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callsign-mayhem · 6 months ago

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heartbreak feels so good (part 3)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 6.2k CW: Shitty ex-boyfriends, slow burn, angst, fluff, use of Y/N

Part One Part Two

Whether by the grace of some mystical power or Elijah choosing to be sensible and avoid you, you managed to go three days without running into him on base. During these three days, you saw more of Bradley and Natasha than you ever had while working. You were an engineer and spent most of your days nestled underneath fighter jets or shoulder-deep in their engines, while your friends spent most of theirs in the sky. Because of this, it was rare that you crossed paths.

While you’d found the past three days extremely pleasant, you knew their presence was only heavy because they were keeping an eye on you.

On Monday, Bradley came into the hangar and told you that his jet had started making a weird noise whenever he took off. You spent most of the day attempting to pinpoint the problem, and he stayed with you while you worked, pestering you from his perch on an overturned oil drum.

Why did it take you so long to pinpoint the problem? Because there wasn’t one. After hours of taking things apart and adjusting things, you finally relented and asked him to start the engine while you were standing next to the plane. You listened intently for a few seconds and eventually held your hand up for him to cut the engine.

Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you shouted: ‘I don’t hear anything!’

Bradley climbed out of the cockpit, looking confused.

‘Huh, that’s odd. You must have fixed it without realising when you pulled that pipe out.’

‘Well, that’s lucky then.’ You played along. ‘I guess you can report back to Mav now.’

He seemed mildly disappointed. ‘I guess so.’

On Tuesday around lunchtime, Nat brought In-N-Out to the hangar. There was enough food to feed the whole squadron, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when Bradley, Jake, Bob, Javy, Mickey and Reuben waltzed in. You weren’t sure these guys even took lunch breaks, let alone took them all simultaneously. One thing you were sure of, however, was that Bradley was the only person on base who knew how much you loved In-N-Out. He’d discovered this after a particularly rowdy night out just before you’d met Elijah when you’d insisted he find a way to take you there even though you were both slaughtered and missing the rest of your group. He’d been the only one there, which led you to conclude that he’d orchestrated this group meal that had so clearly been intended to cheer you up.

I mean, come on. They weren’t even trying to hide it. It would have been flattering if not for the embarrassment. They were so concerned that you couldn’t cope with this heartbreak alone that they’d indirectly put you under a 24/7 watch.

On Wednesday, Bradley and Nat were both waiting for you outside the hangar when you finished up for the day. They’d already changed out of their flight suits, and Nat had a beach bag over her shoulder.

‘There she is,’ Bradley beamed, pushing his aviators onto the top of his head. ‘We’re heading to the beach for a swim. Thought you might like to join us.’

You had to admit, a dip in the ocean before dinner sounded nice.

‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit, though.’

‘I have a spare.’ Natasha grinned.

‘That’s convenient.’ You said, raising a brow.

She shrugged. ‘It’s always good to be prepared.’

Now, it was Thursday morning, and you were sitting outside on the tarmac, drinking coffee and watching the pilots start their drills. The sun might have been low in the sky, but from the way the air rippled above the runway, you could tell it would be a scorcher. After a delightful start to your week, you’d almost forgotten that you were supposed to have your guard up just in case. This wasn’t to say you’d forgotten about Elijah and all your negative emotions. It was more that you’d been too distracted to notice how your body and mind held said emotions, and it was only now that you saw him drilling with the rest of the pilots that you’d been reminded.

As much as you hated to say it, he looked good when he dropped to the floor and started doing his press-ups. You had to find a way to get your mind off this undeniable fact that didn’t involve going inside before you’d finished your morning ritual.

Nobody would have blamed you for opting to look at Bradley instead. Still, you felt guilty anyway, partly because you were only looking at him as a way of not looking at your ex and partly because it felt highly intimate, even though he had no idea what was happening.

By the time you’d finished the last sip of your coffee, you needed a cool shower to bring you back down to planet Earth. To say you were flustered was perhaps the biggest understatement of the year.

Thankfully, time started to slip away the minute you lost yourself in your work for the day. Having something productive to do was massively beneficial. If nothing else, your heartbreak taught you that keeping your hands busy was the key to forgetting that you were in agony.

Lunchtime came and went. The last time you’d so much as glanced at a clock, it had been 9:30 am. Now, at nearly 4 pm, you’d only put your wrench down because you needed the bathroom.

There was only an hour left of your work day, and since you’d stopped and lost your momentum, you wondered whether anybody would miss you if you cut out early. The pilots had been in a training seminar all day, so you hadn’t seen anyone, and as much as you loved your friends for looking out for you, the peace and quiet had been soothing. Being able to zone out and focus on rebuilding part of an engine, scrubbing turbulence ducts or configuring navigation systems without half the squadron hovering over you had been damn near therapeutic.

But you were ready for a well-deserved self-care night.

After cleaning down, turning everything off and locking up, you made the short walk back to the main base and grabbed your belongings from your locker. Normally you changed clothes before leaving the base, but you didn’t want to risk running into anyone in the changing rooms, so you unzipped the top half of your flight suit and tied it around your waist. You always wore black tank tops underneath to avoid any noticeable oil stains.

It seemed as though everyone else was still busy, as you didn’t run into anyone on your way through the building. In fact, you made it all the way to your car without so much as a ‘hey, Y/N.’ You were calm and content by the time you walked through your front door, more than happy to be alone with your own thoughts for the first time since the breakup. Part of you thought it was too soon to be this at ease, but you weren’t one for looking gift horses in the mouths.

So, it was time to start your self care night.

Step one: throw your dirty uniform in the wash. Step two: quick shower and hair wash.

Step three: run a bubble bath with your most luxurious products. Step four: pour yourself a glass of your favourite wine. Step five: relax in the aforementioned bubble bath and finally finish the novel you’d been trying to finish since last month.

Step six: get rudely interrupted by someone buzzing your intercom thirty million times.

Step six was supposed to be: get out of the bath, find your cosiest pyjamas and order takeout to eat while watching Gilmore Girls.

This was not part of your plan.

With a huff, you bookmarked your page (you were so close to being done that it almost hurt to put the book down) and grabbed a towel from the rack. The buzzing was constant, and you hoped whoever it was had either been mugged or stabbed. Or both. Because jeez.

In your haste to get the buzzing to stop, you didn’t even ask who it was. Water dripped onto the floor where you stood, and you wrapped your towel tighter. Panic started to set in. What if it was Elijah? The thought of him seeing you like this after everything made you realise that opening the door in nothing but a towel was probably not a good idea. But just as you were about to run to your bedroom for your dressing gown, the knocking started.

You froze.

It wasn’t the usual three polite knocks that people usually make at somebody’s door. It was rapid and incessant, like the buzzing. Whoever stood behind that door really needed to see you.

Heart racing, you peeked through the spy hole. Panic quickly gave way to shock, which soon gave way to a strange, warm sensation that tingled throughout your entire body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

The strangeness of it all eclipsed your earlier decision to put on your dressing gown, and you opened the door without hesitating.

Bradley was panting, clearly having run up all three flights of stairs leading to your apartment. He was still in his flight suit, the top of which was tied around his waist just as yours had been. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his neck, settling in the sweet spot where his collarbone started. His black T-shirt was soaked through.

‘Bradley?’

Breathing heavily, he examined your towel-clad form and wet hair.

‘What happened?’

You were lost. ‘What do you mean? Nothing happened, I was taking a bath.’

Bradley ran his hands through his hair, knotting it in his fists. He let his hands rest there momentarily while he caught a breath.

‘I came to see how your day went, and everything was locked. I thought something had happened.’

Now that he knew you were okay, his shoulders sagged, and he was able to offer you an embarrassment-tinged smile.

‘I thought something had happened,’ he explained. ‘When you weren’t on base, I thought maybe you’d run into Viper, and he’d upset you. I don’t know. Guess I just panicked.’

You were simultaneously warmed and humiliated by Bradley’s thinking that something had happened and that it was his responsibility to come and fix things. It was like you couldn’t take care of yourself. You appreciated it, and at first, it was nice, but it was beginning to make you feel sheepish.

You crossed your arms, which only drew attention to your very naked form. You felt your face warm, then your neck, then your chest. Paired with being treated like a child, it was a level of embarrassment you’d never had the misfortune of experiencing before.

‘I can take care of myself.’ You murmured, unable to meet Bradley’s eye.

He exhaled sharply. ‘I know you can, Y/N. Doesn’t stop me from worrying, though.’

Tentatively, you peeked at him from beneath your eyelashes. His gaze was locked onto your face in an attempt to stop himself from looking elsewhere. Bradley Bradshaw—ever the gentleman.

You cleared your throat. ‘I can’t express how grateful I am for everyone taking care of me. Especially you, Roo. But I’d like it if you’d stop treating me like I’m going to break. I’m not that fragile.’

‘Oh, I know you’re not fragile, sweet girl. I just care about you so much.’

You couldn’t help but smile. ‘I care about you too.’

‘I can’t explain it. It’s not that I think you’re a flight risk,’ he smirked at his pun. ‘I just like taking care of you. I like knowing you’re safe and happy, and I like knowing that it’s because of me.’

You didn’t know which way to take this. It was a hard thing to hear for a few different reasons. For one, you weren’t used to hearing things like this from the men in your life, weren’t used to them wanting to take care of you. For two, it was coming from Bradley—one of your long-time best friends—and friendly wasn’t precisely the word you’d use to describe his tone. For three, you were standing in your apartment doorway in a towel with bubbles stuck to your legs, dripping water all over the floor.

You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you, but Bradley wasn’t inside your head, so it seemed like you were laughing at his confession.

You apologised. ‘My brain is on overload right now,’ you explained. ‘And I don’t think this is a conversation we should have in the doorway while I’m in a towel.’

Bradley looked you up and down; although it was brief, you couldn’t ignore the hunger hidden behind it. It would have been easy to miss had you not been so well attuned to his mannerisms. Another addition to the list of things to be confused about.

‘Yeah, I should leave you to it. We can talk some other time, when you’re fully clothed.’ He smirked.

Your blush deepened. ‘You gonna be at The Hard Deck tomorrow night?’

‘Is the sky blue?’

You chuckled. ‘Tomorrow it is, then.’

When Bradley got back to his apartment, he had no idea what to do with himself. He was sweating, covered in jet fuel and overthinking every word he’d just said to you, so the only option was an ice-cold shower. As he stood underneath the cool spray, he tried to imagine a world where things were simple. A world where you’d never met Elijah, never had your heart broken, and your whole perspective on love shattered. In this world, he wouldn’t have to wait for you to heal because it would have been him all along, and you’d never have gotten hurt.

But you were hurt, and it had never been him. Judging by the way you’d laughed after his semi-confession, it might never be him, and this was harder to swallow than one of Penny’s homemade shots.

He took his time in the shower, but all the cold water in the world couldn’t wash away the memory of you standing there in your fluffy white towel. This image was more powerful than everything else, and he was ashamed. It was more powerful than his anxiety over you not feeling the same, more powerful than the fear of losing your friendship.

It wasn’t that he cared more about the thought of seeing you naked than getting turned down, or maybe not having you in his life anymore. It was more that his nerves were frayed after a really hard day at work, and he simply didn’t have the energy to dissect hidden truths and map out possible outcomes. His exhausted brain found it easier to latch onto the more simple thoughts and imagined scenarios, like coming home to you after a hard day, and having you take care of him in all the ways. Or sharing that bath with you and wrapping you in that towel with his own two hands before leading you to the bedroom and unwrapping it again.

Pleasure and anticipation unfurled in his abdomen at the mere thought of your naked body beneath his. He didn’t need to experience it to know that skin-on-skin with you would be like finding out that heaven did exist and that it was a place on Earth. Or rather, a person. He tipped his head back and let it rest against the shower wall, and when he reached down to take his dick in his hands, the satisfaction transcended the guilt.

It was only your name in his mind, repeating over and over like some kind of mantra.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

It was the kind of news that felt like a swift kick to the gut.

Out of the entire Dagger Squad, Jake wasn’t your closest friend. You didn’t share deep secrets or have any inside jokes, and he wasn’t the first person you went to when you needed help or a cinema date. But he was still your friend, and you would miss him.

Eighteen months abroad on some secret mission was a long time, especially when it was just him out of his entire squadron. You weren’t a fighter pilot, but you’d been sent away before as your skillset was rare amongst navy engineers. The six-month stint you did at sea was the scariest experience you’d ever had; nothing had topped it yet, and you highly doubted anything ever would. Eighteen months was inconceivable to you.

Jake had known that he was going away for quite some time, but he hadn’t told anyone until two days before. He said he didn’t want his last few weeks Stateside to be ruined by everyone coddling him—he just wanted it to be normal. You could hardly blame him for that, but it made his news much harder to digest. You’d only found out about the mission earlier on that day, yet here you were getting ready to go to The Hard Deck for his leaving drinks.

Natasha sat cross-legged on your double bed with her makeup bag in her lap and your hand mirror in front of her face. You sat on the carpet in front of your full-length mirror, where you always did your makeup. An 80s song you hadn’t heard in years played through your Bluetooth speaker, and you hummed along contentedly.

‘What dress do you think I should wear?’ You asked.

‘What are the options?’

‘Either the new yellow one—with the corset top—or the white one.’

‘The one that looks like Marilyn Monroe’s dress?’

You smiled. ‘Yeah, I guess it does.’

Natasha didn’t wear much makeup, nor did you, so you were nearly finished. ‘I think the white one. Save the yellow one for a special occasion.’

‘You don’t think Hangman leaving for eighteen months is a special occasion?’

Natasha snorted. ‘No. I don’t think Bagman leaving for eighteen months is a special occasion. That yellow dress is for a first date or a wedding reception. He’d get the wrong idea and—’

Nat cut her sentence in half. Suddenly, she was extremely focused on applying mascara to an eye she’d already finished.

‘And what, Natasha.’

She ignored you.

‘Natasha Trace.’

‘What?’

‘And?’

‘Oh, I just mean it might give everybody the wrong impression. You getting so dolled up on a night that’s all about Jake. Especially now that you’re back on the market.’

‘I am not back on the market. I’m healing.’

‘Yeah, right. You just need to grow a moustache, and I can start callin’ you Rooster.’

You launched your lip gloss at her, and she ducked, howling with laughter.

‘Hey, don’t bring Roo into this. He’s just very emotionally mature! It’s a good thing.’

‘Emotionally, maybe. But what about everything else?’

You knew it was a lighthearted jest, but you were still stuck on the other part. Did she mean that everyone would get the wrong impression, or was she worried about a certain someone? You hadn’t seen Bradley since he showed up at your door unannounced yesterday. He’d said…what, exactly? Not a great deal. Just that he liked taking care of you, liked knowing that he was the cause of your happiness.

What was a girl to make of that?

‘We’ve gotta be there in twenty minutes,’ Nat said, pulling you from your thoughts. ‘Best get that dress on, Marilyn.’

‘She’s not here yet, man. You’re gonna get a crick in your neck if you keep turning round to look at the doors.’

Bradley rolled his eyes in Jake’s general direction. He didn’t want to make eye contact because he knew he’d be met with that world-famous shit-eating grin. It was bad enough that he was pining after you, he didn’t need Hangman—of all people—giving him shit for it. After last night’s activities, he was all too aware of how pathetic he was.

‘On a serious note,’ Jake continued. ‘What’s the deal with you two?’

‘There is no deal.’ Bradley replied. Because there wasn’t.

‘Oh come on, you think I came off the back of yesterday’s milk truck or somethin’? You better not be about to tell me that you’re just friends.’

‘We are just friends. There’s nothing else to it.’

‘But you want there to be.’ This was a statement, not a question.

‘It doesn’t matter what I want. She’s still getting over Viper.’

‘That clown. He’s so crooked, he could swallow a nail and spit up a damn corkscrew. I’m still pissed I didn’t get to run into him before my deployment. I’d have given him two matching shiners.’

Bradley had to smirk at this. ‘I think that’d add to what he’s already got going on.’

‘He’s got nothing going on. He’s the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen, and I’m sittin’ in front of you.’

‘You really can’t give it a rest, even if it’s your last night, huh?’

Jake winked. ‘You should know me by now, Rooster.’

Bradley sipped his beer. It was nearly empty, but he didn’t feel like pushing his way through the masses to get to the bar. Mainly because he was waiting for you to arrive so he could buy you a drink, too.

‘All I’m saying,’ Jake said. ‘Is that when I get home and open my front door, I want there to be a wedding invitation waiting for me.’

Bradley’s heart constricted. It wasn’t that he’d never thought of your name, his and marriage in the same sentence, it was just that he’d never said or heard it said out loud before. It was like Jake had just come up behind him and ripped his stool out from underneath his ass.

He was lost in thought, imagining you in a white gown walking down the aisle, when Jake suddenly wolf-whistled. Bradley’s head snapped up, and he followed Jake’s line of sight to the front doors. You were arm in arm with Natasha, and although Bradley wasn’t sure he believed in God, something out there must have been listening to his thoughts.

It wasn’t a wedding gown, but it was the prettiest little white dress he’d ever seen. Your hair was done all curly, and a pretty white bow was clipped in the back to keep the top half out of your eyes. Bradley’s eyes must have been bulging out of his head because Jake elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

‘Anybody ever tell you it’s rude to stare at a lady?’

He flushed from embarrassment and something else. The same something had taken over his body in the shower the previous night.

When you and Nat got to the table, he did his best to organise his facial features into something that resembled composure.

‘Ladies,’ Jake bowed dramatically. ‘You both look gorgeous.’

Natasha squinted at him as though she was waiting for the catch. The catch never came, so at least Hangman was being nice to someone on his last night.

You hugged Jake, but as quick as the flames of jealousy licked at his insides, they were put out. You looped your arms around his neck (obviously standing on tiptoes) and pressed yourself against him. He brought his arms up and wrapped them around your lower back, pushing you even closer. It was all warmth and skin and the strawberries in your shampoo, and he wanted more.

More. More. More.

Jake cleared his throat, and just like that, it was over. He missed the contact already, but not for long. The next thing he knew, you took his hand and led him towards the bar, Jake and Natasha following closely behind.

What had he done to get so lucky tonight?

The vibes at The Hard Deck were always lively. If pure, unadulterated joy had a physical form, it would be this bar on a Friday night with all your closest friends. Despite the sad and somewhat scary occasion, you were there to mark, it was still one of the best nights you’d ever had. There’d been good food, homemade cocktails, round after round of Penny’s special shots (that she wouldn’t reveal the contents of) and your favourite songs on the Jukebox. It was hard to tell if they were your favourite songs because they stood out to you or because you were listening to them here, surrounded by these specific people on this night.

You and Mickey were belting the lyrics of Africa by Toto when Bradley reached around and yanked the jukebox cord out of the wall rather unceremoniously.

‘Hey!’ You yelled.

‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ he grinned. ‘I’m gonna play some real music.’

You were about to argue that Toto was real music when the meaning of his statement dawned on you.

He was getting behind the piano.

Since you’d disappeared from the face of the Earth for a while, you hadn’t experienced one of Bradley’s performances for a long time. Few things were more enjoyable than seeing him perform. Your whole body tingled with anticipation, as it did when you were about to drop on a giant rollercoaster or the first time you’d gone up in a jet.

He was watching you expectantly, and you realised he’d just asked you something.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said, do you wanna sit with me at the piano?’

Your heart soared. Nobody ever sat with him at the piano.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yes!’

He was chuckling as you followed him to the piano, and you wouldn’t have been able to wipe the smile off your face if you tried.

Mostly everyone drinking at The Hard Deck that night knew what was coming and had swarmed around the piano to await his presence. You were both pretty drunk and when Bradley sat on the bench and pulled you into his lap, you didn’t think anything of it. Had the two of you been sober, he probably wouldn’t have done it, and if he did, you wouldn’t have let him. Because friends don’t do that, and it would have been weird.

Luckily, nobody in the bar was anything close to sober.

‘I’m trying something new tonight.’ He announced. Then quietly—so only you could hear him—he said: ‘It’s for you, doll.’

You had the perfect view of his hands and watched, mesmerised, as his fingers danced along the black and ivory keys. He played with the effortless grace of somebody who had music in their veins and could do it with their eyes closed. You’d heard enough about Goose to know that this particular gift came from him.

When he started singing—

Well. That was a whole other story.

There's a little moonlight dancing on the sand There's a warm breeze blowing by the ocean as you're taking my hand. You need to know where I'm standing now. That I'm right on the edge of giving in to ya Baby it's a long way down.

His raspy voice was like some kind of drug to you. The second he started singing, you were transported from the room to someplace closer to heaven. And it wasn’t just his voice; it was the lyrics. You listened more closely than usual since he’d told you this song was yours.

If I fall, can you let me down easy?

If I leave my heart with you tonight Will you promise me that you're gonna treat it right? I'm barely hangin' on If I fall, can you let me down easy?

The scent of your perfume floatin' in the air You're looking like an angel lying on a blanket with a halo of hair And those lips look too good to be true.

Once I taste that kiss, I know what'll happen I'll be at the mercy of you If I fall, can you let me down easy? If I leave my heart with you tonight Will you promise me that you're gonna treat it right? I'm barely hangin' on If I fall, can you let me down easy?

When the song ended, the whole bar erupted into cheers. He didn’t give them a chance to disperse, though. He launched straight into the crowd favourite: Great Balls of Fire. It used to be your favourite, too, but now. Everyone was dancing and singing along. His legs bounced as he played, and you giggled like a maniac, getting jostled about whenever he moved. You wanted to go and sit somewhere quiet so you could digest the previous moment, but you were too wrapped up in this one.

Everyone begged for an encore once he’d finished playing, but he told everyone he was desperate for another drink but might play something else later. You were still planted firmly in his lap, and you locked eyes with Nat from over the top of the piano. She raised a brow, and you gave her the universal ‘I don’t fucking know what’s going on either’ look. The crowd started trickling outside or to the bar. Somebody plugged the jukebox back in, and Africa resumed, although it didn’t sound as good as before. All you wanted to listen to now was Bradley’s song for you.

It was time for you to get up, which proved incredibly difficult. Bradley was warm and solid in a comforting way but also in another way that you weren’t quite ready to unpack just yet. You climbed out of his lap and turned around to face him. He was still sitting but had moved to the other side of the stool to face your direction. He gazed up at you with those big, puppy dog eyes, and you realised with a start that if you took one more step, you��d be standing between his legs. You could have rested your hands on his shoulders or the sides of his face. You could have leant down and kissed him.

Because of this, you didn’t know what to say, and this wasn’t good because the ball was most certainly in your court. He’d just said everything he needed to say with that song.

You decided just to be honest with him.

‘I don’t know what to say, Roo.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to get that off my chest, and I didn’t know how else to do it.’

‘I will say something,’ you assured him. ‘Just not right this second.’ It was clear that he was trying to hide the dejection he felt. You saw right through the fake smile meant to reassure you, and immediately, you felt as though you’d let him down. Thinking on your feet wasn’t easy when you were drunk, and you might have chosen to do things differently had you been sober. Now probably wasn’t the best time to deal with something like this, but now was all you had. You couldn’t bear letting him go home tonight, thinking you didn’t feel anything towards him.

So you took his hand in yours and tugged his arm. He got up silently, and you led him outside, across the decking and onto the sand. He trailed behind you down to the water, which was starting to come back in after low tide.

Your thought process had been that it might be better to talk out of earshot from the rest of the daggers and that words might come easier if you were somewhere more peaceful. This was, in fact, not the case, and the absence of commotion was only making things awkward. There was nothing to distract you from the longing behind his eyes, nothing to distract him from the way you nervously picked at the skin around your fingers.

It had never been this way with you and Bradley. Way before Elijah—which was beginning to feel like it had happened to someone else and not you—your friendship had been as easy as eggs on a Sunday morning. Thoughts flowed freely during lengthy but never tiring conversations. You didn’t need to guess how he felt and vice versa because both of you always just knew. You had inside jokes for days and more than a few secrets.

Just because you hadn’t grown up together and hadn’t known one another your whole lives didn’t mean you weren’t inseparable. The bond you shared was forged in everlasting fire the day you met at the academy. It was made out of some kind of magic, a rare kind that most people spent their whole lives searching for and never even coming close to.

As you thought about all this, you realised what a fool you’d been to neglect such a bond for somebody like Elijah. But even with all this, you’d never imagined the two of you would be anything more than best friends. When you had something as extraordinary as this, it was hard to fathom risking it when it was already perfect the way it was.

Or so you’d thought.

What if it wasn’t perfect the way it was? What if all those years of friendship were a prequel to something better?

A forever kind of something.

You took a deep breath and trusted that if you spoke your heart, everything would turn out precisely the way it was supposed to. And since you were speaking your heart, you started by saying his name. He’d been looking out over the water, but now he focused his attention back on you. You didn’t think you’d ever spent so many consecutive minutes in his company without him saying anything.

‘I wasted so much time looking for love in the wrong places,’ you started. ‘And when it ended the way I always knew it would—deep down—I listened to you tell me over and over that real love isn’t supposed to feel like that. I listened to you tell me that I deserved better, all while not believing what you were saying.’

It was hard to look at him now. There was so much riding on whatever you chose to say next.

‘What I’m trying to say is, I wasted so much time looking for love and the real meaning of it, when I should have been looking at what was right in front of my face the whole time.’

It wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say. You wished it could’ve been more eloquent—like his song—but this was what you had, and so you gave it to him.

He smiled broadly, and it reached all the way up to his eyes.

Oh, the things you’d have done for that smile.

Part of you was worried that these kinds of revelations would mess with your synchronicity, but you had no need to worry. There was no awkwardness, no clunkiness and no anxiety when he cupped your face in both his hands, and you reached up to loop your arms around his neck. You only felt overwhelming joy and an innate sense of rightness when your lips met in the most passionate of kisses.

And when he tilted your head back further and parted your lips with his tongue, you were able to revisit that feeling you’d felt when he pulled you into his lap not half an hour before. It wasn’t something you could tame, and you highly doubted he could, either, though you could tell he was going to give it his best shot.

You just couldn’t imagine this getting old or wearing thin. If you and Bradley really were a forever thing, you knew that being with him would always feel as exciting and enticing as it did right now.

You let one hand snake down his side, resting just above his hip. When you pulled his body closer so it was pressing against yours, he groaned into your mouth. You could’ve sworn you’d blacked out for a second.

‘Slow down, doll.’ He said between kisses.

‘Why?’

He pushed you away ever so slightly, and you pouted.

‘Because I wanna do this properly. I want to take you out for dinner, drinks, dancing, all of it. You can’t rush something you want to last forever.’

Ah. So he was thinking the same thing as you, then.

‘What if I’m impatient?’

‘Then I’ll take you to dinner now.'

He was making light, but you decided to indulge him. ‘Take me, then.’

Bradley laughed. ‘It’s almost midnight, sweet girl. We won’t get a table anywhere now.’

‘So take me to In-N-Out. And then take me home.’

His eyes were all pupil, and you knew that now you’d put the thought into his head it would be impossible to take it back out.

‘You’re terrible.’

‘It’s not my fault!’ You protested. ‘You’re standing there looking all delicious, kissing me like that!’

‘If I agree, you have to promise me one thing.’

‘Anything.’

‘At some point next week, you’ll get dressed up. You’ll let me take you to a fancy restaurant with overpriced cocktails and tiny portions, and then you’ll let me drive you home. When we get to your front door, you’ll let me kiss you goodnight, and then you’ll let me go home. We have to do it in a civilised manner at least once.’

You laughed. ‘Okay, fine. If you insist.’

‘I do.’

You kissed him again, and it felt like coming home after being away forever.

‘You know something, Bradley?’ You murmured. ‘I never knew heartbreak could feel so good.’

A/N: I planned on ending this series here, but now that the final part is complete, I've realised I have many more ideas for where this can go. Maybe some sequels or a whole other series off the back of it. If you'd be interested, let me know and I can tag you in future parts.

Taglist: primroseluna eloquentdreamer sgt-barnesveins daybleedsintonightfa11@sadgirlgiselle @sleepy-writersblock @lovelyygirl8 @my-therapist-hates-me

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