Jake leaned against the wall of the gallery, already zoned out, mindlessly fiddling with the projector remote. He took the strategic position next to the entrance, as he usually did, to avoid any kids slipping out when the teacher wasn't looking. He was too old to chase teenagers around the museum. Plus, the AC in the hall was slightly stronger than in the room, so he could enjoy the gentle lick of cold breeze on his skin.

"When you think about the perspective here, what strikes you?"

Larry was looking at one of the paintings on the center wall, either unaware or unfazed that the teenage audience he was addressing scattered around the room, looking weary like a group of flies that woke up in the middle of winter. Their teacher was nodding at his every word, as she had been doing since they got here, with her head tilted in fake interest. Every few minutes she looked back at her students with a solemn expression, as if that would somehow help hammer home Larry's points.

Right behind the man, like a soldier at attention, stood the obnoxious smarty-pants, because there always was one, already whipping her hand up and immediately starting her ramble about the metaphors and references. A perfect candidate for Larry's "gotcha" question, which he would inevitably use to prove the kid's textbook answer was wrong and carry the rest of the tour on that notion.

God, and it was only 11 a.m.

Would anyone miss him if he went to get tacos? Maybe he could pick out the jalapeños and shove them up his eyes to stop this misery…

"Jack?"

He snapped his head up. The older man was looking at him, white brows raised expectantly.

Right. He must have missed Larry's dramatic preamble to the presentation that Jake was supposed to coordinate with this whole performance. The man certainly loved his trap question shtick, and Jake was always the magician's assistant here. Only in less dazzling outfits, sadly.

He snapped out of it and hurried to turn on the big screen built into on one of the walls. He struggled with the remote for a second before the lights finally went out and the sequence of photographs started shuffling before them, blindingly bright in the now dark room. He could see the few kids that had previously started napping discretely in the corner squint their eyes at the rude interruption.

"Thank you." The man took a few steps towards the screen, hands clasped behind his back. He proceeded to give a lengthy monologue about the story behind each plane in the photo. Jake knew the drill - it would be a few minutes of seemingly boring history of some random planes before he was supposed to stop the presentation so Larry could begin his dramatic speech about the pilots, to neatly tie the slides with the paintings they were previously analyzing.

He stopped it once the right picture snapped into the frame. The man visibly straightened, holding his head high as if he was going to say something deeply profound. And to his credit, he did. Or at least it sounded so the first 2 times Jake heard it. Not so much after three years of virtually the same show, day in day out.

After he finished, some more pictures flashed one by one, with little time to appreciate one for longer than three seconds. Larry was looking at them with the same somber look he always wore during that part of the presentation. Whether he still genuinely cared about the stories he told was a mystery to Jake, not that he cared that much to unwrap the wrinkled layers of this particular package. But he suspected that at this point, it was all a performance, a solid routine the old man was hanging onto so tightly, all to Jake's utter frustration.

Yup, that was Larry's typical day at work. And, by extension, Jake's. Or rather Jack's, seeing as 3 years of correcting the old man yielded no results in making him remember his own assistant's actual name. And don't get him wrong, Larry was neither the worst superior one could have, nor the worst curator this place has seen, far from it. It's just that a brick would bend easier than that guy and it frustrated Jake to his very core.

When he was first hired as Larry's assistant, freshly after his move to San Diego, the man hadn't made a bad first impression on Jake at all. In fact, for the first few weeks Jake was sure Larry and him were quite similar - strong willed, with a no-nonsense approach and set on taming the chaos of the Californian art scene. Determined to tell meaningful stories, to educate and inspire, and defy expectations of what this museum had to offer. Essentially all that Jake's idealistic, fresh-out-of-art school head was ready to do.

Make no mistake, Jake was far from the delusional archetype of a helpless romantic that people expected of him when they heard he had studied art. But his plans to make a change here were drifting away the longer he remained stuck where he was, and from his perspective, it was Larry who was paddling him away from them. Over those three years it had become increasingly clear that the old man was nowhere near relinquishing his position and allowing Jake his sweet promotion. Hell, it wasn't even the promotion that Jake was gunning for at this point. A chance to organize an exhibition that wasn't a reheated ode to the military would be good for starters.

As it quickly turned out, Larry used his strong will exclusively to fight off any suggestions of changing the theme of their wing a little. The only chaos he was set on taming was Jake's determination to turn this place around. And as far as educating went - there was not much more to be said about the military in a military-obsessed town like San Diego. Every other day Jake wondered why the bane of his career hadn't just gone on to work in the Veterans museum, he would be a real treasure there! While Jake would be free to finally do some meaningful work with the power he'd be given. And the possibilities would be endless, really, once he got the reins to do as he pleased.

"Psst!"

A sharp whisper caught his attention, and he turned his head to the doorway.

Carole was leaning against the decorative frame that marked the entrance, with her hand resting on her hip and a fond smile aimed his way . The dull light of the projector was casting her in a monochromatic light, but even then Jake could bet his entire salary that the long dress she was wearing matched the abstract impressionist paintings she had been assembling across the hallway.

She beckoned him over to which he scrunched his brows and motioned with his head in Larry's direction. He was already one ill-considered comment away from being on the man's shit list this week.

He mouthed sorry to her and shrugged apologetically, to which she just rolled her eyes and stepped in the room with her usual confidence. "Hi Larry!"

Larry looked away from the photo of three tomcats in a line formation over a desert that was now illuminating the room. Normally, everyone in the museum knew not to interrupt the man's little lecture, and Jake had witnessed more than one intern crying in the cafeteria over the years, after Larry took them aside and gave them a piece of mind. But Carole Bradshaw seemed to find her way into everyone's good graces, including an old fossil like Larry.

"Carole, hello dear." His face softened and he nodded his head at her with a smile. Jake was still shocked his face could actually do that.

"Can I borrow your assistant real quick?" She grabbed Jake's shoulders from behind and offered Larry her most charming smile. "I promise I'll give him back before the next group." Jake suddenly felt like a child being snatched for a school play rehearsal in the middle of math class.

"Well, I suppose…" Larry knitted his brows in thought.

"You're the best, he'll be back before you know it!" Carole quickly steered him out of the room by his shoulders before Larry could get another word out.

Once outside, she motioned for him to follow her down the hall. He trotted after his unexpected savior obediently until he fell into step beside her.

"Since you already have the Larry manual, would it hurt to put in a word for me?" he asked hopefully once they were safely out of earshot.

"Oh come on, he has a plenty good opinion of you." She said, rolling her eyes fondly. "You're his favorite assistant!"

"He only has one assistant, and I'm pretty sure his name is Jack." He couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice, even if Carole was the one to rescue him from his misery today and he should be grateful.

"Who's Jack?" she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"I am! He doesn't remember my name after three years of running his boring errands!" he huffed in annoyance. At some point during those tedious three years, he stopped correcting Larry. Following the festival of dumb strategies that yielded no result, wearing a neon name tag or jokingly addressing himself in third person for a week included, he just resigned himself to being Jack.

The sound of his phone buzzing echoed in the empty hallway. The most annoying string of letters he knew in his life greeted him from the screen and made him shove the offending device back into his pocket. He wasn't going to spoil his day even further.

Carole gave him a curious look. "You still haven't blocked that boy? Why?"

Jake just shrugged. There was no point explaining it to Carole if he didn't know what he was going to do about his ex's offer yet. As it were, none of his current options were very appealing.

Jake had moved to San Diego with Chad. Or, because of Chad. They both graduated art school and Jake was looking to be anywhere but Austin. Chad suggested moving to California together and it seemed like as good a place as any at that time. But it wasn't long until his their careers and social life stopped aligning, same as their views on the relationship - in the sense that Jake's encounter with a buck-naked stranger in his own bedroom one day was not something he was willing to negotiate on. The only fact that made that sour affair bearable was the fact that mentally, Jake had been one foot out of that relationship already. He wouldn't say there were no hard feelings, but he had left them with Chad, along with a ridiculously high rent and a few well-crafted epithets to hit the guy's ego just right.

They hadn't been keeping in contact, but Chad came over a few weeks back, while Jake was having a particularly miserable day with Larry. Having his douchebag of an ex witness the tragedy that was Jake's career was the last thing he needed, but there it was. Apparently he had offended the universe in his past life or something. He had the gall to offer Jake a job at his new boyfriend's gallery. Jake hadn't hesitated to tell him exactly where he could shove that lovely offer, but Chad was there to see what Jake's day looked like. He told him to think it over and that he would get back to him for an answer in a couple of weeks.

Jake had been pretty confident he wouldn't even consider it, at that moment. Sure, Larry didn't give him much room for creativity or anything other than following his exact instructions for that matter. But that was a lesser blow to his pride than working under his ex and their new beau would be. He had his pride, for Christ's sake. That's what he had thought. But lately each day at the museum made him question how low he would stoop to give his career a push.

As for Carole, as much as she liked to mother him, and virtually everyone else in the building, he was a grown ass man and didn't need her opinion on that part of his life. Luckily she wasn't one to drag such things out of him so after a moment of silence she just nodded in understanding and resumed her walk, Jake falling into step beside her once again, glad to avoid that particular topic.

"I can always tell Larry that you changed your name." She suggested after a moment of walking in silence.

Jake snorted. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna work."

They reached the cafeteria in the basement and Carole ordered them both coffees. Jake raised one brow.

"You rescue me from my job and now buy me coffee?"

Carole raised her own brows in fake innocence. "What, I can't have coffee with my favorite coworker?"

Jake gave her an unimpressed look. He has long learned that Carole Bradshaw could use her sweet and caring charm to manipulate you into anything. And you would even thank her for it later. That was one hell of a hurricane trapped in the body of a sweet middle aged woman.

She finely sighed and yielded, her posture deflating. "I'm in a bit of a pickle you see." She grabbed the coffees that were placed on the counter for them and guided him to take a seat at one of the small, plastic tables. "You know how we're hosting live drawing sessions on Fridays?"

He sure did. He saw people come up to Carole to praise the initiative more than once, and he himself had to admit it was a nice idea. From what he heard they managed to get some good lighting and a stage organized in one of the cafes downtown. There was even someone on site giving thematic lectures on that week's medium of choice, or some such. Jake could definitely appreciate the organizational effort that went into that endeavor.

"'Course I do. But let me stop you right there. I'm not taking my clothes off in front of your class, no matter how many coffees you buy me." He said with a mischievous grin, which earned him an unimpressed look.

"Well shoot, here goes my plan. Maybe I'll ask Larry then."

His smile dropped and he wrinkled his face at the images that conjured. He pushed his coffee away with his index finger dramatically. "Ugh, thanks. Now it's gonna live in my head until I can get a lobotomy."

She rolled her eyes fondly at his antics and pushed his coffee back to him.

"I'm serious though. I need to ask you a favor." Her mouth curved into a teasing smile. "But you keep your clothes on the whole time, I promise."

"Okay then, what's this big favor about?"

"It's not a big favor, just… a favor"

Jake raised his brows. "Okay?" he made a 'go on' motion with his hand. Carole sighed heavily.

"We have this lecture slash workshop thing going there. We don't want these people to just sit there and draw, they can do it from their own homes these days.

"We always had Callie from the conservation handle that part, since she knows it all, you know? I didn't even have to worry about that, she would just come and sweep these people off their feet." He could certainly believe that. He saw Callie in her element more than once whenever he wandered down to the conservation. "And they don't just come there and leave afterwards, they all really try to help keep this thing going. That's how we got the spot at that cafe in the first place, one of the girls called in a favor with the owner, just so we could have a bigger space for everyone. "

Jake nodded slowly, still not sure where this was going.

"But now that Callie had to leave for that family emergency yesterday, I'm left with no one to fill in for her! And I have absolutely no idea about that stuff, Jake."

Uh-oh.

"So, since you have an art degree and are an artist yourself, I thought-"

"No."

"Oh come on Jake, you'd be-"

"No. Sorry, but no." He shook his head hard and took the sip of his coffee, while Carole looked at him with disbelief.

"Why not? You can actually draw and have the skills to help them if they struggle. You don't even have to give any lecture or anything, just go around and give them pointers if they need some, that's all."

She quirked her head at him knowingly.

"I think it would be good for you too, honey"

She sounded worried, which should annoy Jake. He hated when people seemed to worry about him, like there was something wrong that he couldn't see. Of course there was something wrong. But he did see. he just didn't have many options to turn his life around right now.

"It could be fun! You want to take care of those exhibitions at some point in the future, right? Talk about them, teach people something valuable?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"Well, see this as your free trial run! You can see what works and what doesn't, how you work with the crowd and what not. It's part of the job too, am I wrong?"

He sighed heavily, already regretting that he allowed her to get to him.

"Maybe."

"Perfect! I'll text you the address." She beamed at him and started gathering her things, as if the topic was done and agreed on. He frowned.

"Where are you going? Thought we were having coffee and rescuing me from Larry."

"I know but I have loads to do today, sorry. Be there by seven?" She smiled at him and hurried out of the room, leaving Jake with his mouth half open on another question. He looked after her and sighed heavily,

That's how he found himself in front of a quaint little cafe with a pastel canopy over the little green area, garden chairs stacked on top of one another, signaling it was closed for the day. He couldn't see anything through the door, only the warm orange of the setting sun reflected in the dimmed glass.

He took a breath and went inside, praying that he wouldn't make an ass of himself. He had spent the last few days thinking about his game plan for this class. Carole told him he wouldn't need to give a lecture or do much other than just supervise and help if needed, but he wasn't one to do anything at half throttle. He had a few ideas of what he could do here and he would decide once he had an idea of the crowd. Although he still wasn't one hundred percent sure if he was doing it of his own free will, or if Carole manipulated him into it.

The cafe was bigger than it seemed on the outside, squished between other old buildings. There already was a stage, Jake presumed they had some live music going on here during open hours, so that made it perfect. There was a big, warm light installed above it, currently illuminating the lonely chair that was placed there. Jake assumed it was for the sitter, because a few people were already settling on the floor, blankets and wine glasses scattered in the broad area.

He scanned the room and saw Carole talking with a short, scantily dressed man in the corner, so he made his way there.

"Mav I already told you, you can even keep your pants on, there's no need to take off all of your clothes."

Well, the man clearly missed the memo, because he was currently standing in nothing but his underwear under a piece of pretty flimsy robe. "I'm telling you, you may not find another model willing to take off their clothes here, and I'm offering my body to the arts, come on!"

Jake stood off to the side watching that weird scene play out in front of him with a smirk. The man had a point, for an old guy he did seem to have an impressive set of muscles on him. And if he was not prudent about it, Jake could appreciate the chance to do some anatomy intro before they started drawing.

Carole noticed him in that moment, a kind smile lighting her face.

"Jake, come here! This is my friend Mav, he's gonna sit for us today."

The man shook his hand with a wide smile. "Nice to meet you Jake. Can you please tell Carole over here," she rolled her eyes at him. "-that it is in everyone's artistic interest that I have the least clothes possible?"

Jake pretended to look at him in thought.

"Well, Mav, I must say it will be interesting to analyze the muscles on an older body, you're right that people may benefit from that." He said nodding in agreement.

"I assume most volunteer models you get are younger than Mav here, right Carole?" he raised his brows in question, barely keeping the serious look on his face.

Mav gasped at his clear bait. "Older body? I'll have you know I'm not that old, thank you very much."

Carole shot him an unimpressed look.

"I'm standing right here Mav and I'm ready to out your birth year if you keep lying." she warned him.

The man scowled at her, huffing in annoyance.

"I don't know where you find all those young smart-asses to annoy me, Carole. As if I didn't have enough of that at work."

"You were worse than them when you were younger, don't forget."

"Yeah." he looked in the distance with a dreamy smile.

Jake furrowed his brows. God but Carole knew the weirdest people. And seeing as he was included in that circle, it probably didn't bode well for him. Well.

They made their way to set up the stage, Carole explaining Jake how Callie usually started the meeting and how she used to make rounds around the participants. While they were talking, Mav was trying out some poses and Jake couldn't help but snort when he saw the man turn the chair around and straddle it with his chin propped up on its back.

"It's not a boudoir photo shoot, you know." he joked.

Mav narrowed his eyes at him.

"Carole, make sure he and Bradley never meet." He said, not taking his eyes off Jake.

"I feel like I'm talking to a blond version of that menace, two of them in the same room would make the universe implode." he deadpanned.

Jake just shot him his widest grin in response and turned back to the amused Carole.

"Bradley, that's your son, right?" She nodded with a warm smile.

He remembered her mentioning the name a few times. And seeing as Carole was the most eccentric and fun person he knew, he always had the mental picture of her son as this docile hippie, especially after all the sweet things Carole would tell him about sometimes. How he gardened with her in his free time, or that one time that he supposedly took her to that Led Zeppelin photography exhibition as a surprise. Didn't really seem like the kind of guy to harass Mav on a daily basis.

More people were filtering in, greeting Carole and glancing curiously at Jake after Carole would introduce him. He was feeling a bit uneasy under all that scrutiny but he guessed Carole was right. It was his trial run if he ever got to handle his own events.

They were waiting for a few more regulars and five minutes away from starting, when Mav's phone buzzed and he made his way to the back of the room. They watched him gesticulate animatedly and move his phone away from his ear to whisper-shout something inaudible. After a minute or so of the same, he scuffed back towards them, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"Everything alright?" Carole worried.

"Yeah, everything is great." His smile couldn't be less convincing.

Her own phone buzzed in that moment and she glanced at Mav skeptically before going to answer it.

What ensued shortly after was a whispered hissing match between the two, after it turned out Mav could not in fact be their model today. He apparently volunteered only to get out of some official dinner with his husband's boss? Jake wasn't sure why it was that big of a deal though, he doubted the guy was the president or something.

"Please Carole, don't make me go there, I suck at those things, you know that!"

"I don't care, it's none of my business Mav!" Jake never saw her that annoyed at someone.

"I'm left without a model now! This is a disaster." She ran a hand through her blond locks that were already all over the place, the other hand on her hip, her composure slipping at yet another setback for their session.

Mav opened his mouth but she pointed a finger at him in warning. "Not another word from you, mister. Get dressed and get out of here before Ice comes and drags you out himself." She watched after him as he scuffed to where he left his clothes, head hanging low like he resigned to whatever fate he was apparently trying to escape with this stunt.

Carole shook her head with a heavy sigh and looked up as if asking for patience from some higher powers.

Mav changed quickly and made his way to the door, slipping on a leather jacket, which in Jake's opinion was a bold move for an August afternoon in San Diego. But then again, Mav didn't seem like the most sane person out there, so there was that.

"That son of yours was finished with his class early today I think, maybe he will be free." He threw over his shoulder before opening the door and disappearing in the afternoon crowd passing by the cafe, the door bell jingling behind him.

Huh, so the hippie son was a teacher? He didn't know that.

Jake looked at Carole, not sure what to do. Was the whole thing cancelled? He wouldn't mind honestly, could use an afternoon to lay around, maybe go for a walk at the beach. But he knew Carole wasn't a quitter either.

She seemed lost in her thoughts for a moment before she snapped out of it and grabbed her phone, typing something quickly. The pang of a text came less than a minute later. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at whatever it said and typed something back. When another response came she pocketed the phone in her cardigan and looked at Jake victoriously.

"Not all is lost, we'll be fine." With that determined look back on her face, she spun on her foot and made her way to their stage, waving her hand for him to follow. She stood before the chair and motioned for Jake to sit.

"I haven't been promoted to a sitter, right?" he wondered with a smirk as he sat in the chair.

"Don't worry, Bradley said he'll be here in a few minutes. We can adjust the lighting in the meantime."

She cocked her hip and tapped her chin with a finger in thought, taking a step back and judging something.

"We need to move it." She declared finally. "Can you get the ladder from the back?"

As it turned out, Carole didn't have a set vision for what she wanted the lighting to be, so after a few minutes he was still stuck on the ladder, reaching out and moving the lamp this way and that. He was reaching out as far as he could to angle it just right when the door bell jingled. Carole looked over and smiled brightly, making her way to whoever just showed up and leaving Jake alone with the lamp.

"Yeah, sure, I'll just wait here, no biggie." he muttered sarcastically. After adjusting the lamp one final time he looked at his work and deemed it good enough.

"Jake, come meet Bradley!" Carole's voice called from where she ran off, to greet the famous son apparently.

He looked over from where he was perched on the ladder and almost lost his grip on the thing.

Standing beside Carole was at least six feet of ridiculously long, denim-clad legs, and toned muscles. He had aviators hooked onto the neckline of his tank top, exposing his toned chest even more. Short, brown curls were sticking every which way and Carole - no, scratch that, his mom, was currently reaching out to playfully ruffle them even more. That was Bradley? No fucking way. It did not match a single thing he knew about the guy. Hippie teachers with love for gardening shouldn't look like that, right? Right?

Carole turned to look at him when he did not move from the ladder. She furrowed her brows. "Jake?"

Okay, so the guy was not bad looking, contrary to Jake's presumptions. Big deal. He was not a blushing high schooler to fall off the ladder over some muscles. He made his way down and went to greet the man.

As he moved closer he saw that whatever points the guy earned for his good looks were clearly evened down by the ridiculous mustache he had, and an even more preposterous Hawaiian shirt hanging from his broad shoulders. The neckline of his tank top, made lower by the aviators tucked in there, revealed a dusting of chest hair that had Jake quickly looking up, which was maybe an even bigger mistake. He was greeted with honey brown eyes looking curiously at him, a slight smirk building on the man's face, his mustache lifting slightly along the corner of his mouth. A lonely ray of the setting sun was illuminating his face, which was littered with silver strips of some old scars. Jake had the sudden urge to go grab the closest canvas and begin putting those details there immediately, before they disappeared in front of him.

Carole was the one to finally speak, after Jake just stood there for a minute, lost in his weird little trance.

"Um, Jake, this is Bradley, my son. Jake will be overseeing the drawing session." she explained with a smile.

Jake cleared his throat, shaking himself from whatever possessed him just now. "Hi, it's a pleasure, I've heard a lot about you." He stuck his hand out.

Bradley raised his brow, but took his hand and shook it firmly. His palm was warm and calloused. From the gardening, probably?

"Did you? Does my mom brag about her perfect son all the time in here?" He grinned at Carole, who gave him an indulgent look.

"Don't worry, only the embarrassing stuff honey."

As much as she joked though, Jake had only heard the best and sweetest things about the guy throughout the years, however random and apparently misleading they might have been.

"And you've heard about Jake. You know, Jake from the museum?"

He smiled seemed to falter slightly at that for some reason. What, didn't Jake look like someone who could work at a museum?

The guy, - Bradley, Jake kept reminding himself, however detached hottie McGee in front of him was from the image he created over the years - offered him an awkward smile.

"You're Jake from the museum?"

Jake looked at him quizzically. Haven't they just established that? Maybe the guy wasn't the brightest tool in the shed then. There must have been a cost to those muscles after all.

"What, do I disappoint in person?"

Something sparked in Bradley's eyes . "That remains to be seen, doesn't it? I mean, I've just met you."

"Should I jump through a hoop and do a back flip for you?" he asked dryly.

The man hummed in thought, clearly amused if the light twitch of his mustache was any indication.

"I mean, if you want to. I thought we were supposed to teach people how to draw, though?"

He was messing with Jake and that wouldn't stand. He was the one in control in such situations. He was the confident, cocky bastard that made people uncomfortable, who did his guy think he was to usurp that title? And after knowing him for less than five minutes! If he thought he could one up Jake at this game then he was in for a hell of an evening. He stood taller and measured this guy with a look.

"We? Oh I'm sorry, I thought you were just supposed to sit pretty and I would be doing the actual teaching. But be my guest, wow us with your skills."

Bradley took a step closer and to his annoyance, was now looking down at him slightly, seeming to have an inch or so on Jake.

"You think I'm pretty?" his smirk grew and Jake huffed in disbelief.

"Not what I said."

"That's what I heard."

"Well, that tracks. You don't seem like the kind of guy who can handle complex sentences."

He responded with a low chuckle, visibly undeterred by Jake's direct blow to his intelligence.

"That's all you got?"

What the hell was this guy's problem?

Carole finally snapped. "Okay, wrap it up! We have things to do, I don't have time for whatever that is." Jake blushed brightly, because for a moment he forgot she was still there. She walked past them and Jake could hear her mutter something that sounded like 'Mav' and 'right.'

Jake looked pointedly at Bradley, as if to tell him 'it's your fault she's pissed' and walked after Carole to get things started.

They got Bradley situated in the chair to check the lighting one more time. He already lost his shirt and was sitting in the washed out denim jeans and a tight tank top. Jake originally planned to get a study of the upper body anatomy after Carole mentioned her friend was fine with that. But while he was cool with Mav's state of undress, he wasn't sure asking Bradley to lose the top as well would do well for Jake's wit. Or for that guy's ego, Jake suspected.

Bradley did eventually take it off, but It was Carole who had to request that.

"Jake, didn't you say you wanted him topless?"

Jake's ears burned at the phrasing and the smug asshole just lounged in the small chair, that annoying little tilt to his mustache back in place. "Hmm, did you?"

Jake sputtered at that, not sure why he was embarrassed, he was a professional. He did lots of figure studies when at uni and a few after that, he was not bothered by nudity.

"I- well, I did think that- "

Bradley stood up, swiftly ridden himself of the thin material, and plopped back down, grinning at him smugly.

"There. Better?"

He couldn't help but look. If the guy's arms were impressive in that tank top, the rest of him was just as rewarding to watch. He wasn't your regular Calvin Klein model though. He had muscles alright, but also a delicious layer over them made it look oh so biteable - objectively speaking, that is. His stomach rolled a bit where he was slouched in the chair and Jake must have tied his own noose moving that lamp before, because it highlighted all the dips and ridges of his body perfectly.

He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction though. So what, the smart-ass was hot. It happened. Jake would know, because he may be a museum worker, but he took care of his body, and contrary to his jokes with Carole, would not have a problem with sitting for the session.

He schooled his expression into what he hoped was one of bored indifference, and met Bradley's amused stare - as if the man could hear every thought in Jake's head. "Should I thank you for doing what you came here to do? I wasn't planning do to a study of your shirt." He quipped.

Carole chose that moment to come back from the back room and handed them each a glass of wine. They thanked her and dropped the bickering for now, neither of them brave enough to continue it in front of her.

They began the session shortly after that. Jake greeted everyone and ran his idea for the lesson by them, ready to abort and do something else if they wanted to. Luckily everyone was on board and they got on with it. He did a short introduction, conjuring all the useful details he remembered his own professors giving him at the beginning.

He set up his own easel in front of them but didn't touch the charcoal. Instead he started making rounds around the room. He looked at Bradley from time to time, if only to make sure the imprint his muscles left in his mind was correct, and each time saw the guy's curious gaze following him. Hi tilted his head to the side some time ago and Jake thought it was a nice addition so he told him to keep it like that.

Once they moved to the actual paint,he gave them all some space and stuck to his spot at the front of the group. He looked up at the stage and was once again fascinated.

Now that Bradley stopped following his every move around the room, he was just gazing in the distance. There was something almost sad in those golden-brown eyes, and it made Jake grab his charcoal without thinking. He drew soft lines here and there, focusing on rendering that look with round smudges. He was already thinking what color he would use for them, how the bluish shadows under the man's eyes made the amber in them even more prominent. There were stories written in his irises, paragraphs squeezed into tiny font that made up the jagged rings at their center, the stories changing with their hue when the setting sun lit them up from different angles. He was transfixed, the person in front of him a complete opposite of the man he was squabbling with just a moment ago. It made his hands move seamlessly, every wrong line looking more right than ever before.

"Remember, don't erase your sketch. Each line tells you something, you put it there for a reason. Let it tell the story of how you see the subject." He muttered the advice almost absentmindedly, all focus now on the canvas and the man before him, yet his voice carried loud and clear in the half-empty room.

When he looked up again, a curious glint appeared in the golden pools he was so focused on, drawing him in even more, and it took him a minute to realize it was focused on him. As if the roles were reversed in their small bubble and he was the one being studied now.

But he stared back, unashamed, with the canvas as his shield. Only this time, he once again took in the entirety of the man's face and found himself unable to focus only on his eyes anymore. The silver threads of scars laid embroidered down his cheeks and chin. Little grooves peppered his sun kissed skin here and there, a lone freckle rested on his cheekbone. Another one, barely noticeable, marked the bridge of his nose.

He noticed how his mustache was trimmed, and that it didn't cover his lips like it did for some. How his hair seemed longer at the first glance, but was actually neatly cut as well, the sides fading to a close buzz. There were little streaks that appeared almost blond in the warm light of their makeshift studio. The man looked soft like this, and Jake could not imagine drawing him any other way, so he angled his charcoal flat against the surface and proceeded to pour that gentleness into new lines. He felt the weight of Bradley's gaze with each twist of his hand above the canvas.

As the last people were filtering out, a couple of them lingering to say goodbye to Carole, Jake was trying to get the stage back to what he assumed it looked like before. He was grabbing the ladder to fix the lamp back to its original position, when a big hand beat him to it. He turned around with a scowl to see Bradley already setting it up and climbing the steps. He looked at Jake over his shoulder.

"You mind telling me how it was before? I'll move it back."

Jake huffed annoyed. "I can do it myself. I moved it in the first place so I'll fix it." He began climbing the other side of the ladder and Bradley tried to stop him, so he shot him an unimpressed look.

They measured each other with challenging stares until finally Bradley cracked.

"Okay then, go on." He conceded and stepped down, leaving victorious Jake at the top.

"But I'll stay here and spot you just in case."

Jake agreed, that was actually nice of him. Even if he had been perfectly capable to do it all alone in the first place.

"After all," a slow smirk was building on the man's face. "You seemed to almost fall from it when I came here earlier."

Jake almost lost his grip again and wobbled a bit. Goddamn, the dickhead was observant.

That made Bradley smile victoriously. "See, told you. Better safe than sorry." He held his hands up around Jake's hips, not touching but ready to catch him quickly if he lost his balance. It would be endearing if the guy wasn't annoying the last cell out of Jake's body with his easy smugness and confidence.

He decide he wouldn't give in to this obvious goading and proceeded to move the lamp back to how it was originally angled. Once that was fixed, he quickly stepped down the ladder and felt his back collide with a solid wall of heat. He turned around and blinked at the man, who didn't move from his spot. Jake raised his eyebrows expectantly. The guy was looking at him with a curious expression, but what was so interesting to Bradley was beyond him. Jake looked down and realized the man was still very much shirtless, and felt the heat raise to his cheeks. How could teachers manage to spend that much time in the gym anyway?

Bradley seemed to realize he was missing a shirt in that moment as well and he stepped back, clearing his throat.

"Do you guys need my help with anything else?" he proceeded to step past Jake and grab the ladder to put it back in place quickly.

Jake looked around and found Carole bidding goodbye to the last person. He already cleaned up the main area and the stage, the place looked like a regular cafe after hours now.

"I think we're pretty much done here. Um, but thanks, for being cool with sitting for this session, it was really important for Carole." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Bradley offered him a warm smile.

"Yeah, those sessions are everything to her." he looked at his mother across the room, where she was organizing some extra supplies they ended up not needing. There was a shadow of sadness cloaking his eyes, dimming the playful gleam for a moment, but was gone before Jake could think about it any harder. Those honey-brown pools looked his way again, this time with interest.

"That something you do? Teaching art?"

He couldn't help but snort at that.

"No, not really."

"Oh?"

"I'm an assistant curator. Not much practical teaching going on in a museum, you know."

Bradley just looked at him, with that curious look again. Like there was another, contradicting answer written on Jake's face whenever he spoke and Bradley couldn't make sense of it.

"You seemed good at it." he finally said.

Jake thought about it for a moment. He did have a good time today, and was almost surprised to admit it himself. Drawing hadn't felt so easy for him in years, as if someone was guiding his hand and he was just in for the ride, curious to see the shapes appear on the canvas, wondering where the next stroke would take him. It made helping the others with their pieces easier and almost… fun? Perhaps he could see why Carole loved it so much.

He nodded in thanks at Bradley, unsure how to respond to this compliment. Luckily Carole came to rescue him from coming up with something.

"That was a success, don't you think?" She beamed at them.

Bradley looked at Jake, the smirk back in place. "You found such a dedicated teacher, so no wonder."

"Isn't he?" she agreed enthusiastically and dragged Jake in to squeeze him into a tight hug with one hand. "You boys both did a great job, you're life savers."

She dragged Bradley in for a hug with her other hand and they must have looked ridiculous - two grown man squeezed by that petite woman a head shorter than them. He caught Bradley looking at him over her blonde locks and he gave a tentative smile in response.

Carole seemed to notice in that very moment that Bradley was, still, very much shirtless.

"Son, will you put on a shirt? I'm not walking with you through the city looking like you forgot how to dress yourself." she slapped his arm and shooed him away. Bradley rolled his eyes affectionately and went to grab his top, along with the monstrosity of a shirt Jake was still refusing to consider could be a deliberate fashion choice.

Jake took that moment to grab his own canvas and wrap it quickly. He wasn't sure he would be here next week to work on it with the rest of the group and wasn't comfortable with it lying around here for everyone to see. He said goodbye to Carol and shot a quick 'see you around' to Bradley, who was buttoning his shirt in the corner. His hand paused midair and fell, almost looking disappointed that Jake was going, which was a ridiculous thought, Jake reminded himself. He left the dark cafe quickly, the chime of the doorbell cut off once the door shut behind him. He breathed in the coastal breeze that was slowly cooling the warm sidewalk. He thought about calling an Uber but decided against it. The sky was smudged with purples and oranges, fading darker by the minute at this hour, the street lights already lit, and it seemed like as good a night as any for an evening walk.

Larry was sick.

Well. Sick was a big word. He apparently choked on a pretzel the other day, and while he coughed it out fine in the end, he scratched his throat badly and couldn't talk for a week or so. And seeing as they were a two-person department, that left Jake in charge.

When he first got the news upon coming in on Monday, he felt dizzy with excitement, and the possibilities flashed before his eyes, of what he would do with the chance he was given. That excitement was quickly dampened once he learned that Larry, like the diligent little bee that he was, had already began planning the next exhibition and Jake couldn't change what was officially submitted and approved. Instead, he was left with vague instructions and no idea how to approach the rest of it without running to Larry for help. And that was not an option. Instead of a long-awaited blessing and an answer to his prayers, he got a bucket of cold water, reminding him that no power above nor below would change the way things worked around him. And his place in all of that.

It had been the final straw that made him pick up the phone and finally call back the number he'd been ignoring for the past couple of weeks. To his credit, Chad didn't try to add insult to injury after the small victory, but Jake was sure it was coming sooner or later. Probably sooner, since he was set to meet with him two weeks after Larry's exhibition. He hadn't decided anything, but the frustration of his current predicament made him finally consider it.

He wasn't that big of a fool, he knew what working for his ex entailed. So if it came to it, he could make his piece with the fact that the first thing he would do in his new job was to find a nice spot in the backyard and dig up a hole to bury his pride.

Until then, he still had to make sure that the one time he was left in charge in his current job wouldn't go down in history as the worst exhibition this museum had ever seen.

He was resting his forehead on the filthy cafeteria table. There was some soup spilled on there somewhere but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Instead he just let out a frustrated groan and hit his head against the cool surface. He heard someone pushing out the chair in front of him and throwing things at the table, next to his head.

"What's up with you? Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

He lifted his head slightly and peaked at Carole, who started to assemble her salad from several small containers she took out of her bag.

"Does being stuck with an impossible task during the only time you could prove yourself in your career call for a celebration?"

He couldn't even muster enough energy to pour enough sarcasm into his words. He went back to banging his head against the table.

Carole hummed at that. He heard her crunch down on something and she was silent for a minute.

"What's the theme there?" She asked finally.

"What can the theme be with Larry in charge? Because he's still very much in charge. I'm just a little minion left to do all his work."

He wasn't even sure she could hear him with how he was mumbling in the table. He finally sighed heavily and lifted his head. He felt his hair standing in all directions, and from the look she was giving him, he probably looked like shit in more ways than that.

"It's about the navy. Some pilot shit, as usual."

Carole studied him for a long moment, chewing on her salad. She fished her phone from her bag and, after another weird, analyzing look that was making him want to squirm in his chair from the sudden attention, she typed something quickly. She locked her phone after that and went back to her salad.

"I might be able to help you with that." she was shuffling the salad around with a fork, as if looking for something.

He doubted it very much, unless she could hack Larry's brain and give him some inside tips.

"Are you secretly a navy specialist?"

She finally forked an exceptionally ripe cherry tomato and looked up from her salad, giving him another look.

"I think you'll appreciate the insight of my personal expert more. But I have one condition." She pointed the skewered tomato at him in warning and raised her brows. "You have to at least try to be civil, got it?"

He looked at her skeptically and snatched the tomato from her fork. He popped in his mouth like a candy and smiled widely around the mouthful.

"I don't know why you'd think I wouldn't. I'm a saint." He gestured at himself as if to prove it further with his angelic looks.

He got an indulgent smile in response. Carole finished the rest of her salad while he was silently wondering who she possibly knew that could help him with this exhibition. She didn't offer any more details so he didn't push, was just glad he had something to hang onto and that there was a small chance he wouldn't make an ass of himself by creating the worst exhibition ever.

She finally stood up and began packing her bag to leave. Jake still had at least another hour of doing absolutely nothing until the delivery marked in Larry's schedule was supposed to arrive.

"You're still here after three tomorrow, right?"

"I finish at six, still waiting for some of the Gulf War stuff to get collected." he nodded.

"Perfect. Bradley should be here sometime before four, hopefully. But I'll give him your number just in case" She was packing her bag and must have missed how Jake's jaw slackened ad he gaped at her in disbelief. She continued packing her things and he finally shook his head and leaned forward because that couldn't be right.

"Bradley? As in your son?" he clarified.

She hummed in confirmation and slung the bag over her shoulder. He frowned, trying to process it. How exactly was that helpful in Jake's current predicament?

He remembered in that moment that the guy obsessed with posing nude - Mav, that was the name - mentioned something about Bradley finishing with his class early. Was he a teacher? Jake wasn't convinced that some high school historian with a dodgy degree (because who knows?) in history, could handle what Larry expected of that exhibition. And, by extension, of Jake.

"And what exactly did you say he taught?" Maybe the guy was at least some professor, he hoped. Carole looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"I didn't." She moved to leave, stopping by Jake and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure you boys will figure out a game plan for this thing in no time."

With that she went to get back to her responsibilities, but Jake remembered something. "Wait!"

She turned around and lifted an eyebrow.

"Why did you tell me to behave? What about him?" he scowled. Jake wasn't the one to start their back and forth the last time they saw each other, why was he the one getting told to be civil?

Carole shook her head with a grin. "Don't worry, he'll get his own lecture." She assured, and turned back to disappear behind the glass door of the cafeteria.

Jake was left looking around dumbly, not sure what he just got himself into. Again.

It was nearing three already and he was pacing. All that was left of the previous exhibitions has been cleared out of their wing's gallery today, and he was staring at the blank walls, marked with faded squares of paint in the spots where paintings would hang most often. He had the notes and instructions from Larry laid out on the floor in front of him, but had as much luck with coming up with some course of action for that as he had yesterday.

After the whole day of deliveries and pick ups, answering calls from people that Larry had apparently already reached out to and trying not to look beyond incompetent when he didn't know what to tell them, he felt like he had been run over by a truck. He stopped in front of the vintage mirror they had hanging on one of the walls. His hair was a mess, there was no use even trying to tame it after he'd run his hands through it some hundreds of times today. He tried to smooth out the countless wrinkles on his olive green shirt, but stopped midway through that fruitless attempt. What was he doing? He wasn't here to impress the guy, he was probably going to send him back home when it turned out he was of no use anyway.

But Jake had to begrudgingly admit to himself that there was some part of him, however small and insane, that was excited to see the man. He had been working on the painting he started during that class almost every day since. But with each passing day he felt like he needed to see those soft, almost sad eyes again to be able to really capture it all.

Another part of him, probably the more sane one, felt terrified. Why was he so obsessed with this guy? He tried painting from a reference, finding beautiful pictures of eyes ranging from deep browns to almost greens. But none of them seemed right.

He focused his gaze back at his own reflection. He was being ridiculous. Acting like a lost artist finding a muse in some remotely-handsome guy. Well, maybe more than remotely handsome. The guy had an infuriating skill to pull off the dumbest of looks, that lost piece of Tom Selleck Halloween costume that he had stuck above his upper lip being a perfect example. The hideous hawaiian shirt following close behind.

It didn't matter. Jake had brains enough to know it would be crossing a line, to get hot with Carole's son. And if he was a bit obsessed with the hypnotizing depth of the man's eyes then oh well - he could chalk it up to his artistic tendencies. After all, you don't control what inspires you, or whatever it is they say. And he hadn't spent much time on his own art since he started working here. Bradley was just the first person to sit in front of him and a blank canvas, simple as that.

He heard someone clear their throat to his right and he whipped his head quickly, sure he was caught standing like a moron in front of the mirror by the very guy he was having a silent debate over. His luck was just a tiny bit better, because leaning against the frame was Nat from the reception. She wore a smug look that seemed to never leave her face in his presence, always ready to make fun of him.

"I was gonna tell you there's some guy asking for you but since you're making yourself all pretty you must already know that." she smirked wider.

He threw her an unimpressed look and made his way across the room, straightening his shirt one last time.

"Don't get your hopes up Trace, he's here to help me with this mess. So no juicy gossip for you, sorry." He said and walked past her, and they both made their way back to the main entrance where he guessed Bradley was waiting. He wasn't sure if the man had been here a lot so he'd rather not have to look for him if he got lost.

"You didn't tell me to expect anyone else for you today. Is it possible you're lying and have asked the guy over to chat him up with your 'Mr. Main Curator' gig while you can?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"No, because it's not a thing." he rolled his eyes at her.

They reached the lobby and he saw the familiar figure bending almost in half in front of the anniversary plaque they had installed above the benches by the entrance. He had the same washed out jeans as last time and a white shirt with blue and yellow hibiscus flowers. At least the guy was consistent.

Nat made her way back to the front desk, stopping next to Bradley for a moment to say something and motion in Jake's direction. Bradshaw inclined his head in thanks and looked over at him. Jake took a deep breath and made his way over.

"Bradshaw, as I live and breathe." he drawled as he got closer. The foyer was dimly lit, half the lights already turned off once the last clients left, so he was spared having to gaze too deeply into the soft browns that were now glazing slowly up and down Jake's form. Well, at least he wasn't the only one.

The man's gaze finally landed on Jake's face and he smirked "Jake. You look good."

Shit. This was going to be harder than he thought.

He guided Bradley back to his wing, and noticed him soaking things up eagerly while they passed them. His brows drew together at that.

"You've never been here?" He assumed Carole would bring her son here all the time.

The man tore his gaze away from the painting he stopped over to admire, just a few feet away from the room they were headed to. He tilted his head and gave Jake a strange look.

"No. Never had the time, until recently." He followed Jake inside the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Jake smiled at that involuntarily.

Bradley fixed him with a questioning look.

"Sorry, just… I suppose it's a good sign you already walk like Larry. Maybe if you get into character enough we can really crack this thing." he joked.

Bradley just hummed at that and nodded. "Old habits die hard I suppose."

Jake had no idea what that was supposed to mean. But Bradley was already crouching over the notes laid out on the floor, so Jake joined him and started explaining what they had to stick to and what instructions Larry left him.

"So what do you do, exactly? Carole didn't tell me and no offense, but maybe we're both wasting time here."

Bradley looked at him incredulously. "I teach. That good enough for you?" There was a hint of amusement in that question, and Jake didn't see how any of this could be funny. He huffed an annoyed breath and stood up, now hovering over the other man.

"Well, if you're here to offer me your high school level expertise then I think I can manage that myself."

Bradley stood up as well and turned his way. That's when Jake saw them. Peeking out from the slightly unbuttoned shirt was a metal chain with little tags hooked to it, resting against the tan skin of Bradshaw's chest. Jake's hand moved on its own accord and he had to force it to freeze, inches from the heat he could feel radiating from the man, and the dog tags revealed alongside the sliver of skin.

He snapped out of it and retreated his hand quickly, taking a step back for good measure as well. He cleared his throat.

"You're military." In his defense he didn't plan to sound so accusatory. But what the hell?

Bradley looked at him and a deep line appeared between his brows.

"Yeah? Didn't my mom tell you? When she offered I could help with this."

Jake thought back to his conversation with Carole. And then immediately to all the other conversations where he was bitching at the military simply because he was mad with Larry. To every insult he spit out with ease because it meant nothing to him. God, he was such a jerk.

He winced and ran his hand through his already rumpled hair. He couldn't know, obviously, she never told him her son was military. But that didn't make him any less of a dumbass in hindsight. He had to apologize. Maybe buy her coffee for the rest of the year.

"No, she didn't. And I honestly don't blame her." he sighed in response and shrugged at Bradley's questioning look. "I may not have been very… enthusiastic about that particular profession, in general."

Bradley, to his credit, hummed and nodded.

"Well," he started, taking a step in his direction and erasing the distance Jake had put between them, "I can help you with that."

Jake fought back the urge to take one more step back and put some space between them again. So he only raised his brows, genuine surprise coloring his face. "You will?"

"Sure, that's pretty much what I came here to help you with anyway, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but-"

"Relax." He cut him off. "I'm not some navy obsessed freak. I'm not blind, I know it's far from perfect."

Jake scoffed.

"But I want to show you the part that matters, at least to me." He continued, ignoring his reaction and once again crouching over the notes and moving them around. "I think you may even like it."

"Yeah? And what would that be?" he asked, half relieved that Bradley didn't seem to mind that Jake's attitude towards his employer was less than respectful.

The corner of the man's mouth quirked up in response as he looked up at him from the floor. "People."

And there they were again. Those eyes that kept appearing in his mind, glancing at him from the makeshift stage of some random cafe whenever he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts. How was he supposed to focus on the task at hand when Bradshaw kept looking at him like that? When all he could think about was to start mapping out every single detail that he saw. As if answers to every question he had ever asked were written out for him there in plain words. And yet, at the same time, he felt like there were mysteries waiting for him to be solved. Sadness locked away somewhere, and gentleness that radiated from the man in front of him.

For reasons he could not explain, nor fully comprehend, Bradshaw made him feel all those things with nothing but a look. It was going to be the most challenging two weeks of his career, two weeks he had hoped to use to finally make a stance, prove himself, make a difference. But since that wasn't happening, and the universe decided that following those soft, sad eyes on his miserable journey here was the path he got to trudge - then it seemed like a good enough way to sweeten that time.

When he finally got home that day, he fell face first on his couch and let out a loud groan. His brain was overheating from everything that had been dumped on him over the last few days, and he needed to get a grip on it all. To clear his head and think straight.

He felt his phone vibrate and absentmindedly reached to check it, hoping to see a notification from his delivery guy that the food was on its way, but finding a message from an unknown number instead. He unlocked his phone and was greeted with the longest text he'd ever got from anyone but a spam chain. When he scrolled down, he saw a simple "- B" with a smiley face at the end, and a wall of text that turned out to be a lengthy itinerary of their next four days. One that Bradley had apparently planned in less than an hour since they had gone their separate ways outside the museum.

He huffed an amused breath. Military efficiency if there ever was one. He glanced at the things Bradley planned for them and noticed most of the places were spots that he knew. Huh. He didn't even realise his favorite taco place had anything to do with the military. Maybe he really would learn something useful with Bradshaw after all.

He dropped his phone and lifted himself off the couch and. As if on autopilot these days, he made his way for the canvas he kept propped up by the coffee table. It became almost a ritual to him, to sit down and carefully add new details to the painting. And while his memory had been almost drawing a blank just yesterday, the images from the session slowly fading away, today he had a fresh picture of Bradley in his mind, enriched by all the things he had learned. It seemed just as important in that moment, as if knowing more about Bradley would make the painting more true to its muse.

But when he found himself staring at the fresh paint half an hour later, he discovered that it really did. The collected, faraway expression seared into Jake's irises, giving nothing away, not a twitch in his muscles, didn't mean Jake couldn't see what was hidden underneath.

He got to work with a renewed determination, skimming over the shapes that made up Bradley's cheeks and mouth. Tapped the lightest touch over his lips, for his cupid's bow, and swiped a barely-there shadow under his bottom lip. Laid featherlight strokes where his nose changed its shape and under his eyes, where the tan paint mixed with single bluish brushstroke on each side. He worked methodically, uncovering the man in his mind inch by inch, adding depth to the dips of his muscles. A smooth slide down his exposed throat and a dabble of redness right where the light would hit and expose it.

He worked as the sun was slowly setting behind the buildings and the room was slowly sliding into darkness, once again robbing Jake of the safe warmth of Bradley's eyes, even if it was only their painted likeness. As he was putting his tools away and cleaning up, he thought that he wouldn't have to worry about the memory of that handsome face drifting away. He would have plenty of time to study it now. It was that noble thought of artistic fulfillment that he chose as his excuse for falling asleep smiling, with a certain mustached pilot on his mind.

Over the following week, Jake learned more than he had signed up for.

As it turned out, his favorite taco place had nothing to do with the military. As did the rest of the places on Bradley's list. Well, save for the fact that that week, all of those establishments hosted one, cocky pilot.

"How is us getting tacos helping my problem, exactly?" He asked, sprawling in his favorite booth after ordering. If he was already here, he would at least make the best of it. And Bradshaw was paying.

It was the third day of their operation, and they spent yesterday's afternoon sitting at the beach and talking. He ended up dragging all the details of Bradley's job out of him, still half expecting he was a spy planted by Larry to record all of Jake's bitching at the military and end his carrier in this part of the country.

Surprisingly, Bradley didn't seem to have many opinions on the institution itself. Instead, he told Jake about what he did on a regular day, in as much detail as he was allowed to. Jake learned that Bradley used to fly, but was now only teaching, content on settling down more and causing his mom less stress. Mav, Carole's weird friend, was actually Bradley's godfather, and a pilot himself. Unlike Bradley, he was not planning on giving up flying.

After that, Jake forced Bradley to identify planes that took off from the island. The man seemed to take the job seriously, stressing whenever his squinting didn't help him see the plane any better. It was adorable, as if he had forgotten that Jake had no clue what kind of planes were even used by the military, let alone recognizing them from afar.

Now, they were sitting at his favorite lunch spot, and Jake had no clue as to what exactly Bradshaw's angle could be with this one.

Bradley seemed relaxed as always sitting across from him and sipping his drink, smirking at him over the soda.

"We're getting tacos. You've just ordered."

Jake forced himself not to roll his eyes and just blinked at the other man unimpressed. He had quickly learned that Bradshaw had an annoyingly high tolerance for Jake's… everything, really. All the irritating little quirks and habits that Jake knows drive people insane and make him look like an asshole. Him refusing to speak first after a fight. The well-aimed flattery he exercises to get people to spill something they're not willing to share, or, like in that case, Jake's expectant silence that always manages to force the other person to break first and say whatever comes to their mind. But not Bradley.

If you asked Jake, it's aggravating. And really attractive, unfortunately.

So they sat in silence for the next couple of minutes, stuck in what could only be described as a staring contest. If it w a smiling one, Bradley would lose when they sat down. He seems to be constantly happy about something, and Jake can't figure out what's so funny.

After the waiter left their food in front of them, they both decide to break their little match at the same time and look at the table. There was an extra bowl of olives sitting there that none of them ordered. Jake just shrugged and proceeded to try one, nodding at the taste.

"I must say, I don't really know how olives blend in with the Mexican food, but these are really good" he said when chewing on the free treat. He pushed the bowl across the table and raised his brows expectantly. Bradley just shook his head.

"No thanks, I hate olives." he waived his hand dismissively and proceeded to gather his taco.

Jake just shrugged at that and took the olives back. "Suit yourself, more for me."

They ate in comfortable silence. Once they were finished, Bradley paid and lead them out onto the sunny street. He wasn't sure what he man's main attraction for today was, or if it was any more educational than the yesterday one, but as they walked slowly in a seemingly random direction, Jake could only think about a good nap. As if on cue, a wide yawn forced its way out of him, earning him a chuckle from the man beside him.

He suddenly realized, a bit late for the powers of observation he prided himself in, that they we going in the direction of his apartment. He frowned at that.

"Where are we going again?"

Bradley looked at him, amusement evident in his eyes.

"Where do you think we're going?"

Jake groaned. He didn't have the energy for that game.

Suddenly, a warm arm grabbed him by the waist and dragged him closer. A cyclist passed them a second later, right where Jake had been dragging his feet a moment ago. He lifted his gaze to see Bradley was already looking at him. Snug against the other man's side like that, he was close enough to count the freckles on his nose. A warm breath ghosted against his face as Bradley huffed lightly, smiling a private, little smile at him.

"I'm taking you home, you're tired."

Jake wanted to protest, say he'd never been tired in his life and demand that they do what Bradley had planned for their day. But the man started guiding him, the hand around his waist firm and unmoving. The truth was, Jake had had a long day at the museum before their little taco date. Even though the exhibition was still in process and they had some time to spare, there were other things he had to take care o in their wing. He could usually manage without a nap throughout the day, but taking care of both his and Larry's tasks was starting to exhaust him.

So tried not to overthink it when he stayed in Bradley's half-embrace and let himself be guided to the front door of his building, where Bradley, much too soon in Jake's humble opinion, smoothly uncurled his hand. Jake mourned the loss instantly.

The man opened his mouth but closed them immediately, and scratched his hand at the back of his head.

"I'll let you get some rest. Okay, uh-"

"Do you want to come in?" He blurted out.

What?

Who said that? Did he really just say that?

The shock that was probably apparent on his face was mirrored in Bradley's for a split second. But he had quickly regained his composure when he caught up with the fact that it was Jake's taco brain speaking now. So, ever the gentleman, he smiled and took a cautionary step back.

"Maybe next time, yeah?" Jake just nodded, because what else was there to do? He had gotten himself into this one.

"You get some sleep, Jake. I'll text you about tomorrow." And with that was gone, trotting quickly back the way they came from, and leaving Jake with his wild thoughts and a sudden emptiness at the lack of a warm arm wrapped around him.

As was expected, Bradshaw's ideas of getting him to warm to the navy were pretty unorthodox.

Jake didn't really know what he expected, but it wasn't sitting with a bunch of pilots in a navy bar by the beach on a random Wednesday. Bradshaw had insisted that Jake had to come, to meet his friends and get an inside scoop. God, maybe the guy really got too much into the Magnum, P.I. vibe.

The bar was nothing like what Jake had expected. If anything, it was the first time he would call a bar 'homey'. The Bartender and owner - Penny, as Bradley had introduced her - smiled at him warmly and was genuinely interested in him. Said that 'Any friend of Rooster's was welcome', and that, since they seemed to have finally brought someone nice who's not navy to her bar, the first round was on her.

And he was grateful, because not only did that earn him favorable looks and a few pats to his back from Bradshaw's friends, he also knew his callsign now. And he was going to abuse that knowledge when the time was right.

Seeing as it was a night of many revelations, Jake realized he hadn't heard a word about work from them all evening. He leaned in to the guy who was sitting closest to him, Javy, with whom he seemed to catch an instant connection.

"Are you guys not allowed to talk about your work with civilians?"

The man's brows drew together. "I mean, we can't talk about the classified stuff, but other than that it's fine. Why?"

Jake shrugged, processing the information. He has not heard a single thing about the Navy, but he knew that Javy's sister lived in Texas and was currently on her second year of the same art program as Jake had done. That Omaha had been buying banana smoothies from the same place for the last four months because he's pining over the woman that worked there. The man hated bananas. He now knew that Bob was scared of going home for Christmas because four of his sisters had little kids and they all loved to get a piggy back ride from their uncle, but Bob's back has been killing him lately and he didn't want to disappoint them.

He was standing at the back porch of the bar, watching the sunset and wondering what dreams and worries, crushes and silly doubts were going though the heads of all those little figures in the distance. He saw a flap of a bright shirt from the corner of his eye, right before Bradshaw leaned against the railing beside him, his back to the people and the beach. He turned his face to Jake and just looked at him with an easy smile. The breeze was ruffling his brown locks and the man ran his hand through them a few times. Jake couldn't hide his amusement and chuckled quietly at the bird's nest that the man had just accidentally created on his head.

Bradley seemed to know exactly what he was laughing at because he rolled his eyes and said "Not all of us can have perfect hair no matter what, asshole." He nudged Jake playfully, and he realized they had long crossed the line of this friendly, physical touch. Somewhere along the date-like meetings, that Bradley still insisted were all navy-oriented, and zoning out over a confusing mix of Larry's notes and their own plans, all traces of awkwardness had been lost between them.

"What do you think?"

Jake blinked at him. "About?"

Bradley huffed and gestured vaguely around. "This. We came here so you could try forming opinions based on facts." he tilted his head and raised one brow pointedly.

Jake thought about it for a moment. He turned around and mirrored Bradshaw's pose. He could see the inside of the bar like this.

The group of pilots was playing pool and arguing loudly. They seemed happy, carefree. They looked exactly like a group of people their age should look like.

He turned his head to Bradshaw and saw those familiar pools of warm honey already waiting for him.

They stood like that for a moment, simply looking at each other. The setting sun was almost a pure orange today, and Jake thought for a moment that the other man was sunset incarnate. Everything about him seemed golden, from his hair to his glowing skin, only his shirt providing any contrast and letting Jake distinguish the man before hi. from a blinding ray of California sun. He wondered for a second what it was that Bradshaw saw from his end.

"I think I'm starting to." He offered Bradley a soft smile.

The man hummed with approval and turned around, so that he was now facing the beach, bringing him a few inches closer to Jake.

"So riddle me this Jake." he prompted, a new edge to his tone. "Since you can form. your own opinions well enough, and don't seem to suck at it," he took an audible breath and turned his head his way, pinning Jake with a scrutinizing stare

"Why on earth are you planning to leave and work for that ex of yours?"

Jake registered the question with a few seconds delay, his brain trying to grasp why he's suddenly in a weird dream.

How did Bradley, of all people, know?

He felt as if a heavy weight anchored him to where he stood, behind some navy bar with a man who apparently could now read his mind. There was an empty pit in his stomach and he had to look away from the intensity of Bradley's gaze.

"How do you-"

"How do I know?" Bradley's eyes narrowed at him in disbelief. "Jake, you of all people should know how fast such news travels in your circles."

A bucket of ice-cold realization washed over him and it stung nastily. "So Carole-"

"Obviously. Someone told someone, and that someone told her." He shrugged.

"She's not mad you haven't told her. But she can't go and shake some sense back into you until you tell her yourself." He then turned fully to Jake. If he turned too, they would be nose to nose.

"But I can." he grumbled, all pretense falling from his voice. "What are you thinking? Do you honestly think that guy will treat you like the employee of the month or something?"

He was feeling a headache coming in like an avalanche with every word that spilled from Bradshaw's mouth. There it was, this was exactly why he hadn't told anybody.

Apparently Bradley wasn't done.

"I know you think it's worth it now, but -"

"But what?" He snapped at last. "But I won't think so in a year? Maybe, maybe not. You know what I can be sure of though?"

There was blunt throbbing in his head, he heard it drumming in his ears and he was ready to explode.

"I can guarantee you that in a year, I'd be in the exact same place as now - shuffling slides for Larry's presentations."

"Do you really know it, though?"

He raised his brows in disbelief and let out a dry chuckle. How could Bradley be that naive?

"You honestly think that choking on a pretzel has altered Larry's brain chemistry and he will suddenly treat me like an equal?"

Jake felt like if he stayed there a second longer his head was gonna explode. He took a step away, then another and he shook his head.

"You can think whatever you want of me Bradley. I know what choices I have and I can make my own decisions."

He turned around and walked down the wooden steps along the wall of the bar. He made it a few steps in the sand when a hand grabbed his arm and made him stop. He sighed heavily. Bradshaw really didn't know when to stop.

He didn't turn around. Mostly because he was sure the weight in his head would topple him into sand.

But also because he knew how defenseless he had become against those sad, pleading eyes.

"Bradley-"

"It's not about what I think of you, Jake." he almost begged. Jake wished he could grant him all his wishes. But Bradley just didn't want to see it from his perspective.

"But I think it's very much about what you think of yourself." He squeezed his arm lightly, and Jake gave in, turning around.

Bradley was looking at him with intent, his cheeks flushed pink now.

"You say Larry doesn't treat you like an equal." He started after a moment of silent stares. "But do you treat him like one?"

Has Bradley lost it? Jake was so confused at this point, and all he wanted was to disappear beneath his blankets and not leave his little cave ever again.

But Bradley wasn't done with his crazy talk.

"That's what I've been trying to show you the last few days. That maybe you should try and look at Larry like he's… human, you know."

Bradley let go of his arm. But instead of leaving him be, he took a step closer. He tilted his head and looked at Jake as if he had him all figured out. As if Jake was playing some game and Bradley already knew the outcome.

He lifted his hand and gently, moved a loose strand of hair from Jake's forehead. The moment felt precious, intimate, and Jake closed his eyes, afraid it would shatter if he was looking. He felt the touch move from his forehead to subtly trace down his temple to his cheek.

The featherlight pressure disappeared and Jake opened his eyes. Bradley was watching him, transfixed, now with his hands hanging by his sides. They stood like that for a few heartbeats. Maybe for a few minutes? Bradley finally breathed in slowly and took a steep after step back. Jake watched him go, his heart and head throbbing in the rhythm that matched those steps.

"Think about it Jake." He could have missed those last words, imagining it was the ocean, if not for the fact that his gaze was still fixed on the other man, with every step he took back. When Bradley reached the wooden stairs, Jake told himself to close his eyes. To imagine he hadn't had that conversation. He waited a few seconds. A minute. Three.

When he opened them again, Bradley was gone. But his voice echoed in Jake's head the entire way home.

God, he was nervous. He pulled at the collar of his shirt once again, trying to stop it from closing on his throat tighter and tighter every minute. He was suffocating.

He looked around nervously, and still didn't see the familiar mop of brown curls anywhere.

It was already nearing five, and he was getting restless. What if he wouldn't come?

"Will you calm down already? You'll freak out the guests!" Larry rasped next to him, his face not matching the annoyed tone, as he smiled politely at yet another official who seemed to know him.

Jake just pulled at his collar one more time.

"Besides, everyone seems to love your little experiment, so I don't know what you're so nervous about." Larry scoffed.

How did he get here? Getting compliments from Larry and not giving a flying fuck about it?

Oh well.

Let's just say Bradley's words did knock some sense into him eventually. Turned out it was just an extended release advice, so to speak. Because after Jake got home from the beach that evening, he was ready to scream into his pillow and curse the world for being so unfair to him.

Then the artwork arrived. Jake had to admit, the choices he and Bradley had made together were brilliant and he was actually getting excited to see how it would play out. He could see the story form itself in front of him, and it was intensified by what he could hear Bradley telling him in the back of his mind. Enriched with the beautiful stripes of life that Bradley's friends shared with him in that bar. He had had a new idea taking roots in his mind.

Then the day after that, Larry came back. Jake came to work prepared for each possible scenario: public bashing in the lobby for desecrating Larry's plans; cold indifference bordering on not remembering that Jake exists; And then, being straight up fired, because he now believed Larry had connections everywhere and could make it happen like that.

What he didn't expect was to see Larry standing in front of the collection he assembled and actually appreciate it. And then even go as far as to tell Jake so! He had then realized he was probably the single biggest dumbass, and that maybe Bradley really did have all the answers. Wasn't that what the mustached idiot was talking about?

He still wasn't quite sure how he had mustered the confidence to pitch to Larry his unusual plan. It had felt like the exhibition was missing something and he decided to go the unconventional way. He had thanked his overly social past self with two beers in the system when he saw he had Javy, the pilot from the bar, in his contacts. Jake had half expected they wouldn't want to have anything to do with him now, but it seemed Bradley didn't broadcast the details of their conversation on the beach.

So they all helped with his little side project happily, and today was they day Jake was supposed to reap the benefits of his hard work.

There was a time where the fact that he was the one in charge for a few minutes would be a reward enough. And don't get him wrong, he appreciated this unexpected turn of events. But then again, it wasn't really unexpected. He just needed a hot pilot to knock some sense into him, maybe hypnotize him a bit with his pretty, pretty eyes into getting his shit together. Now Jake would be the first to admit it was his general ignorance that made the past three years as frustrating as they were.

But however satisfying this whole inner transition had been, he was a man on a mission today. Bradley never confirmed if he'd be here after Jake had messaged him with an invitation. The man's only response was 'Have you decided?' to which Jake sent a simple 'Let's talk about it at the opening'. No more messages came from Bradley after that.

He was so busy looking over every guest's head, in hope his gaze would somehow make Bradshaw materialize there, that he didn't notice a familiar face approach him.

"Well well, if it isn't Mr. Wiseguy."

He looked down and saw Mav, grinning at him. The man raised his brow and looked around the room theatrically.

"Ooh, are you looking for someone?" A sly smirk building on the short man's face. On his left was a tall man, with piercing blue eyes and silver hair combed back neatly. The man was looking at him curiously.

"This is Tom , my husband. But we all call him Ice." Maverick introduced the man, and Ice shook Jake's hand professionally.

Then they both turned to Larry and Jake couldn't help but notice how the old man got a lot less formal greeting, hugging Mav and getting a few back slaps from Ice. How on earth did these three know each other was beyond Jake's scope of imagination.

He was so focused on the peculiar scene playing out in front of him that he didn't notice a tall, slim form clad in a simple black suit slump against the wall across the room. When he lifted his head that way, he was immediately hooked. There was an undeniable intensity in Bradley's gaze, and Jake had half a mind to turn around and run, just so he could never learn if it was good or bad kind of intense.

Bradley pushed himself off the wall after a minute and made his way to Jake. He met him halfway. They stood a few inches away from each other, not pushing the limits of what was appropriate in such setting.

Bradley was the one to break his gaze and look around in wonder.

"You did it?"

Jake hummed in confirmation, twisting around too, to see how the photos looked from this perspective.

"How?" Bradley looked back at him, genuinely curious.

"That was actually the easy part." Jake joked, and proceeded to guide him towards the painting that depicted the inside of an F-14, with blue, endless sky stretching outside its front window. Next to it was a series of photos with people on various dates. At the cinema, the restaurant. Some at the park, others at home, eating breakfast together. At the very top of the collection was the one photo which stood out - clearly modern, taken with a digital camera. Jake saw surprise flash across Bradley's face as he quickly recognized Omaha in the photo, standing with a bouquet of flowers in front of a coffee shop.

In the whole room there were hundreds of photos, and they all surrounded various artworks depicting planes. Graduations, family dinners. Fishing trips, lazy Sundays and comfy pajamas. Jake watched Bradley with a hesitant smile.

"You like it?"

Bradley looked back at him, a soft smile dancing along the corners of his mustache. "I think the more important question is - do you?"

Jake had a lot of time to think about his answer to that. And it was the first time he'd been genuinely happy with both the process and the final effect of his work. He smiled and nodded in response.

They heard a loud crunch followed by a loud hum next to them and whipped their heads to see Larry standing next to them, eating… fucking pretzels? He hummed again and looked pointedly at Bradley, then at Jake.

"Is young Bradshaw who I should thank for your unexpected character development? " the crumbs flying everywhere as he spoke while eating. Jake flicked some off his suit with a frown.

"Are you seriously still eating those? You almost died Larry… And where the hell did you even get them from?"

"The doctors said that as long as I chew my food slowly and thoroughly, I will be fine." he shrugged and popped two more pretzels in his mouth.

Jake felt like smacking his palm against his forehead. "Don't you think that talking to us while eating them doesn't count as that?" he quipped sarcastically.

Larry shrugged again and left them to find another victim. He watched the man leave and when he looked back, Bradley was scratching his neck awkwardly, looking at Jake through his lashes.

"Soo…" Jake lifted one brow expectantly.

"Umm, any plans? For next week?"

"No? Why?" Bradley looked even more uncomfortable and Jake was finding his squirming pretty amusing.

"No reason, just… you know. Checking." he seemed to think hard for a minute and Jake saw the moment he came up with another dumb question, instead of just getting to the point. "And if I were to come by and check out this exhibition next week, will you … Would you still be-"

"Oh my god, Bradshaw!" Jake looked at him incredulously and shook his head.

"I'm not sure how much more of this … " he motioned vaguely, "pussyfooting around this I can stand, so I'll just say it." He grabbed Bradley's warm hand in his own, noticed they way the man's cheeks tinted a rosy pink. God but he was adorable.

He guided them down the hallway, away from the buzz of the crowd. He finally slumped against the cold wall, mirror pose of how he saw Bradley in the room just a few minutes ago. The man was looking at him expectantly.

"I'm staying." He finally said.

He saw all the tension leaving Bradley's body, leaving him loose-limbed and happy, grinning at Jake widely. Jake decided he liked this look on him the most. To his surprise, Bradley grabbed him by the waist and tugged his way, skillfully resting his hand against the wall by Jake's head.

Smooth, Jake thought. Bradley's gaze flickered between Jake's eyes and whatever he found there was apparently confirmation enough that he closed the distance and left a soft kiss on Jake's jaw. Not what he expected, Jake let out a content sigh before he thought better, immediately remembering they were still very much in a public place. At Jake's work. With Bradley's mom somewhere around.

"Hold on, sailor." He murmured against his temple, because the man was now starting to nibble at his jaw. "Do you get hot and bothered when you can tell someone I told you so? Is that it?"

Bradley chuckled lowly, and it reverberated through Jake's entire body. He hummed and proceeded to attack Jake's ear instead.

"More like when there's a cocky blond who knows his worth." he murmured straight into his ear, his breath tingling the short hair at the nape of his neck. He squeezed Bradley's shoulder harder, and realized he didn't even notice moving his hands. He smiled to himself.

"As much fun as this is, I'm gonna have to remind you that I actually work here."

Bradley looked at him, two adorable lines forming between his brows. "Okay? Even better. Find me an empty room so that I can make out with this hot shot curator I met here." He felt a wide smirk against his jaw when Bradley hid his face there once again. As he was blindly feeling the door handles along the hall for a give, with an annoyingly adorable guy leaving a burn of his mustache down his throat, Jake felt like he owed the universe an enormous apology. Maybe it wasn't the worst right now.