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He’d only just been in town for about two days when he’d met Natasha Trace and her (friend? boyfriend? partner?—they were weird about it, okay? ) Robert Floyd.
Apparently, in Tasha’s words, they’d taken one look at him and decided: ’Yeah, they’ll eat him alive.’
(They did in fact rethink they’re statements after meeting Bradley’s family, and called him a snake in the grass. He decided to just go with it.)
Now, it’s been about a week since that encounter, and Bradley can safely say they are two of the best friends he’s had to date. Except, at times like these.
The Bradshaw family, Maverick included, had moved to Texas for the summer in order to help some distant relative of Carol’s on a ranch they inherited until she could find more permanent help.
Bradley had met Natasha and Bob on a grocery run, and they’d kind of refused to leave him alone unless it was to sleep.
He loves having the company, and he doesn’t usually ever mind whatever it was they had in mind for fun, but he really was not feeling this.
Which apparently neither of them could ever fathom the idea that someone wouldn’t want to go to a late night party in the outskirts of the woods because they’re looking at him like he’s insane.
“Why not?” Nat screeches, appalled.
Bradley winces and Bob tries to rub her back in some kind of consoling manner, but all she does is send him a death glare.
He sighs before turning around from where he’s throwing hay in one of the pig pens. “I just don’t see what can be so entertaining about sitting around in the dark watching jocks get drunk and then going home because they end up fighting and someone lands a broken nose.”
Bob snorts and Tasha shakes her head, but there’s a smile lingering on her face.
“Okay, you obviously have some interesting party stories.” He doesn’t disagree. “But, you have a truck and it would be a lot easier if we all just went with that instead of trying to use the jeep.”
“Okay, first, Mav brought said pickup, you know that. Second, I really don't see why I need to be there.”
He’s back to throwing hay over the fence, so he doesn’t get the chance to see the mischievous look on Nat’s face when she says: “Yeah, but Mac already said you could use the truck.”
In utter disbelief, he turns to look at the two again. “You asked Mav, before me?” Seriously, how did he end up in this situation again?
“To be fair, we asked Carole and Goose as well.” Bob’s shrugging at him while also smiling sheepishly and Natasha smirks. “I think Ice was also on the phone at the time,” she adds like the instigator she is.
He doesn’t need to ask what his family thought about their little plan for the evening, he already knows they'd all be in. His parents are determined to not let him fall too far alone for the summer, which is why they were so happy when he brought Nat and Bob over for dinner one night. (They then had a bittersweet feeling wash over them when Bradley pulled them aside on the way to the back porch to tell them: ‘I think they’re my best friends. Not even my friends back home get me like they do.’) To add on, Mav thought he should be having all the classic high school experiences, apparently, parties in the woods included. (And he wouldn’t have told them Bradley could use the pickup if he was against it.)
He does wonder what Ice had said, though.
Finally, after taking one last look at the pleading looks on both of his friends' faces, he groaned. “Fine! What the hell! Let’s go see what trouble we can find tonight I guess.”
The cheers he gets in return are worth what would most definitely be a boring night.
When they pull up to some spot in the woods that Bradley is only 60% sure isn’t the setting of some horror film, the party is already in full swing.
There’s a nice clearing in the middle of the patch of woods they’ve found themselves in, and what looks like a little dirt path down to a river. In the middle of the clearing there’s a roaring bonfire, complete with thick logs set around it like they’re at summer camp, not a slasher film set. (Camp slasher film, duh, his brain supplies unhelpfully.)
Natasha directs him as he maneuvers the truck, pretty well if he does say so himself, into a spot in the circle of other trucks. All of them are backed-in, so the beds are facing the fire and those who are able can sit there instead of the logs.
Almost immediately after he’s parked Nat is hopping out and grabbing the cooler from her feet. It’s filled with some beer her and Bob drink that she got from a liquor store that doesn’t card, and Coke for Bradley (who doesn’t drink at all).
Bob hesitates a second, watching Bradley for a few seconds before speaking. “I’m glad you came tonight, and I know Nat is too.” He looks at the other boy and smiles, not really having the words to explain that’s all he wants. So instead he says the next best thing. “I was always going to come, but it sure was funny seeing you two try and convince me.”
The other scoffs and pushes at his shoulder lightly before following Tasha out of the truck. She’s already in the back with a can open, and Bradley chuckles before joining them.
“—ack up, you idiot! You’re gonna burn yourself!”
Bradley swings a leg up on the truck bed and pulls himself up easily, sitting on the edge instead of next to the other two in the bed. He follows her eye-line to see a boy playing with a stick and the giant fire.
His best guess is he goes to the same school Bob and Natasha do during the year, if the fern green letterman jacket he’s wearing is anything to go by. The front of the jacket has a giant L patch, and he’s assuming it’s for Langwood. The back reads the name Payback with a giant 44 underneath it.
He chuckles and says, “Are you seriously yelling at someone named Payback right now?”
Both Bob and Natasha’s eyebrows furrow as they scan the man again, and Bradley has to wonder if maybe he wasn’t looking at the right person. It isn’t until the guy, Payback?, turns his back towards them in order to face his friends again that they both go ‘Ah’ in time.
“That’s actually Fanboy, him and Payback just have a bad habit of switching their lettermans around. They’re both a bit on the possessive side.” Bob drops his arm around the girl's shoulder as she turns around to speak to him. He nods in understanding, turning to look just in time as Fanboy drops into the lap of who Bradley can only assume is actually Payback.
“What’s up with the nicknames?”
He nods his chin in the direction of the group of football players, all of whom have different weird nicknames on their backs. He reads: Coyote, Fritz, Harvard, Yale, and the beginning of a Han–, when Phoenix scowls.
“So what Maverick, Goose, and Iceman we can’t question but you can question our football team?”
Bradley full on laughs now, the sound obviously reaching the other groups as they turn and look at the trio. He ignores them in favor of answering. “Those are their callsigns. You know, because they’re Naval Aviators. It’s not my fault you never bothered actually asking.”
They both nod, obviously satisfied with the answer when Bob starts answering his previous question. “At the beginning of football season all the freshmen players get new nicknames. It was a tradition started decades ago. Apparently they are decided by the seniors of that season based on what they see during tryouts. No one necessarily knows what each one means, but once they get them you rarely hear they’re real names anymore.”
“Well I’m sure som—”
He doesn't mean to just stop mid-sentence, but really he doesn’t have any control of it. The one player he hadn’t caught the name of, Han, has just turned around. He’s mid laugh as he walks towards a huge blue cooler set up next to someone’s truck, and he’s probably the most beautiful person Bradley’s ever seen.
He’s got blonde hair that looks like it was styled when he’d first got here, but a few too many runs of the hand through it have knocked a few pieces onto his forehead. (Oh how he wants to reach out and put it back in place.) He’s wearing a simple gray colored henley under the letterman, paired with jeans that fit perfectly in all the right places and an honest-to-God pair of worn looking cowboy boots.
The smile that’s still on his face is only spurring on Bradley’s struggle. It lights up his entire face, the light of the fire making his already tan skin even more of a perfect golden.
He watches as the angel incarnate walks back to the others, holding two new cans of something. He hands one to who Bradley thinks is called Coyote. Then, almost in slow motion, uses his now free hand to pick up the black cowboy hat that is hanging on the back of his chair.
Good god, that should be illegal.
He places it on his head lightly, smirking at Coyote. Coyote, who Bradley is just now realizing, is staring right at him.
“Fuck,” he curses, swinging his head to look at Tasha and Bob so fast that he almost gives himself whiplash. Unfortunately, they’re both already looking at him. The smug look on the girl’s face paired with the curious look on the boy’s makes him drop his face into his hands.
Only a few seconds later are the worst words muttered.
“Don’t look now, but…”
Even though it’s the last thing he wants to do, Bradley peaks through his fingers to watch as the angel leans down so his ear is practically touching Coyote’s lips (which does not make his stomach roll, thank you very much). Then, in a movement that should not have been as agonizing as it was, Angel’s eyes slide to look at him. Quickly, he drops his hands (for fear of looking entirely too stupid) and stands to cross to the other side of the truck bed. He hopes that by putting his attention somewhere else the two football players will let it go.
He reaches his hand into the cooler at the same time a very attractive southern drawl calls, “Heya Trace, Bob.”
He doesn’t dare look up, pretends to busy himself with wiping the condensation off the can with a rag he’d found lying around. Nat sounds all too pleased, answering almost too casually, “Bagman, how’s your night going?”
His eyebrows furrow, Bagman?
There’s a pause, and Bradley wonders if he got it wrong, and maybe instead of it being Angel it’s just someone passing the truck and calling a greeting as they continue on their way. After a few more seconds he deems it safe and turns back around.
Not safe.
Natasha’s eyes are glittering with mirth in the light of the fire, and Bob looks like he’s about to bust a vein trying so hard to not laugh.
Not safe.
Standing right there, is Angel. He’s self-assured, hands in his pockets and giving Bradley a slow once-over. He’s also smirking, but there’s a softer tint to his eyes. “Well hello, darlin’.”
And honestly Bradley’s half expecting him to tip his cowboy hat (that goddamn sinful cowboy hat) at him with a greeting like that.
He doesn’t know how to answer, stops himself just short of saying: Hello, Angel, because he’s almost positive now that that is not his name. Unfortunately, he looks like an idiot just standing there, all words suddenly ripped from his dictionary other than Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel spinning around in his head.
All of three of them are staring at him, and suddenly, Bradley realizes everyone is looking at him. A quick scan of the clearing tells Bradley all he needs to know. There are a few different emotions on people's faces: amused, curious, jealous, even a few bored. But mostly, everyone just looks shocked.
He looks back at Natasha and Bob, and now their faces are different too. There’s a clear question, one he can read surprisingly well considering he really has only known them a week ago. Is it too much? Do you need an out?
He subtly shakes his head, then looks back at Angel again. The other has grown concerned, and he’s shifted his weight so he’s now leaning fully on his back foot, ready to make a run.
No, his brain screams, stay.
That seems to be the thing that wakes him up, because he drops the Coke back into the cooler before hopping out of the truck bed. He’s close enough now so see the green of the other’s eyes, and can see how much the jacket helps pull it out. He sucks in a breath.
“Hi.”
He can hear a voice in his head that sounds a little too much like Mav snark. Very eloquent, Baby Goose.
The other doesn’t seem to mind, just leans a little bit further into Bradley’s space and smiles at him. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
Jesus give a guy some warning—
“Bradley, you?”
The other looks a little stunned for a minute before opening his mouth to respond. Only then does Bradley think to say. “And not some stupid football nickname either. Your name.” When he looks back on this moment he’ll briefly recall hearing someone cackle behind him, but in this moment he’s too focused on the man in front of him to care.
Once again, the other is stunned for just a second before recovering. “Jake.”
His heart flips at the name, and he wonders if this is it. That movie moment where you meet the love of your life and you just know. And wouldn’t that be something? It’s so unlikely, so many reasons why this isn’t that moment. He’s only in highschool, he’s only just met Jake, doesn’t even know his last name, and yet? Something in his heart refuses to let the idea go as he continues to stare in Jake’s eyes thinking: Yeah, I could do this for the rest of my life.
It would be just his luck, to meet his soulmate the summer he has a timer following him around.
He thinks then, that he should be embarrassed for having these thoughts, that he’s falling too quickly for someone he just met. But he can’t be embarrassed, not when it’s like he can see the same thoughts passing through Jake’s eyes.
Slowly, as if Bradley would reject him, Jake grabs his hand. Then, after hearing some guffawing from around them, he begins to lead him towards the dirt path Bradley noticed when they first pulled in. They walk for a few moments, the sounds of the party quieting down the further they get.
Finally, once the only sound they can hear is themselves and the birds in the trees, Jake sits on a boulder on the riverline. Theoretically, it’s big enough for the two to sit comfortably with space in between them. Nonetheless, Bradley sits so the two are practically attached from head to toe. Their sides, their thighs, their shoulders, they’re all connected. Along with their still intertwined fingers, now resting on Jake’s lap as he rubs his thumb back and forth over Bradley’s hand.
He’s unfairly attractive, like seriously. There’s so many things Bradley want’s to ask him, so many things he wants to know about him. (Everything .)
What is your stupid football nickname? Why that? What’s your last name? What’s your favorite color? What, when, where, why, how?
Instead, all that comes out is: “Are you some kind of god to these people?”
Ange—Jake (Bradley has a feeling he’s going to forever call him Angel) laughs and squeezes his hand. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“But?”
“But.” He doesn’t sound self-conscious or sheepish as he continues. “I’m captain of the football team, so they all know me. Just like they all know it’s pretty rare for me to approach anyone, especially with romantic intentions.”
Bradley shakes his head, for more than one reason. One, there’s no way this man isn’t a heartbreaker, and two, he had no problem approaching him just then.
When he voices these thoughts out loud, the grip gets a little tighter once again, only this time he doesn’t relax as easily. He looks at him in concern, afraid he said the wrong thing.
“I promise you, I don’t do this often. I swear. You just, you’re different. I can feel it.”
And oh.
He thought Bradley was having reservations about being here with him. God, he’s adorable.
He nods. “I believe you.”
The other lets out a shaky exhale, “That’s good, because I already feel insane as is it.”
If he felt like being an ass, Bradley would ask him what he means, but he doesn’t need to, and he wants Jake to know that. Wants him to know that not only does Bradley feel the exact same, but he understands Jake without needing the words. So he squeezes the hand he’s still holding a little in reassurance and asks another question.
“How much do you care about the name on the back of your letterman?”
Jake just shakes his head in amusement. “Why?”
“Because I have a different name for you, is all.”
When Bradley and Jake return later the only ones really remaining are Tasha, Bob, and Coyote. All of whom decide they are still enough of an audience to poke fun at their new appearances.
Bradley's shirt, now covered only slightly by Jake’s letterman, is riding up just slightly on his sides, and Jake, with his hair sticking up in angles never before done and lips spit slicked.
They’re the same three, very quickly joined by Payback and Fanboy, who watch Bradley and Jake become BradleyandJake. The same five* who meet Mav, Carole, Goose, and even Ice (once again on a phone call) just to tell them all the embarrassingly gross (cute) moments they have to endure with the two now.
The same five who stand in the shadows and watch and count and pray as the summer dwindles to a close. The same five who sit with Bradley’s family behind the two’s backs and have a very long and difficult conversation about the Bradshaws leaving, and how it’s not something they can avoid, no matter how much they would like to. The same five who watch at different times in different situations when one of their best friends will break down because they have to lose their soulmate. (The same five who will break down themselves, once they’re sure the two are occupied, heart’s breaking for their friends.)
Because soon enough, June has burned into July. (The month they first said I love you.) July has darkened into August. (The month they explore the other in ways no one else will ever get to do.) And August is becoming September. (The month they’ll say goodbye.)
It’s the first weekend of September, and the world seems duller than it ever has for everyone. Football training had begun a little over a week ago, which made their already small window of time even smaller, cutting it evenly in half.
Yet, it doesn’t seem to matter now, because they were never going to have enough time unless it was all the time in the world. Because today’s it.
Bradley’s due to leave the 3rd, Jake’s due back in classes on the 6th.
It’s the 3rd.
Jake had somehow managed to convince Coach Junson to skip morning workouts, mostly so everyone could tell Bradley goodbye, and so Jake, Javy, Reuben, and Mickey could be there when Bradley leaves. The entirety of the Bradshaw clan, along with the other 6 kids, are spread out in 3 cars as they pull into the airport parking lot.
Maverick slides the gear shift into park, and all 3 adults turn to look at Bradley in the backseat. He doesn’t look them in the eye, doesn’t risk seeing the pity on their faces in fear of crying sooner than he planned. Instead, he watches as Bob parks his jeep next to their truck, Javy pulling into the spot next to them. The brunette tries to catch a glimpse of Jake, but the other car is obstructing his view a little too much.
He sighs then, dropping his head on to his mothers shoulder in the small space they’ve deemed their own in the back of the truck. “I don’t want to leave.”
Carole winces, practically crying for her son. She’s never seen Bradley connect with people the way he has his friends here, and she knows whatever it was her son shared with Jake Seresin was deeply special. It tore all their hearts out to have to take him away.
“I know, baby,” she whispers. “I know.”
For a few seconds no one moves, until finally, Nick says, “We have to start saying goodbye now, or we’ll miss our flight.” Still, there’s a brief pause after his words before Maverick actually opens his door, spurring the others into motion.
Spotting the movement from the red truck, all the others descend out of their own vehicles to flood around the others. Payback and Coyote approach the back of the truck, helping Maverick with the bags back there. Fanboy holds his hand out to Nick, and Natasha and Bob both approach Carole, the former pulling the older woman into a hug.
Before he can really even process it, arms are wrapping themselves around Bradley’s waist. Instinctively, he sinks into the embrace and secures his own arms around Jake's shoulders. The blonde is hiding his face in the older boy's neck, and something tells Bradley they were both trying to hold back those tears that were threatening to fall.
“I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. I will always love you. I’ll wait for you.”
No one would ever dare call Jake Seresin small nor fragile to his face, but in that moment, there were no other words to describe the way he felt in Bradley’s arms.
“I can’t ask you to do that, Angel.”
Jake’s breath hitches, and Bradley feels the way he stiffens minimally before pulling back just enough to kiss him soundly. When he pulls back, both breathless and hearts even heavier than before, he states firmly. “You’re not, I’m tellin’. I’m going to wait for you.”
Bradley doesn’t argue, just pulls Jake back into his chest once again. He doesn’t know how long they stand there, only focused on the voice of his Angel as he murmurs promises and dreams into his ear. Finally, Natasha clears her throat playfully, and when the two pull apart just enough to see the rest of the group, they know they are waiting on them. All of their expressions hold the same knowing looks of pity, and neither of the boys care to acknowledge that part. Instead, they look at Nat as she speaks. “Sorry to break it up, but some of us also want to say goodbye to Bradley.”
She says it playfully, feigning annoyance, but both of them can see the glassy look in her eyes. Bradley chuckles softly and pulls out of the embrace, only to pull Natasha into a new one. He squeezes her lightly, unsure how to express into words what her friendship means to him and how much he’ll treasure it forever. He moves around the circle, giving out similar hugs to his other friends, heart falling heavier and heavier in his chest as time ticks away from him.
After giving everyone else a proper goodbye, his family also saying goodbye to his friends, he turns back to Jake. The suns just started setting, and the sky will be dark by the time they get back to the true Bradshaw residence. His parents and Maverick have moved towards the entrance of the airport, and his friends have slowly made their ways back to the cars they came in. No one gets in their vehicle, instead they stand around them as they try to give Jake and Bradley some privacy for their final goodbye.
Once again, the two wrap their arms around each other, and just stand there for a minute, taking the other in. Bradley kisses Jake lightly, staying close to him even as they part. “I’ll find you again.” He speaks in a low tone, trying to keep the words between them, a promise only Jake would be able to hold him to.
The blonde nods, his forehead knocking against the others lightly. “I know you will.”
Later, as Bradley sits in the window seat of some plane taking him away from the only place he really wanted to be in right now, he’ll think of the certainty in Jake’s words as he took in Bradley’s promise and put it in his heart. He’ll think of the tears that leaked out of his Angel’s eyes as he kissed the back of his hand, before finally pulling away and joining his family, many minutes past when he should’ve pulled away.
He’ll think of everything he’s going to do to make sure that promise is kept.