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Jake feels off balance, his chest far too light to actually belong to him.
“Can’t we just skip it?” he asks, again.
“We could,” Bradley offers, “if we want them all to immediately know something’s up.”
They’re standing less than half a foot apart, Jake’s arms slung over Bradley’s shoulders. Jake hums as he pretends to think it over.
“I suppose you’re right.”
In reality, they already agreed they weren’t ready to tell anyone. It was too soon, too fresh. And neither of them really wanted to fess up to how this had all happened.
So, they’re going to pretend to be normal for the next little while and see how things go.
It’s logical and Jake agrees with the decision, he didn’t do it to please Bradley. But it’s also a bit depressing to think about going back to not touching Bradley whenever he wants. To remind himself he can’t just stare at Bradley as long as he wants.
“Go back to your place, get ready,” Bradley tells him, “and I’ll see you there.”
Jake ignores him for a moment in favor of leaning forward and kissing the man in his arms. He’s the one to pull back maybe thirty seconds later, sighing.
“Alright,” he says. “Casual friends. Definitely haven’t had your dick in my mouth. Or up my-”
Bradley laughs, kissing him quiet.
“Shut up and go. The sooner you go the sooner we can make our appearances and also leave.”
“And come back here?” Jake checks.
Bradley smiles, nodding.
“If you want.”
Jake pecks his lips one last time, rather than admitting that it is what he wants out loud. There’s every chance his voice will wobble and give far too much away.
Casual, he reminds himself.
…
The Hard Deck is about half full when Bradley arrives. He’s swinging his keyring around his index finger, tempted to whistle as his feet cross the semi sticky floor.
Bob and Phoenix are already sitting by the pool table and as he approaches Coyote comes from the bar, throwing him a quick wave.
“Hey guys,” Bradley offers.
He has to remind himself not to grin too widely. He’s not supposed to be that happy. Casual. They’d agreed.
“You look like you feel better,” Phoenix says, searching his face for several long seconds.
“I do feel better, Tash. Thanks.”
Phoenix and Bob share a look he can’t read but Bradley lets it go. He’s in too good of a mood to argue with them.
“I’m going to the bar, anyone want anything?”
“I think we’re good but it looks like Fanboy just walked in.”
Bradley glances back to the door and, of course, Phoenix’s gaze is dead on.
“Great, I’ll be back.”
By the time Hangman strolls through the door they’re on their third game and Bradley’s halfway through his second beer.
His heart hammers in his chest and he forces himself to look back at the table instead of watching. His face and throat are warm but he takes a sip of beer and pretends he can’t feel it.
In the end, it was for nothing. Because Coyote is crossing the space between them, taking Hangman’s elbow and propelling him back toward the bar. There, they have an animated conversation in which Jake only looks at him once.
It’s a jolt to the system and Bradley pushes off the chair he was leaning against. He rounds the table and puts his back to the bar.
If he doesn’t look at Jake they can pull this off. He knows he can’t do it all evening but for now it seems like the best plan of attack.
He half turns as the others greet Hangman, just in time for Coyote’s shoulder to knock into his.
“Sorry,” he says breezily, “didn’t see you there.”
“Have too much already, Coyote?” Jake asks before pulling him away by the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t say anything to Bradley.
Bradley knows why. In fact, he should have known it was coming. Still, he can’t help the sting of disappointment he feels.
He puts his eyes on the felt of the pool table and keeps them there as he finishes his beer.
“Going for a refill.”
“Grab me a Coke?” Bob questions.
“Sure,” Bradley nods.
He doesn’t let himself look at Jake, though he knows neither he or Coyote got anything while they were talking at the bar.
It’s a relief to stand at the crowd in the bar and wait his turn. The polished wood is smooth and solid under his hands. He’s not in a hurry as it is.
One of the bartenders, swirls of ink covering her shoulders, finally stops close and meets his eye. He leans closer so he doesn’t have to shout over the jukebox. It seems like no time at all that she’s stopped before him again, dropping off Bob’s Coke in a glass and a bottle of beer for him.
He pulls a $20 from his wallet and passes it over. Then, he wraps a hand around each drink, takes a deep breath, and heads back to his unit.
Jake’s heading for the bar as he comes back, almost as if they’d choreographed it. Though, Jake’s hardly an idiot. If he waits for Bradley to come back that’s more time they can be apart while pretending to be normal.
Which is why Bradley forces himself to actively participate in the next game. Sure, he’s not as good as Phoenix or Hangman, but he can hold his own with the others pretty well.
Payback finally arrives, stopping at the bar next to Jake – not that Bradley noticed that. Or the way Jake smiles and waits for Payback to get his drink too. They walk back to the group together, which distracts Bradley enough for Phoenix to stab the end of her cue into his foot.
“Augh, fuck,” Bradley yelps, nearly dropping his beer.
“It’s your turn,” Phoenix tells him, eyes narrowed. “It has been.”
Fuck, how am I so bad at this?
Rather than drinking more beer, he sets the bottle down and grabs his cue from where it was leaning on the wall. Maybe he should go get some water. But, no, that would probably be more suspicious. He’s only been here for an hour tops, he needs to chill out.
Bradley takes his shot, banking the five off the side pocket and sighing to himself. Because he likes to be kicked when he’s down, he looks over to see Jake’s lips wrapped around his bottle of beer.
It sends a hot jolt through Bradley’s entire body and he swallows roughly.
At least Jake doesn’t notice to tease him later. He’s having a very eyebrow intensive conversation with Coyote.
“You okay?” Phoenix asks as he returns to his beer.
“Sure,” Bradley says. “You know I don’t like to be rushed.”
Phoenix scoffs but he cuts her off before she can question him further.
“Bathroom,” he blurts, “be right back.” He leans his cue back on the wall and tries very hard not to run to the bathroom.
He leans against the sink, letting the cool porcelain bear his weight. Maybe he’s still tired from the mission and that’s why he wants to lean against everything. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he can’t lean on Jake.
The knob on the sink sticks briefly before spinning enough for water to rush out of the spout. He considers trying to drink some of the water for a few seconds, then he shakes the thought away and splashes the water on his face instead.
He grabs a few paper towels and dabs at his face before sticking the wad of brown paper under the sink and pressing the soaked bundle to the back of his neck.
“You’re fine,” he tells the mirror. “You’ve got this.”
A couple more hours and he’d be back at his house with Jake. And everything would be great, if not perfect.
Bradley makes his way back to the pool table but doesn’t stay long. It’s not so much Jake this time, he just gets antsy between turns.
So, he strides over to the jukebox and yanks the cord before cutting through the crowd back to the piano.
Soon enough, Phoenix has joined him on the bench. She sings with him, drawing Bob and Payback as well.
“Guys, we’re gonna lose the table!” Fanboy protests.
That brings Coyote and Hangman to the piano as well, probably to annoy Fanboy.
Still, Bradley warms under Jake’s gaze.
Fanboy comes over too, pouting slightly. Payback throws an arm around his shoulders and soon enough they’re swaying together.
Between songs, Bradley’s fingers stay on the keys, trilling aimlessly.
“Play Queen next,” Phoenix tells him. “And what’s in your pocket?”
Bradley freezes, thinking too hard.
By the time he’s dropped his right hand off the piano to try and cover his pocket nimble fingers have already tugged the small blue box free.
“What the hell,” Phoenix laughs, showing everyone the box.
Immediately, there’s a choking noise. Jake slams his beer down on the piano, free hand coming up to cover his mouth. It’s too late though, the next second he’s coughing and spraying out beer.
“Bro!” Fanboy cries, taking three steps to the side.
“Are you okay?” Bob asks.
For his part Coyote claps Jake on the back gently.
“Sorry,” Jake manages, wiping his lips. “You know they serve food here, right Bradshaw?”
His tone is off, but maybe Bradley’s the only one to hear it.
Bradley does the best he can to smile back, shrugging quickly.
“It looked good.”
“Since when do you eat Frosted Flakes?” Phoenix asks, always willing and able to call him on his bullshit.
The miniature blue box of Frosted Flakes is still in her hand and Bradley is kicking himself for buying it at the gas station.
At the time, it seemed cute. Maybe even romantic. Now it seems…like a stupid choice.
“Maybe I contain multitudes,” he sniffs.
“Or maybe they’re not for you.”
Everyone is silent for a beat too long in the wake of that statement.
“Hangman must have talked him into them,” Coyote says, “they’re his second favorite.”
Jake smacks the back of his hand against his pec.
“Dude! Are you going to tell them my horoscope next? They don’t care.”
“We care,” Payback corrects, clearly picking up on the odd current around them.
“Definitely,” Fanboy agrees. His eyes dart around to everyone and Bradley is left to assume he just agreed with Payback because they fly together.
“Come on,” Jake tries, his smile weak, “we’re all at the piano play us something, huh, Br – Rooster?”
Bradley lets his eyes fall closed. They were so close to avoiding that tone lock.
“Oh. My. God.”
His face is hot and he can only imagine how red it is.
“Is no one going to say it?” Phoenix questions. “Because I will-”
“I know they banged,” Coyote says, grinning. “Clocked it the second Mr. Glowing here walked in.”
“Jesus, Javy, I’m gonna kill you.”
“No you won’t,” Coyote answers, smiling even wider. “Also, it’s about time.”
Jake pushes Javy but immediately reaches out with the same hand to steady him.
“Why did we have the conversation over there if you were just going to tell everyone anyway?”
“I didn’t bring that,” Javy says, jerking his chin toward the box still clutched in Phoenix’s hand.
“You bought him a teeny, tiny little box of cereal,” Phoenix coos. “You’ve never bought me cereal, Roo.”
“Yeah, I also never-”
“Okay!” Jake yells. “Phoenix, move. Bradley, play another song before they plug the jukebox back in.”
Phoenix makes a big show of clearing the piano bench, leaving the box of cereal where she was sitting.
A mix of relief and apprehension swirl in Bradley as Jake rounds the piano and picks up the box. He smiles looking down at it, which definitely makes it seem worth it.
“Thanks,” he says, blushing prettily.
“What do you wanna hear?” Bradley asks him, quietly.
Jake grins, eyes glittering.
“Slow Ride.”
Bradley sighs deeply. He makes a show of dipping his head as if in disappointment. Then, his fingers run across the keys.
…
It’s almost two hours later that Bradley finally tugs Jake out of the bar with their fingers intertwined.
“Well,” he lets out, “that went okay, I think.”
“Better than expected,” Jake agrees immediately. “It was kind of…almost like they expected it?”
“It does seem that way.”
They stop beside his Bronco and Jake takes hold of his other hand before leaning in to kiss him.
“I got a Lyft here,” he says when they part.
Bradley’s lips curl.
“That’s perfect,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Jake’s mouth, “as you know, I already bought your breakfast.”
Jake laughs, burying his face in Bradley’s neck.
“I’m glad you did. It’s nice to be able to touch you.”
“Yeah,” Bradley exhales.
He’s always thought he was casual about touching and cuddling, until now. Knowing that he was supposed to give Jake distance and act like nothing had changed only made him want to touch his boyfriend more.
He lets his hands run up and down Jake’s arms, reveling in the connection.
“Come on,” Jake says. He presses a kiss under Bradley’s jaw. “I’m not fucking you in this parking lot and getting arrested.”
“Unless you’re climbing across the seat you need to walk around.”
“Smartass,” Jake huffs.
Still, he does as he’s told without further protest.
Bradley would be lying if he said it didn’t send another stab of want through him. He pushes it down, opening his door and swinging himself into the Bronco.
In the next thirty seconds, he’s reversing out of the spot and they’re rolling toward home.