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Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw had never really classed himself as a Prince Charming type person; saviour of damsels in distress, or anything of the like.
Sure, he’d gone against orders to save Mav, but that was because he’s family, and he’s never been able to have a cool head when it came to the man who was his second dad. And yes, he’d step in if someone was getting rough with someone who didn’t enjoy fighting back (the Navy attracted rather a lot of people who liked to handle their own conflicts, so Rooster didn’t intervene straight away as standard), and he’d keep an eye on his teammates, because they were more like friends; but out of all of them, he’d never thought he’d crack out his protective instincts for Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.
It must be his Dad’s Mother Goose tendencies that had inspired his own callsign, making themselves known.
Or he had a bigger soft spot for the blond pilot with the permanent smirk, than he realised, and he wasn’t drunk enough to deal with that revelation, quite yet.
But here he was, sat in The Hard Deck, fingertips circling the mouth of his bottle of beer, watching Hangman play Bob at a game of pool, and he was not liking the way this guy who had snuck into Hangman’s personal space a few minutes ago, was acting.
Mainly because Hangman—cocky, arrogant, near-unflappable Hangman—was visibly uncomfortable with the way the guy kept trying to press up against him as he was trying to play against Bob. The blond pilot liked attention, but only when he sought it out. Rooster had noticed that when he wasn’t flying, or trying to push Rooster’s buttons (he took a pull of his beer as he realised suddenly that out of everyone he was always the one Hangman sought out, guaranteed), Hangman was actually quite happy to remain in the background.
Take now for instance, he’d asked Bob if he’d wanted to play a couple of games—Hangman smirking that he could teach him to become a pool shark if he wanted—and then when Bob had said yes, they’d gone to the corner, and there’d been hardly a peep from them that could be heard over the jukebox; Hangman just happy to chill with a teammate he now respected (now the stress of that mission was no longer weighing heavy on all of them).
And then this guy had turned up. Rooster had clocked him look over at Hangman and lick his lips like Hangman was just a piece of meat, and not a phenomenal pilot who was also good-hearted (once you got past the smirking façade) and extremely good-looking on top. (Just don’t tell him Rooster thought so fondly about him, he’d never live it down).
The asshole had sauntered over to the pool table section and had immediately gotten in Hangman’s personal space—completely ignoring Bob which made Hangman scowl, because he was rather protective of the smaller blond now—and tried to flirt his way into Hangman’s tight jeans.
Rooster had stayed sat down at the piano stool (he had been planning on playing some music when he’d gotten distracted by the asshole), figuring Jake would handle it, but instead of punching the guy’s lights out, or at least shoving him away, Hangman just kept trying to evade him.
It was…. concerning.
Rooster stood up and casually made his way over to the pool table area, when he heard the guy say Jake’s name.
Ah. So he wasn’t just a randomer.
He knew Hangman, and going by the way he believed he could touch him like he owned him, Rooster guessed he was an ex. And one that didn’t like the fact that he was an ex.
And Rooster figured Hangman wasn’t starting anything because he respected Penny, and didn’t want to cause a ruckus in her bar. So, he was taking the hit himself, because despite what Rooster had originally thought, Jake wasn’t completely selfish.
Rooster realised as he made his way around the pool tables towards Hangman (the blond was currently bent over the table with his back to him as he took a shot), that clearly the revelation of how much he actually did like Jake, wasn’t going to wait for him to get suitable sloshed, and he was either going to have to deal with it now, or ignore it forever.
His body—or more likely his heart—made the decision for him.
As he slipped his arm around Hangman’s waist—fingers sliding along warm skin under the hem of his t-shirt—and he felt Hangman tense minutely, and then fucking relax when he realised it was Rooster touching him, he resigned himself to dealing with the fact that Jake Seresin had gotten under his skin, with only half a beer in his veins.
“Hey Sweetheart.” He murmured, pressing himself close to Jake, so he was a long, warm line running from Hangman’s shoulder to the curve of his ass. Hangman turned his head to look at him—which made Rooster go a bit feral inside when he realised Hangman had known it was Rooster just from his touch, or his smell, or something—the only sign he was confused as to what was going on, the widening of his green eyes.
Rooster tried to convey with his own gaze, just go with it so we can get rid of the asshole, as he leant forward and brushed a soft kiss to Hangman’s cheek. He could smell the sun and sea on Jake’s stubbled skin, and he huffed out a laugh as Jake’s nose twitched where his moustache tickled his face. “This guy bothering you?”
The asshole in question was glaring at Rooster like he hoped he might be able to set him on fire from the power of his eyes alone. Rooster just smirked at him; showing more teeth than was welcoming. He saw Bob out the corner of his eye who was watching them with wide eyes, waiting for the game of pool to resume, and he silently thanked the other man for not giving the rouse away.
“Why would I be bothering him?” Mr Ex asked. “Me and Jake go waaaay back, ain’t that right, baby?”
Rooster was close enough to Hangman’s face to be able to see the way his jaw ticked in frustration. “Well seeing as Hangman doesn’t want you around—which is clear to everyone but your blind ass apparently—why don’t you go waaaaay over there, like out of the bar and on your merry way, over there, and not come back?”
The guy glared at Rooster. “You gonna let this prick tell lies on your behalf, Jake?”
Hangman looked at Rooster, and Rooster looked back; brown eyes open and honest and hopefully telling him that he was all in for whatever needed to be done to get rid of this guy so Hangman could relax again.
Yup, he was so far gone, it wasn’t even funny.
“They’re not lies, Aaron.” Hangman deigned to look at his ex. Rooster refused to call him by name. “I don’t want you here. I told you that when you arrived, and I think the fact I moved away every time you tried to touch me, just confirms that. We broke up 2 years ago. You’re nothing to me except a mistake I won’t make again.”
Rooster huffed out a laugh, because that was brutal and really fucking arousing. He shuffled slightly so he was hugging Hangman from behind—chin resting on his shoulder—and pressed his half-hard cock into the cleft of the blond’s ass.
The shiver that rippled down Jake’s spine ached with possibilities.
Rooster wanted to explore every one of them.
“And this prick as you called him, is my boyfriend, Rooster. Who is ten times the man you’ll ever be.”
Rooster sucked in a silent breath, because he really liked the sound of being Jake’s boyfriend, and gave his waist a gentle squeeze.
The Ex spluttered at them, his face going red, and veins bulging in his forehead. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Jake—”
“Oh, but I do.” Hangman drawled. “And I don’t miss it at all.”
“—and what kind of fucking name is Rooster anyway?”
Rooster didn’t even see Hangman move. One second he was pressed up against him, the next he was in the guy’s face, and clenching his collar as he held him still so he could make sure he understood what he was going to say.
“It’s a name that is the callsign of one of the best fucking pilots you’ll never have the honour of knowing. It’s the name of one of the best fucking people to ever walk this planet and fly in the skies. And—” He hissed in the asshole’s face; Rooster watched breathless at how vicious he was and at the compliments he was dishing out, because he’d had no idea Hangman felt that way about him. Seems he wasn’t the only one who made the other feral. “—it’s the name of the man who can wake me up at the crack of dawn by stuffing his big, fat cock in my ass, and get me to cry out cock-a-fucking-doodle-doo with a smile on my face, because unlike you—you pathetic little worm—he has never been a disappointment inside or outside of the bedroom.”
Rooster made a note to ask Hangman if he could actually do that immediately once the other guy left, because his dick needed to know what Jake’s ass felt like, and the rest of him needed to know what he sounded like in the throes of pleasure more than he needed his next breath.
Jake shoved the guy—who had gone from bright red to blanched white—away and stood back into Rooster’s embrace. “I asked you nicely to leave, and then when you didn’t I hoped ignoring and moving away from you would work, because I didn’t want to start something in my friend’s bar, but you don’t insult the man I love and get away with it.” Rooster swayed slightly because he swore he just heard Jake say he loved him, and Oohhhhh that was something he very much liked hearing. “So, get the fuck out of this bar and never fucking come back, otherwise you’ll see what I can do with more than words, we clear?”
The Ex nodded pathetically, blubbering like a baby as he did, and then turned tail and ran out of the bar. Rooster’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“Thanks, Bradley.” Hangman said softly, turning around to look at him. “You didn’t have to do that. Not that I don’t appreciate your methods for getting rid of him.”
“Did you mean it?” Rooster asked, bringing a tentative hand up to cup Hangman’s cheek, and ignoring everything else, because his heart was pounding in his throat with nervous excitement.
Hangman flushed because he didn’t need to ask what Rooster meant. “Maybe.”
Rooster bit back a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Jake.”
The blond sighed. “I meant every fucking word.” He stood there—green eyes not looking away from Rooster’s own—as if waiting for Rooster to push him away, or tell him his feelings weren’t reciprocated.
He was going to have great pleasure in telling him different, because all it had taken was some dickhead thinking they could touch Jake, and whatever barriers he’d had up to try and keep down the tidal wave of emotions he felt for the other pilot came crashing down.
“Good.” He smirked, and then leant forward and pressed his mouth to Hangman’s. He swallowed down the gasp that escaped the blond’s lips, and then moaned in delight when Hangman’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.
“Uhh…are you gonna finish our game, Hangman?” Bob asked, about four minutes into their make-out session.
Rooster snickered and pressed his face into the crook of Hangman’s neck as the other man turned to look at Bob. “Sorry, Bob. An offer I never thought I’d get, just came up and I can’t let it slip through my fingers.” He squeezed Rooster’s hips as he spoke. “Phoenix just walked in though, so I bet she’d love to play with you.” He winked as the bespectacled pilot flushed at the double entendre.
“You gonna ask me then?” Rooster purred the words into Hangman’s skin.
“Ask you what?”
“To be your boyfriend.” He looked up at Hangman’s shocked face. “Seeing as you said you meant every word you said to that asshole. And you claimed I was your boyfriend.”
“I—”
Rooster ran his thumb over Hangman’s bottom lip. “And you said you loved me.”
“I—” Hangman cleared his throat, never one for backing down when it came to Rooster. “I did. I don’t regret it either.”
“Then fucking ask me, Jake, so I can tell my boyfriend I return his feelings.” Rooster smirked, revelling in the way Hangman’s breath hitched and he blinked in shock.
“What’s going on?” Phoenix asked as he came to stand next to Bob.
“They’re finally declaring their love for each other after fighting off—though not physically—an encroacher who neither of them appreciated being here.” Bob lamented. “Hangman was meant to be playing pool with me.”
“Bradley Bradshaw—” Hangman said, cupping Rooster’s face in his hand.
“Yeah, everyone else is dead to them right now.” Phoenix snorted. “I’ll play you, Bob.”
“—will you be my boyfriend and tell me you love me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Rooster kissed him, and then murmured the next words against his lips. “I love you, Jake Seresin.”
Hangman smiled as he kissed him again, and held him tight enough to bruise. “Want to get out of here, my prince?”
“Better get an early night—” He moved his head to nip at Hangman’s earlobe. “—so I can wake you up early with my cock in your ass.”
Hangman gulped and nodded. “Yep. Yes. Uh huh. That is definitely a thing that is going to happen.” He grabbed Rooster’s hand, and almost tripped over his feet as he turned towards the door. He waved goodbye to Phoenix and Bob, and then dragged Rooster out of the bar. Rooster trailed after him, laughing in delight.
The possibilities open before them now they were together, endless and even more exciting than sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet as you soared the skies.
He couldn’t wait to hear what Jake sounded like as he came, just as the sun rose in the sky.
As they stumbled into Hangman’s car—breathless and happy—Rooster had never been more glad to have let his protective instincts out into the world. Not only had they gotten rid of that asshole, but he now had a boyfriend, and the man in question loved him in return.
It was the stuff of fairy tales really.
No, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw had never figured himself as a Prince Charming type of person, but when it came down to it, he didn’t mind being Jake Seresin’s.