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Jake wipes the mirror free of condensation, scowling at his reflection. He rubs a hand over his head, feeling the strangely soft prickle of the buzz cut—it had been stupid to put his hair up as a wager in a bet against Bob of all people.
Plied with alcohol and buzzing with the happiness of being home, led to one very stupid decision. The other man had offered to adjust the terms, after Jake had lost, but his word was his bond and there was no going back. He makes another face at his reflection, lathering up shaving cream, clearing his face of three day’s growth. He didn’t look bad, his eyes seemingly greener as they stared back at him. He had been overseas in Satan’s armpit for six months, and the California summer was a blessed relief.
Vanity was one of two cardinal sins that Jake claimed.
He steps out of the bathroom, steam escaping with him, dressed in a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt that may or may not have originally belonged to the man currently in his bed. Bradley looks up from the book in his lap, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Is that my shirt?”
Jake shrugs, sitting on the edge of the bed, before he’s curling around Bradley. “It was in my drawer, so it's mine.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.” Bradley sets the book on the bedside table, attention turning to Jake. “What’s going on? You don’t look happy.”
“I’m in mourning.” Jake mutters, face pressed to Bradley’s chest. The other man is warm and comfortable and smells like home. A large hand settles on his back, trailing up and down slowly as Bradley rubs his back.
“Bob did say you didn’t have to go through with it.”
“It was a bet, Bradshaw.” Jake drawls. “A man honors his word.”
“We’re to last names now?” Bradley chuckles softly. “Baby, it’ll grow back.”
“Yeah, but it looks bad now.” Jake presses closer, feeling Bradley shift under him, pulling him closer. The distance had been particularly hard this time, since the time difference made it difficult to connect, and for most of the deployment Jake was in a communication black-out.
“I like it.”
Jake snorts, mouth finding the curve of Bradley’s neck. He kisses over the marks he left the night before, sucking lightly at a spot just below Bradley’s ear. “You’re just saying that.” A large hand smooths over the back of his neck, Bradley’s fingers rubbing over the Jake’s short hair. A slow shiver works down his spine at the touch, eyes closing when Bradley’s fingers rub at his scalp.
“Are you purring?”
“Maybe,” Jake lifts his head from Bradley’s neck, eyes half lidded, intoxicated by touch. “You really do like it don’t you?”
“It’s soft.” Bradley murmurs, kissing Jake’s forehead. “Kind of tickles.”
“Your mustache tickles.” Jake rolls his eyes and drops his head back to Bradley’s shoulder.
“You know,” Bradley’s voice is low, relaxed, tipping his head to nuzzle against Jake’s hair; “that you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Jake snorts. “You’re also a good man.” Bradley’s lips press a kiss to the crown of Jake’s head.
“Even when I eat the last cookie?” Jake chuckles softly. “Or shave my head because of a bet?”
“I’m not talking about your hair, Jake.” Bradley continues, “I’m talking about that smile you get that completely brightens your face when you one up Nat when you two get those word games going. How you sing off key when you think I’m not paying attention.” Another kiss lands on the top of his head.
“It’s always been you for me, Jake. Not your looks, not your service record. May have taken me a little while to figure it out.” Bradley’s hand takes one of Jakes, interlacing their fingers together. “I’ll take you however I can have you.”
Jake brings their joined hands to his mouth kissing scarred knuckles. “Stop,” he says gently. “You’ve made your point, now shut up and kiss me.”