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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Parent Trap | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

♡ Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it. (warnings will be added as story progresses).

…

“God dammit.” You sigh, leaning down into the passenger side footwell to grab your phone. After your hasty parking job, it’s wedged pretty securely under the metal bottom of the seat, impossible to reach from the angle you’re sitting in. You move up onto your knees and lean over, rummaging around for the lost device. This is the last thing you need.

It’s the third week of the semester and the second time so far that you’ve been called into the principal’s office.

The faint sound of seventies music coming from somewhere behind your shoulder alerts you to your ex-husband’s presence before you can see him. Shit, it must be bad if Rooster left work for it.

He turns his engine off and glances to his left. His lips quirk softly at the sight before him. You, in a pair of tight denim shorts, bent over the centre console and leaning down into the passenger side, searching for something. His smirk only grows as he steps down from his truck and swings the door shut behind him, tapping on the window of your 2018 Toyota corolla.

You flinch at the sound and turn your head to look back at him over your shoulder. He smiles, lifting his hand and waving his fingers at you. No matter how long passes between you seeing him, he always looks the same — and he’s usually got that smug look on his face. You roll your eyes and turn back towards your mission.

It’s been two years since the divorce became official. Still, Bradley glances down at those form fitting shorts and reminisces. It’s an outfit like that that got you into this mess in the first place. Fingers curling around your phone, you huff and catch ahold of your bag, then sit upright again. Rooster grabs the door and pulls it open, stepping out of your way.

“How’s it going, Mama?”

You scoff, shaking your head as you drape the tote over your shoulder and slip your phone into your back pocket. “I’d be better if your kids stopped being such miscreants.”

He chuckles, flightsuit tied around his waist and gold rimmed sunglasses covering his eyes. The teachers around here always go wild when he shows up like this. “My kids, huh?”

You step around him and nod your head, wishing that you were less familiar with the path to the principal’s office than you currently are. Rooster trails behind you, taking another quick glance down at those shorts he’s so fond of, “Did they tell you what we’re here for?”

“No, the lady on the phone just said that Principal James needed to speak to the both of us.” Rooster confirms your suspicions. This must be pretty bad. You groan in frustration, pushing through the front door.

“That’s what they told me too — I wonder what they did now.” You can only shake your head at the thought as the two of you sign in and are led to the principal’s office. Rooster takes his time, looking around at the colourful artwork on the walls, seemingly unfazed by whatever havoc your children have caused this time. He’s always so calm when it comes to them. He had been so different in the beginning. Terrified when those two blue lines showed up. Nauseous when the doctor confirmed that there were two heartbeats. He had almost blacked out during your labour. You can still remember the way he had periodically baby proofed not only the place that you shared, but also his Uncle Maverick’s house and your parents’ place. Anywhere his kids were going needed to be up to his standard.

Somewhere after the year mark, they had become significantly less fragile in his eyes. When they’re jumping off of high surfaces or climbing trees, dangling off of the slide at the park, he’s usually nearby with a smile on his face. He likes seeing his kids be more carefree than he ever was in childhood.

Rounding the corner, the girls’ reactions to the two of you are exceptionally polarized. When you had been told that you were expecting identical twin girls, you had expected the polar opposite trope — a mischievous daredevil tomboy and a goodie-two shoes who loved to dress up. Instead, you had received two partners in crime who were somehow all of those things at once. Freckled skin, rounded, rosy cheeks and long curls, it’s hard to tell them apart sometimes, but they still have their differences.

Peyton, Twin A — as determined by your first ultrasound, your firstborn, sits upright and beams at the two of you. It’s a rare occasion that she sees both of her parents in the same place these days. “Daddy!”

At her side, Parker, Twin B, your youngest, shrinks down in her chair in immediate realization. If you’re both here, then they’re in big trouble. For a seven year old, she’s getting good at reading the room. She turns those big brown eyes towards the ground and purses her lips.

Peyton leaps up and rushes forwards, wrapping her arms around Rooster’s waist, pressing her freckled cheek into her stomach. He grunts softly as she hits into him, then breaks out grinning as he hugs her against his middle, “Hey, Honeybee.”

He looks towards his remaining daughter. Parker glances up sheepishly, hands folded into her lap. Bradley smiles softly, “How about you, Peanut? — You got a hug for Daddy?”

You fold your arms over your chest as he pushes herself up from the chair. Bradley settles down onto his knees, opening up his arms and taking one of them in each. He hums as he hugs them tightly against him, then pulls back and scrunches his nose just slightly. “So, what’d you guys do?”

The twins stop and then share and equally worrisome glance. You squint at the two of them. “Girls.” You prompt.

“It was an accident!”

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to!”

Rooster lifts his head and this time it’s your turn to share equally worried looks. The door clicks open ahead of you.

Principal James steps out and rests her wrinkled hands on her hips. Rooster stands upright at your side. Under that cold, weathered gaze, it suddenly feels like the two of you are the ones in trouble. You swallow softly as she lifts a hand and beckons you into her office without a word.

“Sit down, girls, we’ll be right back.” You say softly, tapping their shoulders and nudging them back towards their seats. Rooster tucks his sunglasses into the collar of his black t-shirt and closes the oak office door behind him. You sit down in one of the chairs opposite her impressive, heavy mahogany desk.

She has been teaching for twenty years, and your twins have still managed to surprise her on this occasion.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, I wish I could say that it’s a pleasure to be speaking with you today,” Her tone is sharp. Rooster presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, whilst you count the tiles on the ceiling. “Unfortunately, today’s meeting has a rather unpleasant subject matter. Are you at all aware of the twins’ mission to… impersonate each other?”

Rooster’s lips quirk. They’ve been trying to swap places since they were two. They usually get caught pretty quickly. They’ve done it at school before, but they always mess up quickly. Their longest record for being undetected was three days at your parents’ house. “Yeah, they do that as a joke sometimes.”

“Well, today they switched outfits in the bathroom and went into each other’s classes.”

Your brows scrunch slightly. Sure, it’s a dumb thing to do, but it can’t be a punishable offense to swap outfits with your sister. Principal James looks between the two of you and finds no remorse on either of your faces so far. Clearly you aren’t following.

“Has Parker ever mentioned a boy named William Prescott?”

“Oh my god.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Bradley frowns at your side, looking between you and the principal, lost. You turn your head. “He’s been picking on her. He pushed her down in the playground last week.”

“That’s what that cut on her knee was? — She said she tripped.” Bradley frowns, immediately engaging in that protective parent mode that’s neither helpful or impressive.

“She didn’t want to tell you because she knew you’d freak out.” You explain sitting back in the chair and rubbing at your temples. Her judgemental stare is just about enough to bring you out in a stress rash.

“So, why didn’t you tell me?” Bradley’s tone is accusatory, his expression even more so. He’s always been protective when it comes to his girls, including you not too long ago. It’s a sweet sentiment, but sometimes it’s too much and the girls are quickly picking up on that.

“Because I knew you’d freak out, and I already spoke to Billy’s mom about it.” You speak gently, acutely aware of the way that the principal’s crows feet deepen when she squints dubiously at you like she’s doing now. Rooster remains completely unaware of her judging your parenting at your side.

“Clearly that worked because —“

“The twins switched classrooms so that Peyton could, in their words, ‘take care of’ the issue.” Principal James interrupts. Both you and your ex-husband are silenced as you stare ahead at her. “Peyton proceeded to walk over to William’s desk and hit him in the face.”

You press a hand over your mouth and close your eyes, exhaling softly. Bradley sits back in the chair, leaning his head back and groaning quietly.

“At this moment in time, we have no choice but to place the twins on a short suspension.”

You purse your lips and wince. Seven years old and suspended for plotting out, and executing assault. This isn’t your proudest parenting moment.

“Suspension? — They’re in the second grade, it was just—“

“We won’t be reconsidering our decision, Mr. Bradshaw,” The principal interrupts, holding out a hand to silence him. He glances across at you. “There is some paperwork for you at the front desk, we look forward to having the girls back in a week’s time. Maybe the two of you could have a word with them about their behavior during their time off.”

Scolded, the two of you step out into the hallway, each of you silently blaming the other. The twins look at the two of you expectantly.

“Give us a second to talk, okay? — Don’t move, you’re both in big trouble.” Rooster warns them, his face stern. They frown at him in unison, then look towards each other. He reaches out, tapping his fingers against your forearm to nudge you away from the two of them. Once you’re out of earshot, he folds his arms over his chest.

“Alright, we should probably talk to them about this together, so I can swing by your place tonight after work. Like six?” He checks his watch and looks back up at you.

“Wait, wait — I can’t take them right now, I have meetings with clients all afternoon. Today’s your day to pick them up.” You frown at him. The custody agreement was fifty-fifty, two days with you, two days with him. It’s inconvenient for both of your schedules and the twins hate moving around as much as they do, but neither one of you has had the time recently to call up the lawyers and fix a new schedule.

“No, I have a debrief today that I’m already going to be late for. It’s your day.” Bradley shakes his head quickly and crosses his arms over his chest. Sometimes you think that he just does that to show off his arms. His biceps strain against the fabric of that fitted black shirt.

He’s bigger now than when you met him, filled out more into his adulthood. Years of lifting two growing girls up whenever they ask him to. Heading to the gym often so that they won’t outgrow being held by him.

Still, there’s a reason that it’s over and tanned skin and arm veins won’t change that.

“No, it’s Tuesday. The seventh.” You argue.

“Actually, it’s Wednesday. The seventh.” He mocks you back. Real mature. But, unfortunately— your phone confirms that he’s correct. You sigh and throw your head back. You’ve been so out of sorts all week, turned around with work and the kids.

Two kids running wild around a boutique that’s smaller than some of your clients’ closets. You can just see it now, them breaking into the expensive fabric whilst you’re distracted with clients. You shake your head quickly. “Shit. I can’t take them to work with me.”

Bradley purses his lips. Two kids on a naval base while he’s in a confidential meeting that they can’t sit in on sounds like an even worse idea.

When you found out you were expecting, the two of you had made an agreement that your career wouldn’t suffer as a result of parenthood. Given that Rooster is practically government owned, it’s hard for him to be as flexible as he would like. But, he has always made sure you had the support you needed. “Hold on, I’ll call Mav.”

It seems like a bad idea to send the twins to practically their favourite place on earth when they’re supposed to be being punished, but you’re out of other options.

“Idiot, I told you to wait until recess to—“ Parker’s voice trails as she spots her parents headed back in her direction. Peyton squints at the frown on her father’s face. The two of them learned early on that their Dad was wrapped around their fingers, he could barely stand to punish them and so he let them get away with more. The look on his face now tells them that he’s serious.

“I was doing you a favour.” Peyton whispers back angrily.

One look at their guilty little faces and they’re already tugging at your heartstrings. Still, you need to be strong.

“Your father and I have to get back to work, but we want you to know that we are taking this very seriously — we’re going to have a long talk about this later tonight, okay? — What you did was so wrong!”

Rooster glances across at you. Watching the same girl that he was doing body shots off of ten years ago turn out to be such a good mother is an interesting turn of events. He bites his cheek to contain his smile. If you told him back then that things would have turned out like this, with two incredible children, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

“We’re sorry.” They say at the same time, looking up at the two of you with those brown doe-eyes. It’s the winning combo, they inherited that puppy-dog look from their dad and mastered it years ago, and they are expressly aware of how funny Rooster finds it when they say the same thing at the same time.

As Rooster stands firm, both of you unwavering before them, your twins give in to their fate and sit back, groaning in complaint.

After his retirement last year, which he was practically forced into, kicking and screaming, Maverick was practically itching to babysit the girls every chance he gets. With Amelia off at college now, and Penny banning him from around the house DIY, he likes the chaos that they bring. For similar reasons, they adore Maverick.

“I’m serious, Mav,” Rooster frowns, his face stern as he holds the twins still. They’re practically buzzing with excitement at his sides as they wait to be allowed inside. “They’re in big trouble. No TV, no games. Have them sit there and finish the worksheets their teacher gave them, or have them clean the floors or something, I don’t care. No fun.”

Maverick takes a quick glance downwards at his freckle-faced granddaughters, both of them staring up at him in worry, hoping that he’ll disagree with their dad.

“Sure thing. I’ll keep ‘em busy.” Maverick agrees seriously, giving a quick, orderly nod of his head. The girls both frown, dejected as they pout at the wooden slats of the porch.

“Alright. If their Mom gets here before I do,” Bradley lowers his voice and squints at his uncle. “Do me a favour and please don’t be weird.”

“Weird? — I’m never weird.” Maverick answers defensively. Bradley squints at him. That’s far from true and they both know it. Maverick was always a big fan of you — you remind him of himself in some ways, and he’s always thought you were good for Bradley. Rooster still jokes that Maverick was more upset about the divorce than anyone else.

“Uh… alright. Be good for Mav, I’ll see you guys later. I love you.”

Maverick ushers the girls inside at once and waits until Bradley’s truck disappears down the road before he turns to address them. With it pouring rain outside, and the trouble they’re in, there’s limited fun that they can have. Something with no evidence. Before that, he needs a chore that they can complete that will satisfy Rooster but not take all afternoon and kill Mav’s fun.

“Alright, we’re clearing out the hallway closet, kids. Move it.”

An hour later, Maverick’s brows are furrowed as he’s thirty pieces into a two hundred piece puddle, sitting in the middle of the hallway floor. His navy expertise means that the twins have a good system, Peyton pulling down items, Parker sorting them into keep or toss.

Only, given the difficulty of piecing together the dozen shades of blue that make up the sailboat puzzle, Maverick hasn’t noticed that they stopped sorting through items five minutes ago. Now, they’re both leaning over a photo album, flicking through pictures.

“Is this Mommy?”

Maverick looks up, brows furrowed. He spins the album towards him without question and smiles at the picture. This was when he was teaching Top Gun that one time, it’s a picture of you at the beach, holding a football and posing with your arm flexed into a muscle.

“Yeah, look at this one.” Maverick flicks to the next page and spins it back towards the two of them. Their faces twist up in a mixture of excitement and amusement. It’s a picture of Rooster draped around you, squeezing you in his arms, his head resting against yours, the two of you beaming. Behind the two of you, the twins’ Uncle Jake is flexing both of his biceps, sticking his tongue out to bomb the picture.

“Daddy’s tummy doesn’t look like that anymore.” Parker snorts, shaking her head, cheeks dimpling as she looks up with a grin on her face. Maverick smiles. He sees so much of the both of you in the both of them.

“They look really really happy.” Peyton adds on.

Maverick nods. “They were. Here, you want to see some more?”

Chores quickly abandoned, daytime movie channel playing on the TV, cutting out every now and again as the weather screws with the signal, the living room floor is littered with old albums.

“Mommy’s wedding dress was so pretty.” Peyton traces her fingertips over the picture, examining the intricacies of the dress. Maverick smooth his hands over her curls and nods his head.

“That day was so special. Your Daddy was so nervous all day.” He chuckles fondly at the memory. Standing at the end of the aisle with Rooster and periodically reminding him to breathe. After so much missed time with Bradley, all of those years of not speaking, sitting here and listening to these delighted little giggles makes his heart warm.

He hadn’t ever been ready for children, but it turns out that being a grandfather was his calling. Passing on his stories, explaining funny faces and little anecdotes about each picture that they come across, seeing their little faces just light up.

They work through the wedding pictures, the work events, the beach days. The pregnancy, the birth, the newborn pictures.

“Is that me or her?” Parker asks as she squints at a picture of you holding a chubby-cheeked newborn on Mav’s porch, smiling tiredly. Maverick remembers that first year of parenthood, you and Bradley stumbling around half-awake that entire time.

“Honey, I’m not even sure who’s who right now.” Maverick admits with a smile. They roll their eyes fondly and continue to flip through memories they’re too small to remember.

They move onto pictures of their toddler years. Lots of pigtails and matching dresses back then, muddy knees and toothy grins. Peyton lingers on one page, lips falling down into a soft frown as she slips the picture from its place on the page.

It’s a picture of them in the backyard at their house, sitting in the sandpit that Rooster had built one summer after reading that it’s good for safety and motor skills all at once. Him, sitting in a pair of shorts and those gold rimmed sunglasses, shoulder reddened under the sun, dog tags hanging around his neck, grinning. Peyton, on his lap, eyes squeezed shut as she squeals excitedly, sand balled in her chubby fists. You, at his side, wearing a pretty sundress and grinning against his cheek, right about to kiss him once you can stop laughing. Parker standing between your legs, lips parted, staring towards the camera like she just heard something shocking.

Mav, behind the camera, his heart so full.

“I wish they were still together.” Peyton mumbles dejectedly. Her sister looks over and examines the picture, then gives a small nod. They hate being without one of you all of the time.

Maverick looks up and looks between the two of them. Those pouted lips, that sad look in those eyes. He looks back down at the happy couple in that picture. The two of you were so in love back then.

It should take him longer to think about than it does. He probably shouldn’t include them in the decision making, but it’s not the worst idea he has had in the past couple of years.

“Have you guys ever seen the Parent Trap?”

…

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