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It starts as a joke, as a way to poke fun at Hangman.
After the mission that had them all renewing their psych evals and doing months worth of physiotherapy, they'd all grown exponentially closer. Jake, especially, found himself clinging to the Daggers like an abandoned koala babe.
Jake, despite his behavior and demeanor, has always been quite lonely. It wasn't until he met Javy in flight school that he had his first ever honest, real best friend. Of course, they've been inseparable since then – Have gone through so much together that they're bonded not only by their friendship but the many times they've saved each other's asses. Up in the sky and down in the soil.
Growing up Jake had always been isolated, whether it was his father and his preference for Jake's cousins who were more Seresin-like than his youngest son, or in school where all the other kids already bonded with each other. Jake has felt like he's been watching the world from the sidelines ever since he was a child. He'd never been part of a group, not like this one. The Daggers love each other, and despite their past grievances they love Jake, too.
It's not conditional. It's not a ‘Well, he saved two lives so we ought to let him join us.’ None of that.
Jake showed them what his heart is really made of. He took down his walls and risked his entire career, his life's work, to fly off the carrier and save Bradley and Mav because in the moment he didn't care that Bradley hated him, he didn't care that Mav hadn't chosen him. He didn't care about coming in second.
He couldn't live with them not coming back. It's funny, because Jake always thought of himself as someone who's prepared to see his friends go.
But five years ago he'd sobbed across Javy's hospital bed after fishing him out of a bad situation where they could've both lost their lives. He had sat solemnly in the barracks when Bob and Nat went down during training. His heart had cracked in half when the overview announced Bradley's plane going down right after Mav's. He proved himself wrong, time and time again, doing whatever he could to save those he cares about.
This is how they repay him.
“What's that?” He asks, pointing at the small box perched in the middle of his bed.
Javy turns, he's changing into his civvies to hit the club. They're on a long leave after the mission, and thank God for that. Jake looks at the sky and shivers in the mornings. “Dunno, Phoenix left it there. Said it's for you."
“Phoenix got me a gift?” Jake asks, surprised.
“Seems like it, babe.”
Jake snarls at Javy for the nickname. Back in flight school there were rumors spreading about them sleeping together, other pilots would pester them about it until Javy popped up with a girlfriend.
Said girlfriend also thought they were sleeping together, which was quite an awkward thing to bring up the first time they met. Jake remembers having shaken her hand and then his smile faltering as she questioned him about how good Javy was in bed, with Javy behind her turning white from the horror that painted across his features.
They're that close, is the point.
Jake reaches for the box, studying it. “The hell is this?”
Javy looks at him as he opens the box, leaning in to try and see what he's got there. Jake pulls out a tiny stuffed bear tied to a decorated keychain. Said bear is dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, with aviators glued to his eyes and a… mustache.
“Oh,” Javy says, realization washing over him, then he's laughing. “That's a fucking Bradshaw bear!”
“I'm going to kill myself.”
Javy reaches over, planting a firm and warm hand on Jake's shoulder. “I can't attend another funeral, please. And it's a really cute gift.”
“It's Bradshaw,” Jake deadpans. “He's not cute.”
“Yeah, okay. Let's talk about this when you can mention his name without blushing.”
“I don't blush.”
“Sure, bud. Whatever you say.”
Jake doesn't. His relationship with Bradley changed, yes, but he doesn't feel like that about him.
His hands are naturally clammy. His mouth gets dry because of the weather. His cheeks turn pink because it's hot outside. It has nothing to do with how Bradley wears clothes that accentuate the wall of muscle hiding beneath the fabric, or how he stands taller than Jake and has to lean in sometimes to hear him more clearly. He's perfectly fine with how Bradley will touch his waist in passing, he feels really normal about it.
There's no ‘crush’ or attraction. Just two guys.
Jake saved Bradley's life because Bradley's life matters more than he thinks, is the thing. And when they were back in the carrier under the blazing sun with the sea singing around them he wanted to say so, wanted to tell Bradley his life was valuable and important.
His mouth couldn't move, his brain didn't cooperate. All he could do was smile like an idiot as his heart seized inside his chest.
“Whatever,” Jake places the tiny bear on the bedside table, slumping into the mattress. “Have fun out there, chump.”
“Old man Jake. You're so ancient, so old.”
“We're the same age, Javier.”
“Look at you,” Javy grabs his jacket and his wallet, shaking his head. “Dementia got your ass.”
Javy manages to dodge the pillow tossed at him by closing the door at the perfect moment.
Jake remains there, staring at the moldy ceiling of his bedroom while deep in thought. His eyes drift towards the bear as he thinks about Bradley while convincing himself he isn't doing such a thing.
Phoenix is well aware of Jake's weirdness towards Bradley, she also knows that it turned from a never ending streak of competitiveness into… whatever he has going on. She has been poking the bear, ha, and trying to get Jake to admit he has it bad for the brunette pilot. The bear is supposed to be an incentive, or a distasteful joke, but Jake's never been one to back down.
He grabs the tiny thing, smiling despite himself. It does resemble Bradley quite well.
“Okay,” Jake mutters to himself, fishing into the drawers for a sharpie he's sure was there. “You and I are gonna have fun, bud.”
–
The bear, whose name is Roo, goes everywhere with him.
It sits perched in the cockpit, like the photo of his sisters. He clips it to his flight suit after he's done flying, bouncing with every step Jake takes and sitting inside his duffel when he's in the showers.
Jake has him on the dashboard of his truck when he's off base. Their lengthy leave comes to an end, much to everyone's dismay, yet Jake finds himself still in Miramar. He's waiting to be informed where he's going next, still hanging around the base but spending a lot of time with Javy outside of it, too.
Bradley, who's been out of base and out of their radar ever since they got back to land, returns on a cloudy day. He has a fresh tan, his hair looks a bit longer than before and he looks good. Downright sinful, if you ask Jake. But he's not staring at all. Hell, he barely acknowledges Bradley's arrival because Javy drags him out of base to play pool at the Hard Deck.
They're three beers in, two games won each, when their squadron joins them.
“Paul Newman?” Phoenix's grin is wide, playful. She's pointing at Jake bent over the pool table.
Jake points back, frowning. “Pamela Anderson?”
“Ow, you're so sweet.” Phoenix pouts, she takes a cue pole from the corner and joins in.
“Thanks for the gift.”
Phoenix frowns, she's confused until Jake stands straighter and flexes his hip. The bear is hanging clipped from his belt, the red bold writing on its little white shirt reading Roo. Her face changes into amazement, then she laughs.
“I thought you'd throw it away!” Phoenix's laugh rumbles across the bar, then, “Hey! Bradshaw! Come on over and take a look at this!”
Jake's face goes blank, too pale. Javy glances at him from across the table.
Bradley pushes past a crowd, he's dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight black shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. His muscles rippled and flexed as he took off his aviators.
“Coyote,” Bradley nodded, smiling. “... Hangman.”
Jake cleared his throat, shying away. “Bradshaw.”
“You look… good.”
“Yeah,” Jake laughed, airy and hollow. “Thanks.”
Javy throws him a bewildered look. Jake tries to communicate with his eyes but to no avail.
Phoenix grabs his waist, handling him. Jake splutters as he feigns offense. “Show him.”
“You–Unhand me!”
He's turned around, brought to the end of the table where Bradley's standing. Jake's all flushed crimson, he was aware that Bradley was around but he didn't know they'd see each other tonight. He hadn't thought about it twice when he clipped the bear to his belt before leaving the barracks.
Bradley stares, eyes down and brows knitted together.
He's studying the bear. Jake winces when he reaches over and grabs it – it's impossible not to react, but he may be overreacting.
“Is that… me?”
Phoenix nods. “Yup, you as a baby bear.”
Bradley's gazing at Jake now. “Where'd you get this?”
Jake's about to save his own ass but Phoenix chimes in, rushed and quicker, smoother. “He saw it and thought of you, so he got it. We were out together in San Diego when he bought it.”
“Really?” Bradley cocks a brow, amused.
“Yep,” Phoenix claps Jake on the shoulders, she moves past them. “Want a drink?”
Bradley asks her for a rum and coke rather than a beer this time. Phoenix grabs Javy and drags him towards the bar, leaving the two pilots alone.
“Want to quit gripping him?”
“Not really,” Bradley's fingers tighten around the loop of the keychain. “You've been missing me, Hangman?”
And Jake, God bless his heart, has this internal battle with himself about what he's supposed to do. He could play it all off with his usual sarcasm and dry wit, separate from Bradley and forget this even happened at all.
But he's burning beneath his clothes, thirsty for another beer and maybe a taste of the sweat that's pooling in Bradley's neck.
So, he lets himself be vulnerable, “Yeah,” he mutters, softly. “A little.”
Bradley's face does something funny. Surprise mixed in with a softness Jake's never seen before. Their eyes meet again and Jake gulps, hands tightening around the cue, he can't breathe.
“I'm here,” Bradley murmurs, inching closer. “Not going anywhere for a long time.”
Jake snorts. “Sadly.”
“Mh,” Bradley's eyes flicker down to Jake's lips for the shortest second, then he backs off. “You wanna play? Loser buys a round of shots.”
“Bradshaw, grab onto your ass and wallet.”
Bradley's cackling laughter makes Jake smile, when their friends return they're so entranced in their pool game that the ice in Bradley's drink melts and Jake's beer goes stale by his side.
Phoenix gives him a wink from where she's leaning against Javy, raising her beer and tipping it towards him. Jake gets it, he does – He even gets a little bold with it and accidentally rubs against Bradley's front as he walks to the other end of the table, ignoring how Bradley's hands around his waist make him forget what ball he was even planning to hit.
Roo goes with Bradley to see him play piano later, Jake snaps pictures and videos. Javy shakes his head at him when they lock eyes, laughing.
You're neck deep, Seresin, he mouths.
–
As all of them get their information about deployment Mav manages to fix up a BBQ send off party, with Ice offering his spacious backyard and really nice grill. Boyfriend privileges, Mav says.
Nat and Mickey are being sent off to the middle east. Javy, Bob and Reuben are set to stay in Miramar for the time being as active teachers of the upcoming Top Gun class. And, to everyone's utter surprise and shock, Jake and Bradley are set to be deployed together in Japan.
When said orders came through Jake froze in the middle of the room. Javy had asked him if he was okay with that. Jake didn't know if he was okay, per se, he hadn't been that close to Bradley since they were in the Naval academy and then Top Gun, but even then they never flew as a duo. Always as competitors. Always as rivals. And with the blooming feelings and confusion Jake was thrown even more off balance.
Now he was in the Kazansky-Mitchell residence, sitting in a garden chair nursing a beer while Bob and Mickey chatted so freely around him.
Phoenix appears out of thin air, she takes the seat next to Jake's. “So, you're off to Japan with Rooster.”
“Yeah,” Jake swallowed. “It's gonna be fun.”
“God,” Phoenix laughs, she covers her mouth then, shying away from Jake's frown. “Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just – You're terrible at hiding it, Jake.”
“What am I hiding, Phoenix?”
“That you like him, duh. And you're gonna say no, you're gonna tell me you didn't white knight him because you're into him and whatever, but it's there in the way you look at him.”
Jake's discomfort settles deep inside his bones, he slumps into the chair and pretends it's very nice. Like it's not digging into the back muscles that ache so badly from the test flying.
“Okay,” Jake says. “That's that.”
Phoenix frowns. “You're not gonna do anything about it?”
“Nope.” Jake chugs the cold liquid, letting it burn his throat as it goes down.
As stated previously, Jake's always been lonely.
That fact has extended to his love life, too. Jake's never been in a serious relationship, and for some good reasons. In today's day and age there's not a lot of people willing to wait for anyone, being a fighter pilot he's always had to lead with the fact that he's never going to be around much, not until retirement or death. He's had two boyfriends in the past and it always ended the same.
Jake would leave, they would say they'd wait, then bam, late night text messages about forgiveness and you're a good man, I just can't do this.
Always someone new. Someone who can stay around to warm up the bed or prepare breakfast. Jake's all the way across the world getting broken up with because of his absence, which he can't even be mad about. It's no one's fault. He gets it. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, it doesn't mean Jake hasn't spent entire nights and days wondering what it would take for someone to just stay with him throughout it all.
Don't be a pilot, his shoulder devil says, Jake flicks him off every time.
“Hey,” Jake looks up to see Bradley, his throat swelling. Bradley's looking really nice, his cheeks pink and his arms displayed for their eyes to gawk at. “Dinner's about to be ready. Who's gonna help me set the table?”
Jake puts his beer down. “I can.”
“Come with me, Hangman.”
Phoenix sends him a look as he walks by her, Jake ignores it.
Bradley has him doing most of the work, which Jake doesn't mind. He grew up with a big family and barbecues were just an every weekend activity for him. His mom always rewarded him with extra dessert if he helped her, so Jake's used to being the one taking care of the table.
Still, a weird silence settles between them both. Jake's wondering if Bradley's upset, but he doesn't have that telltale look to his eyes that says he's angry. Bradley just seems… distant, like he was before Jake saved his life, and Jake's trying really hard to not let that hurt him. But every time he asks something he gets clipped back with a quiet remark or a dry answer.
“You okay, Roo?”
Bradley seems thrown off by the question. “Yeah,” he frowns. “Why?”
“You just seem…” Jake shrugs, trying to not be too abrasive or invasive. “Quiet, I dunno.”
There's a pause, Bradley sighs as he puts down the glasses he's been carrying. His knuckles turn white around the edge of the island, he's got his head down and under the artificial lights of the house his blonde streaks are much more visible.
“I don't know if I'm ready to go back to the sky.”
Jake feels his heart break. He knows Bradley has been getting therapy, they're all supposed to be getting it, but they're also busy. “I mean, you got the commander of the pacific fleet out there, you could talk to him?”
“I'm not one to ask for favors, and we were strained for too long,” Bradley clicks his tongue. “And… I don't wanna leave you alone out there.”
Jake can't help the way his cheeks warm up, how the warmth crawls all the way down to his chest.
“I can take care of myself,” He says, because as much as he'd love to spend an excruciatingly long time with Rooster somewhere in Japan, he's not about to let the other man jeopardize his mental health just ‘cause. “You know that.”
Bradley nods. “I do, but it has to be me with you out there.”
“Well, why's that?”
Jake's swallowing dryly. Bradley looks up, eyes as intense as a storm nearing the sea – The brown all blacked out, opaque. “Who else if not?”
“Guys, I need that table set by today.”
Mav's voice has them moving again. Jake and Bradley ignore the awkward glance he throws their way as they come out with the utensils and glasses, putting them in their rightful spot.
Throughout dinner they keep giving each other looks. Bradley sat next to Mav, who is retelling a million stories about his class of 1986, his entire body is rigid and stiff. The mention of his father's name has him gripping the fork, Jake notices how his hand strains around the metal and he wishes he could reach out, place a caring hand over Bradley's and kiss him softly.
Oh. Those are new feelings.
Later, while Bradley's poking at the firepit with a stick and talking about how he got the scars in his face, Jake can't help but realize Bradley's right.
He thinks of Japan, of things going wrong while he's in the air and he knows his thoughts will be all about Rooster. He knows that the cockpit will be all hollow and empty without Rooster in the comms talking shit to him or barking out orders, repeating how shitty of a wingman he is. Jake glances at Bradley, who glances back.
Who else if not Bradley? Well, no one.
–
Japan is cold. Bradley's whining about it.
The base they're settled in is somewhere among the mountains, which makes it all worse. The cold bites down on the skin and makes them feel delirious as they crawl out of the cockpit, hands jittery and brains frozen. Their CO is some older guy who speaks Japanese with a southern accent and their mission is pretty classified.
Just watch the airspace. Protect allies. Engage if needed. Chop chop, go home in two months.
As newbies they're placed together in a room, if you can even call it that. Their blankets are thin and worn down, their clothes are rumpled from wearing them while sleeping and the beds are so fucking stiff Jake will need a robotic spine when he's back home. It's not the worst but it's also not the best. Not a win, not a loss. It just is what it is.
During patrol Jake's plane suffers a bird strike attack, something so common and so normal that, as he descends into the mountains, he almost laughs about it being the thing to take him out.
Bradley's screaming in his ear. Eject, Jake! Eject! And Jake does, his parachute opens and his plane ends up as metal mush.
He ends up waist deep in a nearby lake, his body taut and dull as he moves to the shore. Hypothermia is a huge risk and Jake can't feel his lower half, he tries his best to move but he can't. Search and rescue arrive at the scene minutes later, they take him away and ignore his babbling all the way back to the camp. Everything hurts and there's blood coming from somewhere but he's not sure as to where.
“Lieutenant, stay with us.”
Jake drifts off to sleep instead.
He wakes hours later, not in his room but in a hospital bed. Well, the medbay. Jake's all warm and cozy under a few blankets that make it hard to move, his legs ache and his ribs are all bandaged up. There's a machine hooked up to him checking his vitals and something being leaked onto his blood.
There's also one Bradley Bradshaw sitting in a corner chair, sleeping with his neck craned weirdly.
It all comes back to him, the crash and Bradley's screaming, the freezing water. His plane is gone. God. He's such a fuck up.
And then, “No,” Jake sits up, eyes wide as he looks around. Bradley wakes, startled, and immediately goes to Jake's bedside. “Roo.”
“I'm here, Jake,” Bradley coos. “It's okay, you're okay.”
“But–,” Jake chokes up. “Roo.”
Bradley frowns at him. “What–Oh, the bear.”
Jake's definitely high on painkillers. That's the only explanation he can give as to why he starts sobbing. His hands scrambling for purchase until Bradley's grabbing them and holding them in between his own.
But it's not just that, and he knows.
He almost died earlier, twice. The plane almost killed him and then the dunk. And somehow he's thinking back at the uranium plant, back at Bradley screaming like he did earlier today, suffering because he couldn't eject off the damned Tomcat.
Jake hates himself for living in denial, for depriving himself of telling Bradley all the things he wants to say. He hates that he didn't make it obvious back in the carrier that Bradley didn't owe him anything, now that he's aware of how much Bradley hates feeling like he owes people things. Hates that, for so long, he made Bradley feel like doing nice things for him was transactional. Because it isn't. Jake would donate Bradley his body if his own was failing him.
He hates that it took him a stuffed bear to come to the realization that he's irrevocably in love with Bradley Bradshaw.
And now Roo is gone, crushed amongst the rubble and the snow. That could've been his Roo had he not disobeyed direct orders.
“I lost him,” He weeps. “Like I almost lost you.”
Bradley's eyes are shining against the setting sun, brown turned hazel. They get watery immediately. “You asshole,” he chokes out. “You almost left me today and you're thinking of that?”
“I wasn't gonna–Wasn't gonna leave.”
“But you almost did,” Bradley scoffs, face ravaged by tears. “You weren't ejecting, you weren't even speaking. You could've hit your head, you could've died on impact, and I'd have to live with that.”
Like Bradley's father. Jake knows the story now, after having apologized to Bradley for the comment he made. He read the file on Nick Bradshaw’s death and felt sick to his stomach with guilt.
Just like he does now. “But you'd be alive.”
“Yeah,” Bradley nods, swallowing back his tears. “But I'm tired of people leaving me like this.”
This is dying, basically. Bradley's been haunted by death his entire life, that and abandonment.
Jake reaches over, he pulls Bradley into his arms and they sob together. It's a good bonding moment, Jake's only ever cried in front of Javy before. Many times. Maybe one too many. And doing so in front of Bradley helps him understand himself better.
Vulnerability isn't as poisonous as he thinks it is. Not when Bradley's wide brown eyes look up at him and then there's hands cupping his face, warm and calloused. Jake feels his breath hitching, leans into the touch and lets himself be caressed. Bradley's trying to check if he's real, if he's truly there, and Jake lets him.
“We'll get you a new one,” Bradley sniffles, Jake's eyes open to look at him. “After we're done we can hitch a ride to Tokyo and get you a new Roo.”
“Okay,” Jake breathes. “Okay, Roo.”
Jake gets a new plane, more like a borrowed one, but it's nice and cleaner than his other one. Thankfully Roo was the only casualty in his old one, the picture of his sisters still placed in the pocket of his duffel safely.
They go back into the rhythm. Mav calls sometime around the end of their first month, having learned about what happened through Iceman, who urged the man to check up on his pilots. Jake talks to him on the phone to tell him he's fine, that he didn't hurt himself despite the brand new scar on his jaw and the bruises around his ribs. Bradley tells Mav that he's been keeping Jake on track in a low, hoarse tone that has Jake's stomach flipping.
By the half of their second month in Japan they're already sleeping together.
Genuinely sleeping, that is. There's one night where Bradley complains about how cold it is for an hour straight before Jake gets sick of his voice and grabs his pillow and blanket. Bradley is surprised when Jake slips in bed next to him but he settles to make space anyway. Jake tells him to shut up and sleep. He wakes to Bradley sprawled across his back, arms locked tight around his torso.
Finally, finally, they're free. Short deployments are a blessing, Jake realizes.
“Goodness gracious,” Bradley sighs as he gets off the train, Jake in tail.
The blonde chimes in, grinning. “Great balls of fire.”
“Shut up,” Bradley glares at him, there's no heat behind his gaze. He's staring at the signs and then down at his watch. “Come on, let's grab breakfast.”
Jake's been to Tokyo before but never during the winter. Everyone's cozy under their layers, staring at the two Americans walking around in their khakis and their bomber jackets.
They end up at a corner café spot that looks promising, pointing at food in a menu since the server doesn't speak an ounce of English and all the Japanese they learned has to do with airplanes. Bradley's savory plate rivals Jake's stack of pancakes, they steal bites off each other's food and Bradley cringes at Jake's choice of drink.
They check into a hotel, one shared room and a single king size. Jake blushes at the look the girl behind the counter gives them.
He's sprawled across the bed when Bradley comes out of the bathroom, changed into his civvies and with his hair more relaxed. Less gelled.
“Stop lazying around,” Bradley kicks the heel of his shoe. “Change your clothes so we can go out.”
Jake sits up, wincing at the pain blooming across his ribs. It's still sore and a bit green, but he's better. “You're so strict, Rooster. Gimme a second here, I'm all wounded.”
Bradley laughs. “Lookin’ fine to me,” there's a hint of heat in his voice, Jake notices. “I'm surprised you haven't thrown a tantrum over the scar, honestly."
“Makes me look hot,” Jake grins. “Mysterious, I bet I'll get asked about it.”
“I might start the rumor that you got it falling off the bed.”
“With how you sleep? Totally possible.”
Bradley shows him the birdie, Jake laughs as he makes his way to the bathroom with his bag. He changes into climate appropriate clothes, making sure that he's warm but still looking fashionable enough. He fluffs out his hair and takes out his contacts, fetching his glasses instead.
Now, he would never wear his glasses while sane or sober. He's been wearing corrective contacts since he was a teen, but his eyes are burning and his vision blurs around the edges.
And Bradley's reaction makes him feel all funny. The brunette stares at him like he has put on a new face, eyes wide and mouth agape. Jake makes it a point to not mention the glasses, Bradley pretends he's not staring while also orbiting around Jake like he's the sun itself. They go out, shoulders touching in the elevator and cheeks pink, and Bradley still can't get his eyes off him.
It takes Bradley some time, a long two hours, to gather his courage it seems.
They're in Harajuku, walking amongst the restless crowd of people and ducking their heads at the murmuring. Jake didn't pack any gloves, an oversight for the ages, and he's been rubbing his hands together for a while. Bradley grabs his hands, peeling off his own gloves to place them on Jake's, carefully and gently.
Jake can't help it, he smiled wide. “Thank you, Rooster.”
“It's nothing,” Bradley shoves his hands in his pockets, squinting his eyes and smiling back. “Don't want you to catch a cold.”
“Through my hands?” Jake laughs, amused.
“Whatever.”
They end up buying so much bullshit. Bradley unboxes a new pack of Yugi-Oh cards over lunch, ignoring his bowl of Ramen to fawn over holographic cards. He googles how much each card is worth, even, showing Jake that he has one that's worth 35$ unopened. Thanks, he's very proud.
Jake buys a collection of poems, claiming that before the end of the year he'll be able to read Japanese. Bradley cheers him on.
There's trinkets in their pockets and they have to buy an extra duffel because at some point they come across a shop that sells vintage clothing, Bradley's weakness. Jake watches him try Hawaiian shirt after Hawaiian shirt, the devil on his shoulder mocking him for how hungry the sight of Bradley's arms makes him, for which he flicks him off once again.
One of their stops is a shop that's filled to the brim with plushies and blind boxes. Jake rakes through the aisles and shelves, keen on finding a specific one. Bradley's behind him, looking around and trying to find something for himself, too.
“I don't think I see one like him,” Jake sighs, shoulders slumping. “He was too unique.”
“He was mass manufactured, Jake. An item for collection,” Bradley laughs next to him, softly and warmly. “There has to be a similar one around here somewhere, let's split up.”
“Meet me by the counter in twenty.”
“Yes, sir.” Bradley salutes, then he's gone.
Jake loses hope as the minutes trickle down and he can't find anything. He does, however, come across a hilarious looking rooster plush that he immediately grabs. But no Bradley bear to be seen.
When he meets up with Bradley back by the cashier counter he pays for the plush but is met by the disappointing news that Bradley didn't find a replica of Roo. Jake pouts, telling him it's okay and showing him his purchase – Bradley groans but he warms up to the presence of their new family member quite quickly, carrying it under his arm as they walk around.
It's easy to lose track of time when he's with Bradley. Jake's too comfortable, too warm despite the biting cold.
They grab drinks and snacks at midday, Jake goes for a salted caramel latte while Bradley insists on drinking straight up jet fuel turned black coffee. When he sips Jake's drink he doesn't hate it, and Jake tries really hard not to think about how, technically, his lips are touching over Bradley's as he drinks his coffee.
There's so much to see and explore that they lose themselves. Night comes faster than expected, the city grows colder and their poor attempts at winter gear aren't cutting it anymore. Dinner is consumed inside the cozy interior of a restaurant that charges them a shameful amount for a steak and a plate of pasta, but the wine is really good and Bradley's knee bumps against Jake's under the table the whole time.
“Think I'm gonna keel over,” Jake sighs as he drags his feet, face illuminated by the soft blues of the building lights. “My feet are going to fall off.”
They turn a corner, coming across a building where the word hotel is written in bold red letters. Bradley quirks a brow, turning back to Jake. “We could crash here.”
“We already have a hotel, let's catch a cab.”
“Yeah, but it's quite far and you're tired,” Bradley insists. “I don't mind paying for it.”
“It's not about the money,” Jake gives him a look, scolding him silently. “We're leaving tomorrow night, anyway. Don't think we need two hotel rooms.”
Bradley's stubborn. “Right, we’re leaving tomorrow. No harm done on having two hotel rooms.”
Jake levels him, trying to see if he's being playful or serious. Bradley doesn't back down at all.
Jake would fight him, he really would, but his ribs are killing him and he's so tired he could fall asleep on an alley if it weren't so cold. He ends up sighing, nodding and rolling his eyes as Bradley grins wide.
Walking inside he notices the pink patterned and tinted walls, the carpets are a passionate red and the girl upfront is dressed in a cocktail black dress. Curious, but Jake knows they do things differently here. He wonders if it's a themed hotel, he didn't grow up watching anime but a lot of his favorite video games have themed cafés or parks.
“One room.” Bradley holds up a finger, coming across as obnoxious.
She nods, sizing him with her eyes. She scans them both, curious and amused at the same time.
They get their keys, climbing into the elevator and relaxing against the mirror. At one of the floors the elevator jolts and two people get inside, an older gentleman and a young woman, and they seem quite close. Jake and Bradley push into the corner as the couple gets touchy. Jake tries to not stare but his hands are running up her thighs, below her skirt, and he's turning a soft pink.
His face buries itself into her chest and goodness, Bradley's stiff next to him. They exchange an awkward glance, weirded out to the same degree.
They basically run out of the elevator. Their room is at the end of the hall, Jake's tired but not so tired that his ears don't work – The sounds that are coming from behind the closed doors are hard to mistake for anything else. They're sounds of pleasure, whines and moans and sobs. He's wondering what he got himself into when the door to the room opens.
“You're fucking kidding me.”
Jake stands there, duffel hung low on his arm, staring into the hotel room.
It's no usual hotel room, no. The bed is adorned with red silk and lace, the lights are a soft orange and when Bradley toys with the controls they turn blue. Jake's eyes rake across, noticing the spacious inside and the basket in the table at the foot of the bed.
He shuts the door with his foot, leaning against it. Bradley turns to him, “Ah, so this is why it's called that.”
Jake frowns. “Pardon?”
“A love hotel,” Bradley chews on the inside of his cheek. “I thought it was the name of the hotel. You know? I thought the hotel was named Love Hotel.”
“You brought me to a sex hotel.” Jake deadpans.
“Okay, when you put it like that you make it sound planned,” Bradley laughs, nervous and flushed. “Not on purpose, Jake. I didn't know. We can leave, we can still make it to our hotel–,”
Jake sighs, loud enough that he interrupts Bradley's nervous rambling. “Rooster, if I was offended I would've punched you already. It's just a mistake, it's all good.”
“You don't wanna go?”
“Bed seems cozy,” Jake throws the duffel on a nearby chair. “And I'm already warm.”
Bradley nods, slow and unsure. Jake pushes past him as he peels off his jacket, he goes to the bathroom but there's two doors.
The first one he goes into is a room with a contraption he has a hard time wrapping his mind around until he does some lazy math. Ah, it's a whole contraption to hold a person in place, with some kind of technological function to give pleasure to said hostage. Nope, he isn't gonna go there, won't decode the slight pang of electricity he feels when his brain finally understands. He clicks the door locked behind him, going to the bathroom instead.
Jake washes his face and takes off his glasses, grabs a toothbrush and the tiny toothpaste. He ponders taking a shower but he's too tired.
Bradley's still moping when he goes back into the room, it's starting to get annoying. Jake hates when other people feel like that, not because he's an ass but because he never knows how to handle it.
So he doesn't, plain and simple. Jake knows Bradley's going to beat himself up about this for a while, so he takes to undressing down to his briefs, because he wore jeans and he isn't about to sleep in them. Jake slips under the sheets and the bed is warm already, so comfortable his bones are soothed. He sighs, sitting up on his elbows.
“You're not coming?”
Bradley stares, wide eyed. “Maybe I shouldn't.”
“Why not?” Jake breathes out, shallow.
“Because,” Bradley gulps, hands tight at his sides. “I think this place is messing with my head.”
Jake can't help the laugh that leaves him, incredulous. “Bradley, you're not serious,” he stutters. “This–This isn't the Overlook, we're not haunted. Just come to bed.”
“Jake,” His name rolls off smoothly out of Bradley's tongue. “The last thing I wanna do with you if I get in that bed is sleep.”
And, oh. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Jake exhales, his eyes on Bradley's stern face, his tight features. Under the blue lights of the room he's all shadowed and looking somber, even. Just how he looked like when they were still angry at each other, at the world around them.
But Bradley's not angry this time. He's internally fighting against something that's already won.
And Jake… Jake wants. It's stupid and childish, how badly he has it for the other pilot.
At the same time it's undeniable. From the pocket bear to their moment in the medbay – Everything crashes inside his chest like the tidal waves of the ocean against rock formations. Jake grasps the sheets beneath him, feeling himself growing hard as Bradley stares at his naked torso and then back at his eyes. He's been ogling the older pilot for days, ever since the morning, ever since they first saw each other across the meeting hall during their first day in the academy.
“Well,” Jake licks his lips, thighs shifting. “It is a sex hotel, after all.”
Bradley scoffs. “You keep saying that.”
“Maybe because I'm a little disappointed,” Jake says, working his magic as he manages to feign sarcasm and offense behind his tone. “You brought me all the way here and here I am, thinking you'd act like the man you are and come and take me but no,”
Jake watches as Bradley's breath hitches in his chest, how his eyes catch fire. “Forgive me for being fooled, Bradshaw. I thought you had more balls than this.”
It happens too fast. Bradley's basically tackling him down, shoes long forgone by the door but still fully clothed. Their lips crash and there's blood that they lick up hungrily.
The kiss makes him delirious. Jake breathes in Bradley's cologne, the scent of his skin as he undresses quickly. Jake brings him down for another kiss as he reaches over to fumble with Bradley's belt, expert fingers unhooking it and tossing it aside. Tongues dancing inside each other's mouths, Jake can feel Bradley's hard on weighing heavily against the denim.
Bradley slaps his hands away, finishing up with his clothes by himself. Jake glances down, gulping.
He sees a sizable bulge. Jake's seen many, yet none have brought this much desperation to his chest. The need to claw Bradley's briefs off is strong but he holds himself back, staring up and rolling his eyes when he's met with a wicked grin.
“Pretty,” Bradley mutters against his lip, kissing all the way down to Jake's neck. “So pretty.”
Jake flushes crimson, all warm and gooey inside. “Fucking shut up, Bradshaw.”
“Language,” Bradley scolds, his teeth nipping at Jake's skin and the blonde can't help the soft noises that abandon his mouth. “You're in no place to act all tough right now.”
“Fuck you,” Jake half-spits. “Who made you captain?”
Bradley grabs his jaw, hand too big, too wide, encompassing Jake's face like it was built to hold him. “Vote was two for two. You voted yes.”
Jake laughs as their lips connect again, the kiss is deeper and much more sensual. Bradley tastes every crevice of his mouth as he lays him back down, bodies sliding across the silk.
Their cocks rub across the fabric, Jake whines, Bradley groans.
Bradley hikes Jake's leg up, pulling it over his hip and looking down at him, mouth open and with a starved look to his eyes. Jake had left his dog tags back in their other room, placed safely inside his bag, but Bradley's still wearing his and they're hanging low in between their bodies. The cold metal touches Jake's skin, grazing his neck.
A thrust has Jake gasping, his cock already wet with pre-come which he'd be more embarrassed about if Bradley was any other man.
“That feel good?” Bradley asks, all breathless.
Jake nods, desperate. “Yeah,” he licks over his lips. “Keep goin’, baby.”
“Baby,” Bradley echoes, smiling. “Baby.”
He accentuates his words by grinding against Jake. The fabric makes the friction so much more delicious, it burns just right. Jake's always liked to touch over the clothes, he's been weird like that for as long as he can remember. It's hotter. It's even better when he's the one all naked and his lover is fully clothed, which has happened in the past.
He could ask, maybe, some other time. If there is another time. If there isn't then he'll run through every California bar and snatch every look-alike he can find to ask them to keep their clothes on and a bag over their hands. Jake isn't playing here.
Bradley seems to have done this with other people, which fills Jake's chest with a strange sense of jealousy. He's not sure why but he wants to ask if he's done this recently, if Bradley's been in bed with anyone ever since Jake saved him. Wants to ask if Bradley thinks of him like Jake does, if he looks for certain quirks in other people and never gets them quite right.
Jake's breath stutters, he reaches down and cups Bradley's cock. His skin is buzzing, his mouth is dry, “Can I suck it?”
“Shit,” Bradley coughs. “Yeah, yes.”
They switch places, with Jake sliding in between Bradley's legs as he sits back against the headboard. The briefs come off and fuck.
Bradley's cock is thick, chubby. Big, too. Bigger than any other Jake's seen before. When he curls his hand around the base he feels it twitch, Jake licks his lips and gathers some saliva inside his mouth before diving forward.
It's hard to not drop immediately as his lips wrap around the tip. Bradley groans above him, one hand curling around Jake's messed up hair and the other brought to his pecs, squeezing his own nipples. Jake has never seen anything hotter. His tongue drags a strip down Bradley's cock and he suckles at his balls, one by one, before rising back up to try to swallow him inch by inch.
He can't do the full thing, surprise. Bradley doesn't complain. He cants his hips and coos at Jake in between moans.
“Look at you,” Bradley gasps above him. “Made for this. Made to suck my cock.”
The profanity sends Jake's wires into overdrive. He's heard Bradley cuss, the man's an old miner when he's upset, but never like this.
This isn't cussing. Bradley's being downright obscene with his words, pornographic, even. Jake would think them to be closer to a porn script if it weren't for the fact that he agrees – He was made to kneel for Bradley and suck his cock. The taste is heavenly, musky and salty in all the right ways, and the heaviness of it makes his brain fog up.
“That's it,” Bradley eggs him on. “You're doing so good. Good boy.”
Jake keens at the praise, moaning around Bradley's cock and sinking further down.
Bradley's cock touches the back of his throat, he gags and recoils back. Then he repeats this again and again, until he's nothing but a mess of tears, saliva and reddened cheeks. He can't hold it for long but he can suck around it, lick it like a popsicle.
He knows Bradley's going to come when the brunette goes quiet. Just rough groans coming out of him, the fingers around Jake's hair tighten and he's pulling him closer, both his hands holding Jake's head as he fucks into his mouth with a surprising softness. The bed bounces, Bradley gasping for air as his stomach tightens and his body goes taut.
Jake feels the warm, plentiful seed hit the back of his throat. He swallows, because he's a good boy.
“Jesus, fuck,” Bradley pulls back, freeing Jake from his grasp. His cock slaps against his stomach when Jake rises. “Goddamned vixen.”
Jake grins, proud, he wipes the edges of his mouth with his thumb. “You taste good, Bradshaw.”
“Don't say that,” Bradley exhales a laugh, he doesn't recoil when Jake kisses him. Instead he pulls him closer, licking around his mouth. “Want me to return the favor?”
“You don't like doing that,” Jake chuckles. “And I don't like receiving oral.”
It's a whole thing. It has nothing to do with dick insecurity, because Jake's topped before even though he didn't like it, and he is just an average guy. He just doesn't like the sensation of someone's mouth on his cock, sue him.
It's hotter when he's the one doing it, anyway.
Bradley nods softly at that, returning to kissing him stupid as they switch positions again. Jake's laid back down and Bradley's kissing his skin, licking his jaw and his nipples. Jake looks down, quiet moans trickling from his open mouth as Bradley tugs at his nipple with two fingers and sucks on the other.
Other people have tried to push, because a lot of men like giving blowjobs. Bradley's acceptance makes Jake feel at peace with himself. He doesn't like men who are pushy unless that's the dynamic they've settled for – But that's reserved for dating app hook-ups that are only when he has an itch to scratch. Like when he needs to be dropped into subspace or roughed up, never for anything like this.
Bradley looks up, already halfway through slipping in between Jake's legs, “Can I finger you?”
“You didn't even buy me dinner.”
“I literally did, asshole.”
Jake laughs, bright and vivid. “Go on, Roo.”
Bradley gives a celebratory fist pump, he's so lame. Jake relaxes back against the pillows.
“Wait, I think I saw–Gimme a sec.”
Bradley reaches back towards the table at the foot of the bed, he's perusing through that basket until he finally finds what he's looking for. He holds up a bottle to the light, Jake recognizes it as lube almost immediately. The bottle is transparent like the liquid but there's some printed pictures of tangerines on the label.
Jake makes a face. “Is that flavored lube?”
“Dunno,” Bradley says, then he's uncapping it and pouring some over his finger. Jake watches as he brings it to his mouth, lips smacking. “Yes, yes, it is.”
“... Is it any good?”
“No, not really.”
Bradley goes back to the task at hand. Jake spreads his legs wide open after shimmying out of his boxers. His cock is stiff and leaking but Bradley doesn't even touch it.
Instead he's warming up the lube by rubbing his fingers together, then pressing one digit to Jake's hole.
The push is soft, slow. Jake's mouth is wide open as he drops his head back, it's been quite a while since anyone's done this to him and his own fingers don't compare to Bradley's. He's thick in every sense of the word and Jake wouldn't have it any other way. The burn is pleasant, makes him feel as alive as he feels when he's soaring the skies, and Jake relaxes slowly but surely.
In between fingers added Bradley kisses Jake's thighs, nipping at the flesh there. Jake's all marked up by the time there's three fingers inside him.
His hand clutches something hard, something plastic. The sudden flash of light scares them both, Bradley's hand presses forward roughly, bumping against Jake's prostate suddenly as the TV comes alive. Jake whines loudly, a sound he's never made before, and then his eyes are drawn to the video on the screen – It's porn, because duh, and the lady in the video is currently being mounted by a man with a blurred face.
Straight porn doesn't do anything for Jake, never has. But maybe it's opposite day, or maybe it's just Bradley's eyes widening at the screen and then turning back to Jake.
Jake, who's debauched and already at his limit, can't help but ask, “You wanna do that to me? Wanna fuck me hard?”
Bradley's throat goes dry. “Will you let me?”
“Forget he fingers,” Jake says. “Wanna watch the screen while we do it?”
"No,” Bradley's stern voice surprises him, he pulls his fingers back and grabs the lube again. “I only wanna look at you.”
God, a man can't just say that. Jake's stomach churns as he swallows his desire back down.
“Don't be too nice,” Jake warns him as he flips around, chest glued to the mattress and ass up. He feels a bit self conscious, maybe because he's in love with Bradley, but Bradley looks at him like he hung the moon in the sky. “I can take it.”
Bradley's hands are on his ass again, spreading him open and groping him. “Put your glasses back on.”
Jake gives him a curious look, Bradley doesn't seem to be joking. For a moment he fumbles with the bedside table and then he finds them, thinly rimmed metal sliding back against his nose. They're crooked because his face is squished against the pillow but Bradley doesn't mind.
“Like that,” Bradley moans, he lets a glob of spit drip down his mouth and onto Jake's ass, which is downright obscene. “You look so pretty.”
Jake fusses, curious if he could catch a fever from blushing so hard. “All yours, baby.”
“All mine,” Bradley groans possessively as he bends down, kissing Jake's shoulders while he fists his cock with purpose. “You ready?”
Jake gives a nod and a thumbs up, bracing himself. Despite being lathered in lube and spit the burn is all the same – Bradley's huge cock doesn't help, either. Jake would insult him but it would only inflate his already too big ego, and he can't even speak as he feels him sliding further into him, pushing past the barriers and filling him up.
It's good. It's delicious. It silences his mind in the best way possible.
Bradley's hands are on his waist, bruising the skin that's already damaged. The man's brows are furrowed deep and he seems to be concentrating harder than Jake's ever seen him do before.
Behind them the TV is still playing the same video, Jake catches a glimpse of someone's fluids staining the camera before he finds the air knocked out of his lungs by Bradley pushing harshly onto him. The last few inches of his cock are fed to Jake roughly, with his hips burning and his legs aching, and Jake bites back on the noises and his own tongue. His mind swirls, delirious.
“Jake,” Bradley pants, like a dog out in the desert. “Jake, baby,”
“Mh, s'good… feels good, Roo.”
“Yeah?” Bradley's smile presses against his skin, his mustache tickling Jake. He's angling himself then, lifting one leg up and pushing Jake flushed against him.
“Yeah, baby.”
His words all sound slurred, one could mistake him for a drunk. Jake's glasses are digging into his face but he doesn't care, Roo said to not take them off.
“You said you could take it, right?”
And Jake nods, his stomach feels funny at the question. Bradley seems to be making sure that he won't hurt Jake but he doesn't know Jake doesn't mind getting a little hurt. He'd die by his hands if he could, if he got to choose how he goes.
Bradley still hovers though. Jake cracks an eye open at him, questioning.
“I need verbal consent, sweetheart.”
Jake knows it's bottom of the barrel stuff, that it shouldn't turn him on as much as it does. But he's had past experiences that were bad, okay? Stop judging him.
“I can take it,” Jake mutters, soft and pliant. “Go for it, big guy.”
“Tap my arm if you want me to stop.”
Bradley leans down, dog tags pressed against Jake's back. He eases back a bit, length sliding out of Jake as he squirts more lube in between their bodies where they're joined. It's cold and Jake hisses but his upset doesn't last very long.
Not as Bradley pushes back inside him, harsh thrust sending Jake jolting forward.
Jake's never been a huge fan of doing it doggy style, but he now gets it. It's less doggy and more like face down, ass up, but Jake sees the charm in the position as Bradley's cock rubs against his prostate and their thighs slam together like thunder. This way he's used like a doll, Bradley's cock thrusting inside him without remorse, balls slapping against Jake's taint and lube dripping beneath them, all the way down Jake's thighs.
God, Bradley's cock inside him makes Jake believe that they were born for each other.
He's relentless, merciless. It's such a contrast to how he flies, how he goes about life. There's no slowing down here, no barking orders to stand down or remaining behind despite the pressure. Bradley's taking Jake as he pleases, whole sentences Jake can't quite understand spilling out of him as he drapes his body over Jake's and fucks him so rough the blonde's seeing stars.
Jake knows he's being loud because he can feel the vibration of his throat. He can hear himself, although muffled, and his throat hurts.
It's nonsense, what comes out of him. A bunch of ah-ah-ah's and Bradley's name all wrong and clipped. He's reaching behind him to grab Bradley's bicep, nails digging into the skin and pulling the brunette closer. Jake wants him to melt against him. He doesn't want to leave this room ever again.
“There you go,” Bradley's voice is thick with lust as it brushes against Jake's ear. “Good boy, letting me use you.”
“Please,” Jake's glasses slide off his face, Bradley reaches over to push them back. He's holding Jake's jaw then, again. Forcing the blonde to keep his head up. “Please, Roo.”
“Can you come untouched, Jake?”
Jake nods, frantic. “Keep fuckin’ me. Do it harder.”
“You're a fucking dream, Seresin.”
Bradley obeys. He bends to Jake's will and recoils back, hands grabbing onto Jake's hips now as he pulls out almost all the way and then thrusts back into him sharply, roughly.
Jake's brain shuts off.
He drifts ashore, his surroundings are a blur and he can't feel anything except for the way Bradley's tip bumps against his prostate and the momentary slaps to his ass that sting yet make him whine for more. Bradley's quite serious about ruining him, Jake knows that after tonight he won't ever be able to lay in bed with someone else and not think of Bradley.
Jake's cock is reddened and leaking in between his legs, bouncing with every rough movement. He can't help the way he twitches every time Bradley's hitting his prostate, again and again until he feels the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching – Bradley seems to notice too, groans growing louder and he's back to draping himself across Jake's back like he's trying to sink them onto the floor.
When it happens it feels like flying, like touching the clouds with your fingertips and tasting the sea from above.
His eyes cross, mind turning into white noise as his entire body shakes. Jake's coming so hard Bradley has to hold him in place, still pumping into him as Jake seizes and goes taut against the mattress. The sight is beautiful, much too pretty for Bradley's unbelieving eyes, and Jake's all gone when he flips them around, cock slipping out of Jake's ass with a loud and squishy pop.
“Baby,” Bradley calls, wiping Jake's sweaty hair away. “You there?”
Jake nods. “Here.”
“Good,” Bradley laughs, softly. “Good, you did good. Want a glass of water?”
“You didn't come,” Jake croaks, his eyes crack open and he's giving Bradley the saddest puppy eyes he's ever seen. “Why didn't you come?”
“Didn't know if you wanted me to come inside.” Bradley cups Jake's face, caressing it.
“But you want to come.”
Bradley's cock is still hard, leaking like a faucet. He swallows as he nods, now feeling a bit shy. “Yeah.”
Jake pats his chest, sliding further down onto the mattress. “Gimme a facial.”
Bradley doesn't even have to be told twice. He sits on Jake's chest, careful not to put any of his weight on his wingman's bruised ribs, and begins jerking himself off to the sight of Jake's ruined body.
He's panting in seconds, Jake's looking at him all wide and big behind the glasses that felt like a peculiar tease all day. Bradley's hand is rough and quick around his cock, having had a previous orgasm it doesn't take long for him to double over and spill all over Jake's face, staining his glasses and his jaw and lips.
“Thank you,” Bradley exhales as he relaxes. “Sorry.”
Jake takes off his glasses, he wipes any trace of Bradley's cum with a finger and then brings it to his mouth. Then, much to Bradley's own personal hell, he's licking around the glasses too.
“I told you,” Jake's smile is sheepish. "You taste good.”
Bradley surges forward, kissing him stupid as they drift into a sticky, dreamless sleep together.
In the morning they make use of the conveniently big shower to do everything but take a shower. Jake's back has Bradley's dog tags engraved on it, pressed against the skin and Bradley licks around it as he fucks Jake against the tiled pink walls. The stream of water makes it easy to slide against each other, he makes Jake cry from overstimulation and Bradley thinks something changes inside him.
They end up at the airport early, paying for overpriced coffee and sandwiches and enjoying the setting sun while sitting together.
“Sorry we didn't find you a new Roo.”
Jake smiles at him, neck pillow twisting as he looks up at Bradley through starry eyes. He has no care for anything outside of their little two sweats, leaning against Bradley for warmth.
“It's okay,” Jake says, smiling. “I got myself the real one all hooked to my belt now, anyway.”
Bradley laughs, shoving at Jake's shoulder playfully. “Who said that?”
“Don't make me undress on the aisle to prove a point, Bradshaw.”
They laugh. Miramar welcomes them with its grueling sun and the melting pavement, Jake and Bradley walk out of the airport hand in hand, murmuring about nothing and everything all at the same time.
–
Jake's lounging on the back patio, a Cowboys jersey combined with his sluttiest shorts on, when Bradley returns from the store with a box in hand and the requested ice cream.
“What you got there?” Jake asks, not about the ice cream, of course.
“It's our fourth month together,” Bradley announces, grinning like an idiot. “I've been saving this up to give it to you when I'm ready.”
They exchange glances, Bradley gives Jake the wrapped up box and Jake frowns as he begins tearing through the patterned paper.
“You're not real.”
From the inside of the box he pulls out a tiny bear, he's a cowboy with glasses. Jake's been wearing his glasses more often since their night in Tokyo, less ashamed of his poor vision. He's into the benefits that come with wearing them around the house while looking bed-mussled, which usually includes Bradley shoving him against surfaces and fucking him stupid every time.
But said bear isn't alone. The other one is a copy of Roo, just his fur is darker and softer.
They come together as a pair, or so Bradley made it seem. There's a note at the bottom of the box and Jake saves that for later.
“I got it back in Tokyo," Bradley soothes his palm across Jake's thighs. “The one that looks like you, at least. Then when we went to the airport I found a store while you went to the bathroom and saw Roo on a shelf.”
Jake feels his eyes get all glassy and watery. “Bradley.”
“I'm ready," Bradley announces. “It might seem early and foolish, like I'm rushing into it, but,”
He grabs Jake's hands, sliding a ring onto his finger. Jake can't breathe. His eyes are wide open. “I know the rest of my life begins here, and I don't wanna spend another second lying to myself, lying to you.”
“You're such a fucking moron.” Jake sobs, he lunges at Bradley and the brunette catches him while laughing, they're both crying.
“I'm proposing and you say that.”
“It's a yes,” Jake laughs, pulling back to stare into Bradley's eyes before pressing their lips together. The kiss is deep, romantic, full of meaning and unspoken words. "I think I know where we're going for our honeymoon.”
Bradley pulls back, grinning. “Sweetheart, we've got a tour across every love hotel in that country ready for us.”
Jake laughs, louder and much more vivid. The bears are squished in between their bodies and Bradley flies with Hangman Jr perched on his cockpit, sends pictures with him when he's out in deployment and the bears are there at the wedding, where Jake has to tell Natasha about the tragic accident that took Roo #1’s life.
They later sit on a shelf in a room painted pastel pink, watching over a young lady. Well loved and taken care of, though a bit worn down by the years – Much like Jake and Bradley. A third one is added, smaller and wearing pink overalls, standing in the middle of them and nicknamed Sprout, because she doesn't have a callsign just yet.