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Bradley chooses Italian.
At his core, he knows he is a romantic. He likes dating someone - going out together, doing little things for each other, driving someone home and kissing them goodnight at their door. It's how his mama had raised him and the look of pride on her face the first time he'd bought a bouquet of flowers for a girl was something Bradley had never forgotten.
And even as he realized he also liked men, he kept having dates. The first time he'd brought a guy he was seeing flowers, the blush on his cheeks had made Bradley feel fluttery inside.
And even as dating became less of an option, as his naval training continued, Bradley held onto what his mother had taught him.
So, naturally, he picks Italian.
---
The little restaurant he picks is just that - little. There's maybe 10 tables in total, all with their own flameless candle in the middle next to a fresh bouquet of buttercups and carnations. The table the hostess leads them to is by the front window, overlooking the quiet street the place is tucked away on.
Before Bradley can move to do so, Jake is pulling out his chair. There's a knowing smirk on his face, like he already knows Bradley’s entire plan for the night. And maybe he does because he'd given Bradley the same look when he’d opened his temporary housing door and found Bradley standing there with a handful of sunflowers.
“Thank you,” Bradley says in full sincerity, letting Jake push his chair in a bit. Jake moves around the table to sit in his own chair and Bradley looks up in time to see the hostess smiling at them.
“How did you find this place?” Jake asks as he picks up the menu, not looking at it as he looks out the front window. There's a flower box against the glass, full of violets and pansies and some lavender. Bradley can see a small bird's nest from where he sits.
“I’ve been here before,” Bradley says, letting that feeling wash over him as Jake looks at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh, is this your first date place, Bradshaw?” Jake teases, though Bradley knows there's a kernel of truth in there.
“No, I’ve never brought anyone here,” Bradley says, taking a sip of his water. “I've been brought here, by my mom. She loved this place.”
Jake’s face softens and he turns to face Bradley again. He opens his mouth once as if to speak and then closes it, letting out a short huff of a breath. “I’d tease you about that but…”
Bradley laughs, shaking his head. “You can tease me about having monthly little dinners with my mom. I was a mama’s boy, I know it.”
“That makes two of us,” Jake grumbles, trying to hide behind his water glass. Bradley smirks at him.
“What’s her name?”
“What's your mom's name?” Jake retorts, though it's said kindly.
“Carole.”
“Mama’s full name is Mary Jo Beth but we call her Mama Jo,” Jake says, smiling as Bradley feels his lips quiver with a laugh. “Go on, say it.”
“That's the most Texan thing you've ever said,” Bradley says, both of them laughing as their waitress comes over to take their order.
There's a moment of silence after she leaves, one where neither of them has the distraction of a menu to look at. Jake chooses to look out at the flowers again and Bradley watches him, taking it all in. This is the first real date he's been on in years and there's a part of him that feels silly, sitting in this tiny restaurant with someone he's known for almost 10 years. There are first date jitters in his stomach.
He goes for something easy.
“I thought you were joking.”
Jake looks at him, brow furrowed. “About?”
“Being quiet for Italian food.”
Jake tosses his napkin at Bradley and they both laugh, some of the weird tension in the air bursting. Jake shakes his head and sighs, leaning back in his chair.
“This could be a fifth date, I already know enough about you,” Jake says, tilting his head slightly as the waitress brings over their drinks - a glass of red for Jake and a spritzer for Bradley.
“Oh?” Bradley asks as she walks away. “Think you know everything, Seresin?”
“I know your favorite color is red,” Jake says, sufficiently egged on. Bradley leans back a bit, taking a sip of his drink as Jake continues. “The first song you learned on the piano was that awful balls of fire thing. You are a military brat, grew up here in San Diego. You know how to surf,” Jake pulls a face, “and based off the air freshener in your truck and the deodorant you're wearing, you like lavender.”
Bradley’s mouth drops open slightly and he feels Jake’s foot tap against his under the table. It takes Bradley a moment to collect his thoughts as Jake smirks at him from across the table.
“The first song I learned on the piano was actually ‘Hallelujah’,” Bradley says, playing with his napkin. He takes a deep breath before he says, “For my mom.”
Jake’s smirk changes into a smile and he reaches across the table for the hand Bradley’s currently fiddling, pulling it by the tips of Bradley’s fingers until Jake's holding them gently.
“I want to hear all about her,” Jake says, squeezing Bradley’s hand. “Maybe not today, but someday.”
Bradley smiles, turning his hand so he can squeeze Jake’s fingers.
---
They're at a red light, stuck in the eternal California traffic, when Bradley reaches over and takes Jake’s hand.
“Wanna know what I know?”
Jake looks a Bradley for a moment before he seems to realize what Bradley is doing. He gestures for Bradley to continue, leaning into Bradley’s arm.
“You tell people your favorite color is green but you have a purple toothbrush and phone case,” Bradley starts, smiling as Jake purses his lips, the look in his eyes giving him away. “Tonight confirmed it but I had a feeling you liked a glass of pinot noir. You’re a fan of the Texans, not the Cowboys like everyone assumes. You cry whenever someone plays ‘Piano Man’ at the bar.”
Jake squawks but Bradley keeps going.
“You have a favorite pair of jeans that have a rip in the back pocket that’s easily fixable but you don’t know how to fix it yourself so you leave it be.”
“Okay,” Jake says, laughing a little. “I get it!”
“And despite how much you want to tell me off and insult me right now, you’ve had a good time tonight.”
Jake purses his lips, the corners turning up as he fights off the smile Bradley can see in his eyes. He eases the truck forward, following the slow moving traffic. Up ahead, Bradley can see two cars on the side of the road.
“Maybe I have,” Jake says finally, scooting across the bench seat a little more so his chest is pressed against Bradley’s arm. Squeezing their hands, Bradley eases the truck to a stop and looks at Jake.
“Was it the Italian food?” Bradley says, unable to help himself. There’s a part of him that can’t believe the entire night is real - that they sat across from each other at a restaurant Bradley loves, and had an easy meal. Talked about ocean currents and space and teased each other and brushed up against the subject of the mission before they’d both silently agreed to move along.
“The company,” Jake says softly, lips turning up in a genuine smile. Bradley feels butterflies in his stomach, an observatory taking flight against his rib cage, and he nearly whines when Jake cups his cheek and pulls him in for a kiss.