Chapter Text
The rain was coming down hard, pelting onto the windshield of the bronco. The wipers were working doubletime, dragging fast and heavy across wet glass, but Bradley still felt damn near blind as he drove. Some Eagles song he didn’t know the name of hummed through the speakers, accompanying the already existing symphony of rain and the tires rolling on the road. Bradley’s hands were beginning to ache with how hard he was gripping onto the steering wheel, he wasn’t allowing himself to relax in a half-hearted attempt to keep himself alert. Goddamn Montana storms, he thought with a frown, blinking furiously at the road ahead of him as if that would make the rain magically dissipate. A chill crept up the sleeves of his hoodie, crawling slowly up his forearms, despite the heat blasting on high. The cold was unforgiving like that, unable to be deterred by Bradley’s efforts to evade it. Bradley sighed heavily, succumbing to the chill and leaning back in his seat to conserve what little warmth he had left.
“I want to be here,” He muttered aloud, an affirmation he’d started making a few hours ago when the rain got particularly heavy. It was the truth, there was no doubt that Bradley driving across Montana alone in the middle of a storm was no one’s fault but his own.
Bradley’s most recent deployment was long and rough, a grueling seven and a half months living on one aircraft carrier in the middle of the North Atlantic ocean. By the time he’d finally burst through the door of his house in San Diego, he could barely hold a conversation without zoning out, falling quiet and losing himself in the four walls surrounding him. Safe to say, he either needed a seventy-three hour long nap or an extended break from the Navy. Thankfully, he was rewarded with a month long leave for his troubles, along with the rest of his squad. Bradley remembered letting out a loud whoop! when he had received that email from the comfort of his couch. The only problem was he lasted about one day idly wandering around his house before he snapped. Or more accurately, the people around him snapped. Poor Maverick and Natasha could only handle so many texts and calls in one day. It wasn’t Bradley’s fault, he went from every hour of his life having a designated purpose to seemingly endless unstructured days to do what?
“Listen dude, why don’t you go somewhere?” Nat had suggested, mildly irritated and desperate to get off the phone. Bradley had called her three times since he’d woken up that morning. “Take a vacation, you’ve got a month!” Somehow, Bradley’s conversation with the other pilot had planted the idea of a road trip in his head. He took exactly two days to mull over the idea and visualize a concept of a plan before he was emptying out his fridge, tossing a duffle into his passenger seat and taking off up Interstate Five. After a couple pitstops for greasy cheeseburgers and quick nights in motels, Bradley finally made it to Interstate Ninety. So far, it had taken him through the rest of Washington, a little bit of Idaho, and half of Montana. The weather had been good for his trip until he hit this mountainous state. When he woke up this morning at some generic motel, it had been freezing and pouring rain. Completely unexpected, at least for someone like Bradley who never bothered to check the weather before he even left San Diego. Aside from necessary gas stops, Bradley hadn’t stopped driving for the rest of the day. He was really trying to outrun the storm and see the beautiful part of Montana. If there even is any, he thought bitterly. The storm seemed to know exactly what his plan was, as the rain hadn’t let up in the slightest way. For some moments, it would get so heavy Bradley couldn’t even see three feet ahead of him.
The sun had set a little over two hours ago, which was when Bradley made the rash decision to drive through the night just to get the hell out of the storm. Occasionally a car would pass him with only a driver, on their lonesome just like him. No one else seemed able to compete with the level of restlessness Bradley had at the moment. The gusts of wind pushed his car around, causing him to swerve gently and his borderline road-hypnosis wasn’t helping. The only thing keeping him from sliding right off the slippery asphalt and into some poor farmer’s fence was the steady stream of music coming from his speakers and the strange sputtering noise coming from the bronco’s engine. Wait, what, Bradley blinked suddenly and shook his head, emerging out of his own thoughts. He squinted at his car’s hood, trying to gauge the severity of the sound.
A loud bang! suddenly erupted from the engine, causing the entire frame of the car to shake and Bradley to jump, startled. The check engine light illuminated on his dashboard mockingly and Bradley groaned. He felt the bronco slowing down and pulled off the road, defeated. His tires rolled to a stop on the gravel and Bradley kept silent. Rain continued to pelt down on the car roof and Bradley sat back behind the wheel feeling like a dunce. Here he was, in the middle of the night, raining cats and dogs outside, all alone, in the middle of Montana. Now with a broken car just to be the damn cherry on top. He scrubbed his eyes harshly, trying to make his brain wake up. For a moment, Bradley deliberated over sleeping in his car and calling a tow service in the morning. He quickly surmised that it would help absolutely no one if he turned into a human icicle inside his car or if it just exploded with him inside dead asleep. Why don’t I check it out first, he thought. He glanced around his car looking for any extra layers to pile into before braving the elements outside. Unfortunately, he only had one other ratty Navy sweatshirt in his duffle besides the one he was wearing. Again, he never bothered to check the weather. Maybe he should start doing that. Bradley took the sweatshirt anyway, tugging it over his shoulders and pulling the hoodie over his head. He grabbed his phone and his keys before swinging the door open. Immediately, rain pelted his face, soaking him to the bone.
“God damnit,” He hissed, trudging to the front of the bronco and popping the hood. Smoke emerged from under the hood, attacking Bradley’s eyes and filling his nostrils even through the heavy downpour. He leaned back blinking tears out of his eyes and promptly slammed the car hood shut again. Bradley groaned in annoyance and wrapped his arms around himself in a fruitless attempt to keep the dreadful cold out of his body. He glanced around, squinting in the dark and trying to find anything through the intense rainfall. Down the road ahead of him, Bradley could barely make out light seemingly coming from a house. “Please let this not be a streetlight,” He muttered to himself. The chances were low as he hadn’t seen a single light in hours but his luck was testing him at the moment.
A particularly aggressive gust of rainy wind blew over Bradley, causing him to begin shivering. With that, he began his miserable trek down the gravel roadside.
-
The walk took Bradley about twenty minutes, which he only knew because he was angrily checking his phone every couple steps. Coincidentally, he ran straight into a wooden post while checking the time. The hard wood sign hanging off the post knocked him square in the nose, making an audible crunching noise.
“Oh, fuck!” Bradley yelped, dropping his phone on the wet gravel and bringing both hands to his nose. He felt blood rushing to his face and his hands felt wet from something other than rain. He looked up at the sign in front of him where the words Seresin Ranch were proudly displayed along with a typical bucking cowboy. Relief flooded Bradley’s veins at the sight. Not everything was going horribly wrong. He pulled his hands from his nose only to be met with bloody, sticky fingers. His brief moment of triumph was immediately melted like a sad popsicle. Way to beat a dead horse, he thought bitterly. Any dignity he might have possessed was clearly left behind in his car as he leaned down to pick up his phone, blood smearing the screen and rain slamming down on his back, soaking the fabric further. He looked past the ranch sign where he noticed the light he had been following. A long, paved driveway lay before him, practically calling him like a siren’s song. Bradley shook blood off his fingers as he started his walk of ever-growing-shame towards the ranch.
The cold was bone-deep now, causing an inevitable shiver to settle within him. About one hundred feet ahead of Bradley sat a large ranch home with tall brick chimneys and sleek, grey metal roofs. A part of him, the Californian born-and-raised part, was still shocked at how big the houses could get out in the mountain states. An intense shake riddled his body, caused in some way by the sheer size of the ranch before him but mostly by the way the rain had managed to seep through every layer of clothes on his body and carve into his skin. It lurched him forward, giving him the last bit of energy he needed to trudge the next couple feet and up onto the porch. An automatic light turned on which made Bradley startle briefly. Sheer exhaustion was pulling most of the critical thinking from his brain. Finally he realized he was no longer a victim to the rain that was still absolutely bucketing down. A tired, maybe slightly delirious, and victorious smile tugged at his lips as he turned to the door, raising a still bloody fist to the door. Bradley knocked firmly on the wooden door a couple times before stepping back and waiting. He thought about the absolute sight he must be.
Layered up with just two hoodies, jeans, and boots that were certainly not made for Montana storms. Completely soaked to the bone and dripping wet. Face bloody and exhausted. Bradley wasn’t sure what the state of his nose was and he really hoped it wasn’t broken. Hands, covered in old and new blood, clenched at his sides. Suddenly, the door was pulled open. The loud creak of the hinges made Bradley startle and he looked up at the person behind the door. He was slightly shorter than Bradley, only about an inch. His hair was sandy blond and messy (Probably because someone just woke him up, Bradshaw) and he was clean shaven. He wore no shirt, revealing the toned muscles he no doubt gained from ranch work, and plain grey sweats. The man stood with one hand on the door, looking at Bradley with a look in his eyes the fighter pilot couldn't place.
The man’s eyes raked across Bradley’s shivering body before he met his eyes and spoke, “Well, hello there darlin’. Aren’t you a sight?” Bradley blinked and felt himself flush. The man’s tone was a mix of pleasant surprise and sympathy, somehow managing to not cross the thin line into condescension.
“Hi,” Bradley faltered, all the words leaving his mind.
The rancher looked him over once again before he was reaching out and grabbing Bradley by the wet arm. “I can’t just leave you out in the cold like that,” He said, pushing the door shut behind Bradley. “What happened to you?” All Bradley could do was gaze at the stunning rancher in front of him and continue to shiver violently. His teeth clacked together, making even the thought of forming a sentence impossible. The blond studied his face and sighed, shaking his head empathetically. “Nevermind that, let’s get you cleaned up and warm, hm?” Bradley nodded once and the rancher was immediately leading him into a small bathroom by a hand on the small of his back. Bradley was guided to sit on the closed toilet seat where he promptly plopped down and began desperately trying to get his shivering under control. He watched the rancher pull out several things from the medicine cabinet. He turned back to Bradley holding a wet hand towel.
The man reached for Bradley, pushing the hood off his head before stopping. “May I?” He asked, looking Bradley in the eyes. The fighter pilot nodded mutely, feeling his cheeks heat up. The rancher placed one hand on the back of Bradley's head, his fingers digging into Bradley’s damp curls to hold him still while the other hand swiped the warm hand towel across his face. Bradley let out a sigh as he felt the dried blood get scrubbed off his skin. He didn’t say a word when he was instructed to wash the blood from his hands, taking the chance to methodically clean each finger. When he was done he turned to face the rancher again.
“You need to be on the road anytime soon?” The blond asked.
“No,” Bradley responded quietly. Goosebumps climbed his arms as his wet clothes continued to cling to him and soak him.
The man nodded approvingly. “Good. Come with me,” He said before turning on his heel. Bradley trailed after him like a lost puppy through the hall, up the stairs, past several closed doors, before they stopped. “You can rest up in here,” The blond said, pushing the door open. “You look pretty damn tired, you know?”
“Oh,” Bradley mumbled, glancing around the room. It lacked any real personalization, just a standard countryside style guest room. He stood, taking in the detailed patterns of the thick blankets on the bed and the trinkets that filled the shelves. He didn’t even notice the blond had left until he returned, holding a stack of folded clothes. Bradley blinked in surprise when the rancher stood in front of him again.
“Put these on,” He said, handing them to Bradley before passing him to leave the room.
Bradley turned, suddenly desperate to say something to make the man stay a second longer. “Thank you,” He said, the first real phrase he’s uttered since he got here. The man stopped in the doorway and turned.
“Of course,” he replied, smiling softly. “Sleep well, darlin’.” Bradley didn’t have time to respond before the door was shut. His exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave all at once and he peeled himself out of his damp clothes as fast as he could. He slipped on the fresh shirt and pajamas he was given before collapsing in the bed, forgetting to turn off the light.