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Jake Seresin isn’t a coffee shop type of guy.
Bars are more his thing, and sometimes nightclubs when he’s bored and wants a change of scenery.
He only decides to go into Homeground Coffee because it’s started raining like a goddamn monsoon and he’s already soaked, and it looks like the best of a bad bunch of the various eateries on the strip he’s been walking along. Then again, the cheesy 1960s music pouring out from somewhere might make him rethink that, although the volume is mercifully low.
For a few moments, he hovers by the window watching to see if the weather might stop as suddenly as it started but it looks like he might be stuck in here for a while.
“Excuse me, Sir?” a voice calls out. “You’re going to need to order something if you want to stay.”
Jake bristles at the pushy barista not letting him take so much as a minute while he adjusts the sling he’s wearing across his left shoulder, the medical aid still something he is easily annoyed by after a week of enduring it. His injury has not liked being exposed to the draft and wet weather and is making that known by throbbing insistently. Jake resists the urge to reach for the pain meds he carries, sick of taking pills at this point and just not liking the way they make his brain go fuzzy and his eyes tired.
Needing a distraction, he plans to focus his full attention on the barista and smoothly, quickly disarm him of the snippy attitude with his most patronising smile but when he turns and sees his target for the first time, Jake falters.
The thing is, men with soft curls and 1980s style porntasche’s aren’t even his type. Especially when they wear Hawaiian shirts so loud it’s just downright offensive. Even with the non-descript brown apron covering most of it, Jake knows he should be wincing at such an affront to anyone remotely considerate of fashion.
Any irritation Jake was feeling washes away, though, not just because the barista is so hot but because he’s smiling warmly and maybe wasn’t being as snarky as Jake thought he was. Jake has been feeling grouchy for a week and everything is doom and gloom anyway, because he’s injured and grounded and it’s driving him crazy being away from his plane. Flying is what he lives for, that unique sense of freedom that comes only with being in the air and nothing but sky in front of him.
“Order something, huh?” Jake starts, trying to re-center himself because nothing’s worse than feeling caught off guard. He’s not used to it happening, always hyper aware and in control of himself and, when he can be, his surroundings. “Well, what’s good here?”
Now the barista looks caught off guard himself at that and Jake smiles, sly, like a cat playing with its prey.
“Um, well…” the barista – Bradley, Jake notes as he spies the name tag pinned to his chest – thinks for a moment before moving to an encased cake-stand containing something that does look absolutely delicious. “We’ve got this chocolate peanut butter cheesecake people seem to like. It’s been selling really well.”
The potential for a sugar overload, cavities and weight gain make Jake recoil on instinct even as he nods along and places an order for a slice, getting some coffee to wash it down with because what the hell, it’s been a tough time and everyone deserves a little comfort and indulgence now and then.
“You take a seat, I’ll bring over your order,” Bradley says, noticing Jake’s injury and instantly taking pity in a way which makes Jake’s heart swell before he puts a stop to it because he’s a Lieutenant and doesn’t need anyone to fuss over him in any way, thank you.
Also, the coffee shop is empty despite the weather so Bradley the barista is probably just bored and Jake’s provided an easy distraction, no more than that even as Jake could swear he feels a little current of electricity pass between them when Bradley smiles again, gentle and sweet. He feels a strange shiver down his spine when Bradley brushes against him as they both make a move at the same time but refuses to acknowledge it as he chooses a table in a cozy corner with a window view.
When his order arrives, he realizes he’s starving and the cheesecake looks so good he can’t help but dive in right there, Bradley hovering, apparently eager to know the opinion of a random customer.
“Well?” the barista arches a curious eyebrow.
Mouth full, Jake is forced to relent that the cheesecake is indeed good. Very good. He nods his appreciation and gets another beautiful smile, this one bigger and positivity gleaming.
He’s left to his own devices after that, trying to take his time with his food because he is not a glutton with no self-control and because he might just be wanting to hang around for longer than he has to because the coffee shop is comfortable and inviting, and he likes it, dammit, even with the shitty music.
Jake is back the next day.
* * * *
For the next week, Jake returns to Homeground Coffee at more or less the same time every afternoon, just after the lunch hour rush when it’s quieter and he can have Bradley the barista’s mostly undivided attention.
Because he likes it, he really does.
He couldn’t keep up the denial for long. Those eyes and that smile and the ridiculous ‘tache and everything about the man behind the counter has already got to him and Jake does not want to fall for anyone, not at this point in his life when he’s been through too much professionally and personally and just wants to do his job and have some meaningless fun on the side, but apparently he has no say in the matter. His heart has already decided for him, and it all feels like something out of a lame romcom but he doesn’t even care. Bradley is delightful, and Jake has regressed to a lustful teenager overnight.
Jake samples more of the freshly baked goods on offer, mainly because it means he gets a smile from Bradley every time he shows approval, and cringes the whole time because he can feel his waistband shrinking and his physiotherapist won’t be pleased if he’s not in the best shape he can be to recover. His injured shoulder is healing well but Jake knows he’ll be putting in extra time at the gym as soon as he’s cleared to work out again.
They’re slowly starting to get to know each other, he and Bradley. Jake has revealed more about himself than he usually would. He’s good at flirting and good at conversation on a shallow level, witty and charming and everything people gravitate towards, but he’s always been bad at opening up to the deeper stuff. Usually. Yet not with Bradley, for some reason, who already knows Jake is in the Navy, that Jake loves flying planes more than being alive, that he got injured ejecting after a bird strike, that he lives alone whenever he's on leave and is an excellent darts player.
In return, Jake has learned, to his surprise and joy, that Bradley is also a pilot. Or at least, was. That things just didn’t work out when it came to flying as a career option (and he wasn’t going to push someone he’d only just met to elaborate on that) so he wound up here, managing the same coffee shop his mom had worked in for years before she’d passed away because the boss considered Bradley family. His real family, Bradley let’s slip as they chat during a slow shift while Jake sips a milky blend with two sugars, is a godfather who also just happens to be in the Navy and always getting in trouble and sent overseas by pissed off Admirals. Jake grins at that, knowing the type. There’s one particular captain who is nothing short of legendary and Jake remembers when he was younger wanting to be like him, that level of notoriety very appealing to Jake’s own vanity. His father’s voice in his head has kept him back from that particular dream, though, Jake settling for just simply being the best.
He tells Bradley none of that but he does wish he could show the other man just how good he is in the sky, maybe even take Bradley up there somehow, someday.
Fuck, he’s in love.
This is ridiculous.
Finishing the cinnamon roll he’s trying out today, Jake preps to leave before he can turn into an even bigger pile of gooey mush with heart eyes and because he’s got a physio session. His last one, hopefully, because it’s been weeks and he is so desperate to get back in his plane he shouldn’t be able to sleep for thinking about it.
It’s a little busier than usual and Bradley doesn’t have much time for banter but his fingers do deliberately linger against Jake’s when he takes Jake’s credit card, and Jake’s about dive in head first and ask for Bradley’s number because why the hell not, at this point, when a man barges through the short queue, rudely bumping Jake aside. Before Jake can even think of a cutting comment, the man has pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket and there’s a scream and people scrabbling back.
Bradley, behind the counter, is eerily calm.
“Just hand over the cash and nobody gets hurt,” the man grits out, every cliché in the book.
Jake deliberately doesn’t look the man in the eyes, keeping his gaze meticulously trained on Bradley, but from what Jake’s seen he could take this asshole. Even with Jake’s injury, it wouldn’t be hard. He’s not had an overly clear look but he did glimpse enough to know the gunman is sad little weed of a man who would never win in a fight, any fight. If not for the other people in the room, Jake would already be knocking him to the floor but as things stand, there are too many people too close if that gun goes off, so Jake is still and he watches Bradley because Bradley is already an anchor in a storm and might have been through this before for all Jake knows, based on how calm he is, like it’s a familiar situation.
“Okay,” Bradley nods, his voice even and emotionless. “I can do that. Why don’t you just put the gun down and let my customers get out of here? Nobody needs to get hurt.”
Crap, Bradley’s trying to reason with this creep. Jake has seen enough news stories to know that does not tend to end well.
“Why don’t you just give me the money!” the man yells, waving the gun for good measure.
Something in Jake flips, his self-control going out of the window at seeing his lovely, bright and brilliant barista threatened by someone lower than shit on his shoe. Before he can stop himself, Jake is barrelling forward after all and tackling the would-be robber, both of them crashing to the floor. Jake’s already injured shoulder screams in protest and he can’t bite back the sharp cry of pain as he lands. There’s a scuffle and the gun goes off, the shot close and loud enough that Jake’s ears ring instantly. People scream and it’s chaos but just for a minute. As quickly as it began, it’s over when Bradley and a couple of others haul the gunman to his feet and away from Jake, holding him firm so he can’t escape. Jake remains on the floor, shoulder in agony and the breath knocked out of him. He distantly hears someone saying they’ve got the gun, that it’s okay, and someone else calling the cops.
It feels like an eternity but at some point Bradley reaches Jake’s side, crouching down and guiding him until he’s leaning back against the counter, legs sprawled in front of him as he squeezes his eyes shut against the pain in not just his shoulder but his head. Everything is too bright and loud and he wishes he could crawl into his bed and pull the comforter over his head and never come out again.
“You’re okay, you’re okay…” Bradley’s mumbling, checking Jake over, pawing at him frantically. It would feel great if the pain wasn’t so bad. “You’re not shot. Jesus, Jake, why did you do that?”
Through the pain, Jake focuses on Bradley and the way his hand has cupped Jake’s cheek, a reverence in Bradley’s touch and in his eyes that makes what did happen and what could have happened suddenly completely worth it. Nobody has ever looked at Jake like that before. It’s overwhelming and amazing at the same time.
He passes out with a smile on his face.
* * * *
Everybody’s mad at him.
It really isn’t right, considering how he saved the day, but his superiors, his doctors, his physiotherapist and even his best friend have subjected him to the most tedious lectures in the last few days.
Javy is glaring at him now, having just finished muttering about idiots and hero complexes. Still, he did bring Jake a fresh change of clothes and toiletries, so Jake knows most of the scolding is just for show and he’s grateful for Javy’s presence.
Javy also brought him the newspaper, with the story about Homeground Coffee’s foiled robbery all nicely printed up inside so Jake can eventually take it home to his mom. She’ll be proud of him, at least, will say it was the good Christian thing to do. He’s hoping his dad is somehow impossibly ignorant of the news, though. Dad will think the same as everyone else, that it was reckless and ridiculous but with an added sneer that Jake should know better.
Being back in hospital is no fun, although it’s just for a couple of days. The first night was particularly awful, being woken up by nurses and asked the most inane questions every two hours because it turned out he’d given himself a concussion when he’d hit the floor as he’d tackled the would-be robber. He’s exhausted but still can’t sleep because he keeps thinking about Bradley, hoping he’s okay even though Jake knows Bradley wasn’t hurt in the scuffle.
For all he can’t stop thinking about him, Jake wasn’t expecting Bradley to actually visit him in hospital so it’s a surprise when there’s a knock on his door not long before supper time, when visiting hours are nearly over and Javy has gone. Jake’s used the alone time to read, working his way through Airport, an ancient doorstop novel he got as a gag gift from his sister a while back. Javy had brought it with him after stopping by Jake’s apartment to get his essentials, and Jake had laughed because he’d said bring a book and of course Javy had picked that one.
Jake can feel his entire face light up when he sees Bradley appear in the doorway, more so when he clocks the enormous gift basket full of what looks like muffins in his arms.
His smile is reflected back, Bradley grinning from ear to ear even as he struggles with his burden, managing to eventually to find a spot for it on the floor underneath the window.
“Those for me?” Jake asks unnecessarily.
“My boss wanted me to give you something. To say thank you.”
Jake arches an eyebrow.
“Your boss?”
Bradley blushes, tellingly, and the sight of his lashes lowering and a dusky pink spreading across his face rivals any wonder of the world Jake has ever seen.
“Well, it’s evident you have a sweet tooth so I thought banana muffins would be a sure thing.”
“Better than any cash reward,” Jake readily agrees, and Bradley laughs.
“So, um, are you okay? It scared everyone when you passed out.”
Bradley has come to sit at the foot of Jake’s hospital bed, perching awkwardly even though there’s a perfectly good chair nearby. Bradley always seems a little awkward, all tall and slender and long limbed and it’s just too endearing.
“I’m okay. Just wrenched the ol’ shoulder again and hit my head,” he replies, the pain easy to downplay because they’ve got him on some great drugs now that are making him feel a little like he’s floating in a slightly euphoric way. It was rough before that, though, when they were monitoring his concussion and not letting him rest at all, no let up from the hurt. Bradley doesn’t need to know that and Jake would still do it all again.
An orderly comes in at that moment with Jake’s supper, placing a tray of some of the most unappealing food Jake’s ever seen in front of him. He’d rather have the muffins but he sighs and picks up his fork like a good boy because he’s upset his doctors enough lately.
“Guess I should get out of here,” says Bradley, standing up and absently brushing out the wrinkled sheet. “You’ll be out soon though, right?”
“Just another day or two,” replies Jake, taking a bite of what looks like potatoes but takes like…urgh, he has no idea, it’s just awful. Where’s mom’s traditional all-American home cooking when it’s needed most?
“That’s good, because I was thinking about taking you out. Like, even before this happened.”
Jake drops the fork and just stares.
“I mean, we seemed to be hitting it off pretty well even before you went all big damn hero on me. That wasn’t just my imagination, was it?”
“No, I did – do – like you. Quite a bit, actually.”
Jake cringes. He’s usually so much smoother than this. He’d blame his injuries but he knows it’s just something unique to this man that has him feeling like a kindergartener who wants to pull his pigtails.
“Then we’ll do it. As soon as you’re better. Dinner and a movie, what do you say?”
What else would he say? He says yes, and Bradley’s able to slip Jake a piece of paper with his phone number before he’s hurried out of the room by a very stressed out nurse.
Jake eats the rest of his food with no more complaints, somehow being able to bear it more knowing he’s got such a treat, and not just in the form of a decent meal, waiting for him in the not too distant future.
* * * *
Bradley doesn’t just date Jake, he courts him.
Dinner and a movie, it turns out, includes being collected at the door and greeted by Bradley holding a single red rose like a scene from You’ve Got Mail or whatever, Bradley grinning sheepishly and being so adorable in general it makes Jake’s heart flip.
Jake has never been courted. He’s not even dated much. His style is one-night stands and the occasional friends-with-benefits hook-ups and Tinder or Grindr when he’s really bored.
He’s never been with anyone who’d he’d feel comfortable taking home to mama but Bradley is the perfect gentlemen.
Or, maybe, not so much because Bradley plays footsie with him under the table at dinner and they make out in the movie theater and again in the cab on the way back to Jake’s. Now, they’re in front of Jake’s door, just having parted from another very nice kissing session, breathing heavily, and the want in Jake’s gut is looking right back at him in Bradley’s eyes.
“Do you want - ”
Jake doesn’t finish his sentence because Bradley kisses him before he can and they don’t stop as Jake lets them into to his apartment, fumbling with his keys and needing two or three attempts to get the door open and then shut because he doesn’t want to stop feeling or touching Bradley.
The moment they’re in and away from prying eyes, Bradley has Jake up against his own door, making every tiny bit of his height advantage work in his favor. He presses Jake into the surface, breath hot on Jake’s face as Bradley licks and nips and sucks and Jake absently wonders if this is what making out with a vampire is like. Bradley latches onto a sensitive spot just below Jake’s left ear and Jake whines. He’s rutting before he even realizes, like a dog in heat, trying to sort of hump Bradley in a disgustingly unceremonious manner.
“Easy, sweetheart. We’ll get there,” Bradley croons, and if Jake wasn’t undone already, the “sweetheart” and the way Bradley’s voice is thick like honey when he says it completely finishes him.
Jake whines again, he just can’t help it, but Bradley keeps him quiet with a very, very talented tongue as he plunges Jake’s mouth like a man who hasn’t eaten for days and Jake is a the most delicious three course meal ever. By the time they break apart again, Jake is literally weak at the knees.
He’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t all so amazing.
“Do you want - ” he tries again, as they take a moment to catch their breaths and soak each other in.
“To fuck you?” Bradley’s eyes are dark, hungry. “Only since the first time you walked into my shop all soggy and vulnerable.”
“Soggy?” Jake snorts at that, sincerely hopes the comment wasn’t an attempt at flattery for Bradley’s sake.
“Don’t worry about it. Rainwater looks good on you.”
Jake pretty much does a 360 then and lunges at Bradley, taking yet another long and greedy kiss for himself before ushering them to the bedroom, stripping garments from his body and from Bradley’s along the way. They make a mess and a lot of noise, knocking into furniture and walls and there’s going to be bruising in the morning but who cares. Jake has a feeling Bradley will like those bruises as much as he likes the rainwater. The whole dishevelled and lightly damaged vibe Jake’s been rocking for most of the time they’ve known each other seems to be a turn on for the barista.
In another week, though, Jake will have a final full psychical and will be cleared to fly again. He knows he’s recovered well. The shoulder is well on the way to being nearly mended, having taken additional time to heal thanks to Jake playing action movie star in the coffee shop time but it’s got there, more or less. The sling came off a little bit ago and Jake is progressing with his physio nicely. It helps that Bradley keeps him well fed, tactfully steering Jake to the healthier options Homeground Coffee stocks once it was clear Jake has become a regular and wouldn’t want to go up a dress size.
Bradley is more delicate now, as he gets Jake onto the bed, and Jake almost wishes he could wait for this and be as manhandled as roughly as the next guy, but he can’t because he’s always been a needy and impatient shit and it’s already been a month since they first met, and he’s only human.
As if reading his mind, Bradley takes his time. They’re lying together and it’s all hands and teeth and tongue but also skin on skin, naked apart from boxers and when Bradley cautiously snakes a hand down Jake’s pants, he keeps his eyes on Jake the whole time and waits for permission like the gold standard date he is.
“Whatever you want,” Jake breathes out, bucking in his pushy way. “I won’t break.”
“Oh, I hope you do,” replies Bradley and Jake keens as Bradley’s hand dips down even further below the waistband of Jake’s boxers. “Not tonight, though. Tonight we go slow, yeah?”
Not okay, but yes okay. Anything Bradley wants because Jake is head over heels and hasn’t felt like this with anyone in so long he can barely remember.
As Bradley takes Jake in hand and every single nerve in Jake’s body sizzles like a million fireworks launching, he closes his eyes and let’s himself be taken care of and looks to the future, somehow knowing Bradley will be in it.