Work Text:
I've been a little bit busy, been a little on edge
My door is unlocked, so just come on in
The darkness painted his bedroom as he lay wide awake, the sound of crashing waves outside his window filling the silence. He glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table every once in a while, wondering how much longer his mind would race before it told his body to give in to the exhaustion, but it was still going strong and he figured it would until well after the sun came up.
Her panicked voice was the reason for his sleep deprivation, more specifically, the panic in her voice just moments before she pulled the ejection rope, the pilot hurled into the air with a tight grip on her parachute latch as her plane crashed into the side of a mountain.
He’d never lost a wingman before.
And yet, today, he almost did.
The fear in her auburn eyes, the call for search and rescue, the distant sound of her screams shooting down the hallway and into the emergency clinic waiting room as they put her shoulder back into its socket, it was paralyzing.
What made it worse was how worried she was about him .
She was one of the very few who knew about his past - the death of his parents, the tension between him and Maverick, the reason he spent most of his time alone - and she didn’t judge him or pity him for it. She made it easy to talk to her, she made it easy to let her in, something he’d only ever done with his mother.
She made him feel safe.
And when she asked him if he was okay after he watched her jet blow up into a million little pieces instead of worrying about herself, he realized he had failed at being what she needed.
A soft tapping on his front door echoed into his bedroom and he cursed under his breath as he furrowed his brows, wondering who the hell was up so early, or late, as he caught the 3:07 a.m. in bright red letters next to him. He waited for a moment, hoping whoever it was would go away and let him continue to stare at the pitch-black ceiling in peace, but the knocking sounded throughout the silent house once again.
Releasing a huff, he threw the covers off of his body and shuddered at the chill the air brought with the sudden loss of warmth, slipping into a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt before stomping off into the living room.
He didn’t recognize who it was at first through the slightly fogged peephole until he noticed the small red and orange bird sewn into the fabric of her sweatshirt.
Phoenix, the symbol of immortality, life after death.
That was one of the best purchases he’d ever made. The way her smile doubled in size across her jaw when she tore through the tissue paper he had wrapped it in – okay, the tissue paper Halo had wrapped it in – it was a time he wished he’d had an eidetic memory so he could relive the moment over and over.
He flipped on the lamp right by the door and pulled it open, waiting for her to step inside, but instead, he watched her tiny figure shake as she looked up at him from where she’d trained her watery eyes on the ground, her tears slipping down her cheeks in a steady stream.
He’d never seen her cry before, and if it were anyone else, he definitely would’ve shut the door in their face and gone back to bed, but it was Phoenix. He knew she wasn’t one to ever wear her heart on her sleeve and when her emotions somehow found their way out from behind their lock and key, they were too out of control for her to bury them any longer.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing here, but I just–,” She murmured through her tears, brushing the sleeve of her sweatshirt under her chin to catch the tears falling down her soft skin, “I just needed to see you.”
He opened the door wider for her, silently telling her that he understood, but she remained stuck in her place and he swore he could see the wheels turning in her head. She was probably asking herself how she ended up at his doorstep and chastising herself for being vulnerable in front of him.
She did that a lot.
She was the epitome of power, yet she had a hard time convincing herself that she was as good, if not better than her fellow man, despite being the best and most promising pilot in their squadron (and Top Gun if anyone ever asked his opinion). He assumed that came with the territory of being a woman in a man’s world, but she was never one to let her gender lead her career.
She refused to earn her wings by playing a card in her hand that let people question how she got to where she was. No matter how little faith she had in herself, she’d be damned if she gave anyone the idea that she didn’t fight with her blood, sweat, and tears to be here.
Vulnerability was her kryptonite. They had that in common.
“I—I can’t sleep an—and I—,” She stuttered, the tightness in her chest making it difficult to breathe, “I can’t—I just want to sleep,”
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide with panic, the horrific image of her plane exploding into bits on the side of a mountain stuck in her head like a record on repeat.
“I can’t get it out of my head,” She chokes out as she begins to sob, her hand reaching out for him as her legs went weak and she braced herself as best she could to hit the floor, but instead she fell into the arms of the boy she’d loved for ten years as he caught her just in time.
He always seemed to catch her when she needed it.
“I got ya, it’s okay.”
In one quick motion, he swept his arms under her knees and lifted her up, her hot tears soaking the fabric of his shirt as he carried her into his bedroom.
He set her down gently on the edge of the bed and flipped on the bedside lamp to let some light in. The first thing he noticed was the sand she was covered in — her hands, her feet, her legs, and some was even in her hair.
“Did you fall, Tash?”
Silence was the only answer she gave him and he looked up to see her staring right at him, or through him, silent tears swimming down her cheeks and dripping into her lap.
“ Natasha. ”
After a moment, he finally caught her attention.
“There’s sand all over you. Did you fall?” He asked again, watching as she furrowed her brows, “Are you hurt?”
“It’s just my arm,” She spoke under her breath, “How did I hurt my arm?”
He could tell she was trying to work through the haze that fogged her mind, but he’d be lying if he said her forgetting about her injuries that had only happened hours before didn’t scare the shit out of him.
“Tash, do you remember what happened in training today?”
Like a movie playing on a theater screen, he saw every emotion known to man flash in her eyes as she unconsciously lifted her fingers to her shoulder, remembering the excruciating agony from the doctors popping it back into its socket.
“I had to eject…” She murmured, her hands balling into fists, “Maverick was yelling at me be—because the plane was going down and he just kept screaming at me…why was he screaming so loud?”
Eject, eject, eject!
“He was so loud and I couldn’t think and I just wanted him to stop yelling at me—“
“Tash.”
Eject, eject, eject!
“And Bob was panicking…oh my god, Bob! I almost killed Bob. I almost killed my partner—“
“Nat.”
Eject, eject, eject!
It was quick and forceful the way she pushed him away from her, scrambling to her feet unsteadily as her heavy breaths became rapid and harder to exhale. Panic.
“Natasha.” He called again upon deaf ears, the best-kept woman unraveling right in front of him. The shock of the day was finally wearing off, and just as it did for every other pilot, the reality was settling in hard and it wasn’t about to stop anytime soon.
He almost lost the girl he loved, but she almost lost her life and that of her partner. This was grief, but not the kind where you bury a soldier six feet under.
It’s the kind where that feeling of security is lost, the fearlessness, the sense of safety. They relive that moment over and over in their head every time they take off and it won’t stop until they’re stripped out of their flight suit.
And the screaming voice will never go silent, even with the overpowering sound of an engine.
Eject!
“I almost killed my partner!”
She shrieked through clenched teeth as she hurled her fist into the mirror hanging on his wall, shards of glass crashing to the floor around her feet as sobs of anguish roared from her lips.
Despite the minute of shock, he wasted no time in pulling her away from the mess she’d made as he yanked a towel out of his laundry hamper and wrapped it around her hand and part of her wrist, the sharp metal marring her soft skin.
She fought against him with every ounce of energy she had left, but he was stronger, her body giving out as she collapsed against him once again, her tears and blood soaking his shirt.
He helped her down to the floor and kept her in his lap, listening to her hums of anguish in the pit of his neck as he held the pressure on her wound, his free hand rubbing up and down her back while she cried.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
Her confession came out frail, and if her lips hadn’t been so close to his ear, he wouldn’t have heard her at all.
He cursed himself for ignoring the tell-tale signs — the fake facade she wore the entirety of when she was in the hospital and the ‘I’m fine’s she rattled off at every question he and the doctor asked, the way her eyes would go blank every once in a while when she thought no one was paying attention, the short fuse and snapping at their fellow pilots when they told her for the billionth time that what happened wasn’t her fault — she was a textbook case for PTSD.
It was clear to anyone paying attention that the accident shook her up more than she let on, but he should’ve seen it.
She’s the girl he loves for fuck’s sake. He should’ve seen it.
“You’re already doing it, Phoe,” He whispered, “You suffered through one of a pilot’s greatest fears and you beat it. You’re already doing it.”
His words, although quiet, seemed to be loud enough and were some of what she needed to hear, her wails turning into whimpers as she bunched up a fist of his t-shirt in the hand that wasn’t painting the fabric with her blood.
“Please help me, Roo.”
“I will, baby.”
The endearment slipped off his tongue with such ease, he wasn’t able to stop it, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“I need to look at your hand,” He spoke after a few minutes of silence, hoping that she’d calmed down enough to begin thinking with a clearer head, “I just want to make sure you don’t need stitches.”
All she had the energy to do was nod and he accepted that without another word, slowly peeling away the bloodied towel to reveal the mess she’d made of her hand.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He rushed out as a hiss escaped her lips from the cold air hitting the open cuts, “These look pretty deep. I think we need to go to the emergency room,”
Her body went rigid and her breaths picked up their pace, soft pleas of refusal floating through the air.
“Phoe, we have to get these looked at—”
“No, no, no, I can’t go back there!” She cried, the panic settling in once again as she felt the tremors creep up on her, “Plea—please don’t make me go, Bradley. I don’t want to go.”
“Natasha, take a breath,” He shushed her when he felt more tears slip from her eyes and onto his neck, drawing her away from her place buried in his embrace as he put his hands on her cheeks, “Look at me, Phoe. Take a deep breath with me,”
“I can’t, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” He told her as he grabbed her uninjured hand and laid it on his chest, mimicking a calming breath for her to feel under her touch, “C’mon, do it with me.”
Her shuddering breaths remained rapid and her eyes began to haze over, but she never let go or looked away from him, as if she was using the lifeline he was holding out for her.
“Good job, baby,” He spoke, the pads of his thumbs against her cheeks catching the tears falling in a steady stream, “Talk to me. Get some words out. Talk to me about anything you want,”
“I…I wa—want to f…fly,” She choked out through the lump in her throat, her knuckles white from the grip on his shirt, “I lik—I like…to fly,”
“I know you do,” He smiled, “And you’re good at it, the best at it.”
“I like fl—flying wi—with you.”
Her breaths begin to slow and her grip begins to loosen on his shirt, but her eyes never left his. They steadied her, the dark pools of warmth she would spend her whole life drowning in if he let her.
Her vision was still blurred from her tears, but her mind couldn’t be clearer.
She thought she didn’t know why she was standing on his doorstep, sleep-deprived and caked in sand, but she knew better than that. There was no one else that would let her feel, who would just sit with her and let her feel everything weighing on her chest like a ton of bricks.
He knew she needed to feel it to let it go.
“I like flying with you, too.” He spoke just above a whisper, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Even if you are better than me,”
Her laugh, it was like music to his ears.
“I’m sorry,” She breathed out, and she sobs again, laying her head against his shoulder, her lungs filling with the Old Spice and jet fuel smell she’d grown to love about him, “I’m sorry I broke your mirror,”
“I didn’t like that one much anyway,” He mused, rubbing his hand up and down her back, “Everything’s gonna be alright, baby.”
I saved for a spot for your head on my chest
‘cause you calm me down, 'cause you slow my breath
“Is it too hot?” He asked her as he poured the warm water over her shoulders to wash away the soap on her soft skin, the sand on her body mixing with the bubbles pooling on the surface.
They had sat on the floor of his bedroom for a good while as she worked through her pent-up emotions and let her sobs turn into yawns, the stress and trauma of the day forcing her to face her exhaustion, before he prompted her to take a shower and let the steam ease her aching muscles, but it was clear those aching muscles were in more pain than he realized when he found her on his doorstep.
She struggled to move even the slightest inch without crying out in agony, the blunt impact of the g-force in combat with the weight of her body as the ejection seat hurled her into the air mere seconds before her plane crumbled into bits on the side of the mountain like a vice on her bones no pilot ever wanted to endure.
Anyone else that didn’t know the intricacies of their relationship would’ve assumed he was looking for something more than just to comfort her when he offered to help her bathe and rid her skin of the sand, sweat, and dried blood, plastered all over her, but to those that did know them, it was simply an offer that Rooster would make to no one else but her.
It wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about using her vulnerability to his advantage. It was solace, plain and simple.
Hangman had mentioned once that they had ‘twintuition’. He was happy when she was, he was sad when she was, he felt everything she was feeling, and it was a mutual characteristic in her.
She was the only one who knew the story of his parents, start to finish — who they were, how they met, how they fell in love, how they died. She was the only one who knew how the guttural tension between himself and Maverick came to be and how much he longed for it to be put behind them just because he missed his uncle, but couldn’t forget the heavy hit of betrayal and being set back four years in his career all while never really knowing why.
She knew Bradley Bradshaw inside and out better than anyone ever would for the obvious fact that she held every ounce of his trust like a piece of glass in her hands, never daring to break it.
He’s known her for a decade, and he’s loved her for all of it, and he would give his life for her, but she was his friend before she was ever anything more.
“No, it’s good,” She hummed as she closed her tired eyes, doing her best to fight the fatigue, “It feels good.”
He brushed his fingers through her tousled, damp locks as the last bits of soap fell into the water. He could tell she was fading fast and he still needed to bandage up the cuts on her hand, so he reached for the towel next to him and pulled the plug to let the water drain, waiting a moment to let her gather her bearings before helping her out.
“Do you need help getting up?”
She gripped the side of the tub and exhaled a deep breath, shaking her head softly as she pulled herself to her unsteady feet, grabbing at his outstretched hand to keep from slipping as she stepped over the edge and he kept her upright long enough to wrap a towel around her and help her make the few steps to the sink before setting her on the counter.
“I found your favorite shirt,” He spoke as he held up an old concert tee, letting out a silent breath of relief at the delicate smile on her lips, “I’m surprised you haven’t taken it back to your place to keep it yet.”
“I did,” She murmured, “But it got thrown in the hamper last time I was here and I forgot to get it out before I left.”
“Thief,” He joked.
“You should stop making it so easy to steal your clothes, then,” She retorted.
“If you didn’t look so good in them, I would.” He finished.
The room suddenly seemed smaller and the air tighter as he let the words roll off his tongue, but it was nothing compared to the breathless feeling in his chest as her lips connected with his, his hands on her thighs and her hands on his back, tugging him closer until there was no distance between them.
“Tasha…” He spoke softly as he drew back for a second to breathe, his eyes meeting hers in a look of uncertainty, “We can’t.”
She tried to hide the hurt that flashed across her face, but just as she did him, he knew her, and it wasn’t hard for him to notice.
“And here I thought you wanted this, too.” She huffed lightly, a harsh tone on the tip of her tongue as she let her grip on him fall.
“I do want this,” He rushed out, squeezing her thighs for good measure, “More than anything, but I want it when both of our heads are clear and your arm isn’t hacked to pieces.”
Her face softened, her chest filling with an unexplainable warmth as the hurt fizzled away just as quickly as it arrived.
She pulled him in for another kiss, a gentler one this time, and held him close for a good while before she pulled away, brushing her thumb over the dull scars on his jawline, “When our heads are clear and my arm isn’t hacked to pieces — seriously with the dramatics, Roo, — you’ll still want this?”
“Just as much as the day we met.”
I used to wonder why I get sleepy around you
I can finally close my eyes, I don't wanna lay down without you
The rising sun was starting to peek through the curtain when they finally found their way to his bed, their tired bodies dragging out of the bathroom with heavy feet and heavy eyes.
Her legs were steadier now, but her grip was still tight on his shirt as she stayed tucked into his side, the butterfly strips and the gauze bandage that kept her mauled hand intact for the time being reminding her to carefully step over the pile of glass that had yet to have been swept up from the floor.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” He spoke quietly, realizing that she probably hadn’t eaten anything since before the mission, “I think I have some of that root beer you like in the fridge.”
His words were lost on deaf ears as she sat on the edge of the bed looking smaller than he’d ever seen her, her tired eyes staring at the blood staining his shirt, and he cursed himself for not taking it off earlier.
He trudged over to his dresser and slipped out of the soiled tee, reaching for one of his sweatshirts in the top drawer, but her hoarse voice halted him as she tried her best to swallow the emotion stuck in her throat.
“Can you lay with me?”
She sounded like a child terrified of being rejected for showing her feelings and she wanted to stop herself from asking, but it would be pointless for her to believe she could succumb to the exhaustion and find the rest her mind desperately craved without him.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I—”
She was cut off by Rooster bringing her body into his, wrapping his burly arms around her in a tight hug as he knelt in front of her, the warmth of his body easing the ache in her chest almost immediately. Her guard dropped completely as she melted into him, burying her face into the crook of his neck as the feeling of comfort overwhelmed her.
“You’re safe now, Phoe.” He whispered into her hair, running his hand up and down her back as he used the other to pull back the covers and fluff the pillow, “I promise you’re safe.”
Eventually, she relinquished her grip on him just long enough to bury herself in the sheets as he moved briskly around the room to clean up the mess she’d made in her less-than-pleasant rampage, the hardwood now free of glass and instead covered in rays of light bouncing off the window as the ocean outside the house began to settle.
The light quickly disappeared as he pulled the blackout curtains closed and flipped off the bedside table lamp, Bradley wasting no time at all to slip under the comforter and pull her into him once again, the chill of her skin against the heat of his making them both shiver at the sudden temperature change, but neither of them would ever say they minded at all.
It was the simplest kind of love, a cool night in warm sheets with their legs intertwined. The simplest kind where they hadn’t yet said it to each other, but there was simply no need for the three words. They just knew.
“Thank you,” She whispered into the darkness as her head lay on his chest, the beat of his heart against her ear lulling her restless body into a state of comfort, “For helping me tonight,”
“You don’t have to thank me,” He whispered back, brushing his fingers through her tousled raven locks, “I’d do it again if you needed me to.”
“I know.”
Just as the words left her lips, her eyes fluttered shut and she let the weariness win, giving her body and mind the rest it so abundantly deserved.
It wasn’t until he heard the soft huffs of her snores that he finally let himself relax as he knew the best and safest place for her was to be buried in his side and her heart aligned with his.
All that I need is your warm embrace,
never have I ever felt so safe in my life
She opened her eyes slowly, squinting as light from the windows peeked in through the curtains which didn’t seem to help the pounding in her skull. It took her quite a few moments to gather her surroundings, but once she noticed the picture on the nightstand, it became clear whose bed she lay in instead of her own.
Bradley , she thought as flashes of the previous night came rushing back, He must think I’m crazy.
Sucking in a deep breath, she glanced around the room. It has subtle touches of him, but for anyone that hadn’t been in here before or for anyone that didn’t know him, it would seem vacant, like whoever lived here wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else.
She tried to sit up, but the painful ache in her hand was quick to stop her and it’s when she finally noticed the white bandage tinted with spots of red that she remembered more of what happened after she ended up on his doorstep at the crack of dawn.
The comfort and warmth she'd felt when she first woke up was now gone, knowing she had made quite the fool of herself coming over here in a panic, and she felt sick knowing she might’ve just ruined her career and friendship with Rooster for good.
She closed her eyes and muffled a whimper as she threw the covers off and moved to sit on the edge of the bed while trying to avoid using her injured hand, and in doing so, she let herself take in the sound of the ocean just outside the window, the settled waves nothing like they were before she fell asleep.
A loud crash coming from out in the kitchen startled her from her moment of peace, and she stood as quickly as she could despite the ache in her muscles, following the sound of Bradley swearing under his breath.
His head snapped up towards her as she made her way out of the bedroom, fumbling to clean up the mess he’d made all over the floor, “I’m sorry. I tried not to wake you.”
She shook her head and trudged over to the island, lowering herself slowly onto one of the barstools, “You didn’t. I was already awake.”
"How'd you sleep?" He asked, standing up with pieces of the broken mug he'd dropped in his grasp. Her eyes followed his figure as he walked through the kitchen, dropping the broken glass into the trash.
"Good, actually. Better than I have in a long while," She replied as he looked up at her, letting out a silent breath of relief.
It wasn’t hard to see that he hadn’t slept nearly as well as she had. There was the slightest hint of purple under his eyes and he was moving slower than normal, but he wore a comforting smile on his jaw that seemed to ease the churning in her stomach.
He turned his back for a second to pull a travel mug from the cupboard and fill it to the brim with the fresh coffee he brewed, leaving it black as he knew she liked it that way, and she thanked him silently, taking a long sip of it as the heat of it singed her throat in just the right way.
“Save some of that,” He spoke up, catching her eyes as she looked up to him over the edge of the cup, “We have a long drive,”
She furrowed her brows, “Where are we going?”
“There’s an ER in San Bernardino that can stitch up your hand—,”
“But it’s fine,” She interrupted, hoping she could hide the panic in her voice, “You fixed it and it’s fine now,”
“I just put a bandage on it. The cuts need to be cleaned out and you need a tetanus shot, too.”
“I said I’m fine.” She barked as she stood from her seat, slamming her fists down on the counter, a quiet hiss escaping her lips as the vibration shot through her hand, “I don’t want to go to a doctor. The hospital on base said I was fine, so I’m fine.”
“Well, according to Maverick, you checked yourself out of the hospital before the doctor could finish treating you—”
“You talked to Maverick ?” Her eyes widened as she cut him off, her heart picking up its speed in her tight chest, “Why would you do that?”
He wore a confused look on his face as he circled the island, and it only grew when she pushed herself away from him before he could reach her, “Nix, he’s your superior. He has a right to know if one of his pilots is struggling with something. I called him so he’d know that you’re okay.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” She mumbled to herself, running her fingers through her tousled hair and down the sides of her face, “This can’t be happening.”
“Tash, it’s okay,” He tried to reassure her, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears, “He was worried about you and Bob. He wanted to make sure you were okay—”
He reached out to touch her arm, but she ripped it away so fast, it was as if his hand was made of hot steel burning her skin.
“Don’t touch me!” She hollered, pushing him away, “I never should’ve come here last night. I never should’ve trusted you!”
“Phoe, you know you can trust—”
“Everything is ruined!” She cried as she paced back and forth, much like she had done in the early hours of the morning after showing up on his doorstep, “My career is over! Everything I’ve worked for, it’s all gone because of you!”
“Natasha, what are you talking about?” Bradley barked as he grabbed her shoulders forcefully, steadying her still long enough for him to catch her attention before another spiral started, “Just talk to me, let me help you!”
“Maverick’s never gonna let me fly again!”
He stood there for a moment in disbelief, wondering how she’d gotten to the point of being so afraid that she would lose it all just by showing her heart hadn’t yet turned to stone.
“Phoe, I don’t understand,” He spoke in a softer voice than before, “You think Mav is gonna ground you because of this?”
“You don’t think I hear the whispers or see the dirty looks Halo and I get?” She scoffed, “Women aren’t supposed to fly the planes. Women are supposed to put on the pretty little skirt and serve snacks to passengers while the men take over the cockpit. Women are too chaotic and too unstable and too emotional. Women were not made to be pilots.”
“And you listen to all of that?”
“What else am I supposed to listen to, Bradley? It’s all I can hear every fucking day. Admirals, Captains, even the Ensigns that I outrank think that we oughta leave the flying to the men and stick to what we do best which is making them happy,” She growled with a bitter tongue, “It’s like a broken record in my head, over and over telling me that I don’t deserve to be a pilot.”
“There’s no one else that deserves it more than you do.”
He grabbed her hands gently, carefully avoiding a tight grip on her makeshift cast but firm enough to keep her from straying too far, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I strive every day to be half the pilot you are and even then, I fall short. You carry our team to the finish line in every mission without hesitation or fear. You are the one that guarantees Hangman gets to spend another day with his nieces and Bob makes it home on the weekends to see his sisters and Omaha gets to kiss his wife and son goodnight.”
“No, I don’t—,”
“ You are the one that makes sure my family legacy doesn’t end with me.”
Tears flooded her eyes and her efforts were pointless in trying to hold them back as they slipped down her cheeks, the Lieutenant letting go of her resistance against him and sinking into his chest with heavy sobs.
He couldn’t help but let his own emotions get the best of him while he held her in his arms, his cheek resting on the top of her head as he clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.
His words were true — she was the heart of their team, the heart of Dagger Squad.
There hadn’t been a moment where he didn’t look to her for answers before anyone else, whether on the ground or in the sky, and yet here he stood wondering if she’d been looking for answers from him, too.
Did he miss it? Her struggle to prove her worth in a career deemed only fit for men, had he been blind to it because he couldn’t see past his own troubles?
He’d given himself a mission with the highest priority — protect her, love her, have her back — and he failed.
He wasn’t going to fail her again.
I'm learning a good love takes some patience,
but I understand now the importance of a haven
He’d told her it was going to be a quick trip, in and out, but three hours had come and gone before they were seen by a doctor for Phoenix’s hand. She was getting restless and more anxious by the second and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could convince her they needed to stay and wait, but he kept a soft grip on her thigh and pressed a kiss into her hair now and then as she rests her head on his shoulder, which seemed to do the trick.
Though, now that he thought about it, her leg wasn’t bouncing anymore and her breath had evened out. She was more exhausted than she’d led on.
She hadn’t let go of his hand, even in her sleep, since they stepped foot in the fairly empty waiting room, the instinctual gesture keeping her from completely losing it, though it didn’t help that she was holding the one he uses to write with because the paperwork looked like a five-year-old had filled it out.
He wouldn’t ever say he minded it.
As morbid as it sounded in his mind, the longer she held onto him, the more relieved he felt knowing he wasn’t planning her funeral right now.
He’d almost lost her, she almost died without knowing she was the best thing to ever happen to him.
The drive home from the emergency room, after thirty-two stitches, a tetanus shot, four prescriptions for her hand and dislocated shoulder, and two more for the untreated concussion they’d found, was quiet.
Her eyes had fluttered shut before they had even left the parking lot and if he hadn’t been so worried about her, he probably would’ve fallen asleep at the wheel, too.
His Bronco rolled to a stop in the driveway of his home and he took a moment to gather himself before he woke her. He glanced over to the passenger seat that held the raven-haired beauty he’d spent a decade pining for and he felt the goosebumps rise on his skin like they did every other time she consumed his thoughts.
He had no idea where he’d be five years from now, but he prayed to god it was somewhere next to her.
He’d never been one to want to fall in love because loving someone meant the possibility of losing them — he knew what it felt like to grieve both the dead and the living.
It wasn’t a risk he’d ever been willing to take until she came along.
It was the way she looked at him with so much understanding. It was the way she knew what he was thinking before he ever said a thing. It was the way that the silence was light, and the feelings steady; the way she laughed, and the warmth it brought. It was her thoughtfulness — I saw this and it reminded me of you — and the way she wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit.
It was how she checked in on him every day, not to control him, but to let him know that she was there. It was her compassion and the way that she loved without condition. It was the love she instilled in him, the affection and care that he never knew was possible.
It was her, laid simple and bare. It was her.
“Bradley?”
The quiet hum of her voice drew him out of his thoughts, her soft chocolate eyes opening drearily to find him staring at her.
“We’re home.” He murmured, and the words tasted like honey on his tongue.
She glanced outside the window and instantly regretted it, the bright California sun maddening the throbbing ache in her head, “God, who turned on the sun?”
He chuckled as he turned off the engine and grabbed the bag of medications from in between them, “These will help with that. C’mon, let’s go inside,”
He could tell she was in pain just by how slowly she moved and the hushed groans she tried to hide under her breath, and that it took almost all of her energy just to get out of the truck.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see your front door.”
He let out another laugh as he fumbled around for his keys, his other hand wrapped around her back, holding up most of her body weight to keep her legs from giving out on her.
“Me either.” He replied as he pushed open the door. Their steps were slow, but after a minute or two, they were able to get inside, Bradley wasting no time in tossing their stuff on the coat rack and guiding her to the bedroom.
Just as he’d done hours before, he stripped her out of what she was wearing and dug out another pair of his sweats from the dresser. The first time she’d borrowed his clothes, he asked her why she insisted on wearing something that was two sizes too big for her, to which she shrugged with the faintest of smiles and said, “ I feel safe. ”
Her eyes were getting heavier, but she had yet to let them fall shut completely as she watched him move around the room, tidying up and changing into something more comfortable before making his way to the kitchen and returning with a bottle of Gatorade and a bag of icing animal crackers, something he kept a stock of in the pantry because he knew how much she liked them.
“I just realized neither of us has eaten anything today,” He mumbled as he set the snack on the table. He popped open the bottle and set a few pills in the palm of her hand, “They said you could take these on an empty stomach, but we all could use a sugar rush every once in a while.”
“I love you.”
It took him a moment to register her words at all, but when he did, he was at a loss for his own. His hands found her cheeks as he knelt in front of her, his thumbs catching the tears that slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks, her chin trembling with emotion.
“I love you, even though I’m scared.” She confessed through the lump in her throat, “I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me because I know that I would give up everything just to have you love me back.”
His lips were on hers in an instant, and it felt like time had stopped.
His heart started to miss beats and his hands couldn’t bring her close enough to him, and it was then that he realized he’d been waiting for her all his life. That unpredictable, passionate, certain love his mom used to tell him about, the kind of love his parents painted the walls of his childhood home with, this was it.
He must’ve loved her in another life because seeing her felt like coming home, like he’s known her soul since the beginning of time. She was home, and everywhere he’d never been, all at once. She was the only thing that mattered, she was his good.
It wasn’t until they needed to breathe that they pulled apart, though their foreheads stayed connected and his fingers continued to brush back and forth over her rosy cheeks as she held onto the back of his neck, keeping him as close to her as she could.
The sun setting on the horizon illuminated their silhouettes in the growing darkness of the bedroom, another day nearing its end spent with an indescribable ache buried in their chests from the uncertainty of the future but a yearning for it to be filled with only each other.
“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”
If he learned anything from his parents, it was to never leave anything unsaid.
fin.