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It was like any old evening at The Hard Deck. Bob was sitting in the corner, red solo cup of water in hand, content to stay back and observe his friends. Hangman and Phoenix were currently in the middle of a heated round of pool. He thinks that Phoenix is winning, but he can’t be sure. Finally, Phoenix sinks the eight ball into a corner pocket as if on cue, and Hangman groans.
“That’ll be ten bucks, thank you very much,” Phoenix says smugly. She leans into her pool stick a little and reaches her hand out towards the cocky aviator. Hangman rolls his eyes and begrudgingly digs into his pocket for his wallet. He fishes out the bill and gives it to Phoenix, who slides it into her jacket pocket.
“Alright, who’s up next? I suddenly don’t feel like playing anymore,” Hangman announces, holding his stick out for someone to take it.
“You’re such a sore loser, Jake,” Rooster replies, grabbing the pole from him.
“He just can’t handle being beaten by me.” Phoenix quips.
“No, I just don’t wanna play anymore, simple as that,” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You keep telling yourself that, bud,” Bob finally injects himself into the conversation. The jab gets a rise out of Rooster, who chuckles, and maybe Bob’s heart skipped a beat at that, but who’s to say?
But, it seems Phoenix is done too because she relinquishes her pole to Rooster, who takes it into his free hand.
“Alright, fellas, I’m outta here. See ya tomorrow.” She grabs her drink and goes to the bar to settle her tab with Penny. A chorus of “Bye, Phoenix” and “Catch ya later’s.” follows in her wake. Rooster pads over to Bob and offers him the extra stick. “Up for some nine-ball, Bob?”
Bob stretches a hand out to accept the stick when his phone buzzes in his jeans. Who could be calling him? He catches Rooster’s eye and gives an apologetic look. “It’s okay. Go ahead and answer it. I’ll be here when you get back.” Bob nods and stands up to go outside.
On the porch, he pulls his vibrating phone out of his pocket. He checks the caller ID before answering; Abby is calling him. That’s interesting. He and Abby were close friends in high school but slowly lost touch after graduating. They try to keep in contact, but it’s a struggle. He presses his thumb on the “answer” button, intrigued.
A voice with an Appalachian accent reaches his ears. “Bobby! I’m happy you answered; I wasn’t sure you would pick up.”
“Hey, Abby, wasn’t expectin’ a call from you, ‘specially this late.” He replies, checking the time on his watch. It’s only 6 PM for him, but for Abby, it’s three hours later, with her being on the East Coast.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just wanted to call you before I forgot. If it’s a bad time, I can call later.”
“No, no, you’re fine. What’d you wanna talk about?”
“You remember, Hunter, right?”
“From high school? Yeah, what about ‘im?”
“Well, we reconnected two years ago, and we’re getting married! Surprise!”
He lets a soft huff leave his lips, hoping it’s quiet enough not to bleed through the speaker. Yeah, being surprised is an understatement. Bob didn’t know Hunter very well, their paths crossed, sure, but their interactions were always superficial at best. Moreover, Hunter had the reputation of being a bit of an ass. It comes with the territory of being a jock, Bob supposed. Besides that fact, Abby hated Hunter’s guts when they were in school.
“Well, that certainly is a surprise. I remember when you hated Hunter’s guts. What changed?” He questions.
“Turns out he’s a charming guy. College mellowed him out and made him realize he was a jerk in high school.”
“That’s great, Abbs; I’m happy for you. But, why’d you call just to tell me this?”
“Oh! Dumbass, can’t believe I forgot!” She exclaims, and Bob could imagine her facepalming herself. He chuckles.
“You’re invited to our wedding! I know we haven’t talked much since graduating, but it’d really mean a lot to me if you could make it out here. I know it’s a lot to ask, what with you bein’ in the Navy and California.”
He hums in agreement. A few beats pass between them as he thinks about what to say next.
“I should have enough leave left to make it back East for a few days. When’s the wedding?”
“It’s November 21st, and it’ll be in Corolla! That was your old stomping grounds during the summer, was it not?”
“Yep. That’ll be fun to return to,” Bob answers, thinking fondly of spending the summers at his grandma’s house. Even after all these years, he doesn’t understand why his parents shipped him off to the coast in the warmer months. Still, it’ll be good to go back. Maybe he’ll stop by his grandma’s house as a surprise.
“Oh, I forgot to mention you can bring a plus one, so if you’re seeing someone, you can bring her too,” Abby pipes up, drawing Bob back from his reminiscing.
“Yeah, I’ve got someone in mind,” He answers without thinking. Shit. Why the fuck did he say that? ‘I’ve got someone in mind’? Seriously!? Well, it’s too late to backtrack on his words now.
“Great! Can’t wait to meet her,” Her voice raises an octave, a sign of her excitement.
There’s a lull in the conversation for several moments, Bob not knowing how he should respond to that comment, lest he slips up again.
“Well, I’d better go; Hunter is askin’ for me. I hope you can make it, just text me later ‘k?”
“For sure, talk to ya later, Abbs, G’night,” Bob says, disconnecting the call. He lets out a deep sigh. What was Bob thinking? He wasn’t lying when he said he had someone in mind, he supposed, but would that someone agree to attend a wedding with him that’s across the country? Bob didn’t know. Guess he’d better find out quickly. November was only three months away.
Bob shoves his phone back into his pocket and heads inside the bar. True to his word, Rooster stands diligently at the pool table, extra stick in hand. The older man sees Bob walking toward him and offers the pole again. This time, Bob happily accepts and sidles in right next to him.
“Everything alright?” Rooster asks, rubbing chalk on the end of his pool cue. Once he’s done, he hands the small, blue cube to Bob for him to do the same.
“Yep, all good,” Bob replies, unwilling to elaborate further. He would later, he decides. But only after kicking Rooster’s butt in a round of nine-ball.
_____
It’s October now if the slightly chilly air is any indication, and Bob is slowly losing his mind. He dropped the ball and forgot all about Abby’s wedding. The only silver lining is that Bob remembered with some time to spare. Still, it’s hardly a consolation because he said he’d be bringing someone with him! Bob’s threading his fingers through his almost regulation-breaking hair, trying to calm himself down. It doesn’t work, though.
He grabs his phone off the end table to text the only person who could maybe help him out right now. Usually, he’d text Natasha. But she’s off on her leave, spending time with family, and he doesn’t want to interrupt that. So, he texts Bradley.
Bob: hey, sorry it’s late, but can you come over? I need to talk to someone, and Nat isn’t available
Bradley: Sure, gimmie 30 mins, and I’ll be right over
When Bradley knocks on Bob’s door, he’s unsure what to expect. But Bob pacing his living room like he’s making a track field isn’t on the list. The younger man only stopped his frantic pacing by opening the door, leaving Bradley standing in the doorframe, wondering what was wrong with his friend. Bradley let himself into Bob’s housing unit and gently closed the door behind him.
“Are you okay, Bobby?” The brunette asks, concern lacing his voice. It’s a silly question. Bob is decidedly not okay, but what’s the harm in asking? Bob gives Bradley a hollow laugh and a head shake in response. Then, he’s back to running his hands through his hair.
Bradley pads over to Bob and lays a hand on the other man’s arm, making him still. Then, with his pacing stopped, Bradley leads Bob to his couch and sits them down. He gives Bob a minute to collect himself before asking a follow-up question.
“Mind telling me what’s wrong?” His hand is still on Bob’s arm, and Bob wonders how long it’ll stay there before Bradley notices and removes it. The WSO takes a shakey breath first, then he replies.
“It’s silly; I don’t know why I’m acting like this,” And if there’s the slightest quiver in Bob’s words, Bradley chooses to ignore it.
“I promise, I won’t think it’s silly; just tell me, Bob,” Bradley assures him.
“Okay, so you know about my friend’s wedding, right?” The older man nods in affirmation. He knew about the wedding before Bob had even told the group. The walls of The Hard Deck were surprisingly thin, even with the howling ocean wind. Bradley had secretly hoped this would happen. Not Bob freaking out, of course, but him inviting Bradley to tag along. Since their first meeting at the bar, he’d had a bit of a crush on his fellow aviator. But, Bob didn’t need to know that particular bit of information.
“Well, I may have, sorta kinda, told her that I would bring someone with me, like in a romantic sense,” Bob rushes the sentence out of his mouth like it had the potential to burn him. And, for all he knew, it did. He maybe had an idea of how Bradley would react, but it wasn’t a sure thing. Saying that could potentially ruin this good thing they’ve got going on between them.
“Well, what if I came with you?” Bradley responds almost immediately, which shocks them both.
“Like, as my partner?”
“Sure, why not?”
Bob lets a sort of crazed laugh escape from his throat at that. This isn’t happening. Nope. This is a strange dream, and he’s about to get one hell of a rude awakening. Bradley fucking Bradshaw, agreeing to be his fake boyfriend for this stupid wedding? No, it’s not possible. Was he the person Bob was referring to when he said he had someone in mind? Yes. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the man would agree to such a thing. Has Bob had a crush on Bradley since he strolled into the bar in that infuriatingly charming Hawaiian shirt like he owned the fucking place? Also, yes. Perhaps Bob isn’t used to getting what he wants most of the time.
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you taking what limited leave we have for a wedding you’re not connected to,” Bob states.
“I don’t mind; it’ll be fun,”
While Bob’s brain was racing at 100 mph, he failed to notice Bradley’s other hand on his thigh. Bradley squeezed it reassuringly. Well, he meant it reassuringly. The gesture sets Bob’s heart racing at an even faster pace. He doesn’t even really know why. It’s not like Bradley’d never touched him before. One of his favorite memories was when Bradley hoisted Bob onto his broad shoulders. His grip was firm but surprisingly gentle. Bob was sad when the moment was over and had to be let down. Bob sincerely hopes that the older aviator couldn’t hear his jackrabbiting heart.
— — — —
The month leading up to the wedding flies by, and suddenly Bob finds himself stepping out of the Norfolk airport and into the chilly morning. They flew into Norfolk because it was easier to find flights here than at another airport. Plus, the drive from Norfolk to Corrolla wasn’t terrible. It’s a measly two hours, and Bob could get them to stop at Duck Donuts for a sweet treat later.
The pair gets their rental car without much hassle, and it’s smooth sailing from there. The trip is spent listening to an exciting mix of musical styles, ranging from old country to alt-rock and everything in-between. It turns out their music tastes overlap quite a bit. Bradley’s sitting in the passenger seat and wields the mighty power of the aux cord. Not that Bob minds much. He’s happy to get a new look into Bradley’s personality. A new song comes on over the radio and takes Bob by surprise.
“Is that James Taylor?” Bob asks as Bradley starts humming to ‘Carolina in My Mind.’
“You bet. I thought you’d appreciate it.” He throws a wink Bob’s way before continuing, “Plus, my mom always listened to his music when I was growing up. So, it’s nostalgic for me as well.”
Bob nods in agreement, his brain trying not to think about the implications behind Bradley’s words. He only put on James Taylor because he thought Bob would like it. It was a purely platonic gesture. Friends show other friends stuff they like all the time. Still, a small piece of Bob’s heart hoped it wasn’t platonic. But that was silly, a child-like fantasy.
After that, the drive is peaceful again until Bob remembers his previous idea. “Do you like donuts, Rooster?”
“They’re ok. I don’t have a strong opinion on them either way, really.” Bradley shrugs. Bob laughs and wants to look at Bradley, but he keeps his eyes on the road.
“This place I’m going to take you to might have you singin’ a different tune,”
“Yeah, okay, Bobby. I’ll try anything once for you.”
— — —
The line at Duck Donuts is relatively short. Bob orders the apple cobbler flavor, and Bradley gets the cinnamon bun flavor. Bob takes their donuts and heads outside, Bradley close on his heels. He finds a table and pulls a chair out for Bradley to take before sitting down on the other one. Bradley opens the little box and takes his donut out. He takes a bite, and a satisfying hum leaves his throat.
“Good, right?” Bob asks. His donut was still untouched. He wanted to see Bradley’s reaction before digging into the pastry. The other man doesn’t say anything and just keeps chewing on the piece in his mouth. Eventually, he lets out a soft “yeah” before returning to eating. After that, they sit in companionable silence, both content with savoring their treats.
“So, you grew up out here, huh?” Bradley inquires, wiping cinnamon and sugar from his mustache.
Bob shakes his head, swallowing his last bite of donut and dusting off his hands. “Nah, my hometown’s out in the mountains,” He crosses his arms over his chest, relaxing into the metal chair. “Spent the summers out here with my grandma, though.”
“The Smokies? That’s crazy. I grew up on the Tennessee side.”
“Really? I assumed you were from California.”
“Everyone thinks that, but nope. I’m a Southern boy too. You and Hangman aren’t special.”
Suddenly, everything clicks for Bob. He always noticed an air of Southerness settle around Bradley sometimes, usually when he swaggered into The Hard Deck or howled away at the piano. And now, it all makes sense.
They throw their trash away and jump back into the Jeep. From there, it’s a short thirty-minute drive to the hotel everyone is staying in. The duo checks into their room, and Bob flops onto the bed closest to the door. Oh, he wishes he could stay there for the rest of the day. But, alas, they must be good guests and greet the happy couple.
Once he and Bradley are freshened up and not looking like they spent half the day traveling, Abby texts him to meet in the lobby. Bob doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Abby squeezes her arms around him in a tight hug. He tenses up for a second, shocked at how strong her reaction is, before relaxing in her grasp.
“Bobby! You made it!” Abby states, releasing Bob from her grip slightly. She still has her hands around his upper arms, but Bob doesn’t mind.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Abbs.”
She shifts her gaze away from Bob and notices Bradley standing off to the side.
“Who’s this?” Abby’s voice is light and airy. She always loves meeting new people.
“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” Bradley informs, holding a hand for her to shake. She takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.
“Ah, one of your Navy pals?”
“You could say that, sure,” Bob suggests, turning to look at Bradley. The other man has a slight smirk on his face. It’s the type of smirk that makes Bob a little concerned.
“I’m his boyfriend, actually,” Bradley supplies, noticing Bob tucking in on himself a bit. A few beats pass, and Bradley suddenly understands why Bob is nervous. The expression on Abby’s face is unreadable, and he can feel the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut.
“Oh! How wonderful! You two make quite the pair!” Abby half-squeals in her excitement. Then, finally, the anxious energy in the room dissipates. Bradley rubs a hand over the back of his neck, making the hairs there lay flat again. Bob doesn’t look like he’s about to sprint out of the lobby anymore, which he takes as a good sign.
Abby pulls out her phone to check the time. “Well, I gotta run. Me and Hunter gotta do something or other,” She goes to face Bradley. “It was nice meeting you, Bradley. See you both at the rehearsal dinner tonight!” She turns on her heel and walks off into one of the hallways.
They stand there for a good minute, Bob taking a keen interest in the floor and Bradley staring off into nowhere. Then, Bob picks his head up and glances at the curly-haired aviator.
“I had a fun idea,”
“Yeah? Lay it on me, big guy.”
“Since we’ve got a few hours to kill, why don’t we try and find some horses?”
“Horses?” Bradley’s voice is laced with confusion. Where were they going to see horses? Was Bob planning on taking him to a farm? Consider his curiosity piqued. Bob nods enthusiastically before explaining.
“Yeah! Corolla is famous for its wild horses. Come on, let’s go,” Bob walks away, waving his hand for Bradley to follow. He chuckles softly and starts after him. He suspected this little trip would be quite the adventure, and Bob hadn’t proven him wrong.
— — — —
The wedding party sits down at their table. Everyone is making small talk before the waiter comes and takes all the orders. The conversations until they get their food are unspectacular, but what small talk is mindblowing anyway? Once their dinner arrives, though, it’s like a switch was flipped. Suddenly, everyone is energetic and excited. Why? Bob has no idea. He isn’t contributing much to the chatter, which is typical for him. That is until Abby asks him and Bradley a question.
“So, when did you and Bobby first hit it off?”
The pair sits there awkwardly for a moment. They hadn’t thought about coming up with a backstory. A few seconds tick by before Bob has an answer for her, and it turns out that Bradley has one too.
“A couple of months ago.”
“In college.”
They blurt out at the same time. Bob gives Bradley a side-eye, asking, ‘well, what answer do you want to go with?’ with his eyes alone. Bradley shrugs and makes a face as if to say, ‘why don’t you answer? She’s your friend’. Bob coughs and replies.
“Well, we met in college, but we didn’t start dating until a couple of months ago,” He supplies, hoping this answer pleases her. Bob feels it’s a good compromise between him and Bradley’s initial responses. And it’s not like that type of thing is out of the ordinary, right? Plenty of people meet and become friends in college, only realizing their true feelings for each other months or even years later.
Abby squints her eyes like she’s not sure she believes them. She gets over her doubt quickly and shrugs it off, returning to her food. Bob sighs in relief and sees Bradley’s shoulders relax a bit more. He hadn’t realized the other man was also as tense as he was. It made sense, he supposed. It was a hard two-person act trying to keep their fake relationship up. Made even more complicated when you don’t have a script.
Abby’s looking up from her plate again. “That’s sweet. How did that friendship shift into romance? Like, what changed?”
The question is innocent enough. But man, Bob wished they had at least talked about what they would say before this dinner had started. Now, the two men are left floundering, thinking about an adequate response to Abby. Bradley turns his head to look at Bob again, pleading with his eyes, but Bob argues right back.
“But, if it’s too personal, then never mind silly old me.” Abby jokes, noticing the boys’ plight.
“No, it’s okay! It, uh,” Bradley trails off, sparing a glance at Bob again. Bob nods, encouraging the older man to continue with his thought.
“Something happened one night. We were hanging out at our usual bar, and it was like I was seeing him, truly, for the first time.” He breaths out, eyes never leaving Bob’s. He’s startled by how honest that statement is. Meanwhile, Bob looks at him like he hung the damn moon, and his heart swoops in his chest. Bradley giggles, breaking their eye contact.
“Well, that’s enough sappy shit outta me for one night, huh?” He announces, taking a swig of his hard cider.
— — — — —
Bradley stepped out of the small bathroom of their hotel room. Bob willed himself not to blush, but he felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Bob quickly turned his head away from Bradley, hoping the older man didn’t see it. Bob didn’t think Bradley could get any more stunning, but here he is, in a tux, looking as gorgeous as ever.
“You clean up nice,” He manages to squeak out. Bradley gives him a soft smile, his brown eyes glimmering.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Bobby,” Bradley says with a wink, and maybe a part of Bob wanted to melt into the sheets right then and there. But instead, he walks to the full-length mirror and starts fiddling with his tie.
“Need some help with that?” Bob asks, getting up from his spot.
“If you don’t mind,” Bradley replies. Was that a hint of sheepishness in his voice? Who knew Bradley Bradshaw could be shy? Bob pads over to the other man and places his hands on Bradley’s broad shoulders, gently turning him to face Bob.
Bob chuckles a little at the present sorry state of Bradley’s tie. The poor guy probably couldn’t tie a tie properly to save his life. It’s not his fault, though, Bob assumes. Goose couldn’t teach him, and he doubts that Maverick knows how to tie one himself. He laughs at the mental image appearing in his head; a younger Mav struggling to tie a tie.
“Are you laughing at me?” Bradley speaks, mock hurt lining his voice. His face looks dead serious, and Bob starts thinking he offended the man. Bradley keeps up the act for a second longer before chuckling.
“I’m just messin’ with you, man,” He states, and Bob sighs in relief. Bob unties the fabric and settles it into the proper position before tying it. Next, he fixes Bradley’s collar, moving it so that it fits snuggly against the black accessory. Satisfied with his work, Bob pats Bradley’s chest, side-stepping so that he can admire Bob’s handiwork.
“Looks great, thanks, Bob,” Bradley comments, patting Bob’s upper arm. He moves his hands down his front, brushing away non-existent lint. Pro-or perhaps a con- of being in the military, always have to be crisp and clean, there could not be a speck of dirt on your person.
“Ready to go?” Bob inquiries, glancing down at his watch to check the time. They still had plenty of time to spare, which was good. Better to be early than late, he supposed. Plus, he and Bradley could take their time in strolling down to the beachfront. Not that it took that long anyway, but it’s the point of the matter.
Bradley nods and starts heading to the door, Bob on his heels. They walk down the hallway in comfortable silence for a bit. It’s until they make it outside that Bradley begins to talk.
“So, you never told me how you and Abby met,” His hands are in his pockets, and it’s only slightly distracting.
“Oh, man, it’s been so long I don’t know if I remember,” Bob answers, rubbing a hand against his neck. He searches his memory, going back decades.
“We were in first grade, maybe? I was the new kid in class. Abby found me sitting by myself and just plopped herself down next to me,” Bob finishes.
He can sort of visualize the scene in his head. He was playing on their teacher's circular rug for reading time. The type of toy he was playing with left his mind, not that it mattered in the first place. But, he remembers being quite content sitting and playing by himself. It’s a trait that’s still with him today. Always on the sidelines, never in the main story. Then, suddenly, a strange girl comes wandering over to him. She doesn’t introduce herself or even asks if she could sit with him. She only inserts herself next to Bob and starts doing her own thing. And that was the beginning of their almost 20-year friendship.
“We’ve been friends ever since that day. But, after graduating high school, we kind of lost touch. We kept up every few months, but it’s been hard, y’know?”
Bradley nods. He’s had his fair share of childhood friendships lost over the years. It’s sad, but that’s just life, ain’t it? He thinks about the particularly rough patch in his life after he cut Mav off and just how alone he was. Bradley’s glad for the friends he’s made now, pleased for the little family they’ve created together.
“I was surprised she even invited me to this wedding,” Bob states after a minute passes.
“Well, I’m glad she did. Because it’s been great spending time with you,” Bradley responds. And it’s the truth. He’s been having an absolute ball of a time out here with Bob. They don’t get much one-on-one time back home. Bradley selfishly hopes that this time spent together will lead to something more between them.
The ceremony was beautiful, which shouldn’t come as a shock given the stunning location. Abby and Hunter said their vows right as the sun was setting, and Bob wasn’t afraid to admit that a tear or several came into his eyes. The newlyweds ran down the aisle, hand in hand, and hopped into a car to whisk them away to the reception hall.
— — — — —
The reception party had been raging for a while now. Bob’s sitting at one of the tables, an empty plate with food scraps in front of him. Once dinner was over, it seemed like everyone was out on the dance floor. Bob wasn’t much for dancing, especially not in a public setting like this. Although, he’d sometimes act a fool around his kitchen, treating himself to a one-man dance party.
To an outsider, it would seem like Bob was watching the whole party intently. But his eyes were only on a single man, busting it down like it was his last night on Earth. That man, of course, was Bradley Bradshaw. Bob’s eyes were glued onto him this entire time. He was struggling to look away.
Bradley had quite the way with his moves. He makes good use of his shoulders and hips and has several people cheering him on at one point. He must have noticed Bob’s staring because suddenly, he paused his dancing and started walking toward the younger man. Bob’s eyes widened as Bradley came sauntering up to the table, a pep in his step.
“Come on, Bobby! You’ve gotta dance, please, for me?” Bradley yells over the too-loud speakers. Bob is shaking his head in protest. There’s got to be some way he can wiggle himself out of this situation. But in the back of his mind, Bob knows Bradley won’t take no for an answer, at least in this case. The universe must have it out for him because a slow song comes on over the speakers as he thinks he’s come up with a good excuse. A shit-eating grin spreads across Bradley’s face, and Bob knows he’s indeed done for.
“May I have this dance?” The older man asks, reaching out a large hand to Bob. His voice is sickeningly sweet. And, well, who can deny him when he’s looking at Bob with a face that could melt butter? Bob heaves a gentle sigh and takes Bradley’s hand in his.
Bradley pulls him out of his chair and leads them to the dance floor. Once they’ve made their way onto the wood paneling, Bob lets Bradley take the lead. Bob places one hand on Bradley’s shoulder, the other still in the other’s grasp. Bradley’s hand moves to Bob’s waist, sending a shiver up his spine. They slot together so quickly, almost like they were made for each other.
They gently stir and sway to the music. Bob lets Bradley twirl him around a few times, and he chuckles a bit. The longer the pair dances, the more Bob eases himself into Bradley’s touch. Near the song's end, their movements are reduced to simple swaying.
“Did you mean what you said?” Bob whispers against Bradley’s ear.
“Said what?”
“That you saw me for the first time. Truly saw me. At The Hard Deck that night?”
Bradley pauses but doesn’t let go of Bob. The lights hitting his face, the shadows forming, make Bob’s breath hitch in his throat. The music is still playing in the background, but it’s seemingly fading away the more time ticks by. He can feel the blood in his ears.
“I did, Bobby.” Bradley manages to say out before Bob captures his lips in a gentle kiss. Bradley’s mustache tickles his upper lip, and he can’t help but let out a giggle. The other man’s lips are just as soft as Bob imagined. Bob pulls back first, both of them panting a little. Bradley’s eyes are tender, a hint of mischief in them.
“Y’know, this fake dating thing has been fun,” Bradley voices.
“Yeah? How about we make it the real deal, then?” Bob teases, squeezing Bradley’s shoulder.
“I think I’d like that. I’d like that a lot,” Bradley breathes out, catching the other’s lips in another kiss. And maybe that was one of the most fantastic nights of Bob's life.