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Bradley shakes his head as he hauls himself up on his board, straddling it and letting his legs dangle in the warm water. Just a bit in the distance, he can see Jake doing the same. He’s forgone his wetsuit, considering the warmer water of the San Diego coast in the summer — and Bradley is enjoying it. His auburn hair is glowing as the sun continues to rise above them, and the heat starts to prickle at Bradley’s skin.
The two of them got up early to head to Tourmaline. Bradley was excessively checking the surf report the other night and was practically drooling at the conditions that were predicted for today: slight offshore winds, warm water, and three-to-four foot waves. The waves weren’t for him, though — he’s been surfing that height since he was barely five feet — they were for Jake.
He’s been pretty proud of his boyfriend’s progress over the few months he started surfing — ever since they met at Bradshaw’s Surf Shop — the store that he took on after his parents died. Bradley was waxing boards and prepping for his first lesson of the day, when Jake walked in and asked to rent a board. Phoenix took over for him, thank God, and Bradley was able to help the handsome man pick a board and offer him a lesson, with a $20 discount just because. And after, the rest was history.
(Not really. Well, Bradley remembers sleeping with Jake right after that first lesson. Jake was shitty, Bradley couldn’t lie. He could barely pop-up in time to catch a wave — and when he did, his balance was just off. Which Bradley didn’t understand, considering Jake flew Navy, he told him. Bad surfing usually turns him off — but Jake was hot as hell and they couldn’t even make it out of his Bronco. When the two of them went back to the shop — he swears he saw the life fade out of Phoenix and Bob’s eyes, who were both manning the counter.
They’re fine with it now, anyway. Jake being a naval aviator was a big part of it — since the three of them used to be aviators, too. They still use their call signs when referring to each other — it’s a hard habit to break. They use Jake’s call sign for him as well — Hangman. But nevertheless, he’s glad the two of them came around. Phoenix and Bob were his best friends, the people who ran the shop with him, who he shared his entire life with. He’d follow them into a volcano.)
The two of them have been going at it whenever Jake is back from deployment. Surfing, that is. Other stuff too. But Jake can only spend a few weeks to a couple of months when he’s on leave, then he’s gone again — back out to sea, flying. Bradley can understand it, of course. He knows what it’s like to be deployed — how tiring life is out there, even if he enjoyed flying. Bradley is able to understand him in this way, where others can’t.
Jake talks about flying like it’s the only thing that keeps him tethered to the ground, ironic as it is. Bradley would never take that away from him. He feels the same way about surfing.
So, they stick it out together. When he lands in Lemoore, Bradley drives all the way there to pick him up. Jake makes his home in Bradley’s small cottage by the sea, the same one where he grew up in. Jake cooks breakfast every morning and Bradley comes with him whenever he runs. When Bradley’s at work — Jake is there too, charming customers into tipping more and renting the more expensive boards and making sure they come back for more.
He knows he’s falling in love with him. Bradley compares the feeling to surfing a close out. You think you have control, and you’re paddling and working hard and hitting the peak — you pop up, then the board just drops from under you. He feels that way with Jake and there’s no stopping it, anymore.
He just… hasn’t told him. It’s been a year and he hasn’t told his boyfriend he loved him. (Jake hasn’t said it either — but Bradley doesn’t hold this against him. With every movement, every action, every word, Bradley can feel the love dripping from Jake’s fingertips. It’s a love made for him — Jake doesn’t need to say it for Bradley to feel it. And somewhere deep within Bradley, he knows Jake is waiting for Bradley to say it first.)
The same feeling fills him when he sees Jake motion for an upcoming wave — it was slowly getting bigger — and with his experience, Bradley can tell it’s going to be bigger than the three footers they’ve been riding all day. Jake’s closer to the inside — so he leans down and stretches his body to paddle closer to the outside — from their position, the wave was going to break to the right. He’ll be able to watch him from the outside.
Jake is beautiful when he starts paddling — his back muscles glisten from the sun and water, his body perfectly pressed along the funboard he’s gotten recently. He was beginning his transition from a soft top longboard to a harder, fiberglass funboard. While they started surfing when they started dating, Jake’s only been able to spend a few months in the water because of his deployments. Even so, he’s been progressing pretty nicely. His pop ups are much cleaner, he’s getting his timing better with each wave, and he’s been catching a lot more than he used to.
(Bradley can admit that he spoke too soon about him thinking he was a bad surfer.)
So, he yells, “You got this, Jake!”
Maybe he spoke too soon about that, too.
The wave starts to grow in height — and Bradley is carried along with it, starting to rise higher in the water. Well, it was bigger than Bradley initially thought — much higher than he anticipated. It’s higher and it’s coming in faster, too. Luckily, Jake understands this too. Bradley watches him paddle faster. The beautiful, glassy wave starts to curl at his peak, and Jake has finally caught it, beginning his popup.
And Bradley would be cheering him on, but he can tell that even if he caught it — there was no way he was riding it. His popup was quick, but also late — which caused him to put too much weight on his board. By the time he rose and gained his balance, the wave was giant behind him (Bradley would call it the wave of the day — a big and beautiful wave, a showstopper of a surf session.), the biggest wave that Jake’s ever surfed.
Bradley holds his breath, watches as Jake attempts to drop in, but just ends up putting too much weight at the front of his board. The board slipped behind him and Bradley watches in horror as Jake falls right where the lip curls back into the wave. It breaks on top of him, and Jake’s board launches into the sky and falls back where Bradley last saw Jake, who was currently submerged under tons of water. It’s a nasty wipeout. Reef breaks make it worse — with all the water that just came down on him, there’s a good chance Jake probably snagged some part of his body on rocks or coral.
“Holy shit,” Bradley breathes, heart pumping as he thinks about Jake. He’s back paddling on his board, quickly making it over to where he last saw him, trying to find him before the next wave came down. He looks over at the next set coming in — luckily, they seemed to be just three feet — that wave must’ve been a special one.
Bradley glides through the water, craning his neck to try and look under the surface. Jake hasn’t surfaced yet, but his board is floating nearby. Jake’s a good swimmer — he should be okay. His heart continues to hammer in his chest, and Bradley pales at the thought of Jake being seriously injured. It would be Bradley’s fault, and his fault only. He brought him here.
In the next few moments, he sees a bit of auburn hair reaching the surface, before Jake resurfaces completely. Bradley sits up and assesses the damage, wincing as Jake tries to open his eyes. He starts coughing from the absolute barrage of saltwater that just hit him, and Bradley reaches his arm out for Jake to grab on and steady himself with. “Shit, baby,” Bradley starts, letting Jake grab his arm. He gently leads him to hang onto his board.
Jake hangs on with one arm, and Bradley reaches out for the other. He has a cut on his forehead, red and fresh, the blood dripping down his face and dripping into the water below. It’s big — but Bradley hopes he wouldn’t need any stitches. There were a few smaller cuts on his neck and his cheek, and Bradley wonders what other injuries he has on his lower body. It fills Bradley with dread. Wipeouts like these could be traumatizing: Bradley has had his fair share.
“You wiped out really hard,” he says gently, holding him tighter when another wave breaks in front of them. The water splashes onto their faces, and Jake winces when the saltwater hits his open wound. “Is there anywhere else you’re hurt?”
“Just a few scratches on my leg, I think. When the water came down it slammed me into these rocks, then when I was coming up my leg scratched some sharp coral,” Jake says, coughing a little more. Bradley tilts his chin up to face him, assessing the cut even more. Even with the cuts, Jake starts to break into a grin, and Bradley can’t help but roll his eyes at him. “You’re cute when you worry about me.”
Bradley sighs and presses a kiss to his forehead, using his thumb to try and wipe some of the excess blood there. He can feel himself start breathing again, letting his body and mind catch up to one another. He’s heard stories about surfers losing their lives out on the waves, where they loved it the most.
Thankfully, Bradley’s never known anyone who’s died here, but he couldn’t help but think about what could’ve happened to Jake. If he slammed into the reef just a bit harder, maybe he would’ve —
“Baby, I’m okay. I’ve taken a lot worse, y’know that,” Jake’s hand squeezes his thigh, and Bradley shakes his head again, trying to push those thoughts away. He runs a hand through Jake’s wet hair, as another wave crashes ahead of them. “Water stings,” his boyfriend mumbles, wincing again when more water hits him.
“This is enough for the day, don’t you think? You caught some really good waves earlier.”
“Yeah, until I wiped out horrendously.”
“Don’t say that,” Bradley hops off his board and into the water with Jake, facing him. The cool water cradles their bodies and pushes them together — Bradley kisses Jake purposefully this time, tasting the salt. “You were fucking great out there. You’re just getting used to the board. Reef breaks just suck when you wipe out and that wave was just massive,” he says when he pulls away.
With the arm not holding the board, he brings Jake in again, giving him another kiss — adrenaline filling his body. Jake’s body must be full with it too, after that wipeout. He’s sure Jake will remember it for a long time. “Get on here,” Bradley pulls away, even if Jake whines and tries to pull him closer — leave it to Jake to still be needy after enduring the wipeout of his life. Bradley taps the board and helps Jake haul himself onto it. His legs are in full view; the man was right, there were a few scratches and some on his stomach as well. They make Bradley’s stomach churn.
“Can you still paddle back? My leash is still on so I can pull you, if you want me to.”
“I’m good. Very good.”
“Mhm, baby, not after that wipeout you are,” he jokes, causing Jake to smack him in the head. He laughs when Jake frowns at him. “I’m joking, baby, I’m kidding. Let me go get your board and I’ll get my kit from the car.”
With that, he presses a kiss to Jake’s knee, feeling Jake give him a little kick when he swims out to go and grab his board. The knots in his stomach start to loosen.
—
They made it back to the stop quickly, and thankfully, there weren’t many customers parked outside. He’d take he and Jake home, but the shop was closer than their house and they kept medical supplies there, anyway. Bradley mentally kicked himself when he found out that the first aid kit he kept in the Bronco was missing antiseptic — he used it all already and meant to get a newer bottle. He didn’t want to treat the cuts without putting it on first, so he made Jake hold a towel to his forehead as Bradley quickly strapped their boards to the top and drove a few minutes to the shop.
They realized, after they poured some bottled water on the cut, that it wasn’t as deep as they thought. A surface cut — and thankfully it managed to stop bleeding a little in the car. The other ones were fine, too.
Bradley opens the door for him, helping Jake into the store. He was limping a little — he didn’t realize until he started walking on his ankle that he probably twisted it when it got caught between some rocks and he kicked it out. As they enter, dripping wet, Phoenix looks at them right away. She’s eating some trail mix behind the counter, and she quirks her head.
“Shit, Hangman — what the hell happened to you?” At that, Bradley hears Bob stop waxing the board and look over, wincing when he looks at them. There were a few customers looking at the rental boards, but Bradley could care less. “Ate shit. I thought the wave was perfect, but—”
“You can tell ‘em after, Jake. I’ll get you patched up, first,” he tells him, smiling. Jake looks over at him and nods his head, throwing up a thumbs up at Phoenix. She grins from where she’s sitting, popping an M&M in her mouth. The two of them make their way towards the counter and to the right, and Jake gives Bob another thumbs up from where he was waxing down a surfboard.
“Bob, the kit is all stocked up, yeah?”
“You’re all good, Rooster!” he hears Bob call back as they make their way towards the backroom. They had a few rooms, then a patio out in the back. It was just quicker to enter through the store.
One of the rooms functioned as a break room — it had a bed and their fridge, a table too. It’s where they kept some of their own gear, for snorkeling and Bob sometimes left his skateboards in the room, for easier use. Just like the rest of the surf shop, it was littered with pictures — pictures of his parents, when they used to own the shop, Maverick and his dad, Maverick and Ice — just pictures of their family. The newer ones had him, Bob, and Phoenix — then a special one with Jake. It was the two of them laying out on the beach together, and Jake fell asleep on him.
“I like that one,” Jake tells him, as he helps him settle down on the bed. The sheets will be wet — he makes a mental note to change them later. He smiles and rummages through the counter to grab the kit and a newer, non-blood-soaked towel to press to his forehead. When he turns back, Jake is staring at him in the way Bradley loves — his eyes are soft and droopy, his lips formed into a small smile.
Even if he’s injured, he smiles at Bradley like he’s moved the earth, sea, and sky. “Me too,” Bradley adds. He moves to sit next to him, opens the kit, and gently starts to tend to his wounds.
—
It takes a bit to get to each wound — but Bradley wanted to tend to each one and give each one the attention it needed. Carefully, he washes each wound and adds antiseptic, then bandages the bigger ones. Jake winces every time, but Bradley leans over to kiss him each time, trying to make up for it. There’s still a bit of guilt he’s built up from taking Jake to the reef break in the first place, but he hopes it ebbs away.
The room is quiet save for the sounds of Bradley patching him up. Faintly they can hear the sounds of the ocean and the customers in the store. He can hear Bob talking faintly, going on about all the types of surfboards and finding the perfect one: Bradley loved how passionate Bob was about surfing. He was the best out of him and Phoenix; it’s the reason why they bonded so close together in flight school. It’s the same with Phoenix — he met her in flight school too, and they left the Navy together — Phoenix flies commercially now, while he owns the shop full-time, with Bob. He hears Jake’s breathing too, slowed and soft as he relaxes under his touch.
Bradley’s surrounded by the people he loves the most. And after everything he’s been through — it’s all he needs.
He’s thankful that Jake made it out alright, mostly. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost him.
“Bradley. Rooster,” Bradley looks in Jake’s eyes when he calls him by his callsign. He brushes a hand over his cheek and gently rubs his thumb over the cut there, while small, sure to leave a scar. When it does, Bradley will kiss it — and all his other ones, too. “Hm?” he hums, letting the hand that was cleaning his forehead drop.
“What’re you thinking about? I can feel it,” Jake says softly, his voice holding no malice. He knows that Jake won’t push — but Bradley wishes he would. Embarrassingly enough, he thinks it’s the only way those words will spill out of him. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.
All he can do is stare at his partner — admire the way Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt, which he gave him on the car ride here, sits on his shoulders and open torso. It’s like he’s staked his claim on him, shown the world (really, just the few customers back there) that Jake was his. And he is and has been for almost a year. Jake would admit to that. Bradley would, too.
Just then, Jake laughs, “baby.” The breeze wafts into the room, cooling the two of them — even so, Bradley’s heart starts to hammer again, his skin heating up. Some blood starts to appear at Jake’s cut, so he reaches over to brush it with the small hand towel, and he feels his heart catch in his throat when Jake gently reaches up and pries the towel from his hand. He takes his hand and places it on his cheek, the other on his neck.
Jake leans forward, just until their foreheads meet and Bradley knows some of Jake’s blood will be there when he pulls away — but he couldn’t care less. Let it stay. In that moment, after the fear of losing Jake became tangible to him, he finds the courage.
“You can say it,” Jake laughs softly. His boyfriend’s hands fall to his waist, he feels his grip tighten. “It’s okay, Bradley.”
Bradley breathes the salty air — the same air that he’s been breathing since he was a child, and the same air that supplies his next words.
“I love you.” It’s quiet. Reverent. “So, so, much,” he tacks on, because it was true. Then, bravely, his voice wavers as he admits, ”If you were gone… I’d miss you more than anything.”
The words feel right.
He lets Jake pull him into a hug, and Bradley finds himself bending to make himself smaller as he fits his face into his neck, the coolness of the water still there. It’s a remnant from their day. He wonders if Jake will go back out there with them — go and brave the same ocean that held him and spat him out. There was barely any control out there, it’s not like Bradley had control over Jake either — he flew jets for a living, anyway. Promises were never made there, Bradley knew. Jake could be here one day, and then… he just wouldn’t be here the next. Bradley has lived that himself.
But Jake’s here, and that’s what matters to him. He’s breathing and alive and wet, he can touch him and hold him and Bradley will take that.
“I promise—”
“Can’t promise anything, Jake.”
He feels Jake’s breath hitch, then his grip tightens around him. Bradley buries his head even further in Jake’s neck. “I know. But I’m here, baby. I’ll be right here.”
Bradley pulls away and rests his forehead against his, again, closing his eyes. Jake’s hand moves to the back of his neck, rubbing circles there. And when he opens his eyes, he finds Jake grinning at him, saying, “I love you too. I’ve been waiting to say that for the longest time.”
It’s easy, then, to press his body to the bed and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, like they weren’t kissing in the surf shop’s tiny breakroom. Easy as breathing, easy as cruising along waves that seemed to peel for an eternity — with no end in sight.