Hangster | Explicit | 5.8k
Bodyswap, anal sex, getting together
Jake brushes by him. Fair enough, it is technically his house. "We have a problem."
"No fucking shit," Bradley can't help but laugh, sounding a little bitter. "I need fucking coffee."
"Don't you dare put sugar in it Bradshaw, I've seen how you take your coffee. You're borrowing my body right now," Jake leads them into the kitchen, fishing around in the cabinet for a grinder and french press before he fills the kettle.
Read on ao3
The working summary for this fic was "they swap bodies and have to fuck about it" Inspired by @tgmsunmontue pointing out that there's a dearth of hangster body swap fics.
Featuring Deaf Jake and his older brother Bob, who tries to find Jake a date on Instagram. Bradley and Natasha answer.
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT
PART NINE
He parks his car in the drive on Jake’s say-so, hopes the other man isn’t precious about oil spots on his drive, he still hasn’t gotten around to fixing the very slow leak from his engine. He holds up his phone and says he’s just going to check in on Natasha, because part of him needs to and another part needs to make sure Jake as aware that Natasha is important to him. She’s his best friend. Jake just waves a hand, already on his own phone, likely checking in with Bob, or maybe someone else.
There’s a message from Natasha, an image of a plate of spaghetti and the words Think I can Lady and Tramp it? And he is so tempted to message back and ask her who the Lady is and who is the Tramp in this situation. But he likes being alive, so he keeps his thoughts to himself. There’s another message saying she’s having a good night and she’ll see him tomorrow and he sends back a thumbs up and leaves it at that. He feels a little awkward now, not sure what to do, looks up from his phone to find Jake watching him across the hood of his car.
“She alright?”
“Yeah,” he says, locking his car and sliding his phone into his pocket, walking around to stand nearer Jake. “Bob?”
“Freaking out a little. Talked him down.”
“Yeah? How’d you do that?”
“Told him you’d told me that she’s really into him and he can’t screw it up even if he was actively trying.”
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. And I’m not wrong am I?”
Bradley laughs under his breath, thinks about Natasha freaking out a little about her appearance, despite how naturally beautiful she is and shakes his head.
“You’re not wrong. You’re pretty observant huh?”
“I enjoy people watching. And sometimes what people say doesn’t match what their body is broadcasting.”
“Yeah? What have I been broadcasting?”
“Oh darlin’, your words and your body have been saying the same thing since you walked into the room.”
“Yeah. Going to tell me?”
“Think I’d rather show you…”
Bradley finds himself being pressed slowly against the side of the Bronco, Jake’s hands bracketing him on each side of his hips. He lets his own hands settle on Jake’s waist as Jake rests his thighs directly against Bradley’s, the pressure light enough to be a tease.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Jake’s face is so close Bradley can feel the air move across his skin as Jake inhales and exhales, sees eyes he thought were green actually have an outer ring of blue, feels like he can hear his blood rushing in his ears as warm dry lips press against his. It does absolutely nothing to quell the attraction thrumming under his skin and he grips at Jake’s hips, pulls him closer as he kisses back. It’s only seconds, nowhere near long enough before Jake is pulling back, humming under his breath and licking his lips like he’s chasing the taste of Bradley.
“You ready to meet the most important female in my life?”
He frowns, then remembers the dog. “Yeah, of course.”
Then Jake is stepping backwards, and he feels cold without the body contact, but Jake is catching one of his hands, tugging him toward the front door of the small two-storey house. He thinks it’s mid paint-job, can see rough sanded bits all over. Then the front door is open and there is one of the cutest dogs he’s seen sitting their patiently. Bradley doesn’t know what kind of breed it is, knows enough that for it to be a service dog it’s more than likely to have been bred especially for the job. She’s a good-looking dog, white and light-brown, looking at him with intelligent eyes and he follows Jake inside, following his lead in taking his shoes off and placing them on a rack.
“Hi Maisie… who’s a good girl?” Jake greets and just like that she’s barking and jumping excitedly and Jake is ruffling her ears and fur. “Bradley, meet Maisie. My hearing dog.”
“Can I pat her? I mean, she’s a working dog and I know enough to not just…” he waves his hand in the air helplessly, words failing him. He gathers from the fact that Jake was just playful with her, and he’s wearing his hearing aids, that it’s okay, but he’s still going to ask.
“She’s at home, it's fine. Go on. Introduce yourself.”
He kneels down and holds out his hand. He doesn’t mind dogs, but he’s never had one. Still, he knows how to greet it and scratch behind the ears, which Maisie patiently lets him do, licking his hand and sniffing him all over and he wonders what he smells like. She
“What does she do?”
“She’s a dog.”
“Yeah. Ha-fucking-ha. I meant, how does she help you?”
Jake hums under his breath, head cocked to the side and Bradley licks his lips, nervous at being studied so directly. Wonders if he should have maybe curbed his biting back, but thinks Jake appreciate. Might even like it. God he hopes so.
“She’ll alert me to someone at the door, my phone ringing, smoke alarm, phone alarm, oven alarm. Any sound she’ll alert me to by bringing me to it. Sometimes I’m wearing my aids of course and she doesn’t need to, but she still does an excellent job, don’t you Maisie…”
“Is she a guard dog?”
“Does she look like a guard dog?”
“Little small maybe,” Bradley admits as he watches her run around the back yard; though he can imagine her being ferociously protective if needed.
“She’s meant to be non-threatening. Friendly.”
“She is. Just like you,” Bradley says, letting himself step into Jake’s personal space.
“You don’t know me that well.”
“Yet. I don’t know you that well yet,” Bradley corrects and Jake’s eyes darken, drop to Bradley’s mouth before flicking back up.
Here's my masterlist containing all of the texting fics. Please let me know if there are issues with any links or if I missed any warnings!
Requests are open 🫶🏻 (I can also write for other TGM characters, Jake is just my main man)
Happy texting! 💗
✨ TEXTING MASTERLIST ✨
Jake Seresin
Pregnant
**The one where you're pregnant, but before you run to Jake, you run to your best friend. (angst, pregnancy, crying, swearing)
First Date
**The one where Jake asks you, his WSO, on a date. (pilot!reader)
Text Anxieties
**The one where Jake has an evaluation that determines the rest of his career, but you're out of town and unable to comfort his late night text anxieties. (slight angst, swearing, Jake is anxious)
Promotion
**The one where Jake gets a promotion. (mentions of sex, swearing)
(part two to Text Anxieties but can be read alone!)
Sneaky
**The one where your jeans fit you too nicely, and Jake is tired of sneaking you around your father. (mitchell!reader, illusions to smut)
Surprise (texts w/ fic attached)
**The one where Jake throws you a surprise party for your birthday.
Are You Here?
**The one where you make a surprise visit to San Diego to see your favorite pilot. (swearing)
Disney
**The one where Jake requests a family vacation that's very atypical to his personality (wife!reader, mom!reader, and girldad!jake)
Voicemails
**The one where Jake sends you a drunk voicemail after you've broken up, and it opens the door for a deeper conversation. (ex!jake, angst, mentions of drinking, swearing)
Skipped Therapy
**The one where Jake skips mandated therapy, and his captain tells his wife. (wife!reader, brief mentions of deployment/anger)
Movie Night
**The one where movie night brings the same conflict: what movie are you watching?
I Quit
**The one where you're ready to quit your job, and your husband has a dream of providing for you. (discussion about having babies/a family, work frustrations, illusions to smut)
Is Rooster Single?
**The one where your friend is trying to get Bradley's number, and you ask Jake with a poor approach. (a few sexual comments, fem!reader if you squint)
Superwoman
**The one where Jake is single parenting for the week. (mom!reader, swearing)
Congratulations, Commander
**The one where you get a promotion and your ex-boyfriend reaches out to congratulate you. (ex!jake, pilot!reader, reader in their 30s, angst, swearing, use of y/n twice)
Four Things
**The one where you ask your boyfriend what reminds him of you.
First Birthday
**The one where Jake is on deployment for your son's first birthday. (mentions of deployment, slightly angsty)
When Did You Know?
**The one where you and Jake have a deep conversation on the eve of your wedding. (mentions of drinking, swearing)
Empty Bed
**The one where Jake isn't in bed when you wake up. (swearing)
Drinks Tonight?
**The one where you're asked to get drinks with the squad. (maybe one swear word)
Period
**The one where your period is early. (mentions of periods, female!reader, suggestive comments, rewritten work)
Shift Stalker
**The one where Jake's at the Hard Deck while you're working, and he's protecting you from the corner of the room. (mentions of jealousy/possessiveness, mention of a creepy guy)
Come Over
**The one where you're friends with benefits with Jake, who needs to swoop in and save the evening. (fwb!jake, mentions of sex, flirting, lingerie, swearing)
Spoiled
**The one where Jake leaves a gift out for you. (maybe some swearing)
Spilled Beans
**The one where Jake accidentally spills beans on you being together while Maverick, your father, is nearby. (mitchell!reader, swearing, angst (argument) with resolution)
College Graduate
**The one where you graduate with your master's degree, and Jake has a gift for you. (swearing, mentions of deployment)
Eject
**The one where Jake has to eject at work and the squad has to contact you. (mention of injuries, mention of ejecting/work incidents, cussing)
I'm Not Leaving
**The one where Jake doesn't know how to be in a relationship, and he starts to push you away. (angst, argument, swearing, Jake has poor emotional management, reader is frustrated)
Evening Checklist
**The one where you forgot to do a few things before bed and need Jake to finish your evening checklist.
Vacation Jake
**The one where vacation Jake is the hotter Jake, but he doesn't need to know that. (illusions to sex (flashbacks), mentions of deployment)
I would love to get a lil something for that 5+1 brain worm of yours 🫦
Thank you! A sneaky addition to my WIP list because I think it's fun. And I want to continue expanding on this idea despite how long social media posts take. 🫣
inspired by some pictures @overwhelmed-alien sent on discord and i got a little carried away lmao
🖤
Jake and Bradley met one early morning on the beach after both of them couldn't sleep. They share a look, that look—the haunted, faraway stare born from years in the sandbox (or other places) seeing the worst horrors of the world.
At first they're cordial. A friendly sort of jerk of the chin in greeting, like ships passing.
Until one day Bradley is too deep is his memories, nightmares clawing at the walls of his mind and making them feel too real, that he doesn't notice Jake is there. Jake notices that Bradley looks stricken, dark circles under his eyes and hands trembling in his lap, staring out at the water, not like a surfer analyzing the waves but like he wants to just...wander into the depths and not come up for air.
So Jake, in his stubborn, protector glory, saddles up right next to Bradley and states, "we should surf together."
Just once. Just to try it out.
Bradley stares but nods, silent as a ghost.
They paddle out a good ways, and then just—sit there. Jake knows talking always feels like a double edged sword, so he doesn't bother asking Bradley anything. Just calmly sits beside him as they rock gently on their boards, watching the sun rise over the horizon, painting the water a beautiful array of oranges and yellows until it fades into an almost iridescent blue.
Bradley doesn't say a word until they make it back to the shore, soaked and chilled to the bone, but shoulders noticeably less tense. "..Thanks."
Jake waves him off. "Same time tomorrow?" Like it's that simple.
And they just—keep doing that. Meeting up in the early morning, before the sun is up, and paddle out a good twenty yards out and just sit there and watch the sunrise. Eventually they do start talking, but it takes awhile. Mostly simple, generic topics at the beginning, throwaway comments about the weather or recent sports scores, or even about what they ate the day before.
It takes much longer to broad the topics of their tours, and even it's choppy, fractured by anger and anguish and held tongues.
One morning they end up getting breakfast nearby, and Bradley tangles his feet with Jake's under the table like it's second nature. Like it's perfectly normal, an earned intimacy over countless mornings spent learning how the other works and operates.
And Jake?
He curls his foot a little tighter around Bradley's ankle and smiles into his coffee.
Jake hears the door behind him creak and softly shut, trapping the ruckus of the Hard Deck inside, and he knows it’s Bradley who has followed him onto the deck. He’s not ready for this conversation; he doesn't want to think about what he wants and he doesn’t know what to do here. He kind of wants to run away.
”Hey.” It’s soft, a small greeting with no expectation behind it besides letting someone know they’re there.
It’s kind of intimate.
Jake kind of hates it.
”Bradshaw.” Jake grips the railing a little tighter, trying to get his bearings. He hasn’t 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 Bradley’s location in space when they’re in the same place, has been for years. And that sends a chill down his spine. This is such a bad idea.
“Where’d you go this morning?” It’s casual, not demanding, but Jake swears he can hear a waver in Bradley’s voice, like he really cares about Jake’s answer.
“Had things to get done before we reconvene as Daggers on Monday.” 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 he’s afraid it wouldn’t sound like a laugh.
“You could’ve stayed, had breakfast?” It’s a question, asking about so much more - offering so much more - than breakfast.
“C’mon Bradshaw, let’s not make this more awkward than it already is.” Jake cringes at himself. He turns slightly to look at Bradley to try to will him to understand that they can’t do this. But Bradley looks a little deer-in-headlights; his hands are clenching and releasing, and he’s blinking a little too much.
“Oh. Right. Sure. Ok.”
Jake raises an eyebrow at Bradley - he’s never this flustered, even when Jake’s 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 Bradley’s 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.
”Understood,” 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 it’s stuck in an implosion, collapsing in on itself, halfway to supernova.
”See you later then,” Bradley says, trying to affect calmness, aloofness.
Jake watches him walk away feeling like he’s royally fucked that up, even though there’s no other way Jake thinks it could’ve 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 should’ve known - of course he was alone in this. Of course it wasn’t anything important to Jake - no. Seresin. Who was Bradley to him anyway - competition, colleague, rival? Bradley should’ve remembered that he’s 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 he’s ignoring that. He’s got a text to answer.
He shoves his phone in his pocket and catches Nat’s 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 doesn’t make it very far when his phone rings.
“Hey Uncle Sly,” Bradley greets, as he meets Nat’s 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 hasn’t shared with his friends.
”Hey kiddo, you good?”
“Back up in the air this past week, so all is right with the world,” is Bradley’s response, knowing what Slider is really asking.
”That’s good to hear, Bradley. You sure you’re up for coming back to Japan? We got really lucky with the timing considering what you’ve been up to the last 10 weeks, and not a lot of the intel has changed.”
”Is this Uncle Sly asking or a commanding officer?” Bradley’s feeling raw, he knows Uncle Sly has his back but he needs to know if Admiral Kerner thinks he can do this. He’s well aware of Nat listening in, and her facial reactions are giving Bradley a tiny bit of joy.
”Mostly me, kid. But I am trying to channel Ice, even though we both know he was one of a kind.”
Bradley snorts, and runs a hand down his face, the familiar sensation of loss tugging at his sternum.
”Yeah, I… yeah.” Bradley breathes for a moment while he hears Slider shuffle papers on the end of the line.
”With Gigi and Panther out, we could use you and another plane for the mission. Anyone from that Dagger squad you’d trust with this?”
Oh, so Admiral Kerner does think he can do this and actually wants a recommendation for a wingman? Ok.
Bradley’s eyes meet Nat’s again, and she shoots him another wtf look, “Yeah, if I could pick a wingman, it’d be Phoenix and Bob.” 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. “Got it. Obviously you can’t tell them anything but perhaps tell them to switch to water tonight. Gotta run, see you soon.”
Bradley hangs up, and slumps against a different wall of the Hard Deck with his eyes closed before he hears “What the hell did you just volunteer me for, Rooster?”
Bradley just starts laughing. What a rollercoaster of a day.
Bradley having this milk and cookie shop and Jake having the BIGGEST sweet tooth.
Or Mav bringing in cookies one day and Jake needing to know immediately where they came from, not listening past the name of the shop (which, more fool him, because otherwise he would have heard about Mav's godson owning and running it).
And Jake turning up at this cookie shop to buy a cookie a week, and then starting to flirt with the guy, and then trying to come up with more reasons to go and buy cookies (yes he might have a sweet tooth but he doesn't enjoy the gym THAT MUCH).
Then Bradley finally asks him out, some stupid line about working off the calories with a walk along the beach or something and Jake making a terrible rejoinder about other aerobic activities. Them both being awkward AF with each other.
Jake not knowing Bradley is Mav's godson and Bradley assuming Jake knows already. Mav completely in the dark because he doesn't care about Hangman's sweet tooth or cookie addiction he started and blamed for.
At the Addison on Wednesday at 6PM, you'll find a table for two.
If there's one thing Jake is sure he's going to do until the day he dies, it's fall into bed with his two-time ex, Bradley Bradshaw. Called back to North Island, maybe the third shot's a charm.
aka Bradley and Jake keep breaking up and making up, the love isn't the problem, and they finally make it work
Author Notes: Hey everyone here is the next chapter! I decided to throw a little angst/drama in this one so please don't hate me! As always please don't forget to reblog or comment with your thoughts! Enjoy!
Phoenix sat in the narrow waiting area outside Cyclone’s office, elbows on her knees, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. The hallway was quiet in that way that made every sound feel too loud — the hum of the overhead lights, the distant echo of boots on tile, the soft click of someone typing behind the reception desk. Every noise pressed against her nerves like static.
She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, on a scuffed patch of linoleum between her boots. Looking anywhere else meant letting her mind wander, and wandering meant remembering. Remembering meant feeling — and she couldn’t afford that. Not here. Not now.
Her leg bounced once. She forced it still. Her fingers twitched. She laced them together tighter. She needed to look composed. Professional. Unbothered. She needed to be the version of herself everyone expected — the one who didn’t break, didn’t flinch, didn’t let anything slip through the cracks.
But her chest felt tight, like something inside her was splintering.
The office door opened with a soft click.
“Lieutenant Trace,” Cyclone said from the doorway, his voice steady and unreadable. “Come in.”
Phoenix stood immediately, smoothing her palms down her thighs before following him inside. The door shut behind her with a quiet thud that felt louder than it should have.
Cyclone didn’t sit right away. He moved behind his desk, sorting through a few papers, tapping something on his tablet, giving her just enough silence to make her pulse spike. Phoenix hovered for a moment, unsure if she should wait to be told — then finally lowered herself into the chair across from him.
He still didn’t look at her.
The seconds stretched. The room felt too still, too controlled, like he was letting the quiet do the work for him. Phoenix stared straight ahead, jaw tight, trying not to fidget, trying not to let the tension show. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the expectation, the scrutiny, the unspoken question of what exactly had happened in that hangar.
Cyclone finally set the tablet down and met her eyes.
“I heard there was an incident.”
No tone. No judgment. Just calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that made her stomach twist.
Phoenix swallowed hard. She could lie. She was good at lying. She’d been doing it for years — to her friends, to her squad, to herself. She could give Cyclone the bare minimum, keep everything vague, keep the truth buried where it belonged.
And for a split second — just one — the thought flickered through her mind:
She could tell him.
She could say the words. She could hand the whole situation over to someone else, let the fallout land where it may. She could make it his problem instead of hers.
It would be easy. One sentence. One truth. And everything would change.
But the image of their faces — Nick’s shock, Jake’s hurt, Bradley’s anger — hit her like a punch. If she said anything, if she exposed them, that would be it. Whatever was left of their friendship would be gone. Burned to ash. And she wasn’t willing to lose them. Not like that. Not because of her.
It wasn’t her place. It wasn’t her secret. And no matter how twisted up she felt inside, she wasn’t going to be the one who destroyed them.
So she did what she always did. She compartmentalized. She sealed it away.
“I had a disagreement with Seresin and Bradshaw,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “It got heated. We’ve handled it.”
Cyclone studied her, his face giving nothing away. “Heated enough that Lieutenant Machado felt the need to intervene?”
Her throat tightened. So he already knew. Of course he knew. Rumors spread faster than fire through dry grass.
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly. “I said some things I shouldn’t have.”
Cyclone leaned back slightly, not relaxed but measured, the way someone did when they were choosing their next words carefully. “About?”
Phoenix met his gaze without flinching. “Nothing important.”
A beat of silence. Not accusatory — just patient. Waiting.
Cyclone’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his posture softened by a fraction. Not leniency. Not indulgence. Something closer to concern, buried under layers of command presence.
“You know the Dagger squad is the most cohesive unit on this base,” he said. “And cohesion like that only exists when there’s real trust holding it together.”
Phoenix kept her breathing even. “It won’t affect operations.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She felt the words like a pressure against her ribs. Cyclone wasn’t pushing — not exactly. He wasn’t interrogating her. He wasn’t demanding answers. He was giving her space to speak, space to offer something, space to trust him.
And she couldn’t. Not with this. Not with the thing clawing at her insides, the thing she’d spent years burying, the thing that had erupted the moment she saw the three of them together and realized how close she was to losing it over something she thought she’d long since buried.
“It was personal,” she said finally, choosing each word with care. “Something from before. It came up unexpectedly. I didn’t handle it well.”
Cyclone’s eyes sharpened, but his voice stayed level. “Is it something that compromises your ability to fly?”
“No, sir.”
“Your ability to work with your team?”
She hesitated — just long enough for him to notice — then shook her head. “No, sir.”
Another long moment of silence. Cyclone didn’t look away. He didn’t press. He didn’t demand more. He simply watched her with the kind of quiet, steady attention that made her feel seen in a way she didn’t want to be.
“Lieutenant,” he said finally, “you’re one of the strongest pilots I’ve ever trained. But strength doesn’t mean pretending nothing affects you.”
Phoenix’s jaw tightened. She didn’t respond.
“I’m not asking for details,” Cyclone continued. “I’m asking if you’re all right.”
The question hit harder than anything else he’d said. Not because of the words — but because of the way he said them. Calm. Direct. Without judgment. Without expectation. With something that felt dangerously close to care.
Phoenix forced herself to nod. “I will be.”
Cyclone studied her for another moment, then gave a single, accepting nod. “If this… situation resurfaces, you come to me. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
His tone shifted — still professional, but gentler at the edges. “Intentions matter, Trace. And so does trust. Whatever this is, make sure it doesn’t erode what your team relies on.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Good.” He picked up his tablet again, signaling the conversation was over. “You’re dismissed.”
Phoenix stood, her movements controlled, precise. She turned toward the door, her heartbeat still uneven, her thoughts still a tangled mess she couldn’t begin to unravel.
But she’d survived the conversation. She’d kept the truth buried. She’d held the line.
For now.
Nick hadn’t even made it to her lab yet. She’d barely stepped off the elevator when she decided she needed caffeine before diving into her morning. The small café near the engineering wing was already open, and the smell of fresh coffee drifting into the hallway was enough to pull her in.
She ordered her usual — and without really thinking about it, she ordered her dad’s too.
He’d been on base during the earthquake yesterday. He’d had to of seen her leave with Jake and Bradley, pale and shaken, and even though she’d settled quickly once she was with them, she knew Maverick. He worried quietly, in that way only he could. He wouldn’t bring it up unless she did, but she could feel the question hanging in the air between them.
So stopping by his office didn’t feel like a detour.
It felt… right.
Normal.
Comforting, even.
Two coffees in hand, she headed down the familiar hallway toward the flight instructors’ offices. The morning bustle was starting to pick up — distant voices, the clatter of someone rolling a toolbox, the faint hum of jets being prepped outside. It was the kind of background noise she’d grown up with, the kind that always made her feel grounded.
Her dad’s door was cracked open, a sliver of warm light spilling into the hall. She paused just long enough to shift the cups in her hands, then lifted her knuckles and tapped lightly on the frame.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, leaning in with a small smile. “Brought you some coffee.”
Maverick looked up from his desk, a flicker of surprise crossing his weathered features before it softened into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Kiddo,” he said, pushing his chair back slightly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Wasn’t expecting you this morning.”
“Figured you could use the caffeine,” she replied, stepping fully into the office and handing him his cup.
The familiar space wrapped around her like a worn‑in jacket — paperwork stacked in uneven piles, the faint smell of jet fuel clinging to his leather jacket hanging by the door, framed photos arranged in that casual, instinctive way her dad always did things. It wasn’t neat, but it was unmistakably him. And somehow, it felt like home.
Maverick took the cup from her, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “Ah, so that’s what brings my favorite daughter by.”
Nick rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth was impossible to hide. “Dad, I’m your only daughter.”
“Still my favorite,” he said, lifting the cup in a small toast before taking a sip. His shoulders eased — the way they always did when she walked in. “Thanks, kiddo. This is exactly what I needed.”
He looked at her, his eyes sharp but kind beneath bushy eyebrows. “How are you feeling this morning?”
The question wasn’t unexpected. Nick took a sip of her coffee, buying time as she settled into the chair opposite his desk. “Better,” she said, and it was mostly true. The immediate panic from yesterday had faded, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that clung to her muscles like honey.
Maverick nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Did I see you leaving with Bradley yesterday?”
She nodded. “Yeah. We happened to be near each other when the earthquake happened. He offered to walk me to my car to make sure I got there okay.”
“I'm glad. Bradley is a good kid.”
Maverick said it with a small nod, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer — really taking her in. The relief there was subtle, but unmistakable. It had been weeks, since they’d actually sat in the same room, and yesterday’s chaos had only made that distance feel sharper.
“You know,” he said quietly, “when the quake hit… my first instinct was to go find you.”
Nick’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to say it so plainly.
“But I couldn’t,” he went on, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “We had jets on the tarmac, alarms going off, people needing direction. I had a job to do.”
Nick swallowed, her fingers tightening around her cup. “I figured you’d be worried. That’s… why I came by.”
Maverick’s expression warmed instantly — that familiar, quiet affection that always made her feel steadier. “I was. You hate earthquakes. Always have.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yesterday wasn’t great.”
“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “I remember that day too. You were so brave.”
Nick’s throat tightened. She took another sip of coffee to hide the emotion welling up. “I wasn’t brave. I was terrified.”
“No you were brave, kiddo. Being scared but still pushing through.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Like father, like daughter.”
Nick felt warmth spread through her chest at his words.
“You really think so?” Nick asked, her voice small but hopeful.
Maverick leaned forward, his eyes softening. “I do.” He leaned back in his chair. His fingers drummed gently on the desk, a subtle tell that he was thinking of something else. “You’ve always had that Mitchell spirit, even when you’re scared.”
She looked down at her coffee, suddenly finding the lid intensely interesting. The weight of everything—Phoenix’s threats, the earthquake, her complicated relationship—felt like it was pressing down on her chest. Part of her wanted to tell him everything right then, to let the truth spill out and deal with the consequences.
But the moment passed. She wasn’t ready to shatter this peaceful moment between them.
“I appreciate that, Dad,” she said instead, her voice soft.
Maverick nodded. “Penny tells me she went shopping with you so you could buy a dress for your high school reunion. How did that go?”
Nick smiled a little, the memory softer than she expected. “It was good. The reunion was… actually nice. Better than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah?” Maverick leaned back, giving her his full attention. “Who’d you end up catching, up with?”
“Rachel, mostly.” Nick’s smile warmed. “We spent a lot of time talking. It was really good to see her.”
Maverick’s expression softened. “How’s she doing? And her husband?”
“They’re good. Busy, but good. She’s still the same Rachel.”
“That’s good to hear.” He nodded, a quiet fondness in his voice. “You two were always thick as thieves.”
Nick huffed a small laugh. “Pretty much.”
Maverick watched her for a moment — really watched her — and something eased in his shoulders, like hearing her talk about something good was its own kind of relief. “Sounds like it was a good night for you.”
“It was,” she admitted. “I’m glad I went.”
He smiled — small, warm, like she was used to. “I’m glad too.”
A beat passed, comfortable and easy in a way they hadn’t shared in a while.
Then Maverick glanced at her over the rim of his cup, something soft settling in his expression. “Hey… since I’ve actually got you in one place for more than five minutes, how about you come over for dinner this week?”
Nick blinked. “Dinner?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, casual but hopeful. “Me, Penny, Amelia. It’s been too long since we’ve all sat down together. And after yesterday… I’d like to have you close for a bit.”
Nick’s chest tightened in that warm, familiar way. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Maverick smiled — small, relieved, unmistakably dad. “Good. Penny will be thrilled.”
“Do you know why he’s calling us into his office?” Bradley asked as he and Jake walked in lockstep down the corridor.
“No but I can venture a guess.” He replied as they walked up to a small desk. “Hi, Lieutenant Seresin and Lieutenant Bradshaw for Admiral Simpson.”
Without looking up from her computer she replied. “Doors unlocked. He’s waiting for you.”
Jake’s hand froze on the door handle. He exchanged a glance with Bradley—a silent conversation that passed between them in the space of a heartbeat. The weight of what Cyclone might want settled over them like a heavy blanket.
“After you,” Jake said, his voice low as he pushed the door open.
The admiral’s office was exactly as Jake remembered it—sparse, functional, commanding. Cyclone sat behind his desk, hands folded, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look up immediately, instead finishing a note on the tablet before him.
“Gentlemen,” he said finally, gesturing to the two chairs across from him. “Have a seat.”
Jake lowered himself into one, back straight, shoulders squared. This wasn’t the posture of Hangman—this was the posture of Lieutenant Seresin, the one who knew when to shelve the swagger. Bradley mirrored him, their movements synchronized in a way that felt almost rehearsed.
Cyclone leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the two men before him. The silence stretched like taffy, pulling taut until Jake could feel it press against his temples.
“Do you gentleman know why I asked you.”
Jake gave him a small nod. “We have an idea sir.”
“I already spoke with Phoenix and got her side of things,” he said as he clasped his hands together. “Now I want to get yours.”
Bradley shifted in his seat, his back straightening as he met Cyclone’s gaze directly. “What exactly did Phoenix tell you, sir?”
The question hung in the air between them, sharp and deliberate. Bradley kept his expression neutral, but Jake could feel the tension radiating from him in waves.
Cyclone studied them both for a moment, his expression giving nothing away. “She said she had a disagreement with you both. That things got heated.” His tone remained neutral, carefully measured. “She indicated it was personal in nature and assured me it wouldn’t affect operations.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. So Phoenix had kept their secret after all. Relief mingled with confusion—why protect them after everything she’d said?
“Did she mention what the disagreement was about sir?” Jake asked, keeping his voice even.
“No,” Cyclone said, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “She was deliberately vague. But the fact that Lieutenant Machado felt compelled to intervene suggests this wasn’t a simple disagreement.”
Bradley’s shoulders tensed beside Jake, the subtle shift barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Jake did.
“That’s true. The disagreement was personal in nature, sir,” Bradley said, his voice steady despite the tension Jake could feel radiating from him. “But as Lieutenant Trace said, it won’t affect our ability to work together.”
Cyclone’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened. “Personal disagreements have a way of spilling over into professional situations.” He leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Especially when they involve members of the same squad who are close outside of work.”
Jake kept his expression neutral, though his pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t an interrogation—not exactly—but it felt dangerously close.
Cyclone didn’t immediately respond. His eyes shifted from Jake to Bradley, then back again, measuring them both with that cool, assessing gaze that had earned him his callsign. Jake forced himself to keep breathing evenly, to maintain his neutral expression despite the tightness in his chest.
“I’m not interested in the specifics of your personal lives,” Cyclone said finally, his voice level. “What concerns me is cohesion. The Dagger squad functions at its highest level because of the trust you all have for one another. If that trust erodes, the entire unit suffers.”
Bradley nodded. “We understand, sir.”
“Phoenix—has been with us for a long time,” Cyclone continued, his voice carrying a weight that made Jake’s stomach tighten. “You two have been here just as long. Whatever this disagreement is about, I expect you to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Whatever it takes.”
Jake nodded, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “We intend to, sir.”
Cyclone leaned back, his chair creaking softly. “Good. Because I can’t have my best pilots at each other’s throats.” His gaze shifted between them, something calculating in his expression. “You’ve both come a long way from the hotshots who showed up at Top Gun. Don’t throw that away over personal drama.”
“Yes, sir,” Bradley answered, his voice steady despite the tension Jake could feel radiating from him.
Cyclone studied them for a moment longer, then nodded once. “Dismissed.”
Jake stood, relief washing through him as they made their way to the door. They were almost free when Cyclone spoke again, stopping them in their tracks.
“One more thing,” Cyclone said, his voice casual but pointed.”I know you’re all friends. But this job has to come before that. Remember that.”
They gave him a nod and then exited his office.
“Close call,” Jake muttered as they rounded the corner away from Cyclone’s office.
Bradley nodded, his jaw tight. “Too close.” He glanced around to ensure they were alone before continuing, “Why do you think Phoenix didn’t tell him?”
Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. After everything she said, threatening to tell Maverick...” He trailed off, the weight of that particular threat still heavy on his mind. “Maybe what Coyote said to her yesterday got through to her after all.”
Bradley’s expression darkened. “Or maybe she’s just biding her time.”
They walked in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable despite the brief reprieve from Cyclone’s scrutiny.
“What do we do now?” Jake asked quietly. “About Phoenix, I mean.”
Bradley sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to think about lying low for a while.” He paused. “Just till things calm down.”
He shook his head. “Nick's probably not going to like that.”
“I know, but what are our other options?”
The sun was already low and bleeding orange through the blinds when Nick finally made it back to the apartment, her keys scraping twice against the lock before catching.
Jake was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed while Bradley was on a stool, and between them sat an extra large pizza box, still steaming faintly at the corners.
“Hey you two? How was work?” She asked as she placed her purse down by the door.
“Good. We brought dinner,” Jake said, gesturing toward the pizza box on the counter. His usual cocky grin was tempered with something softer as he watched her.
Nick’s stomach growled at the sight, reminding her she’d skipped lunch. The day had been long—between catching up on work she’d missed yesterday and the lingering anxiety from the earthquake.
“How are you feeling today?” Bradley asked, hopping off the stool and moving towards her to brush his fingers against her arm.
“I’m okay,” she said, leaning into his touch. “Better than yesterday, for sure.”
The three of them settled around the small kitchen table, the pizza open between them. For a few minutes, they ate in comfortable silence, the only sounds the occasional clink of a plate or glass.
“Cyclone called us in today,” Bradley said casually, but Nick noticed the slight tension in his shoulders.
She froze with a slice halfway to her mouth. “What happened?”
“Nothing serious,” Jake interjected quickly. “He wanted to ask about what happened with Phoenix.”
Nick lowered the pizza slice back to her plate, her appetite suddenly vanishing. “What did he ask?”
“Just about the argument,” Bradley said, his voice careful. “He’d already spoken to Phoenix, but wanted to hear our side.”
Jake took a sip of water, watching her over the rim of his glass. “She didn’t tell him about us.”
The words hung in the air between them. Nick felt a strange mixture of relief and confusion flood through her.
“She didn’t?” Nick asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
Bradley shook his head. “She told him it was a personal disagreement that got heated. Nothing about... this.” He gestured between the three of them.
Nick sat back in her chair, trying to process this unexpected turn. After everything Phoenix had said, after her threats about telling her dad...
“Why wouldn’t she tell him?” she asked, voicing the question that had immediately formed in her mind.
Jake and Bradley exchanged a look, both seeming to consider the question.
“Maybe she’s having second thoughts,” Jake suggested, though his tone suggested he didn’t fully believe it. “Or maybe she’s worried about the consequences for herself if she admits to snooping.”
Nick’s fingers traced the edge of her plate, her appetite still gone despite the appealing aroma of the pizza. “Or maybe she’s planning something else.”
Bradley’s expression darkened. “We thought about that too. Which is why—“ he hesitated, glancing at Jake before continuing, “we think we should maybe... lie low for a while.”
“Lie low?” Nick repeated, her voice rising slightly. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means we should be careful,” Jake explained, reaching across the table to take her hand. “No more nights together at the Hard Deck. No more obvious displays when we’re on base. We need to keep our relationship under wraps until things settle down with Phoenix.”
Nick pulled her hand away from Jake’s, anger flashing in her eyes.
“So we’re supposed to hide? To pretend we’re not together?” Nick’s voice sharpened, her green eyes flashing. “After everything, we’re just going to let Phoenix dictate our lives?”
Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about letting her dictate anything. It’s about being smart, Nick. About protecting all of us.”
“Protecting us from what?” Nick stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “She already threatened to tell my father. What more could she possibly do?”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “She could make things difficult for us at work. She could go to Cyclone. She could—“
“She could what?” Nick interrupted, her voice rising. “Destroy our careers? Is that what you’re afraid of?”
“No,” Jake said firmly, standing to face her. “We’re afraid of losing you. Of this thing we have falling apart.”
Nick’s anger faltered at the raw emotion in Jake’s voice. Her eyes flickered between the two men, seeing the genuine fear there. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, too cramped with all of them standing.
“That’s not going to happen,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less determined. “Not because of Phoenix. Not because of anyone.”
Bradley stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. “We know that, Nick. But we still need to be careful.”
“I’m tired of being careful,” she admitted, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “I’m tired of hiding what we have. We already have a secret relationship. What else is there to do?”
Jake reached for her hand again, voice gentle. “Just… be more discreet.”
Nick pulled away before he could touch her. She paced the small kitchen, frustration simmering under her skin. “I don’t want to be discreet. I want to live my life without hiding who I love.”
Bradley stepped in front of her path, hands settling lightly on her shoulders. “We all want that, Nick. But we have to be smart about this. Phoenix is volatile right now. If we give her some time, I’m sure things will blow over.”
Nick slipped out of his grasp, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I just… I need a minute.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen before either of them could respond. Her footsteps were soft, but the tension in the air was loud. She headed straight for the bedroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet, deliberate click — somehow more painful than a slam.
Inside, she pressed her back to the door, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to steady her breathing. The weight of everything — the secrecy, the fear, the constant pressure to pretend she was fine — pressed down on her all at once.
Her chest tightened. Her throat burned.
And then the tears came.
Silent at first, then harder, until she slid down the door and sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, trying to muffle the sound of her own sobs.
Jake ran a hand through his hair in the kitchen. “Shit.”
Bradley exhaled slowly, leaning his hands on the counter. “Yeah.”
They stood there for a moment, listening to the quiet house — too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant Nick wasn’t okay.
Jake’s voice softened. “We should go make sure she's okay.”
Bradley nodded. “Yeah. Come on.”
They walked down the hall together, their footsteps careful and quiet against the hardwood, stopping outside the closed bedroom door. Jake raised his knuckles and knocked—soft, tentative, barely more than a tap.
“Nick? Sweetheart?”
No answer.
Bradley tried next, voice low and steady. “Sweetie, can you open the door?”
Still nothing.
Jake tried the handle. The mechanism gave a small, dull resistance — not the soft catch of a door simply shut, but the firm, definitive stop of something intentionally closed. He let go of it slowly.
He exchanged a worried look with Bradley. “She never locks the door.”
Bradley pressed his forehead lightly to the wood. “Nick… please talk to us.”
Silence.
Jake softened his voice even more. “We’re not mad. You didn’t do anything wrong. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
A faint, shaky breath sounded from the other side — barely audible, but enough to break both their hearts.
She was crying. They made her cry.
Bradley tried again, gentle but firm. “Baby… let us in. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Another pause.
Then, slowly, the lock clicked.
Jake turned the handle slowly, easing the door open an inch at a time, one hand braced against the frame.
Nick sat on the floor, back against the door frame, eyes red and cheeks wet. She looked up at them, embarrassed, exhausted, overwhelmed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping at her face. “I just… I needed a minute.”
Jake immediately crouched beside her, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to apologize for that darlin’.”
Bradley knelt on her other side, his hand warm on her back. “Never be sorry for how you feel,” he added softly.
Nick looked up at them through her tears, embarrassed by her outburst but unable to stop the flood of emotions. Their concerned faces blurred through her wet lashes.
“I don’t want to hide,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want us to be something that has to stay secret.”
Jake sat down fully, pulling her against his chest. “We know, darlin’.”
She curled into him, soaking his shirt with her tears. “It’s not fair. We’ve done nothing wrong.”
Bradley settled closer on her other side, his hand tracing gentle circles on her back. “You’re right. It’s not fair.”
The three of them sat there on the bedroom floor, the tension from the kitchen slowly dissolving as Nick’s tears subsided. She felt drained, emotionally and physically, after the earthquake, the confrontation with Phoenix, and now this argument with her boyfriend's.
Jake’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “We just want to protect you, darlin’. That’s all.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning into his embrace. “I just hate that our relationship has become something we need to protect.”
Bradley shifted closer, his warmth seeping through her clothes where his leg pressed against hers. “We all do.”
Jake’s fingers brushed through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Hey,” he said softly. “I know we still have things to figure out, but how about we take a break? I think I saw some ice cream in the freezer.”
Nick looked up, surprised by the sudden shift. Her tears had left her feeling raw and vulnerable, but the mention of ice cream brought a watery smile to her face.
“Chocolate chip?” she asked hopefully, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“The one with the cookie dough chunks,” Bradley confirmed, a gentle smile warming his face as he stood and extended his hand to her. “We can’t solve all our problems tonight, but we can at least have dessert.”
Nick accepted his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She was wrung out, hollowed—but ice cream, somehow, sounded like exactly the right thing.
Bradley kept her hand in his as they stepped into the hallway, Jake close behind them. The house felt quieter than it had earlier, the tension from the kitchen replaced by something gentler, something tired but still intact. Nick let out a slow breath, the kind that didn’t fix anything but made the weight on her chest a little easier to carry.
“Okay,” she murmured, more to herself than to them. “Ice cream sounds good.”
Jake brushed his thumb along her shoulder as they walked toward the kitchen. “Good. Then that’s what we’ll do.”
There was no grand solution waiting for them, no perfect answer to the mess they were in. But the three of them moved together anyway, step for step, like they always did. And for tonight, that was enough.
Featuring Deaf Jake and his older brother Bob, who tries to find Jake a date on Instagram. Bradley and Natasha answer.
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN
PART EIGHT
Jake had meant it when he had told Bob he wasn’t going on any more dates. He was going to try and be single. Well. Happily single. And yet here he is, bringing someone home not even two weeks since he made the pact with himself. He’s glad he never mentioned it to Bob, otherwise his brother would be having a field day. More of a field day than he’s already having that is. Jake has been single for nearly a year now, going on some god-awful dates and also having some equally terrible hookups. And yet here he is, not only on a date but also planning on hooking up with someone he decided not even an hour ago he wasn’t going to sleep with.
He was lying to himself.
Clearly.
Nothing has changed. Bob hasn’t taken a shine to anyone in years. He’s generally quieter and even pickier than Jake, so it had been huge that he’d invited Natasha to go somewhere else. His brother has never been into casual, which is why he’d changed tactics. But. Well. He hadn’t expected Bradley to be interested in more than a hookup. Not really. And he’d meant his line about being picky, most guys don’t get a look in at a second date, which is why Jake usually sleeps with people on the first date so he doesn’t have to see them again.
However, learning Bradley is definitely interested in more is making him take a chance. And that’s making him a little nervous if he’s honest with himself. Not that he’ll let that show at all. Bradley has been fun and he’s been flirting with Jake like he’s normal, whatever the fuck that is meant to be. He’s never been normal so has always strived to be memorable. Normalcy is overrated.
That said, he’s glad Bradley doesn’t shy away from asking questions, has already given some evidence that he doesn’t edge around difficult topics, just asking directly. Matter of fact. It’s reassuring in a way. That and the fact he seems to be amused by Jake being an asshole more than anything. And he doesn’t seem to be inclined to not be an asshole right back. No soft and special treatment, Bradley doesn’t seem to be putting forward a version of himself that he thinks Jake will like more.
“Anything else I should know so I don’t put my foot in it?” Bradley asks, and Jake looks at him, takes in his profile as shadows from the streetlights pass over it. He’s damn handsome and right now he can’t think of anything. There are things that annoy him, of course there are. But he cannot think of a single one of them right now. He wants to get Bradley into bed, and then not let him leave. The fact he can sign is huge, probably not something he realizes is as big a deal as it is for Jake. He hasn’t made Jake feel lesser all evening, not even accidentally.
“You said your mom was a CODA. So you grew up with sign. Your sign name. Rooster. Who gave that to you?”
“My grandparents. Told my mom I was better than any type of alarm clock. First sign of the sun I’d apparently cry and wake up the entire house. Except for them. They’d sleep through blissfully unaware.”
“And now? Still a morning person?”
“Yeah. But I can be convinced to stay in bed,” Bradley says. “With the right incentive.”
The sideways look he gives him is full on filthy and Jake barks out a sharp laugh, cuts it short because he doesn’t like the sound; shakes his head. Bradley is smooth and what’s worse is Jake likes it.
Featuring Deaf Jake and his older brother Bob, who tries to find Jake a date on Instagram. Bradley and Natasha answer.
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX
PART SEVEN
“Oh, I am, am I?” Bradley asks, but he’s definitely following Jake out of the pool hall, curious as to where Jake might be leading them, runs into his back as he stands in the street, hands on his hips and assessing the street. It’s still fairly bright out and he puts on his sunglasses, then catches Jake’s glance at them and he realises they’re covering up his eyes and quickly removes them again
“Did you drive here?”
“I did. Is Bob going to be able to make sure Natasha gets back alright?”
“My brother is a gentleman,” Jake says, and then he grins wider. “Unlike me.”
“See, you keep saying shit like that and giving me whiplash. Hooking up or dating?”
“Both can be true at the same time. First you have to pass the final test. Where’s your car?”
“This way,” Bradley says, and his entire body is thrumming suddenly with the idea that maybe he’s not just going to Jake’s place to meet a dog. Fuck. It’s a high-pressure meet and greet. He doesn’t quite jump when Jake’s hand sneaks into the back pocket of his jeans as they walk, but it’s a close thing. He glances to catch Jake grinning at him, then he squeezes Bradley’s ass and he ducks his head, shaking it a little. Can’t believe he’s doing this right now and that it has him excited about the potential of a lot more than just some good sex.
“My car.”
Jake nods, and he can’t tell what Jake thinks of his Bronco, is pretty sure it isn’t a deal breaker, however Jake definitely hasn’t given him any impression that he’s low maintenance. The man has standards and isn’t going to waste time with people who might not meet them. Bradley can’t help but admire that; already wants to exceed every challenge Jake sends his way. Jake gives him his address and Bradley enters it into his phone, notes it’s a twenty-minute drive into a suburb he’s not familiar with.
“Can you hear me talk with the windows down?” Bradley asks, glancing quickly to Jake as he pulls out into the traffic. The look Jake gives him is a little smug and Bradley can’t wait to kiss that mouth, fuck, he needs to concentrate on driving.
“I can hear you just fine.” He wants to ask about Jake’s exes, the ones his brother said Jake had bad taste for going out with. Wants to know what made them bad so he can hopefully maybe avoid the same pitfalls or behaviour. “You going to talk, or just think about it?”
Bradley huffs in annoyance, not sure how to just blurt out and ask about Jake’s past boyfriends, partners, hookups or whatever he refers to them.
“Bob said you had bad taste in men…”
“Hmm. You want the juicy details of all my past relationships already?”
“Uh. Maybe your biggest pet peeves?” Bradley asks, hopes that’s broad and vague enough but also show enough interest to maybe get something. “I can talk about why all my past relationships have failed if that helps?”
“Did any of them end because you cheated?”
“What? No!”
“Well. Pet peeve number one.”
“Fuck. Sorry.”
“Wasn’t you that cheated on me. What about you? Pet peeve?”
“…uh. Being dumped while I’m deployed. I’d prefer that then them cheating on me, but that’s happened too.”
“That’s two. I thought naval aviators were smart.”
Bradley rolls his eyes and shakes his head, glances to the side quickly and sees Jake grinning at him and he grins back. Yep. Still wants to kiss him.
“Your second pet peeve then?”
“Well, people treating me like I’m stupid simply because I can’t hear.”
“People do that?”
Jake snorted and Bradley took that as the affirmative answer Jake clearly means it as.
“Seem to think something is wrong with my brain.”
“But there isn’t,” Bradley says, a little confused. He had looked at Jake’s Instagram, had seen the explanation of how he was born deaf, had failed cochlear implant surgery when he was around ten years old, how he’d hated the idea that people thought his life was somehow less than everyone else’s.
“I know that,” Jake says, tone sharp. “Glad you do too. Just… don’t like people treating me like I’m weak or helpless.”
“Time and place for that though, right?” Bradley says, and he hadn’t thought his words were overly suggestive but Jake is laughing, and he repeats the words in his head, flushing a little and shaking his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I was thinking more if you were sick in bed and needed caring for.”
“Boring. But I was still imagining a bed being involved.”
“One step at a time,” Bradley mutters, not even sure if Jake will pick his words up the way it’s almost under his breath. Jake’s laugh is answer enough though.
“You were the one imagining bringing me soup in bed, that’s so many more steps ahead of what I’m imagining.”
“Well I don’t mind your imagination if you don’t mind mine…” Bradley says; a quick look at Jake means he only catches the edge of a smile but he’s pretty sure he also saw the hint of a blush.
this idea came to me randomly, don't know why but I thought itd be fun to explore lmaooo
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Jake "Hangman" Seresin is always walking around with a toothpick in his mouth. If he's not actively eating or drinking, he's absentmindedly chewing on or fidgeting with a toothpick.
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw notices as much when they're deployed together at North Island for the Dagger special detachment. Leaving the TOPGUN briefing room to go out on a hop, on the tarmac after landing, at the Hard Deck after a long day-- there it is, the toothpick, always in his mouth.
One day, about a week into the detachment, Bradley invites Nat to his place to catch up over dinner. He decides to make those little slider sandwiches with the toothpicks through the middle since they're low-effort and delicious.
He realizes, right before he heads home for the day, that he's nearly out of toothpicks. He decides to stop at the on-base commissary to get more, and when he reaches the aisle with the toothpicks, he sees Jake Seresin himself putting a box of them in his basket.
He makes eye contact with Bradley and smirks at him, and as Bradley goes to take his own box of toothpicks, he realizes Jake took the last one. A lot of people must have needed toothpicks today.
By the time Bradley turns around, Jake is gone.
Half of Bradley's sandwiches are sentenced to having no structural integrity. It's a tragedy, really.
For the remainder of the mission training, Bradley swears Jake is purposefully chewing on toothpicks more often, just to rub it in his face. Sometimes he even has two in his mouth at a time, and he makes sure to get in Bradley's face as often as possible when that happens, just so he sees the toothpicks he barely missed.
At some point, Bradley starts to want to just pluck that toothpick out of Jake's mouth and chuck it away. He can't stand Jake flaunting the toothpicks at him all the time. That desire gets stronger over time, and somehow Bradley doesn't realize that that's not normal.
Their "rivalry" grows into full-blown aggressive flirting as the mission approaches, and naturally, Bradley and Jake are the only two people who are oblivious to the others' feelings (and, honestly, their own).
They both realize it on the carrier returning from the mission-- Jake was a little too distraught when Bradley's plane went down, and Bradley was a little too happy that it was Jake, rather than anyone else, that came and shot down the Russian jet and saved him and Mav.
A few days after they get back, once Bradley's been released from medical observation, he's standing out behind the Hard Deck, leaning against the porch railing, watching the moon rise over the San Diego Bay.
He hears the door open and gently shut behind him, and someone leans against the railing beside him. He doesn't even need to look-- he knows by the characteristic dramatic sigh and the smell of that cologne that it's Jake.
And when they finally meet each other's eyes, nothing needs to be said. They both finally know, and as Bradley puts one hand on Jake's waist and Jake loops his arms around Bradley's neck, he finally gets the chance to pluck that stupid toothpick from Jake's mouth and toss it into the sand.
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happy pride everyone!!! yay for the gayest military propaganda movies in existence
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