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"Come on, just pick one. You've done this before, dumbass." Bradley mutters to himself; hands shoved nearly elbow deep in the pocket of his hoodie, as he stares at the endless array of sanitary products on display, unsure which ones to pick. The decision suddenly feeling like it holds more weight than before, like he doesn't want to get it wrong, even though he knows there's no real right answer.
Hunching his shoulders, he tries to make himself shorter than his 6ft frame. The results of his latest growth spurt. He doesn't mind the extra height much, makes him feel more like a guy and less like some freakishly tall girl. He hates that it means he can't tuck his face into the crook of Mav's neck as easily anymore though. Not that that stops him. The day he doesn't hold Mav tight enough his bones creak and sticks his beak of a nose right up against his pulse point where he smells like jet fuel, sweat and something that's uniquely Mav, is the day he dies.
This is going to be his first period since he told his mom and Mav that he's a boy. Told them he wants to go by Bradley now. His mom trips up on that more than Mav does, (Mav not actually tripping up at all, which is kind of insane), his old girly name halfway out her mouth before her blue eyes go wide and she stops herself with a wince, looking at him for forgiveness which he gives instantly, because she doesn't mean it, and she's trying, and she’s his mom.
Knows other boys like him wouldn't be so lucky.
Mav always makes sure to call him Bradley now. He still sprinkles in a Sweetheart or a Baby Bird, his way of showing that the love he has for him hasn't changed, but he makes sure to call him by the name Bradley has chosen for himself too, so Bradley knows he's not using the terms of endearment as a way of getting out of things - a loophole which meant he never had to really address the elephant in the room.
No, Mav doesn't do that, and Bradley hadn't realised how right the name felt for him until he'd heard it come out of Mav's mouth in that soft and gentle way of his.
Everything Mav says is purposeful and deliberately chosen, like he's scared of saying the wrong thing; the thing that might make the two remaining Bradshaws kick him to the curb because Mav had been the one to wrap his arms around Nick Bradshaw's lifeless body in the ocean eleven years ago, and he still thinks he's somehow to blame for Bradley’s dad not being here, even though it was an accident.
Bradley doesn't know how to tell him in a way Mav will truly believe, that he's stuck with them forever. Mav is family. He wouldn't have felt brave enough to come out to his mom as trans if he didn’t know, deep in his bones, that Mav would accept him without question; the love the older man has for him one of the most stable things Bradley had known growing up. A constant even if Mav's presence hadn't been, because the Navy kept sending him on missions away from them.
He's fifteen now.
After he'd come out - after his mom had cried and asked him if he was truly sure that's how he felt and Bradley had said yes. After Mav had hugged him, longer than he ever had, and whispered in his ear, "she's proud of you and still loves you, Sweetheart, don't worry, yeah, she didn’t mean to upset you, okay? Please know that. I'm so proud of you too. Thank you for telling us, Bradley. Love you, my sweet boy." After an awkward family meal where his mom had asked him questions about how he knew he was a boy and stuff like that, which Bradley had stuttered out responses too, before sighing in relief when she'd hugged him at the end and called him, "her handsome boy."
After all that, Mav had asked if there was anything he could do to help him feel more comfortable in himself.
Bradley had asked for a haircut.
Carole had mourned his copper curls that had fallen past his shoulders, but once he’d had it cut so it tickled the tops of his ears, she'd hiccupped out a happy sob, and cupped his cheek, saying, "you look just like your dad, sugar."
It had touched Bradley in a way he hadn't been prepared for. So much so he'd burst into tears and thrown himself into his mom's arms, clinging to her like he used to do when he was younger. She'd hugged him fiercely and whispered, "sorry I didn’t handle it as well as I could have before. I see it clearly now. This is who you are. My beautiful son."
The acceptance from his mom and Mav was amazing, but it doesn't help with everything else. He's not on testosterone yet, Mav’s got him added to a list though so he's just counting down until he can start. Mav said he'll help with his injections too when it gets to that if he needs help.
And he's not out at school either. Doesn't want to deal with the hassle or snide comments. Some of the people he goes to school with are proper assholes and they'd already picked on him for his chubby belly and pudgy tits as a girl, saying he was ugly and a gangly freak as well. Barely let him get away with his haircut, saying he looked like an ugly boy, instead of an ugly girl, thinking he'd hate that. Who knows what insults they'd come up with if he told them he actually was a boy.
A boy with tits. Tits he used big hoodies and oversized school shirts to cover up, but still. They were there. Little mounds like ski slopes, not firm pecs like what Mav has.
And to top it all off his period is due in the next day or so, his skin is breaking out with spots, his stomach feels bloated and Bradley is stuck looking at the pads and tampons, feeling like he's never had a period before even though he's had them since he was twelve.
"Wondered where you'd gone."
Mav's voice jolts Bradley out of his musings and he glances to the side; sees the almost Romanesque profile of Mav's busted nose and his strong brow. Mouth curled up at the edges in a soft smile that's just for Bradley. They were grocery shopping together; Mav had handled the main list letting Bradley sneak away when he'd mumbled about needing to grab something.
Bradley shrugs; curling in on himself more, feeling embarrassed. "Don't know which one's to get. Just feels...weird now, I guess."
"Okay." Mav takes it easily in his stride, like it's not dumb for Bradley to suddenly decide it's a bigger deal than it had been before. "Well, let's work the issue together."
"Mav," Bradley huffs. "You don't want to be picking period products with me."
"Says who, huh?" Mav bumps shoulders with him and grins. "I want to do whatever you want to do, with you, Brad. Even if it's picking pads or tampons or ooh," he picks up a menstrual cup. "They do cups now. Amazing."
Bradley goggles at him. “Aren’t you, like, I dunno, grossed out by this stuff? The boys at school act like periods are the most disgusting thing ever.”
Mav snorts out a laugh. “Well, one - I’m not a teenage boy. Teenage boys are idiots.” He playfully pokes Bradley in the side making him squawk, but also smile. “Not you, obviously. You’re the rare teenage boy who is not an idiot. And two - I’ve been friends and also slept with a number of … people with vaginas,” Bradley would kill anyone who hurt Mav already, but the fact that he didn’t just say women there, means he’s Mav’s noble but weakling protector from now until eternity, regardless of the fact Mav is like ten times as strong as him and probably doesn’t need protecting in any fight, “and I’ve even bought them pads or tampons when it had been an emergency - getting them chocolate and pain relief too, because I’m not an idiot either - despite what a lot of the Admirals I work think. So yeah, periods don’t scare me, Baby Bird.”
He blinks away tears; surreptitiously wiping at his eyes with the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve, because it was too pathetic to be caught crying in the sanitary products aisle. The cereal aisle or the freezers with the ice cream were more acceptable. “I’m fifteen, Mav,” he says, coughing to clear the ball of emotion making itself at home somewhere behind his tonsils. “You can say pussy. I do have one, y’know. Vagina is so…” he wrinkles his nose. “Clinical. And you are definitely not a doctor.”
Mav chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay, I will say that instead, Mr Fifteen.” Bradley turns to face him fully and crossing his arms, arches his brow. Daring him to actually say it. Mav levels him with a flat look and deadpans, “Pussy. Happy now?”
Bradley maintains the hard stare for two whole seconds, and then bursts out laughing. “Yes! I can’t believe I made you say pussy in front of a bunch of tampons. Amazing.” Mav’s eyes crinkle at the edges, his smile so wide, his bunched up cheeks remind Bradley of a hamster. A hamster was gorgeous as a movie star. If hamsters were movie stars, obviously. Doesn’t really think G-Force took off in Hollywood. No, wait, that was Guinea pigs. Oh well. Mav brushes the pad of his thumb over Bradley’s freckled, cherubic cheek; those green eyes the safest pair Bradley has ever known.
”I know you’re still finding your way as yourself, Bradley, and it’s going to be hard before it ever truly becomes easy, but I can see how much happier you’ve been even this past month since you told me and your mom, and I’m just… I’m just really looking forward to watching you grow up to be the incredible man I know you’re going to be.”
Bradley gives up on trying not to cry and surges forward; wrapping his arms around Mav and burying his face in his neck. “I love you so much, Mav. You’re the best. Like, seriously, the best.” The words are muffled by his tears and the fur collar of Mav’s leather jacket; his fingers clutching at the well-loved patches covering Mav’s back, but he thinks Mav hears what he’s trying to say.
”Oh, Sweetheart,” Mav folds him into his chest and kisses his the top of his head, nose buried in his curls. “I love you too. And you might think I’m the best, but you - you’re the best part of me, Bradley. Always.”
He clings to Mav, uncaring that they’re in the middle of the supermarket, or that he can feel a pimple trying to erupt out of his forehead like a mini volcano of pain, or that Mav’s right in that his life is going to be hard - harder than it would’ve been if he’d just ignored how much he felt like a stranger in his own skin, and carried on pretending to be a girl. Because none of that matters. Because Bradley knows he’s not going to have to figure out any of this alone. Because Mav will be with him, and Mav loves him - exactly for who he is, and who he’s going to become.
”I couldn’t decide whether to get pads or tampons,” he says eventually; sniffling as he pulls back from the hug after what might have been five minutes or five days. “I thought maybe I’d try tampons, but also, I’m scared about putting anything up - uh - inside me, because I’ve heard horror stories and yeah, it all got a bit much and I just ended up standing here doing nothing until you came along…” he trails off lamely.
Mav thumbs away the tears and shucks him under the chin. “You used to use pads, right?” Bradley nods; well aware of the jumbled mess that is the Bradshaw family bathroom cabinet, Mav’s razor and shaving foam always neatly tucked up beside the chaos of Advil, plasters, pads and other shit they’d stuffed in there over the years. “So, what’s stopping you from getting them this time?”
Bradley sighs. “My underwear,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean?”
”I used to wear girl panties, and now I wear boxers, right?” Mav hums, having taken Bradley shopping after his haircut, saying he could buy whatever he wanted on him. “Well, boxers aren’t really designed for pads, Mav. Too loose.”
Mav purses his lips in thought and then says, “well, why don’t we get you some boxer briefs - they’ll be tighter so you can wear a pad, but more masculine underwear. What do you think?”
Bradley bites his lip and then tentatively nods, wondering why he hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah, I think that would work.”
”Right, then.” Mav moves to lean on the handle of the shopping cart and tips his head towards the shelf. “Pick some pads then, and we’ll divert to the clothing section to get you those boxer briefs for when you’re on your period - can wear your looser boxers the rest of the time. Win-win.”
Bradley grabs three lots of pads and chucks them in the cart, a blush on his fat cheeks. “Can we get chocolate too?”
Mav ruffles his curls before doing a one-eighty with the cart, looping his arm over Bradley’s shoulders so they’re walking in tandem in the direction of the clothes, Bradley leaning into his side. “Hell yeah, we’re getting chocolate, Brad. I’m getting my own bar. I know what you’re like, chocolate thief.”
Bradley grins and says, “well, I’m getting two.”
”That’s my boy,” Mav says. “That’s my boy.”