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It's barely 9am, but Jake's already over this day. He'd woken up alone in his impersonal, depressingly empty apartment — waking up alone isn't new to him. He's been waking up alone for nine months now; three months of that on a carrier, six months in his new apartment. Just over nine months since Katie told him she couldn't do this anymore. He's had time to get over the hurt of her leaving him a week before deployment, but sitting on a stiff wooden bench at the courthouse waiting for his case to be called he thinks he's earned the right to be annoyed. He guesses he's lucky Katie was willing to file in Virginia Beach instead of her new home in Charlottesville. That was nice of her, a parting gift after over a decade together.
Whatever. He can't let himself get all morose, he's over it. Mostly. Probably.
He's over her at least, just not over the hurt of being left. He still can't believe he's validating another stereotype. First he married his high school sweetheart, someone he'd been with since he was sixteen, and now he's contributing to the military divorce rate. He drops his head back, letting it thunk against the the wall behind him. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at the other people bustling around the courthouse. At least there's not a dedicated divorce court, so unless you're also here because they process no-contest divorces from 8-noon on Thursdays you'd have no idea why he's here.
Someone sits down on the bench next to him. Opening his eyes he's surprised to find that it's not Katie or his lawyer, but instead it's a guy also wearing his dress blues, holding a folder that looks similar to the one Jake's got in his lap. He's handsome, strong nose, stupid mustache. Jake usually wouldn't look, but he's going to be officially and legally single in the next hour, he's allowed to check out a hot guy if he wants to.
"Come here often," The guy asks with half a smile. It makes his mustache twitch. He's surprised he doesn't recognize the guy, the Navy isn't small but are only so many of them stationed in Virginia Beach. Maybe he's stationed out of Norfolk instead of Oceana like Jake.
It takes him a second to realize the guys talking to him, but as soon as his brain catches up, he says, "To the courthouse? Can't say I do."
The guy drags his gaze down Jake's body unabashedly, gaze stopping for a second on Jake's medals and ribbons — on his wings. Jake looks at the guys chest and sees the same wings on his uniform. It's really weird he doesn't recognize his guy. It feels like everybody knows everyone in the Navy, doubly so among Naval aviators. He must have just transferred to Virginia.
"Got plans after this?" The guy asks, smiling at Jake like they met at a bar instead of in a fucking courthouse on a random Thursday morning in October.
"Are you hitting on my outside of divorce court?" Jake asks with a laugh. The guy really isn't bad to look at, not by a long shot, but Jake's starting to question his sanity — hitting on a fellow aviator is one thing, doing it right now though? A little insane. Maybe a lot insane. But Jake's surprised to find that isn't a turnoff.
The guy shrugs, still smiling, "I figured there was a good chance you were single. Might as well shoot my shot since we're both sitting here all by our lonesome."
"It's a good way to get your ass kicked," Jake says, meaning it. This guys lucky Jake's into men and not homophobic like 80% of the people he's dealt with outside of his squad.
"Don't tempt me with a good time," He says with a wink. "I think I could hold my own against you though."
"I wouldn't be so sure, maybe I fight dirty."
"Baby you would never, not with me," The guy's still looking at Jake with his stupidly pretty brown eyes. Jake ignores how much he liked being called baby in that deep voice. "I'm Bradley."
"Jake," Jake says, shaking the hand Bradley extends to him. Instead of just shaking it, Bradley looks Jake right in the eyes as he brings Jake's hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of his knuckles like he's some fairy tale prince.
Jake's a little too shocked to say anything, which seems like Bradley was going for, his smile shifting to a smirk, "How about I buy you a coffee after all of this."
Before Jake can respond — to say no. Or maybe yes. He's not actually sure. It's rare someone renders him speechless, but this guy with his mustache and bright eyes and audacity have — Katie appears in front of them, her strawberry blonde curls back in a bun, "Hey Jake, sorry I'm a little late. I hit some traffic in Richmond. They haven't called us yet, have they?"
"Not yet," Jake says, letting go of Bradley's hand.
"Seresin," A voice calls out as if it had been waiting for Katie to show up.
"That's our cue," Jake says, standing up. "Nice to meet you, Bradley. Your timing could be better, but I appreciate the gumption."
Bradley's looking at Jake like he's seeing him in a whole new light, eyes bright — a little curious too, maybe, "See you around, Hangman."
Ah, that would be why. It's rare that someone meets Jake at work and hasn't already heard of him. It makes sense that Bradley would recognize him by name, it was only seven months ago he got his air-to-air kill. He's pretty sure he's infamous at this point in — it's mostly something he's proud of, but lately he's been waking up drenched in sweat, hearing Logan's voice over the comms saying he's been hit. Jake puts it out of his head, walking down the hallway with Katie.
"A friend of yours," Katie asks as they make their way into the courtroom. It's a logical conclusion, both in dress blues, sitting together, looking friendly.
Jake can't tell if she's asking genuinely or if she's trying to suss out if Jake's managed to make a few new friends since they separated. Either way, he shakes his head. "Just met him about five minutes ago, actually."
"Huh," Katie looks over her shoulder like she's expecting Bradley to have followed them into the courtroom. "The Navy really is just like high school, can't go anywhere without running into someone who recognizes you."
"I guess it is," Jake says when they reach their respective tables, their lawyers already there and chatting. "Well, good luck."
"Not sure you're supposed to wish your soon-to-be ex wife good luck before you finalize your divorce," Katie says, but she's smiling. It's the same smile he fell in love with, but it doesn't make his heart skip a beat anymore. That's good — that's growth.
"Why not, it's not like I've got anything for you to win in the settlement. You make more money than me," Jake reminds her with a sharp smile. Their lawyers don't look surprised to see them walking in together or talking — the whole process has been a reminder of how much he loves Katie, even if it's as a friend. They were friends first, he thinks maybe when all of this is done they'll be friends again one day.
"Not anymore," She shoots back. That's true, she's back in school, finally taking the leap and going to med school after a few years working in pharmaceutical sales. Jake feels the familiar twin tugs of guilt and resentment — for feeling like he held her back from chasing her dream and for not being enough for her to stay. The guilt outweighs the resentment, but he's done enough therapy trying to save their marriage that he knows he doesn't need to feel the guilt. They tried their best. They just aren't meant to be.
It turns out ending an eight year marriage is pretty quick, in the end. They're just here to finalize it legally — they didn't have any property or kids, they each had their own car, neither of them requested spousal support. It's fifteen minutes in a court room and a handshake with his lawyer before Jake's walking back into the hallway. He's half hoping to see Bradley, to hear his case get called to figure out who he is, but he's gone, replaced by a bitter looking man who's glaring at a woman sitting on the other side of the corridor.
"Have any breakfast plans?" Katie asks when they're standing outside the building. She's holding up her signed divorce papers to shield herself from the sun. "Maybe with that new friend of yours?"
And the thing is, he doesn't have plans. So he spends the first hour and a half after getting divorced having breakfast with his ex-wife before she drives three hours back to the new life she's building without him. When he gets home he looks around his unassuming and kind of pathetic apartment and finally decides it's time to start building one for himself.
—
"We need to find a better place to hangout," Jake says as he walked into the Flight Deck. It looks like most of the other Navy bars he's been into in his life, the only difference is this is his Navy bar. The one he's been going to whenever he's stateside since he was 23 and first stationed at Oceana. "Maybe somewhere that isn't just other service members and vets."
"He's been single for a week and he's already trying to get us to go out so he can get laid," Javy grins, draping an arm over Jake's shoulders. "Don't worry, man. I'm sure we'll find someone for you to take home."
"Please, I have standards. I'm not going home with anyone here," Jake shoots back, looking around the group. It's the usual suspects and —
"Have you met Bradshaw yet?" Javy asks, nodding toward Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster. Of course the guy who hit on Jake at the court house is one of the best aviators in the Navy. Only a guy with a record like his would be cocky enough to hit on someone right outside his divorce hearing. "Bradshaw, this is —"
"I know Jake," Bradley says before Javy can finish introducing him. "Good to see you again. Are you going to finally let me buy you that drink."
"Well I don't know, Rooster," Jake says, sticking a toothpick in his mouth and smirking. "I believe the offer on hand was coffee and I've had the tar they make here. I'd rather not subject myself to that."
"A beer then," Bradley offers.
"Someone want to fill the group in on what's going on," Javy asks with a confused laugh. Bradley looks away from Jake for the first time since Jake noticed him.
"Bradley and I met down at the courthouse," Jake says by way of explanation. Everyone who matters is aware of Jake's divorce and he doesn't particularly care if he's dragging Bradley's personal business into it. The guys flirting with Jake in a Navy bar surrounded by other aviators. The Navy's a little more progressive than it use to be, but it's bold, even by Jake's usual standards.
"Bradshaw, are you already chasing lucky number three," Trace says. Jake hadn't noticed her — as soon as Bradley had started talking everyone else had kind of faded to the background. Christ, is Bradshaw's lack of shame actually working on Jake?
Bradley just shrugs, turning back toward Jake. "You know what they say, third time's a charm."
"Guess you'll have to wait then," Jake steps around Javy to head toward the bar. "That was divorce number one for me. Check back in a few years to see if you're numbers come up."
As expected, Javy's hot on his heels as Jake makes his way through the Friday evening crowd. While Jake waits for the bartender to finish up some a few old timers, Javy makes his move, "Bradshaw huh? Hell of a rebound."
"Fuck off," Jake shoves his shoulder. "The guy hit on me outside of my final divorce hearing. It's not some budding epic romance. Put your phone away. Stop texting Nina, she doesn't need to know about this."
"She's worried about you," Javy doesn't put his phone away, instead he leans against the bar and pretends to be talking to Jake while very clearly taking a picture of Bradshaw from across the room. Christ, Bradshaw can probably tell Javy's taking a picture of him since he's watching them — watching Jake — with a delighted little smile on his face. Not even Trace punching him in the arm has pulled his gaze away so Jake rolls his eyes and waves at him.
"I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be normal about it. Well, as normal as you can be," Jake says. When Javy just shrugs, Jake sighs but asks his question. "What's Bradshaw drinking?"
"Already buying him a drink, that's practically a marriage proposal from you," Javy's grin makes Jake want to punch him, just a little bit.
"Just for that I'm not buying one for you," Jake tells him, smiling at the bartender when he finally comes their way. "Two of whatever seasonal New Realm you've got on tap."
A minute later the bartender is back with two hazy IPAs. Jake tosses $15 on the bar, taking the beers and walking away from Javy's disgruntled "Hey man! You really didn't get me one?"
"That for me?" Bradley's eyes are bright as Jake makes it back over to the high-top table they've all congregated around.
"Could be," Jake slides the glass halfway across the table. "On one condition."
"Anything for you, you know that," Bradley says, teases. Jesus this guy really has his number.
"I want the story about your divorce. Divorces," Jake tells him. "I like to have all the details before making a decision."
"I've seen you literally jump off a cliff without looking to see how deep the water at the bottom was," Trace reminds him. In Jake's defense, they were still at the Academy, young, drunk, and stupid. And Jake had been trying to impress Katie. Didn't matter they were already married, he had always been trying to impress her. In retrospect, maybe when he'd stopped trying to impress her had been the beginning of the end.
"And I've learned my lesson," Jake says, eyes on Bradley. "So Bradshaw. Tell me a story."
"There's not a ton to tell," Bradley leans his arms on the table, muscles of his forearms bunching as he does. Jake snaps his gaze back up to Bradshaw's face to find him smirking like he's won something. Maybe he has. Jake did just buy him a beer and now he's voluntarily talking to him. "Who among us hasn't married our high school sweetheart, gotten divorced after advanced flight training, met another nice girl a month before deployment, married her because you were lonely or scared or both, and then gotten served divorce papers basically as soon as they made it back stateside."
"A tale as old as time," Jake says before he can stop himself. "Come on man, give me one detail. I'm not marrying someone without knowing their baggage."
"So you are marrying me then?" Bradley's eyes are practically dancing as the last dregs of the October sunset splash across his face. God, he's pretty. Jake kind of wants to trace the scars on his cheeks with his fingertips. Or maybe his tongue. Good lord, he's got a crush on this guy. He's 26 years old, but he feels like a teenager all over again.
"On that note," Trace's voice pops the bubble Jake found himself in. He's suddenly, violently, reminded that they're in public. At a bar surrounded by colleagues and possibly even the brass. "Maybe you too should take this outside." Trace must like Bradshaw if she's actually being helpful, "Or better yet, somewhere that isn't a fucking Navy bar."
For the first time since meeting him, Bradley actually looks abashed. Almost like he forgot where he was too. It's a there and gone look, Jake would have missed it if he hadn't been looking at him. Bradley lifts the beer Jake bought him, tapping the glass against Jake's and then downs it in three swallows. Jake can't help but watch Bradley's throat work as he does, wants to put his hand on it to feel the muscles flex.
"Well Seresin, what do you say?" Bradley asks. His cheeks are a beautiful shade of pink that Jake wants to feel under his mouth. It feels like his body has made up it's mind and Jake — well it's been months since he felt this alive. He wants to chase the feeling.
"Fuck it, why not," Jake finishes his own beer. He feels a sense of smug satisfaction when he sees Bradley watching him.
The sun has set by the time they walk outside the bar, the diffuse light of twilight is bright enough for Jake to see Bradley's eyes still on him as they walk across the parking lot. "I uh — I'm not going to lie I didn't think you'd agree to leave."
"I can go back inside if it'll make you feel better," Jake offers. He's felt off kilter since seeing Bradley again, but his nervousness almost makes the ground feel steady under Jake's feet. He takes one step toward the doors just to see what Bradley does.
"No, no way," Bradley reaches on, grabbing his hand and tugging him back. "Still want the whole story?"
"What, you're thirty second summary wasn't the whole story?" Jake shoots back, allowing Bradley to keep holding his hand for reasons he's not quite sure about. He steps onto the sidewalk trying to decide between the brewery a block away or a Waffle House a block in the other direction.
"Shocking, I know," Bradley grins at him. "Come on, let me buy you a coffee. I did promise."
"It's 1800," Jake says, but he's already leading them away from the brewery toward the Waffle House.
"Decaf then," Bradley shrugs, looking at their hands and then back at Jake.
"Fine," Jake tries to sound like it's a chore, but he's pretty sure Bradley' sees right through him.
"You owe me a story too," Bradley says as the bright yellow sign comes into view.
Jake pushes the door open, finally extracting his hand from Bradley's as they walk inside. Jake grew up on Waffle House — suburban Dallas didn't have a ton going on on a good day and after 9pm it was mostly a ghost town. Except for Waffle House. Open 24/7 and cheap enough that Jake could afford it even on his meager life guarding money. Waffle House is where he and his sisters used to go to get out of the house when their parents were fighter. Where he and Katie and their friends went after football games and school dances and parties. It's not good, but it always feels like home.
"I haven't been to a Waffle House in years," Bradley says as they slide into a booth against the windows.
"Can't have been stationed here long then," Jake doesn't bother looking at the menu.
Bradley shrugs, "Long enough."
"I haven't seen you around," Jake says while Bradley studies the menu.
"I transferred after my last deployment," Bradley explains. "Needed a change of scenery after all of it, I'm sure you get."
Jake nods, watching Bradley. He's got a little furrow between his eyebrows like he's studying the menu, "I know there's a lot on there, but it's not that complicated."
"How would you know, you haven't looked at it yet," Bradley shoots back.
"Darlin' I haven't needed to look at a menu here since I was twelve years old," Jake tells him. Before Bradley can respond, their waitress comes over. She's easily in her sixties, silver hair tied back in a bun and a bored look on her face.
"Sorry for the wait, gentleman. Coffee?" She holds up the pot. Jake flips his cup over, smiling at her as she pours piping hot coffee into both their waiting mugs. "Know what you want to eat?"
"Well Rose, I'll have hashbrowns all the way, two eggs over easy, and a pecan waffle," Jake says, leaning back in the booth, draping an arm along the back. "And he'll have hashbowns smothered and covered with — wait let me guess. You're a sunny side up eggs guy?"
Bradley huffs,"Yeah, sunny side up."
"And two sunny side up eggs."
It's a testament to how insane Waffle House can be tha Rose doesn't even blink at their antics, just takes a note on her pad and walks away.
"Ordering for me already, quite a move," Bradley says, taking a sip of his coffee. "Oh this coffee is ass."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jake takes a sip of his own coffee. It's bad. It's always been bad. But it tastes like home. "I'm pretty sure it's story time now."
"First tell me what you ordered for me," Bradley laughs.
"And here I pegged you as a guy who likes surprises."
"Maybe the problem is you haven't pegged me yet," Bradley shoots back.
Jake's never believed in love at first sight but everything about Bradley Bradshaw is making him reevaluate that. "Hashbrowns with grilled onions and cheese. And half my waffle."
"So generous," Bradley grins.
"You also seem like a guy with a big appetite."
"I have been called insatiable," Bradley agrees, smirking again. Jake levels him with a flat look. "Fine okay, you're impatient."
"And you're a quick learner," he says and then sits back and waits.
"You married your high school sweetheart, right?" Bradley asks instead of starting the story.
"Good guess," Jake confirms.
"Easy guess," Bradley says. "We've all got a look. Hopeless romantics or idiots. I married Claire right before we both went to UVA. It was — well it was tough. Her parents didn't approve. My parents are dead. Once she realized what being a military wife actually looked like, she wanted out."
"That's not a very long story," Jake says. He's not trying to be an asshole, but he does feel like Bradley's leaving a lot out.
"I didn't say it was long."
"I said I wanted all the baggage," Jake reminds him. "Gotta go into this with my eyes wide open."
"So there is a this to go into?" Bradley perks up a little at that.
"Not if you don't give me all the juicy details."
"Nat was right, you are a gossip."
Jake grins a little sharply. "You been asking about me, Bradshaw?"
"Due diligence goes both ways, Jake," Bradley says. It feels important that he said 'Jake' but Jake can't put a finger on why. When Jake doesn't say anything to that, Bradley keeps going. "We were just kids and I was so fucking lonely. My mom died right after Christmas when I was eighteen. Claire felt like the only real thing in my life after — after some shit with my godfather."
"That sucks," Jake says instead of 'I'm sorry' because he knows how much he hates sorrys.
"It does," Bradley agrees. "We made it work through basic and through flight school, but advanced training is — you know how it is," Jake nods and he keeps going. "It was a pretty easy divorce all things considered. We were 24, no kids, nothing to our names. Last I heard she's remarried to a nice guy from our hometown. They've got a couple kids. She's got a life I was never going to be able to give her and I get to keep flying without worrying about breaking her heart."
"These are the details I was looking for," Jake tells him, accidentally knocking his foot against Bradley's, keeping it there when Bradley's eyes light up. "And the next ex-wife?"
"Maggie is a little more complicated," Bradley admits with a grimace.
"Because it's fresh?"
"Because she cheated on me, got pregnant with the other guys kid, and tried to tell me it was mine," Bradley says. Now this is the kind of drama Jake wants to hear about. "We met a month before I set to be deployed. Did the whole rushed courthouse wedding because we were so caught up in each other. Six months turned into nine months turned into ten. "I think if I'd only been gone for the initial six she would have been able to pass the kid off as mine, but it's hard to get away with that when I was in Japan for nearly a year. Because I'm military I got to do a virtual court date for the divorce. Which is good because I never want to see her again."
"Japan? Were you stationed out west before?" Jake asks.
"That's that part of the story you latched on to?" Bradley laughs.
"I mean what do you want me to say? Maggie sucks, you're better off without her," Jake waves a hand around. "Is she why you transferred? Wanted to get away from all that?"
Something dark flashes across Bradley's face. Another there and gone look Jake would have missed if he wasn't looking. There's a pause, a long exhale, "Actually, that was to get away from my godfather," Jake opens his mouth but Bradley continues. "Before you get any more out of me you owe me a story too."
Before Jake can start talking Rose appears with their food. She drops it off without a word before going back to the counter. Jake's pretty sure she's been flirting with the guy working the griddle the entire time they've been here. Good for her.
"I met Katie when her family moved to town in eighth grade. She and sister Connie were best friends so she was always over at my house. I was her first kiss, we lost our virginity to each other. Prom king and queen. You know the drill," Jake says, taking a bite of his hashbrowns. They're too hot but he hates talking about this shit so he wants a break. Bradley doesn't say anything, just watches Jake. "Asked her to marry me the day I got accepted to the Academy. I — Jesus sorry I made you do this it sucks."
"And I won't let you off the hook even if you keep making those eyes at me," Bradley shoves a fork full of potatoes into his mouth as if to prove a point.
"Fuck off I'm not making eyes," Jake lies. "My parents had a pretty messy divorce when I was in high school. It's not the same as your situation, but I think I was clinging to her for a lot of the same reasons you clung to Claire — because I didn't want to be alone and because she knew exactly what I'd been through because she was there through it."
"You two seemed friendly," Bradley observes. He'd seen them together for maybe thirty seconds, but if he's proved anything yet, it's that he's observant.
"Hard not to be," Jake shrugs, covering the waffle in butter and syrup before cutting it and shoving a too big piece into his mouth. He talks around it instead of waiting. "She's family. I wish it had worked out but in the end we put in the work. Therapy didn't solve it. I'm not leaving the Navy. She was never going to be happy waiting for me to come home from deployments. She's in med school now. I'm happy for her. I mean that."
"Not going to lie, the way Natasha talked about you I figured you'd be some bitter asshole."
"And yet you're still here," Jake's a little hurt. He thought he and Trace were on good terms. Or at least civil ones.
Bradley takes a bite of the waffle, talking with his mouthful like he's trying to match Jake, "I know people can be one way at work and another way in their personal lives."
"That about your godfather?" Jake guesses.
"Nice observational skills, you a pilot or something," Bradley grins around the waffle in his mouth. "Yeah, it is. But I think that's a second date conversation. I can't give you all my deep, dark, secrets on night one. You'll get bored."
"You seem like a lot of things, Bradley," Jake says, watching as Bradley's face lights up hearing his first name. "But boring ain't one of 'em."
The conversation flows easily between them. Bradley's sharp and funny in a way that matches Jake perfectly. They both seem to be looking for the line, crossing it, and then laughing about it. It's not like any first date Jake's been on, but to be fair he's only been on three of those in his life.
It's late by the time they walk out of the Waffle House, the dinner crowd turning into the bar crowd. Jake's not surprised when Javy, Nat, and the group they'd been with at the bar stumble into the restaurant. Jake's glad they're in the parking lot, far enough away that they don't get spotted.
"I really want to take you home with me," Bradley admits when they're back in the parking lot of the Flight Deck. He's leaning against a baby blue Bronco that makes Jake want to tease him. "But I'm not going to do that, not tonight."
"Is that so," Jake crowds into his space, getting a hand on Bradley's hip.
"Yeah," Bradley nods.
"Not even if I do this?" Jake leans in the scant inches between them and presses a kiss to Bradley's mouth. Jake's never kissed someone with a mustache. His one ill advised and frankly disappointing carrier hookup after he and Katie separated had been with a clean shaven sailor that Jake hopes he never runs into again since the guy kept trying to get Jake into another storage closet.
Bradley kisses back, hand on Jake's neck. It's almost sweet, which isn't what Jake had been going for, but Bradley groans when he pulls back all the same, like stopping is the last thing he wants to be doing. He rests his forehead against Jake's, breathing out a soft laugh, "Even if you do that."
"Why the hell not?" Jake grumbles.
"Because I rushed into two marriages and I'd really like the third to stick," Bradley tells him. "When I hit on you at the courthouse — Christ Jake, you know how hot you are right?"
"I'm aware," Jake grins, kissing him again like maybe Bradley will change his mind.
When he pulls back this time he looks like it might be working, but then he says, "You looked lonely. At the courthouse. And I know lonely people sometimes rush into things. I did. And I don't want to do that again."
"So do I have to wait until the third date to get you into bed?" Jake asks, pouts maybe.
"At least," Bradley presses another kiss to Jake's mouth. "But I will give you a ride home. Just a ride. Nothing more."
"You're like a fairy tale prince, Jesus Christ," Jake huffs out, but he steps out of Bradley's space and walks around to the passenger side of the Bronco. "My sisters are going to love you."
"That's a compliment," Bradley tells him as the gets in.
"I know," Jake sighs like it bothers him. It doesn't though. Not by a long shot.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Bradley asks when they stop outside Jake's off base housing.
"There's a Longhorns game."
"Want to watch it together?"
"Asking me on a second date already? Here I thought there were rules about waiting a few days," Jake can't help the smile.
"It can just be hanging out as friends," Bradley offers, but Jake shakes his head. "There's that sports bar in the Food Lion plaza, we could go there."
"Sure," Jake agrees because he was already planning on going to Sidelines for the game. He pulls out his phone and opens it to a new contact. "Give me your number. I'll text you when I'm on my way to pick you up."
"Now he's the fairy tale prince?" Bradley asks, putting his contact details in and then texting himself like he's worried Jake's going to flake on him. Maybe that's fair — Bradley doesn't know Jake feels like he's already half in love with him after one night.
"Still you, sweetheart," Jake leans over and kisses him, plucking his phone from Bradley's hand before he gets out of the car.
Bradley waits until Jake's inside the building before pulling away — it's so sweet Jake's teeth hurt a little. When he gets into bed that night he goes to text Bradley to tell him to be ready by 1100.
There's no "Bradley Bradshaw" in his phone. No Rooster either. Jake can't help but laugh at the audacity of this man. Bradley put himself into Jake's phone as "Future Husband". Jake opens the text chain to see what Bradley texted himself and feels butterflies for the third or fourth time that night. He hasn't felt like this in years and he already knows he's going to spend as much time chasing this feeling as Bradley will allow. He kind of hopes it's forever, though.
"Good things come to those who wait, baby. And I think you're pretty fucking great.