not knowing what the hell we are."
"You want to talk about this now?"
He throws his hands up. "We've had years to talk about this, Jake, and we haven't. So, yeah, we're gonna talk about it now."
He waves off the cab that stops for him, gets out of the way.
They stand there on the busy sidewalk, facing each other and not saying a word. "You've seen the worst of me,” he starts, “and for some reason you were willing to stay. I needed that, both times.” He's stunned into silence. Jake continues, "my family is- they're mostly awful, complicated people, and I've always felt alone there. Guess this time, I didn't want to be."
His breath hitches softly. "So, you chose me."
He shrugs. "I've never felt alone when you were close by, even when we were at each other's throats," he grins, "figured it would work back home too."
"Did it?" Bradley asks, stepping closer.
"It did. A little too well, maybe."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"Because now I don't know how the hell I'm gonna be able to sleep alone."
"Maybe," Bradley drawls out, pulling him close by a grip on his shirt, "you won't have to."
Jake eyes him for a couple of minutes, steps closer hesitantly. Their noses brush, then their lips do the same, the touch feather light and maddening. Bradley closes the distance between them, closes his eyes, and kisses him softly.
Jake’s arms come up to wrap around him tightly, and he pulls him impossibly closer.
"Wanna come over to my house?" he mumbles against his lips.
Jake pulls away. "Didn't think you'd be this forward, Bradshaw. At least buy me dinner first."
Bradley grins. "I'll do you one better, I'll cook you dinner, and I'll even throw in a couple of beers."
Jake hums, sways closer. "And then?"
"And then- whatever you want."
Jake kisses him, soft and slow and definitely not appropriate for a public place. "I like the sound of that.
"I thought you would."
Two Years Later
"You sure about this?"
Jake grins. "Nope."
Bradley rolls his eyes. "Jake."
"What?! It's the truth."
"You know we don't have to go, right?"
"I do," he says honestly, stepping closer until he's standing between Bradley's legs. He pulls him close, strokes a hand down his back, and is pleased when Jake seems to relax under his ministrations.
"But," he prompts him.
"But- it's my nephew's first Christmas. I'm not missing that."
Bradley softens. "Have I told you I love you?"
"Once or twice."
"Well I do. I love you," he kisses him, then presses a kiss to his bare chest, right where his heart is.
Jake pulls him up, kisses him softly, thoroughly. He presses in close, lets his hands wander across miles and miles of tan skin and firm muscle, his lips follow the path his hands take.
Jake redirects him though, grabs his face and pulls him back up. He kisses him once, deep and bruising.
"We're gonna be late," he protests half-heartedly.
Jake pulls back, stares him down. "You started this, Roo- you damn well better finish it."
He grips his hips tight enough to bruise, pulls him flush against him. "Yes, sir."
Going back to Texas two years after the fallout feels surreal. To Jake, he's sure it's a lot more painful than that. He puts on a brave face, though.
They're greeted with hugs, and they're fawned over by the same people who had enjoyed watching their facade crumble a little over two years ago.
Jake's father ignores them, and they do the same.
Riley shows up with his son, Harland, and no Melody.
He and Jake attempt to shake hands, but it's awkward and stiff, but then Jake cracks a joke at their awkwardness, and that seems to break the tension. They hug tightly, squishing Harland between the two of them. Jake’s nephew protests, and they laugh as Jake takes him from his father’s arms to squeeze him into a tight hug. Harland doesn’t seem bothered by it; in fact he seems to enjoy it, letting his head drop to his uncle’s shoulder.
Bradley can't take his eyes off them.
Stefany nudges his back. "You getting ideas?" She asks curiously, clearly excited but trying to hide it.
He shrugs, takes a sip pf his beer. "Maybe. We haven't talked about it yet."
She nods.
He looks back at Riley, who's trying to put on a carefree front but is failing miserably, and he asks, "what's the story there?"
"Their marriage is crumbling like a house of cards," she tells him bluntly, then points a finger at him, "but you didn't hear a thing from me."
He mimes zipping his lips. She grins. "So," she drawls out, extending her hand, palm up. "Let's see 'em."
He puts his hand in hers, smiles as she inspects the silver band on his finger. She shakes her head. "Boring," she says, but she's smiling, so he rolls his eyes and ruffles her hair, which earns him a punch to the arm that actually hurts.
He's rubbing his arm when Jake wanders over, Harland in his arms.
"Roo," he says softly, "meet Harland."
Bradley puts his arm around Jake's shoulder, and extends the other one, grabbing the little boy's hand in his and shaking it gently, making him giggle. Bradley grins. "Hey, Harland."
Riley comes over not long after, holds out his hand to shake Rooster's.
They end up out on the porch again. It's a bit chilly, and they're not wearing their jackets, but the stars are out, and they're warm enough in each other's arms.
The swing creaks as they move back and forth.
Jake nuzzles his face in Bradley's neck, the little huff of a laugh he lets out tickles the sensitive skin there, making Bradley shiver.
"What's so funny?" He asks with a smile.
"You remember the last time we were here, sitting like this?"
"I do," he answers, grinning, "you fell asleep on me."
Jake laughs again.
Bradley frowns, grabs his face, and pulls him out of his hiding spot. His eyes are sparkling with amusement.
"You were faking?!”
"I was."
Bradley shoves his shoulder jokingly. "Why?" he asks, laughing.
Jake's smile dies on his lips. "I wanted to be close to you."
"You could've asked," he tells him.
He shakes his head. "No, I couldn't have."
Bradley holds out his arm, waits until Jake's settled before he pulls him in.
Jake's hands on his cheek are warm, and so are his lips, when they brush against his. "I love you."
Bradley smiles, presses a kiss to his forehead. "Love you, too."
Jake settles back down in his arms, eyes closed and face relaxed in a smile.
"Thank you," Jake whispers into the night.
"You don't have to thank me."
He shakes his head. "Yes, I do- for loving me, for taking care of me, even when I didn't deserve it."
"You always deserve it," he interrupts him fiercely.
He can tell he's not entirely convinced, but lets it go.
"I'm glad you came with me that day," he tells him, "because it got us here."
"Me too, sweetheart," he mutters against the skin of his temple. "Me too."
It's late, and far too cold, but they stay like that, wrapped up in each other, for a long time.