hangster waking up in the morning
jake religiously waking up at 0500 and struggling to fight his way out of bradley’s grip because “bradshaw, you shoulda thought twice about choosing a man who actually takes care of himself - unhand me, you’re like — like quicksand”
and bradley doesn’t even know who is talking right now in his bed because why the hell would anybody get up 30 minutes before their (their) alarm and why is he moving so much. why is this happening to him.
jake’s all but batting at him trying to extricate with increasingly annoyed “my body is a temple - and you are the unabomber” while bradley’s just “tenpl…. jake the fuck,…… , man,,”
when he finally escapes w his life, jake is up and at em. he’s brushing his teeth and blending a smoothie and putting on his running clothes and out the door before bradley has a chance to turn off the alarm and prop his bag of bones body up into a position that wont kill him when he’s 60. he stumbles out into the living room and can barely process the tornado that passed thru his house
he’s picking up the pajamas off the floor, capping the toothpaste, putting the stupid hair products, that jake absolutely does not need for a run, away. then he moves to the kitchen and cleans up the green cement in their nutribullet blender. the cat’s already fed, but she’s screaming all the same bc bradley has spoiled her and cannot stop himself from responding to loud, whiny things. (he won’t think about this too closely)
he makes breakfast just in time for jake to come back. and bradley’s on him like a fuckin blood hound, rubbing his face all over jake’s neck and hair like a cat, despite (because of) the fact that he’s drenched in sweat and telling him that he’s a gross freak. and yea he loves the attention but thats besides the point, because bradley’s left his weights on the couch and the sharp angles are gonna ruin the leather. he doesn’t have time to put up a real fight about it because the way he’s kissing up his neck is suggesting a productive shower.
they bicker a normal insufferable amount like they do every morning. bradley makes a face at jake’s insane workout hack/diet tiktok folder over his shoulder, jake bitches that he’s getting rug burn from his stupid mustache. the cat complains that her favorite scratch post is being taken up by bradley’s golf bag. and jake is telling him he needs to move that eyesore anyway and ignores the fact that her actual scratch tower they bought her was left unattended in favor of the cabinet where they keep all their stupid blu-rays.
jake keeps telling him to donate them to the potential needy that have a poor enough taste to appreciate classic hits like pirates of the carribbean 2, 28 days later, and the accountant. it’s a losing battle, what a fuckin hoarder.
but despite his stubbornness, sometimes the morning light crawls up jake just right — as he’s defending his love for american pie — and bradley’s chest goes all warm and tight at the sight of the seresin crinkle around his eyes, and he ALMOST gives in. almost.
anyway. hangster in the morning
