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risriswrites · 2 years ago

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Just Roommates

summary: a series of moments between bradley bradshaw and his roommate that prove they're a little more than "just roommates"

pairing: roommate x bradley bradshaw, fem reader

warnings: none, just some mild language and lots of fluff

author's note: this is my second fic and i just wanted to say thank you all for the love on the first one! it made my heart happy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 9.1k

“Okay but hear me out. What if we painted the living room wall a pale green?” you question, gesturing to the beige wall directly across from you with a spoon, that was once being used for your bowl of cereal; which had been discarded five minutes prior in favor of the sudden inspiration to revamp the living room.

Tilting your head to the side you allow your eyes to wander the length of the wall before adding, “Not like a pastel green but more like a sage green. I think it’d compliment the couch…and the wood floors.”

Bradley was leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that led to your separate bedrooms, arms crossed over themselves and letting his eyes trail over the way you’ve perched yourself onto the granite kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other.

It was a Saturday morning, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d foregone pants and settled on an oversized t-shirt, really short shorts, and fuzzy socks. You always complained about how you couldn’t sleep if it was too hot, so he made sure to keep the thermostat at a comfortable 70 degrees, but as soon as you woke up, you’d be freezing and needed socks to keep your feet warm. He’d never understand it.

Dragging his eyes away from you he lazily glanced at the wall of the living room. Honestly, he was fine with the way it was, but he wasn’t an interior decorator, so his opinion didn’t really count for anything in the name of “design”.

“I don’t think it really matters” he shrugs, letting his eyes wander back over to you. Your hair was still a little messy from sleeping, but in way he found oddly, cute.

A huff slips past your lips as you slide off the counter and move to wash the bowl you’d been using, “Bradley, the apartment could use a little bit of color. It’s kind of bland in here,” you grimace, sparing him a quick glance before resuming your assault on the navy-blue bowl.

Sighing, Bradley pushes himself off the doorframe in favor of moving to the granite island you’d been sitting on a few moments ago, “Well, you pay for half of the apartment, so whatever you think will make the place look decent that’s up to you.”

“That’s not how decisions work between roommates, Bradley. We have to both agree with it,” you mutter.

Shaking your head you force a breath out, “Look, we can talk about it later if you want, it’s not a big deal. We can always meet in the middle and bring in a plant or something instead? You keep the neutrality of the apartment, and I can have some greenery to look at.” you negotiate, all while wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging across the bar of the oven, shooting him an awkward smile, doing your best to not glance at his naked chest.

He forces his own smile back at you and nods his head the tiniest bit to let you know he’d think about it.

With that conversation ending you decide to leave Bradley to his thoughts in favor of snuggling into the couch for some warmth and an excuse to binge watch “The Witcher”.

You and Bradley had been living together for a little over a month, having been introduced to each other through your friend Jamie.

Jamie was a landing signal officer for the navy that you had met while you were in college. He was just getting his associates degree to pass the time while he worked on achieving all of the necessary credentials to start training in the navy, and once he graduated, was stationed out in Miramar. He had worked alongside Bradley during a few different missions and had kept in contact with him over the past few years. The two were close enough that Bradley valued Jamie’s feedback and opinion, so when Bradley came to him with his roommate dilemma, he knew the perfect person to recommend.

Based on your first meeting alone you liked Bradley. He was well mannered, reserved, and yet, still had a certain rugged charm to him. And now you were here, laying on the gray couch you had convinced Bradley would look perfect in the small living space, snuggled under a knitted blanket from your grandma, as Bradley fixed himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to go out for a run in ten minutes, do you need anything while I’m out?” Bradley called out to you.

You tilted your head back to look at him from the throw pillow you were currently laying on, “No thanks I’m good,” you smiled, quickly turning back to your show, successfully avoiding gawking at your roommate as he maneuvered around your shared kitchen.

Ten minutes came and went, and you never heard Bradley leave the house. Crinkling your eyebrows, you sit up from your spot on the couch and peer back into the kitchen to check if Bradley had snuck out without you noticing. Only to see him sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, one arm leaning on the long piece of granite and the other holding his coffee mug in his hand, casually sipping at the hot beverage while his eyes were glued to the tv screen.

A smirk grows on your lips, “Going for a run, huh?”

Bradley’s gaze breaks from the tv screen and snaps to you, his eyebrows pinching together as he shoots you a playful glare, mumbling into his mug, “I’m about to leave.”

“Sure, you are” you snort.

Silence ensues as you continue to smirk at him and he glares at you, before finally he breaks.

“Alright fine,” he huffs, “One episode, and then I’m going for a run.”

You turn back to the tv with a knowing smile on your face before getting comfortable under your blanket again.

Bradley stays put at the kitchen island for the next episode, but once you’ve started the second, he’s gravitated to sitting on the arm of the couch.

You glance over at him every now and then, smirk growing larger with every minute he continues to sit and not leave to go for his run, too enraptured in the show currently playing on your shared tv screen.

Grasping the remote in your hand you pause the show, turning you head and quirking an eyebrow at him, “Soo…still going for that run?”

Bradley huffs and throws his head back groaning, “I need to.”

You stay in your position allowing yourself to let your gaze roll over the scars that litter his neck and along his cheek. Seeing the war waging on in his brain you decide to make it easy for him, “How about you go on that run, and I’ll just pause it until you get back? It’s on Netflix so it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” You smile.

Bradley turns to face you, moving his arms behind him to rest on the couch, further exposing his naked chest, “You sure? I don’t wanna make you wait to finish the episode.”

You push aside any thoughts about how hot he looks right now and instead focus on his honey brown eyes, letting your smile turn into an easy smirk, “I’ll be okay Bradshaw, I’m a big girl I can wait one hour for you to finish your run.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow while leaning towards you a little bit, letting his tongue poke out to swipe across his lips before he fixes you with a sarcastic smile of his own, “Sweetheart, it’s cute you think that it’s gonna take me that longto go on a three-mile run.”

And with that statement being put out in the air, he’s moving off the couch and heading towards the door, passing the water bottle he set out earlier.

Momentarily dazed from his proximity, you regain your train of thought and call after him, “Have fun show off!”

“Don’t start that episode until I get back sweetheart!” he yells, pointing a finger back in your direction, letting the door swing closed behind him.

A snort escapes you as you take to scrolling through your phone, waiting for Bradley to come back.

And exactly twenty minutes after you last saw him; not that you were counting, Bradley strolls back inside, a sheen of sweet glistening from his chest and abs as he strides towards the water sitting on the island.

Having looked up at his arrival, you quickly force yourself to look back down, cursing under your breath at how heaven sent he looks right now.

As Bradley is unscrewing the cap from his water bottle, he glances towards you propped up on the couch scrolling through the many apps you have on your phone before he slides his gaze to the tv, smiling to himself when he sees that you’ve kept your promise in keeping the show paused.

Allowing himself a few gulps of water, he sets the bottle back on the island and turns his attention back to you, “You mind keeping it paused for a little longer? I need a shower.”

You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen, “Don’t need to ask Bradshaw, I’d rather not have you tainting our clean couch with your sweat.” You snicker, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

He just shakes his head and smiles as he sets off towards the bathroom.

Another ten short minutes had passed before Bradley saunters back into your shared living space freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.

You stare for all of five seconds before becoming conscious of what you’re doing and move to grab the remote that’s been lying dormant on the side table for the past thirty-five minutes, eager to distract yourself from allowing him to take up any further space in your mind.

Bradley, however, has other plans and is picking your legs up off the couch and maneuvering himself under them in order to sit, bringing them back down and settling them in his lap, unknowingly regaining your attention.

Said attention being specifically on his right hand that is currently resting on top of your left leg, allowing a warmth to settle where his hand is, and traveling up through the rest of your body, a flush no doubt currently on your cheeks. Giving your head a small shake, you press play on the remote before forcing yourself to relax into the throw pillow and focus on Geralt arguing with Jaskier.

He's your roommate.

You’re very attractive roommate, but your roommate, nevertheless. And reminding yourself of that fact helps you stay focused on the show before the two of you part ways a few hours later.

He’s your roommate. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Pretty sure this is the kinda injury you go to the hospital for, Bradshaw. Not your very unqualified roommate and a first aid kit” You grimace.

Bradley was currently sitting on the toilet seat of your shared bathroom; after what you can imagine was another interesting night at the hard deck, in his typical white tank and Hawaiian button-down combo while you stood in between his jean clad legs, attempting to control the bleeding above his eyebrow.

“I’m serious you might need stitches,” you grunt, grabbing some more gauze and pushing it against the laceration.

Bradley snorts, “I wouldn’t say you’re completely unqualified if you’re gonna stand there and say I need stitches.”

You roll your eyes at the statement and resist the urge to smack him, “Anyone with half a brain can deduce that you need stitches, doesn’t take someone with a degree to know that.”

“So, you’re saying you’re perfect for the job, since you don’t need a degree? That’s perfect, thanks sweetheart,” comes the reply of a grinning Bradley.

A huff escapes past your lips as you mutter out, “You’re impossible”.

Your eyes examine the items from the first-aid kit that are currently scattered across the countertop, landing on a small box that says, “butterfly wound closures”. You light up at your luck before ordering Bradley to keep pressure on the gauze you’ve been holding as you move to get the much-needed bandages.

Once you’ve grabbed two or three bandages from the box, you push Bradley’s hand off the gauze and slowly peel it back to check on the bleeding. Luckily, it’s stopped now, and you can focus on closing the wound.

Grabbing a square packet with the words, “alcohol pad” on it, you rip open the packaging and take out the small piece of moist fabric, before sucking in a breath. Just knowing how much this could burn against Bradley’s wound has you wincing and hesitating to clean the area around it. “This might sting a little if I get to close, so try to stay still” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you start wiping around the wound. “How’d this happen anyway?” you question, attempting to distract him from any pain he might be feeling.

Bradley watches your face as you begin to wipe away at the dried blood above his eyebrow, nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched, and eyes focused on his wound. It’s endearing, how seriously you’re taking this.

“Some guy kept bothering Phoenix, she can usually handle guys like that on her own, but this one just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stepped in to help escort him out of the hard deck with Hangman when the guy swung on me. It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

You forced out a chuckle at his response, “I wouldn’t say that. Not when you’re coming home with blood rushing down your face”.

Bradley clocked the skip in his heart at the word “home” coming from your lips.

Ignoring that thought he rasped out, “Yeah well, better me than Phoenix. Plus, he definitely looks worse than me, I can guarantee you that, sweetheart.”

And just when you were about to retort back, you made the mistake of brushing the alcohol pad too close to his open wound.

Bradley’s eyes instantly force themselves shut, reaching out to grip your legs as he inhales sharply.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry Bradley” you apologize, moving your hands to hold his head in place. And before you even register what you’re doing you’re blowing air on his wound, applying the same knowledge you have with the reaction between small cuts and hand sanitizer to this scenario.

Bradley slowly let out the breath he’d been holding, muttering out an, “It’s fine sweets,” allowing his body to relax again.

Discarding the alcohol wipe, you quickly grab the bandages you set out, unwrapping them at a swift pace before moving to place them one by one over Bradley’s cut. Gingerly, you smooth your thumb over the last bandage, securing it in place on Bradley’s sun-kissed skin.

“Okay” you let out a breath, “You’re all set to be a hero again” you smile softly. “Don’t get into the habit of getting into fights with drunk men.” You warned, moving your right hand to squeeze his shoulder.

Bradley’s eyes flutter open meeting your soft gaze, and he can’t help but to let one side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk, “I make no promises sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his confession you take a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your thighs, “You think you can manage putting everything back in the first-aid kit, show off? Or do you need my help with that too?” you smirk.

Bradley scoffs, pushing himself off the toilet to tower above you, “I got it,” he jests, light blue Hawaiian shirt swaying at the speed he moved from the toilet.

With the smirk still playing on your lips you back out of the bathroom, rounding the corner completely before calling out to him, “good to know you’re not completely helpless, Bradshaw!”

It’s been almost a year since you and Bradley started living together and somehow, he’s managed to supply endless excuses as to why dagger squad wasn’t able to meet his roommate. No one was more frustrated about the lack of an introduction than Phoenix, as Bradley’s closest friend she was a little pissed and mildly offended at the realization.

So, after some choice words between Phoenix and Bradley and the occasional nagging from Hangman, Bradley folded and told the duo that he’d talk to you about inviting them over for dinner.

Dragging his feet, Bradley opened the door to your shared apartment, taking in the smell of the lavender essential oil you had diffusing in the entryway.

Bradley faintly remembers you educating him on the effectiveness of essential oils when it comes to mental and physical health, and how lavender was best for promoting sleep and relaxation. Something you learned from your “stress management” class in college. It’s funny how that knowledge has him instantly relaxing once he’s stepped into the apartment; or maybe it was just knowing you occupied the same space as him.

“Honey I’m home!” Bradley calls out, tone light and playful.

He rounds the corner to see you propped up on the couch, book in your lap as you glance up at his loud and flashy entrance.

Quirking a brow at the flight suit currently tied around his waist, you watch him move one arm above his head to lean against the doorway, black fitted tee straining as he makes himself comfortable. You shoot him a playful smile, “Have a good day, sweetheart?”

Bradley lets a smirk grace his lips as he watches you, “I’ve had better.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention downwards towards the book in your lap, “Well there’s always tomorrow” you reasoned.

Bradley allows himself to take in your appearance, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watches a strand of hair fall in your face. He decides then and there that the matching green sports bra and spandex shorts set is his new favorite outfit that you own and there’s definitely gotta be some rule about inappropriate thoughts about your roommate that he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s breaking.

Breaking his gaze from you he moves to the kitchen, focusing on fixing himself a glass of water when he remembers Phoenix’s words from earlier.

Meandering around the kitchen for a few more seconds he decides to just throw it out there.

“Hey sweetheart, are you okay with a few members from my squad coming by the apartment?”

Hearing his voice echoing through the kitchen into the living room, you allow his words to sit for a second, letting them mull over in your head until you decide to answer him with a, “why not? The more the merrier,” and glance back down to continue reading the murder mystery you’d been attempting to finish for the past few days.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Bradley smiles softly at your focused expression before grabbing his phone and shooting a group text to Phoenix and Hangman to let them know they could swing by later this week.

Only putting his phone down when he got a thumbs up from Hangman, and an enthused text from Nat telling him to send the details when he can, allowing himself to refocus back onto the girl currently sat on the gray couch, with an impressive number of throw pillows surrounding her, and a book he’s never heard of before in her hands.

Smiling quietly to himself, he runs a hand through his curls and decides to head to the bathroom to shower, already hearing you in his mind telling him how you don’t want the smell of jet fuel on the couch.

Once he’s finished, he throws on an old Navy tee and gray sweatpants, heading back into the living room to try and persuade you to put down your book and watch a few episodes of “The Witcher” with him instead.

Maneuvering himself around the coffee table and onto the couch, he quickly grabs your legs and props them onto his lap and shoots you a wide smile.

Peering over the top of your book you fix your gaze on his honey-brown irises and quirk an eyebrow at his disruptive actions.

Bradley nods his head to the tv in a silent question, and you hide the growing smile on your face behind the book you’ve had your nose in for the better part of the last few hours. “Bradshaw, can’t you see I’m reading?” you challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at the man sitting in front of you, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

He nods, “I see that, and I raise you with a much more interesting proposition.”

Lowering your book just a tad, you tilt your head to the side and scoff, “Oh really, and what might that be?”

Bradley bites his bottom lip before shooting you a dazzling smile, “You, me, and at least three episodes of ‘The Witcher’, accompanied by pizza and wings, if you’re into that kinda thing?”

You hum at his idea and look up in thought, biting the bottom of your own lip in the process, “I don’t know Bradshaw, this book is really starting to get good, and I’ve been wanting to finish it for like, a week now” you exaggerate.

He gives you ten seconds, and then he’s reaching across the couch to swipe the book from your hands tossing it behind him, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What book?” he smiles again, beaming from ear to ear.

Not able to contain your own smile, you let out a soft laugh, “Go order the pizza, show off.”

Bradley stands, sending you a mock salute as he makes his way to his phone.

“Oh! And I want a Hawaiian pizza Bradshaw!” you call out.

Bradley scrunches his face in disgust at the thought of pineapple on pizza, turning back to you phone now up to his ear as he waits for the line to connect, “Still can’t believe you like pineapple on pizza, it’s a crime.”

“It’s really not!”

Pushing yourself up onto the arm of the couch, you bring your knees to sit underneath you, using your hands for emphasis as you argue the point of how perfect the sweetness of the pineapple compliments the saltiness of the pizza, and all Bradley can do is roll his eyes and smile at how enthusiastic you are. And despite him not agreeing with you, he orders the pizza for you anyway. Moving back to his spot on the couch once he’s placed the order and grabs ahold of your left leg, massaging it as you continue to rant about the different universally accepted sweet and salty combinations.

Once the pizza has been delivered, the two of you spread the small feast across the coffee table, as you start the second season of “The Witcher”.

Every now and then Bradley will make a small comment that makes you laugh, distracting you long enough that you’d have to rewind the show every few minutes to make sure you caught everything. And Bradley would just smile in return, taking pleasure in knowing that he’s the one making you laugh.

Once the pair of you have gotten through the third episode, you exit out of the Netflix app and turn the tv off, and before you can make a move from the couch, Bradley brings up the topic of his friends again and you tell him Friday at six should be good for you.

Sending him a small smile you slide your legs out of his grip and stand from the couch, bringing the leftover pizza with you and placing it in the fridge, Bradley close behind you with the wings. Once everything is put away, the two of you exchange “goodnights” and part ways to your separate rooms, lingering looks, and fond smiles left in the shadows of the dark.

Two Days Later

Friday comes quickly, work having been overwhelming and taking up most of your limited time. The time you normally are reading or hanging out with Bradley is almost nonexistent.

Once you’ve made it back to the apartment you make a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the day. Letting yourself linger under the hot water long after you completed your routine, forcing yourself to turn the water off, step out of the shower, and dry off.

Remembering that Bradley invited his friends to come by tonight, you curse under your breath, wrapping the towel around your body and swinging the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway, only to crash into a hard chest.

“Shit” you mumble, scrambling backwards towards the bathroom.

Looking up you make eye contact with Bradley, who’s sporting his black tee and flight suit attire from his day working at the naval base. Gulping you tighten the towel around your body, squeaking out a “sorry” as you try to look past his eyes towards your bedroom door.

Bradley ignores the urge to look down past your eyes, willing himself to think of anything other than your naked body, and shuffles back a few steps to let you past.

You take that as your opportunity to scurry to your room in an attempt at avoiding any more awkward moments for the night. Deciding to throw your thoughts into what outfit you’re going to wear instead of the recent interaction between you and Bradley. Coming up with jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and white socks, you give yourself a onceover in your floor-length mirror and nod at your reflection, leaving the safe space of your room to wander around the kitchen.

Since you and Bradley had ordered pizza earlier on this week, you take it upon yourself to order takeout from the local Chinese restaurant. Not having been able to go out and grab groceries to prepare for tonight’s dinner, ordering Chinese seemed better than ordering pizza for a second time.

The bathroom door opening signals to you that Bradley’s finished showering, almost like a warning of his inevitable presence.

Busying yourself with tidying up the living room, you don’t notice him walk out of the hallway, too focused on how to lay your grandma’s knitted throw blanket over the couch.

Bradley lets out a breath, closing his eyes and wills himself to forget about your moment in the hallway, instead choosing to put his shoes in a more orderly fashion by the front door, and switching the diffuser on as he passes it, the smell of lavender quickly flooding his senses and bringing him back to thoughts that all involve you in nothing but a towel.

Shaking his head, he forces the image of your wide eyes, wet hair, and glowing skin from his mind and moves back to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.

You finally take notice of him and send him a shy smile. He sends you one back and breaks the silence by asking about your day at work.

Thankful for the distraction, the awkward tension dissipates and the two of you fall into easy conversation until three sharp knocks come from the door.

Looking to Bradley he sends a reassuring smile your way before going to answer the door. The sound of two voices arguing back and forth hit your ears and you instantly smile and let out a small laugh at the loud, “Bagman I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to sew it shut with the next toothpick I can find.”

Composing yourself quickly, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear while you sit at the kitchen island, only standing when a woman with shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes, moves around the corner.

Once Phoenix makes eye contact with you, she’s instantly grinning and coming closer to give you a polite hug, introducing herself with her callsign and then her name, telling you to call her by whichever, and settles in on the barstool next to yours.

A blond with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk follows shortly after Phoenix and quickly scans you from head to toe, smirk deepening (if that’s even possible), Bradley right behind him with a sheepish smile on his face as he looks towards you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” the blond drawls, he’s a little short compared to Bradley and you take note of his southern drawl, Texan maybe?

Eyes flitting from Bradley back to the blond, you let a sarcastic smile settle on your lips and hum, leaning your arm onto the counter, hand forming a fist as you rest your chin, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bagman, isn’t it?”

Nat snuffs out a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks at you.

“Hangman, actually.”

“That’s not what I heard,” you retort back, smile staying stationary on your lips, challenging him.

“Oh, I like you,” Nat grins. “I like her” she states, turning to give Bradley a pointed look.

Hangman breaks the stare down choosing to look towards Bradley instead, “I like her too.”

Rolling your eyes at the statement you also turn to Bradley, tongue coming out to swipe across your bottom lip as you point a finger towards Hangman, “I can learn to tolerate him.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle moving to grab a set of beers from the fridge huffing out an, “We all do that, Sweets” the room erupting into laughter at the expense of Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Somehow over the course of the night you and Nat had made your way over to the couch, her sipping on a Heineken and you on a coke, leaving the boys to their own devices in the kitchen.

“So, how long did you say you’ve been roommates again?” Hangman questioned, nodding over to you, toying with the perspiration sweating off his beer bottle.

Bradley brings his beer up to his lips slowly, “About a year now, were good friends” taking a sip after he answers.

Jake hums, “And how long have you been lying to yourself about that second part?”

Bradley whips his head towards Jake, eyebrows pinching at his suggestion, “What?”

Huffing Jake turns his attention from the couch where both you and Natasha have started gossiping about some picture on your phone, back to Bradley, “Bradshaw, when’s the last time you went on a date with a girl, or even hooked up with one?”

Jake is met with silence from the naval aviator, and takes a sip from his beer, “That’s my point. You like her man.”

Bradley leans on the countertop, eyes focusing on the way your eyes light up at something Phoenix says, your giggles filling the space of your shared apartment and making him suppress a fond smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, we’re just roommates, Bagman.”

Jake watches Bradley watching you, a knowing smile breaking his smug façade, then he moves to sip at his beer, glancing back over to you and Nat, “Whatever you say Bradshaw.”

From the way the wind and rain were whipping against the windows of your apartment, you’d think you were dealing with a stage three hurricane, but according to the weatherman it was just a bad storm. Maybe someone should double check his certification.

Every few minutes thunder would rumble, ricocheting off your apartment complex, shaking the building, and sending you into another gathering frenzy. Moving around the apartment in a flurry, you grab the collection of candles you’ve been hoarding and any lighters you can find.

In your rush, you don’t hear Bradley enter the apartment, too busy with collecting all of the necessary items.

Bradley smiles as you pass by him, oversized tee flowing behind you, socks making you skid on the hardwood floors of your apartment as you spread the abundance of candles throughout the living space.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek escapes your lips, narrowly avoiding dropping three candles as you recompose yourself, straightening your back you let out an exasperated breath. Placing the remaining candles down onto the side table you huff, “What does it look like I’m doing?” You turn to face Bradley, who looks like he’s soaked from head to toe; he must’ve left his flight suit at the base today since he’s sporting just a black tee and his workout shorts, “I’m preparing for our inevitable demise.” You exaggerate.

Bradley chuckles at your dramatic opinion of the weather, “I don’t think fifty candles are gonna help us sweetheart.”

You give him a reprimanding look, groaning as you say, “No but they’ll help with our vision whenever the power goes out. And some of us, are afraid of the dark.”

Bradley’s smile softens at your admission and angles himself toward the foyer table, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out the flashlight you’d been looking for. Turning to you and giving it a little wave in an effort to make you feel better.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “I’ve been looking for that everywhere.”

Giving the flashlight a light toss, Bradley chuckles, “And looking in all the wrong spots apparently.”

Another round of thunder rattles the apartment, making you jump, eyes flashing with fear for a moment. Bradley raises his eyebrows at your reaction and sets the flashlight on the kitchen island.

“You okay?”

You turn to him, giving a small nod, “Yeah, I’m fine. Storms don’t normally bother me but this one just feels like it’s closer to a hurricane than a regular storm.”

Bradley nods at your statement, “You gonna be okay if I take a quick shower?”

Throwing your hand up nonchalantly, you wave him off, “I’ll be fine, probably gonna light a few candles and start a new book.”

His eyes wander the expansion of your face, looking for any cracks in your calm and collected façade you’re putting up. Not finding any, he rationalizes that he’ll only be gone for ten minutes tops, and can coax you into cozying up on the couch to watch another episode of “The Witcher” once he’s finished.

Shooting a reassuring smile your way he side steps out of your way to head to the shower, “I’ll be out shortly sweetheart!”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to move again throughout the apartment, huffing as you grab a case of water and set it on the island.

Standing at the entryway to your home you play with a strand of hair nervously, studying the progress you’ve made throughout the space, giving a decisive nod of approval, before heading off to your room to pick a book and grab a few extra blankets to set on the couch.

The wind has picked up even more now, making the patter of rain on the window hit with a force you thought for sure resembled hail. Shivering at the thought, you clutch your collection of blankets closer to your body and make your way back out to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and cuddling into your favorite throw pillow, snuggling under the blankets.

Another loud boom of thunder rattles your building, making you let out a soft whimper in response, snuggling further into the couch for comfort. In an effort to calm yourself down you reach across the cushions to grab the pink book peeking out from the collection of blankets, totally abandoned in your haste to hide from the thunder.

You thumb through the first few pages until you see the intricate curvature of the words “Chapter One” typed at the top of the page and immediately immerse yourself into another world of fiction. And within five minutes, you’ve completely forgotten about the raging storm outside, the sharp beating of the rain on the window turning into a dull thumping as your eyes scan the pages in front of you.

Bradley curses to himself at the amount of time he’s spent in the shower, quickly stepping out and drying himself off, throwing on a white tee and his favorite gray sweatpants. Hanging his towel back on his hook, he swiftly opens the door and takes long strides to the living room, reaching his hand around the hallway entrance and poking his head out to see where you’ve scurried off to.

Momentarily panicking when he doesn’t pinpoint your exact location, until his eyes zone in on your blanketed figure on the couch. A grin splits his lips, and he bites the bottom one to contain his chuckle, you’re reading that new book you were talking about, but the way you’ve huddled into the blankets reminds him of the alien from E.T. all wrapped up with only your head being visible.

Sidling up to the frame of the hallway he folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he calls out your name. Actually, letting out a chuckle this time when you don’t acknowledge him.

“You good over there, sweetheart?” he tries again.

This time you do look up, and his heart clenches at the sight of your wide eyes, “Shit! I’m sorry Bradley, how long have you been trying to get my attention?”

“Not long sweets, don’t worry about it.” He juts his chin towards the tv, “What do you think about a few episodes of ‘The Witcher’?”

Glancing down at your book you think about it for a second, it was starting to get interesting but you could never say no to Bradley or “Geralt of Rivia”. So you smile and push the blanket off of your head, “You know,” you clicked your tongue, “I’m starting to think you like this show way more than I do.”

Bradley scoffs, “Definitely not, I’m only suggesting it because there’s nothing else worthy of watching on that godforsaken streaming service.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “just admit it Bradshaw.”

And just as Bradley opens his mouth to give you some smart retort back, a loud crack echoes throughout the room, and the power flickers off. You suppress a scream and instead resort to a quiet whimper.

“Shit sweetheart, are you okay?” Bradley calls.

You bite down on your lower lip and close your eyes to avoid looking into the void of darkness that’s encompassed your apartment, “Not really,” you breathe out.

Bradley goes quiet for a second, trying to make the moment lighthearted in an attempt to make you feel better, “All those candles and you didn’t light any of them huh?”

An offended scoff that closely resembles a whine leaves your lips, “Seriously Bradley.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious, sweets” Bradley teases.

“At least I thought about this happening and got us prepared,” you sputter out. “Some of us were too busy washing their mustache to care” you sneer, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

Bradley pinches his eyebrows, “Hey now, no hating on the stache.”

“Bradley I can’t see anything and it’s really loud so I’m sorry, but the feelings of your mustache are not on my list of priorities right now” You huff.

“Okay well then how about we try to find the lighter so we can actually see in here?”

“Fantastic idea Bradshaw, best one you’ve had all night,” your tone exaggerated, moving your hands to aid in pushing yourself up from the couch.

Letting out a puff of air, Bradley ignores your comment and starts using his hand to navigate through the living room, hoping he’s getting close to the couch, bumping his knee into what he thinks is the side table, letting out a low groan.

“You okay over there, showoff?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “I’m fine.”

You nod your head in understanding and mumble out a quiet, “Okay, good.”

Bradley moves forward again, maneuvering around what he thinks is the coffee table. He can hear your shaky breaths so he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s a few steps away from the couch.

Growing a little bolder you take two steps forward, which proves fatal as you end up tripping over what felt like a shoe, forcing you to stumble forward in an attempt to catch your footing, throwing your hands out to avoid crashing into anything, only for them to land on Bradley’s warm and hard chest.

Not quite balanced yet, you stumble forward a bit more, Bradley grabbing your wrist in hopes to help steady you, pulling you closer to him in the process.

You haven’t been able to see since the power went out, but having him this close allows you to see the outline of his face and the sparkle of his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat at your proximity and it all becomes overwhelmingly intimate.

Looking away from his profile into the darkness, you momentarily forget about the fear of the storm and instead are distracted by the very muscular, very attractive man; that is your roommate, currently holding you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers.

Closing your eyes, you turn your head and force a shaky breath out from your lips, “Yeah, just tripped over a shoe or something.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He mumbles, voice a little raspier than normal.

Shit.

Your eyes shoot open, your head tilting back to face him, “If you’re referring to the fact that it’s darker than a black hole in here right now, then no, I’m not okay, I would really appreciate at least one of those candles being lit right about now.”

Another roll of thunder crashes into your living room, echoing along the walls and through your chest, making you press further into Bradley’s firm hold.

Closing your eyes again you huff, “I’m sorry.”

Bradley moves the hand that doesn’t have a grip on your wrist around your back, tugging you into his warm embrace, “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” he reassures, resting his chin on top of your head as he speaks.

You sigh, allowing yourself just for a moment, to enjoy how close he is right now. Just roommates you remind yourself.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad with them,” you mumble against his chest, referring to the raging storm outside.

Bradley’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, nodding his head in understanding, “Where do you think that lighter is right about now?”

“I have no idea, maybe on the island? That’s where I put the majority of stuff.” You mumble, placing your hands flat against him to aid in inching yourself away from his chest.

Bradley hums, keeping a firm grip on your wrist as he steps back slowly towards the kitchen, pulling you with him. “Okay,” he nods, “Lets focus on getting the flashlight and then the lighter. That sound okay with you?”

Feeling the way his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin, you whisper out a “Yeah,” gulping down your nerves that are so frazzled you’re not sure if it’s from the storm, or from how tender he’s being.

Taking a few more short steps; with Bradley leading the way, the two of you eventually make it to the kitchen island. Bradley letting your hand go in favor of roaming his over the countertop, blindly searching for the flashlight while you focus on finding the lighter. After what seems like hours, Bradley announces his accomplishment and flicks the button on the metal piece of the flashlight, a beam of light hitting your pupils making you flinch and close your eyes. Bradley cursed under his breath in apology, moving the light down towards the countertop in search of the lighter, allowing you to reopen your eyes and get accustomed to the new source of light.

Eyes scanning over your pile of necessities, you spot the lighter peeking out from behind one of the candles.

“Found it,” you sigh in relief.

Bradley’s eyes pan over to you from where he’s standing, watching as you reach past an emerald, green candle that has a picture of the woods wrapped around it; the words “sandalwood” in some typewriter font scribbled at the top, and pull the lighter out of the dark and into the beam of light coming from the flashlight.

Meeting Bradley’s eyes you shoot him a soft smile, giving the lighter a little wave, “Lets light these candles.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through Bradley’s chest while he shakes his head in amusement, “Leave it to you to make a ‘The Boys’ reference.”

You smile, turning away from him as you grab the same emerald, green candle that he was just looking at, clicking the lighter on and pushing it against the wick, “It’s not my fault okay, there’s some great one-liners in there. I just so happen to be capable of altering it to fit our scenario.”

The sky rumbles shortly after your statement and has you kicking into gear, setting the newly lit candle back down onto the island and moving swiftly throughout the apartment, lighting as many candles as you can to brighten up the room, but also not enough to be a fire hazard.

Lighting the last cream-colored candle by the couch, you straighten up and turn towards the room to look at your handiwork, Bradley standing next to you doing the same as he clicks the flashlight off. A soft yellow glow has settled in different areas of the living room and kitchen, the areas surrounding it darker, the further away you get from the candles. “I think that’s good enough.” You murmur, arms crossing over themselves while you scan the space.

Bradley hums in approval, moving an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer to him.

“What do you wanna do now sweetheart?” Bradley’s voice is soft as he asks his question, allowing his thumb to rub small circles onto your deltoid. It’s comforting.

Allowing your guard to slip, you lean further into his body, turning your head up to look at him, whispering, “Can you sit with me on the couch while I read?” Eyes flickering towards the darkness of your room before returning to his gaze, “I just don’t want to be by myself right now.” You mumble.

And for what feels like the millionth time in the past year, Bradley’s heart skips at your confession, his mouth wanting to grin at just how cute you are and pull you into his chest. Instead, however, he settles for a soft smile and a, “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Gripping your shoulder tighter, he pulls you back towards the comfort of the couch making himself comfortable as he settles into the cushions, allowing you to leave his embrace to grab your book. But once you try to sit back at the opposite end of the couch, Bradley immediately grips your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“You’re gonna end up here anyway, sweetheart, just sit with me.” He rasps out, his warm breath hitting your ear, making you shiver.

Not trusting your words, you hum in response, letting him guide you back into his chest, propping your knees up to rest your book on them as you open it, conveniently landing on the page you had last read.

Somewhere in your brain a little voice was screaming at you that this isn’t what normal roommates do, getting a little louder once Bradley hooked his left arm around your waist, but an even louder voice was telling you just to enjoy it while you could. And in the end, what did it matter anyway? You were going to read and the two of you would part ways once the power came back on to your respective beds and everything would go back to normal. So, what’s the harm in lying here with him now?

The thunder was still rolling outside along with the sharp gusts of wind, but now that you were reading in Bradley’s arms you honestly couldn’t hear it anymore. And what felt like a few short minutes, turned into three hours, your eyes growing heavy, almost dropping the book on your face once you started to nod off.

Becoming mildly alert, you shift your body upwards to set your book on the coffee table, turning to tell Bradley you were going to bed, only to see him peacefully sleeping with his head tilted back onto the throw pillow, right arm flexed behind to support his head as he slept.

Smiling softly to yourself you shake your head and move to get up to go sleep in your bed, only to be anchored down by Bradley’s arm.

Frowning, you grab his hand with yours and begin to try and peel it away from you, Bradley’s grip only growing tighter and successfully pulling you back against him, your hand promptly landing on his chest to avoid faceplanting into it.

Just when you were about to make a second attempt Bradley’s raspy voice rings loud in your ears, “Stop trying to leave me.” He grumbles. Eyes still closed he brings his second arm around your back and pulls you tight against his chest, “Just stay.”

Biting your bottom lip at his drowsy statement, you try to pull your body away from him again, his arms only squeezing tighter around you. “Bradshaw, I need to go to bed,” you huff. Bradley pushes his body further down the couch, keeping you in place as he makes himself comfortable, “Sleep here” he mumbles.

Jesus Christ he’s gonna put you in an early grave.

You allow your eyes to examine his face, the way that his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks, sweeping over the tiny freckles littering his face, and stopping at the curve of his lips. Goddamnit. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t do this.

“Bradley” you whisper, voice shaky as you break your gaze from his face and focus on the flickering candlelight, “I really can’t sleep here.”

This pulls him from his drowsy state almost instantaneously and has him fluttering his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring his gaze into focus.

His thumb has a mind of its own it seems, since you feel it push under the fabric of your t-shirt and rub your skin in small circular motions, biting your bottom lip to refrain from doing anything rash, a small “Bradley,” slips past your lips, tone warning.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he brings his other hand up to your face and forces your gaze back to him. It’s quiet as the two of you stare at each other, blood rushing in your ears over the silence that’s only broken by the distant roar of thunder.

Sighing, you start to move your body backwards to put some distance between the two of you, “Bradley, I need to go to- “, your sentence is cut off by Bradley, who’s pulled you down and collided his lips with your own. Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his lips on yours, a moment passing before you understand what’s happening and push your lips against his.

The hand that Bradley has resting against your cheek pulls you further against him, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you close, as you melt into the kiss, his lips caressing yours, mustache tickling your upper lip as they slot together over and over again, until you pull away to catch your breath.

Your eyes flutter open, reconnecting with Bradley’s. His honey-brown eyes have a certain glow behind them as he takes you in, leaning forward to recapture your lips with his own, “Stay.”

Closing your eyes again, you push your lips against his, letting them linger there for a moment before you lean back, and whisper out a breathy, “Okay.”

A soft, adoring smile pulls at Bradley’s lips, giving his head a short nod as he leans the two of you back, settling himself into the couch cushions while you pull your grandma’s knitted blanket off the back of the couch and over the two of you. Nuzzling yourself into his neck, placing a few chaste kisses along the scars that have made homage there. Slipping your hand under his white t-shirt while you mutter, “Just so you know,” another kiss, “I will be milking the fuck out of this.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle, kissing the top of your head briefly before closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

Nat and Jake had come over again for another dinner night. This time, you chose to make dinner, a simple “lasagna roll-up” recipe you found on pinterest that has never failed you when it came to impressing guests.

Bradley and Jake were sitting at the kitchen island, mulling over the salad Bradley had just finished tossing while Jake gave him “pointers”, occasionally stealing glances at the two women sitting on the couch, deep in gossip.

Every now and then you’d look over and send Bradley a soft smile, until Natasha grabbed your attention with another story of the shenanigans that had taken place earlier on base. Jake watching the love-sick expression on Bradley’s face, and stewing in the knowledge that Bradley Bradshaw had it bad for you; just like Jake had told him he was several weeks ago.

“Took you long enough Bradshaw,” Jake poked, bringing the beer he’d been holding up to his lips and taking a sip, smirk prominent on his face.

Bradley spared Jake a glance before returning his attention back to you, clicking his tongue, “When are you gonna tell Phoenix how you feel, Seresin?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to Nat’s figure currently relaxing on the gray couch, not giving anything away, keeping his expression in his traditional cocky smirk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Rooster.” Taking another sip of his beer, Jake moves his body off the stool and towards the living room, sitting himself down ungracefully next to Nat, her throwing an irritated look at him.

Rooster suppresses a chuckle at his teammates and shakes his head before moving himself to sit next to you, easing his arm around your shoulder, you relaxing into his embrace immediately.

Jake leans onto the arm of couch, permanent smirk etched onto his lips, “Okay I gotta know. What got you hooked on our very own ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw?”

Nat smacks Jake’s wrist and immediately reprimands him with an annoyed “and this is why we only tolerate you, Bagman” while you sit there, a blushing mess, as Bradley rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

You mull it over in your head for a second while Nat continues to reprimand Jake before you speak up, “Honestly?”

Everyone goes quiet at your consideration of Jake’s question, apart from Jake who lets his famous smirk return to his face, “I’d love to hear the honest answer.”

You look up at the ceiling briefly, cheeks flushing as you mumble, “Definitely the mustache.”

The room immediately erupts into laughter, Jake and Nat rushing out questions at a million miles a second, while you cover your face in embarrassment.

Bradley just chuckles to himself and pulls your face into his side, kissing the top of your head, emphasizing the rub of his mustache against your forehead, making you burrow further into his side.

“Just Roommates my ass!”

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