Work Text:
Monday.
The first note caught you off guard. A brilliant yellow post-it note stuck to your closed laptop, the writing neat, block letters.
‘Have a good day.’
A cursory glance around proved that you were in fact alone. Chalking it up to the night clerk, you smile, peeling it off and placing it in the top drawer of your desk. The two of you had struck up an easy friendship and occasionally you’d bring her coffee so she could make her drive home, or she’d stay for a few minutes catching you up on gossip and the late-night goings on of the aviators. You boot up the system, and get settled behind your desk, clicking through memos and answering emails.
The building doors open, and you look up, the work smile turning to a genuine smile when three people enter. “Morning.”
You get a sleepy yawn from Lieutenant Garcia, a nod from Machado and an actual response from Lieutenant Fitch. A few others pass through scanning id cards and offering greetings. It wasn’t exactly a challenging job, but it paid well and between emails and making sure identification and person lined up, you could read or otherwise entertain yourself.
“Morning,” a low voice caught your attention. You look up from your book to see one Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.
“Hi,” You drop your gaze down to your book, closing it, using a receipt to keep your spot.
He grins, and butterflies explode in your stomach. “Good book?”
“It’s a little slow, but the world building is incredible, He’s created this entire element based magic system that ties in with socio-economic divides which leads to the main conflict between the main characters, and he’s just introduced a character without any sort of magical capabilities at all, which makes her an outcast….” You blink looking up at him. “I’m sorry.”
He’s leaning against the high counter, watching you. “Don’t stop.” He’s got a soft smile on his face, his eyes closed listening.
“I’m rambling.” You feel a blush rise on your cheeks. “Plus, you’re going to be late.”
He shakes his head, “I’ve got time.”
“I could loan it to you, I mean if you want to read it.”
“I might take you up on that—”
“Bradshaw! You’re late.” Lieutenant Trace called from down the hall. “Come on, you need to get in here before Mav does.”
His grin is sheepish, and he taps the countertop. “Duty calls.”
Tuesday
“Sorry, sorry I know I’m late. There was a hold up at the gate.” You nearly slip in your haste to get through the front doors, shoes squeaking against the linoleum. Sasha is in your seat behind the desk, looking exhausted, barely holding back yawns.
“I did, however, bring a peace offering.” You place the large to-go cup of tea on the desk. “I overslept and then the mess at the gate…”
“It’s fine.” She takes the cup with a soft laugh. “It’s one of the many perks of being chained to the military.”
“Want me to call you a ride, or are you okay to drive?”
“Will is coming to get me.” She relinquishes the computer chair to you, sitting in the folding chair. “Oh, I don’t know who left this, it was on the desk when I came back from the bathroom.” She passes over a bookmark with a yellow post-it wrapped around it.
You unwrap the post-it and the same block lettering as the day before. ‘Why was the farmer given an award? He was OUTSTANDING in his field.’ You groan and chuckle passing the note off to Sasha. “That was horrible, but in the best way. Good job.” You replace the receipt with the bookmark. “Thanks, by the way.”
She looks confused, shaking her head at the terrible pun. “I didn’t get this for you, I told you it was left.”
“You didn’t leave the note yesterday?”
“Nope,” a little grin appears on her face. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”
“Don’t be silly.” You put the new note with the first one.
“I bet it’s Lieutenant Floyd, he’s so quiet and shy.” Sasha taps her chin pretending to think. “It could be Lieutenant Bradshaw.” She says coyly. “He likes to talk to you.”
“He’s being polite. He’s a nice guy.”
“Mmhm. A nice guy. Is that why you blush and watch after him as that ass walks down the hallway?”
“Sasha!” You look around making sure no one heard her.
“I’m teasing you.” She pats your shoulder. “I know you’ve got your little crush.”
“Crushes are for children.”
“Infatuation? Source of all your daytime and nighttime fantasies?”
“Oh look, Will’s here.” You point to the door as a tall redhead makes his way through the doors. She laughs softly, patting you on the shoulder.
“I’ll stop. But you should at least ask that fine piece of Navy beef to get coffee.” You watch as the two of them go off hand in hand, Sasha laughing at something her boyfriend said. The rest of your day passed without any sort of issue, the constant flow of people keeping you busy.
“Excuse me?”
You look up from the long-winded email to see a man holding a takeout bag. “I have a delivery for a Bradshaw?”
“Go ahead and leave it here, I’ll make sure he gets it.” You say. The delivery man takes a photo of the bag and turns to go. You pick up the food, heading down the hall, barely avoiding colliding with Lieutenant Bradshaw. “Your lunch is here.”
He takes the bag, opening it and rummaging inside. He frowns and catches your elbow as you turn to leave. “Hey, they doubled it, you want this?” He’s offering a wrapped sandwich.
“Are you sure? I can order something.” In your haste to get out the door you had forgotten to pack a lunch. You stomach growls betraying your words.
“Go on,” He takes your hand, turning it over and placing the sandwich in it. “My treat.”
You skin burns when he touches it, your breath catching in your chest just from the briefest of eye contact. He winks at you, and you’re nearly convinced that you’re going to melt into the floor, or your panties were going to evaporate.
Wednesday
The Hard Deck is packed, despite it being the middle of the week. Classic rock plays over the speakers, chatter and laughter mixed in. You wedge yourself between two sailors, managing to get your order to the bartender. Penny was at the other end of the bar pulling beers, the mugs disappearing as soon as she set them down.
“I’m going to start a tab.” You hand over your card, taking the three bottles of Miller that are passed to you. He nods, turning to take the orders of other patrons. You make your way back to the corner table you and a couple friends managed to secure.
Conversation and jokes fly, the three of you catching up for the first time in months. Work was busy for the other two and eventually the conversation turned to you.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Marcy asked, taking a sip of her beer.
“Who?”
“That gorgeous man with the ugly moustache.” She pointed toward Bradley who was by the pool table with the other aviators.
“I see him at work.” You shake your head. “And he’s definitely not interested.”
“Not interested, but he’s looking over here.”
“The bar is packed Marcy; he could be looking at anyone.”
The jukebox cuts off, the groan of the patrons almost instant. You lose sight of Bradley for a moment, but the sound of piano keys jingling draws your attention that way. He’s on the bench, rolling his shoulders, fingers plucking out a few notes to get attention. He starts to play, the bar singing along with him. The way he commands the bar is breathtaking, magnetic, bringing everyone together. He’s lost to the music, howling the words to the song. Sweat beads his brow, and the neon lights of the bar make him glow. He’s breathtaking and you can’t help but watch him, enamored with his presence.
“You should wipe your mouth.” Marcy hands you a napkin. “You’ve got a bit of drool…”
“Shut up.” You mutter, snatching away the offering.
“Go sing with him.”
“You know damn well I can’t carry a tune, even if you hand it to me in a bucket.”
“So, send him a beer.”
Now, that was an idea you could get behind. You get up, headed for the bar. The bartender who served you previously grins making his way over. “Can you send a beer to Rooster?” His call sign felt wrong, almost intimate coming from your mouth. “Put it on my tab, and I’m going to close out.”
“You want me to let him know who it’s from honey?”
“No, no just someone who appreciates the music.”
Thursday.
“Mornin’ sweetheart.” A travel cup appears in your line of sight. “Rough night?” The familiar voice slides down your back like velvet. You look up to see Lieutenant Bradshaw holding a cup of his own. “Didn’t know how you like it, so I just got you a mocha.”
“We started with beer and switched to vodka later in the evening.” You murmur. The headache behind your eyes had started to subside. The coffee smelled good.
“I thought I saw you last night.” He’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a small smile. “You should have come say hi.”
“You were hustling Lieutenant Seresin at the pool table. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
He chuckles. “I probably would have done better. Pretty women always bring luck.”
You nearly choke on your sip of coffee. It’s sweet, warm and what you wanted. You didn’t realize how much you wanted those words to come out of his mouth. “You think I’m pretty?”
“I don’t think it, I know it.” He taps the countertop. “You have a good morning alright?”
You watch as he walks away, wrapping your hands tight around the cup.
He pauses before he enters the briefing room, he pauses, says your name. “Thanks for the beer.”
Friday.
You shut down your computer, logging out for the evening. Eyeing the clock, you see that you still have a little while before Sasha comes in to relieve you. Reaching for a pile of print outs you start going over the names and completing the last of your paperwork before you can enjoy your evening.
“You look nice.” Sasha says, coming around the desk to join you. “Hot date?”
You roll your eyes, “Only with Netflix and a pizza. Maybe a glass of wine.”
“Does he know the plans for the evening?”
You follow her gaze to see Bradley sitting on one of the benches near the door, just out of earshot. “He left a while ago, what’s he doing back?”
“I think he has plans to invite you to dinner or drinks. Based on what he was saying when he was on the phone.”
“You think so?” You tug at the hem of your shirt. “Do I really look okay?”
“You look amazing. Anyway, you could be wearing a trash bag and he’d be looking at you with those big brown eyes as if you handed him the stars.” She hands over your purse. “Go, have fun.”
The hallway seems impossibly long when you leave your workspace. He looks up when you stop in front of him. “I ah, wanted to give you this before, but I thought I missed you.” You pull the book from your bag, offering it to him. “I’m keeping the bookmark, but I left you something to keep your spot.” The receipt poked out between the pages; your number written on the top of it.
He takes the book, “You wanna grab a drink?” He clears his throat, “tonight, with me. We can talk about the book.”
“You’ve read just by holding it?”
Bradley drops his gaze, a blush rising on his neck. It’s cute, especially when it travels to his ears. “I’ve read it already. It’s one of my favorites.”
“The notes?”
“I like your smile.” He chuckles, “the beer?”
“I like your singing.”
“You’d also like him out of that ugly ass Hawaiian shirt. Quit flirting in front of my salad and go!” Sasha’s voice carries down the hallway.
Bradley gets to his feet and offers you, his hand. “Let’s go before she accuses us of watching her salad dressing.”
“That was horrible.” You mutter groaning. “Absolutely terrible.”
“I am terrible, but I’m also very good. I’d like to show you how good.” He’s leaning down, murmuring into your ear. “But first, let me buy you dinner.”