Jake hears the door behind him creak and softly shut, trapping the ruckus of the Hard Deck inside, and he knows itâs Bradley who has followed him onto the deck. Heâs not ready for this conversation; he doesn't want to think about what he wants and he doesnât know what to do here. He kind of wants to run away.
âHey.â Itâs soft, a small greeting with no expectation behind it besides letting someone know theyâre there.
âBradshaw.â Jake grips the railing a little tighter, trying to get his bearings. He hasnât turned to greet Bradley, not yet ready to see his face or confront whatever is going on here.
Bradley is still a couple steps away over his right shoulder. Jake is very aware of Bradleyâs location in space when theyâre in the same place, has been for years. And that sends a chill down his spine. This is such a bad idea.
âWhereâd you go this morning?â Itâs casual, not demanding, but Jake swears he can hear a waver in Bradleyâs voice, like he really cares about Jakeâs answer.
âHad things to get done before we reconvene as Daggers on Monday.â Neutral, good, Jake thinks. He wants to put space between them, but not alienate his new colleague. His new colleague that he slept with last night, Jesus Christ. And we were finally getting along. Jake wants to laugh at himself for how well they got along, how compatible they really are, but heâs afraid it wouldnât sound like a laugh.
âYou couldâve stayed, had breakfast?â Itâs a question, asking about so much more - offering so much more - than breakfast.
âCâmon Bradshaw, letâs not make this more awkward than it already is.â Jake cringes at himself. He turns slightly to look at Bradley to try to will him to understand that they canât do this. But Bradley looks a little deer-in-headlights; his hands are clenching and releasing, and heâs blinking a little too much.
âOh. Right. Sure. Ok.â
Jake raises an eyebrow at Bradley - heâs never this flustered, even when Jakeâs riling him up. He watches Bradley turn his gaze from Jake to the ocean. He watches Bradley take a deep breath, slowly letting it out. Jake watches Bradley.
And, oh no, Jake thinks as he watches Bradleyâs face smooth out, his fidgeting hands calm, his shoulders forcibly lower, and chin raise just slightly - Rooster now standing in front of him, all anxious energy dissipated - or hidden - from Jake.
âUnderstood,â Bradley says.
Bradley is having trouble breathing, the deep breath he took not enough to calm his racing heart or dampen the shards of cold glass that are swirling around his chest. His heart feels like itâs stuck in an implosion, collapsing in on itself, halfway to supernova.
âSee you later then,â Bradley says, trying to affect calmness, aloofness.
Jake watches him walk away feeling like heâs royally fucked that up, even though thereâs no other way Jake thinks it couldâve gone.
Bradley lets the door swing shut behind him before he slumps into the wall of the back hallway. He feels like an idiot; he shouldâve known - of course he was alone in this. Of course it wasnât anything important to Jake - no. Seresin. Who was Bradley to him anyway - competition, colleague, rival? Bradley shouldâve remembered that heâs not usually someone people stick around for.
He swallows heavily and lightly thumps the back of his head against the wall before straightening up and pulling out his phone. The screen is a little blurry, but heâs ignoring that. Heâs got a text to answer.
He shoves his phone in his pocket and catches Natâs eye. Her face runs through confusion and concern pretty quickly before she makes a questioning gesture at him. He shakes his head, offering what he hopes is a good facsimile of a smile as he turns toward the bar. He doesnât make it very far when his phone rings.
âHey Uncle Sly,â Bradley greets, as he meets Natâs eyes again - she is now right in front of him, another look on her face that clearly says who the fuck is Uncle Sly? And, yeah, Bradley is acutely aware now how much he hasnât shared with his friends.
âHey kiddo, you good?â
âBack up in the air this past week, so all is right with the world,â is Bradleyâs response, knowing what Slider is really asking.
âThatâs good to hear, Bradley. You sure youâre up for coming back to Japan? We got really lucky with the timing considering what youâve been up to the last 10 weeks, and not a lot of the intel has changed.â
âIs this Uncle Sly asking or a commanding officer?â Bradleyâs feeling raw, he knows Uncle Sly has his back but he needs to know if Admiral Kerner thinks he can do this. Heâs well aware of Nat listening in, and her facial reactions are giving Bradley a tiny bit of joy.
âMostly me, kid. But I am trying to channel Ice, even though we both know he was one of a kind.â
Bradley snorts, and runs a hand down his face, the familiar sensation of loss tugging at his sternum.
âYeah, I⌠yeah.â Bradley breathes for a moment while he hears Slider shuffle papers on the end of the line.
âWith Gigi and Panther out, we could use you and another plane for the mission. Anyone from that Dagger squad youâd trust with this?â
Oh, so Admiral Kerner does think he can do this and actually wants a recommendation for a wingman? Ok.
Bradleyâs eyes meet Natâs again, and she shoots him another wtf look, âYeah, if I could pick a wingman, itâd be Phoenix and Bob.â Her eyes widen and she spares a glance for Bob playing darts with Halo, before she turns back to Bradley and nods.
Bradley hears more shuffling, and a couple of hums and what sound like approving noises. âGot it. Obviously you canât tell them anything but perhaps tell them to switch to water tonight. Gotta run, see you soon.â
Bradley hangs up, and slumps against a different wall of the Hard Deck with his eyes closed before he hears âWhat the hell did you just volunteer me for, Rooster?â
Bradley just starts laughing. What a rollercoaster of a day.
germansingergirl
janainaart
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
annaxmalina
kianamaiart
