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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 23 days

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Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 3)

Summary: Casey had always been a free spirit, living in the moment, never staying still for long. More than once, her loved ones told her she could stand to think more with her head, and less with her heart. But old habits die hard, and the choices Casey makes in the heat of the moment are about to change her life forever, whether she's ready for it or not.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Taglist: @kmc1989, @phoward89, @bellaireland1981

Part One Part Two

"Saw you catching up with Rooster, earlier," Penny begins, aware of how her daughter's expression seems to falter for a moment, before she settles upon offering a slightly raised brow, "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe because Hangman was a big part of it for a while?"

"You know him?" Casey questions, taking note of her mother's answering nod, and frowning almost immediately after, "Is he always—"

"Like that? I'd say that's a pretty safe bet."

"And yet it almost sounds like you like him."

"Maybe he reminds me of somebody else I know," Penny shrugs, moving to sit on the opposite end of the sofa, a steaming mug of tea held between both hands. Her gaze remains fixed upon her daughter as Casey manages a sip of her own beverage, and sinks further into the sofa cushions as though seeking refuge.

She'd been unusually quiet ever since their return home after closing up the bar, only answering cursory questions with a few words apiece. And inasmuch as Penny had wanted to press her for details on what, exactly, had caused such an uncharacteristic reticence, she resisted, knowing full well that pressing for answers now will likely only serve to push Casey away.

"I really hope you aren't talking about me—"

"What if I am?"

"I may have to call you out for exaggerating."

"Is it exaggerating if it's true?"

"I really don't see how it can be true," Casey counters, amusement resting behind the words even in spite of the small twist of apprehension that seizes her in response to her mother's claim, "I'm nowhere near as cocky, for one—"

"Maybe I'm not talking exclusively about cockiness."

"Okay—what are you talking about, then?"

"I think I'm talking about what that cockiness might be attempting to cover up."

Unable to entirely mask the flinch that comes in response to her mother's words, Casey tries to ignore the implications. She tries to pretend she is unaware of Penny's intent gaze, practically drilling holes into her skull. In truth, this is exactly the sort of thing she had wished to avoid, especially so soon after she returned home, but then given her mother's uncanny ability to read her moods, she is probably a fool to have expected anything less.

The sensation of her mother's hand moving to rest atop her own very nearly causes her to jump, but somehow, Casey manages to resist. And when she finally persuades herself to meet her mother's gaze head-on, she faces nothing but genuine concern.

The precise opposite of what she had hoped to find.

"Did something happen between you two?" Penny asks, searching Casey's features for any indication of an answer that she clearly is not entirely willing to give. Although busy behind the bar for most of the evening, she hadn't missed the slight hint of awkward tension between her daughter and the man who had always been something more than just a best friend to her since she was born. She had seen how Casey's smile had never quite seemed to reach her eyes.

It was unusual behavior, to say the least, compared to the countless other times she's observed the two of them together. But if Penny knows anything about her daughter, it is that she will not be likely to come clean about anything troubling her until she has absolutely no other choice.

Something that only becomes all too apparent in her ensuing reply.

"No. No, it—we're fine."

"Uh-huh."

"Really, Mom. We're—we're good," Casey insists, removing her hand from her mother's as carefully as she can, so that she can use it to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, instead, "I'd tell you if we weren't."

"Would you?"

"I would."

Casey would be a fool to pretend she cannot sense her mother's doubt. A fool to act as though her attempt at a lie was anywhere even remotely close to convincing, but that is precisely what she does, regardless of the inherent knowledge that she is failing before she ever truly begins.

For a moment, she almost expects her mother to call her on that very fact, but somehow, Penny seems to resist. A knowing look crosses over her features, but nothing else gives her away, and Casey allows herself to relax, albeit tentatively, in response.

With some difficulty, she brushes off the nagging sensation of guilt that threatens to pull her under as a result of her secrecy, and forces a smile to her lips not long after. Something her mother seems to anticipate, if the slightly raised brow is any sort of indication at all.

"You two have any plans to hang out while he's in town?"

"We're—yeah. I mean, nothing specific, until he figures out his own schedule, but—"

"But you're working on it."

"We are," Casey confirms, sinking back against the sofa cushions as soon as she senses her mother's desire to press for more information appears to have abated, even if only for a moment, "Something tells me he'll need to let off some steam."

"Because of your dad?"

"That's one of the reasons—"

"And Hangman is probably the other?"

"Hangman is definitely the other."

"Well, that should be interesting," Penny muses, sparing just long enough to manage a sip of her tea before going on, "Especially since he seemed rather interested in you."

"But I'm not interested in him."

"Does Rooster know that?"

"I don't—I don't really see why it would matter to him, either way," Casey admits, frowning as soon as she realizes her mother's expression indicates all too clearly that she is, once again, reading far too much into her relationship with Bradley, her current secret notwithstanding, "We're friends, Mom. Always have been, always will be."

"Some of the best relationships I know started out that way, you know."

"Not this one. You're doing that whole wishful thinking thing, again."

"Or maybe I'm just calling things as I see them."

Sighing, Casey chooses not to offer her mother a reply, at least not outright, her knowledge of Penny's long-standing desire to see her and Bradley as more than simply childhood friends bringing a flush to her cheeks whether she wants it to be there, or not. But for that particular reminder, she'd almost found herself tempted to blurt out the truth. To tell her mother exactly why she was so off-kilter with Bradley at the bar, and what had brought her back home.

As soon as she becomes aware of it, though, Casey finds herself clamming up once again, her fingers tightening around the mug of tea she holds in her own hands while she replies.

"Like I said. Wishful thinking."

Aware of her mother's clear disappointment, Casey does what she can to ignore it, her focus for the time-being rather fixed on the tea she holds between both hands. It is all that seems to be keeping her together, at the moment, though even that is a tall order as she once again finds herself held captive beneath her mother's attentive gaze.

She spends another moment or two wondering if Penny will continue pressing her presumed advantage. If she will continue to insist there is something more between her daughter, and the son of one of their family's oldest friends, but she does not. At least not for now.

Instead, Penny seems to take stock of her own beverage, another sip passing her lips and allowing her to drop her head back against the sofa with a satisfied sigh, before shifting the nature of their conversation in another direction entirely.

"I take it you and your dad will have something planned, too?"

"Dinner on Friday. He said if you wanted to come, too—"

"I think I'll let the two of you catch up first, before we try for any 'group dates'," Penny cuts in, this time offering her daughter a smile, and finding herself more than a little pleased to notice Casey returns the gesture with little to no hesitation at all, "I know what the two of you are like when you've been away from each other for long."

"You say that almost like it's a bad thing."

"It's a unique thing."

"Oh come on, we're not that bad," Casey protests, laughing a little as soon as she takes note of her mother's incredulous expression, and hurries to go on in defense of both her own, and her father's character as well, "Well, we aren't!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Casey. Maybe one of these days, it'll stick."

"Well, you're the one that puts up with us—"

"And you will leave out what that says about my sanity if you know what's good for you."

Another laugh escapes in response to her mother's quip, and Casey catches herself dodging the retaliatory swipe of Penny's foot at her shin with relative ease not long after, the relief she feels at the familiarity of the banter that rises up between them momentarily overriding any and all apprehension she might feel for what is to come. For a moment, she dares to believe that maybe, she can do this. That she can exist in Miramar with her family—with Bradley—and figure everything out in due time.

However foolish it may be, she clings to that belief as firmly as she can, needing it to be true far more than she honestly cares to admit. And even if her mother still suspects something is amiss, she manages to say absolutely nothing more on the subject at all…

And even if Casey knows she has hardly heard the last of it, she would be a liar to pretend she is not thrilled for the momentary reprieve, whether she truly feels she is deserving of such a thing or not.

…

The following morning, when Casey wakes, she very nearly takes a startled tumble out of her bed, the unexpected presence of another form perched upon its edge wringing a strangled yelp from her throat. Having always had something of a penchant for sleeping like the dead, she hadn't heard the bedroom door open, and hadn't felt the dip in the mattress when her step sister decided to sit down and wait for her to wake.

Amelia, of course, likely anticipated this, given the satisfied grin that pulls at both corners of her mouth. A reality she only proves in spades as soon as she opens her mouth to speak.

"Glad to know some things haven't changed—"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Casey questions, her amusement quickly overriding her shock as she takes in Amelia's eager smile. Instinct propels her forward, and into her sister's waiting embrace, and she takes comfort in the gesture, regardless of how foolish it may make her feel to be the one seeking such a thing, rather than providing it. And even if Amelia wants to question the sudden surge of affection, all that she does is answer her sister's inquiry, instead.

"It just means you're as predictable as you've always been."

"Why do I get the feeling that's something of an insult?"

"Maybe because you're a little bit paranoid?" Amelia suggests, dodging away from Casey's half-heartedly aimed swat at her shoulder, though the escape does not prevent her from responding in kind, "I mean that affectionately—"

"Of course you do."

"I do!"

"Will you still call me paranoid—affectionately—if I ask why the hell you're not at school right now?"

"First period's free. Turns out I already have most of the credits I need to graduate."

"Right. I'd forgotten you're kind of a nerd," Casey teases, Amelia's answering roll of the eyes far more reassuring in its familiarity than she cares to admit, "You ready for that?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Amelia states, her expression turning somewhat introspective while her teeth begin to chew at her lower lip. In seconds, she seems to shrink in on herself, and Casey hates that she almost automatically knows the reason why, a sigh escaping before she scoots forward to sit close enough to her step sister for her arm to brush against her side. Before she asks the one question she really wishes she did not have to ask.

"Have you talked to your dad at all?"

"Do you want the real answer to that, or the lie I tell myself when I need to feel better?"

"Mills—"

"I'm used to it. Really, Case. And besides, I've got—I've got Pete."

"Yeah, you do."

"Mom said he's back?"

"He is," Casey affirms, aware of how Amelia seems to instinctively lean against her side, and shifting so that she can wind her arm around the younger girl's shoulders in response, "They've got him teaching."

"Pete? Teaching?"

"I know. But apparently it was this or being grounded for good, so—"

"So he took it," Amelia surmises, her sister's answering expression far more of a confirmation than any verbal reply would ever be, "That'll be—interesting."

"Tell me about it," Casey agrees, the knowledge of her father's reluctance to go anywhere near a position that will keep boots on the ground provoking a faint grin, "He loves telling the story of the first time he was in a teaching position."

"The one that only lasted a few months?"

"That would be the one."

"Well, hopefully this one lasts a little longer."

Frowning at the thought of exactly what might stand to happen if her father doesn't manage to succeed in this new assignment, Casey spends a moment considering exactly what he would do. What it would mean for a man who'd devoted the majority of his life to a career that apparently had come very close to throwing him out.

She knows better than most that her father had built almost his entire identity around the Navy. That he'd never really considered anything else when it came to a career. It had been the one thing that kept him going through so much, both good and bad. And if he ended up losing it in the end, Casey honestly cannot say what he will do as a result.

"Mom said—she said that Rooster's back, too," Amelia says, then, clearly sensing the direction of Casey's thoughts, and seeking to pull her out of them as best she can, "You two have your big reunion, yet?"

"Um—sort of?"

"Just sort of?"

"I ran into him at the bar last night. Didn't really have time for anything else."

"No time at all?"

"He was a little busy, Mills," Casey informs, hoping that her response will not spark any suspicion on Amelia's part to exactly how odd things had been between her and Bradley the night before, "I'm sure we'll think of something, though."

"Think he's gonna be okay working with your dad?"

"Honestly? I don't—I don't really know."

The answer escapes before Casey can stop it, a wince passing over her features as soon as she recognizes Amelia's answering expression of concern, but there is little she can do to pull it back, now. Not when her sister is eyeing her as though she is starting to pick up on every last thing that she is attempting to keep hidden.

In next to no time at all, everything she has been trying so diligently to keep together appears to be unraveling, bit by bit. And half in an effort to delay the inevitable, Casey scrambles to find a way of shifting the conversation away from its current course before Amelia can ask anything more of her at all.

"Want me to take you to school?"

For a moment, Amelia almost appears inclined to protest. Casey can see it so very clearly in the determined set of her jaw, and the familiar glint of curiosity in her eyes. But instead of doing that, something seems to settle her resolve to simply letting the matter go, at least for now, and Casey takes some manner of relief from the fact that at least for the moment, she appears to have earned a reprieve.

Whether she deserves such a thing or not, is another matter entirely.

…

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findshope · 4 years

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@madeliar asked : do your muses have soulmates? :eyes emoji:

Okay first of all , I have too many muses to list all of them , but here are some notables .. bc you of all people know that --- they do .

To start , I would say EDEN EMERSON’S soulmates are your Dean Winchester and Livi’s Jacob Frye . ( @wightwulf I know ur not active on jacob but I had to @ u ) My DIN DJARIN’S soulmate is Shelly’s Hotaru and they are so soft ( @thndrheart ) .

BROCK EMERSON’S soulmates are your Emelia Belle , and @findsfuel ‘s Tasha Rolland . Also Skye I’m sensing that Nix may be another soulmate but that’s just my gut feeling .

Okay , onto just your muses .

BRUCE WAYNE , EZIO AUDITORE , SCOTT SUMMERS , AND MOST NOTABLY ORIAS --- their soulmate is all ... Brooke Lucas , bc as we have learned , my muses go absolutely feral for Brooke .

PETER PARKER --- Evelyn Weber . ELIJAH COHEN --- Eleanor Crain . LUKE CRAIN --- Sam Russo . DEAN WINCHESTER --- Blair Saunders . CODY SAUNDERS --- Mia Green . POE DAMERON --- Keya Green . ( also Poe’s automatic soulmate is Finn always just a sidenote ) HARRY OSBORN --- Marley Calloway . EVIE FRYE --- Henry Green .

HARMONY EAVES --- Brooke is her platonic soulmate she made me put this here

There are way more , as you know . But that’s who came to mind right now .

#ooc.#madeliar

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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 1 month

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Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 1)

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Other: please let me know if you'd like to be on a tag list for future updates!

Sitting in an idling car under the heat of the California sun, Casey Mitchell tries with everything she has to avoid giving into the desire to turn tail and run. To avoid succumbing to the instinct that all but demands that she realize, sooner rather than later, that this is an absolutely abysmal idea. Her life, in the last few weeks, has turned far more chaotic than even she might have been able to predict, her penchant for flying fast and loose notwithstanding. And now?

Now, the consequences of her actions have become a thing she can no longer outrun.

She should have seen it coming, of course. Maybe not this exact scenario, but something not all that far off the mark. Countless times, her family has warned her against making rash decisions. Letting emotion dictate her choices, rather than logical fact. But somehow, in spite of all of that, she's never managed to succeed, proving time and time again that she is far too much like her father for her own good.

In response to the realization circulating through her thoughts for what has to be the hundredth time since reality had come swooping in to derail her, Casey allows her head to drop back against the headrest. She exhales in an exasperated rush, while her fingers flex on the steering wheel until the skin of her knuckles whitens from the effort.

She's being foolish. What can possibly be so hard about getting out of the damn car, walking across the gravel of the parking lot, and stepping through the propped open doorway of the damned bar?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except for the glaring fact of how, if she does commit to this, everything about her life could change forever.

More so than it already has…

Shaking her head, Casey allows her eyes to slip closed for a moment, the warmth of the interior of her car sinking into her skin, though it does little to calm the racing of her heart. Again, she wrestles with the desire to place the key in the ignition. To drive back the way she came, until she's back at the apartment she'd known for a little over a year on the east coast.

The idea is entirely too tempting, and before long, Casey catches herself dragging the fingers of one hand through wind-tousled hair. The other hand knocks her sunglasses down to rest upon the bridge of her nose.

She clambers out of the driver's seat, stumbling just a bit as a result of the haste behind the movement, but refuses to allow herself to take that as a sign she should stop, knowing that if she gives her apprehension even a moment longer of her time, she will definitely lose her nerve.

The slam of the car door behind her all but settles that score, or at least so she hopes, the sound doing more to steel her nerves than anything else has been capable of doing thus far. Her heeled boots seem quite capable of carrying her forward without stumbling in the gravel beneath her feet. Whether rightly or wrongly, she seizes on that reality, trying to twist it into a sign that everything will be okay. That her entire life is not about to fly apart at the seams.

Casey can feel her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms as she walks, the pressure almost enough to draw blood. And although it takes a significant amount of effort to do so, she forces herself to at least try to relax before she walks through the open door of a bar her mom has owned and operated since moving back to North Island years ago.

The bar that has been more of a home to her than practically any other place she has ever known.

Music wafting over the speakers reaches her in record time almost as soon as she steps inside, the familiarity of the tune provoking a ghost of a smile. And as she weaves her way through the crowd already gathering around the bar, Casey does the best she can to ensure that the expression will stick around.

If she wants to have any chance at her return appearing even the slightest bit normal, she has absolutely no other choice but to act that way, no matter the cost.

A task that is honestly likely to become far more difficult than Casey cares to admit.

Forcing her mind from the thought, however, she chooses to focus instead on sidling up to the bar. On securing a stool to sit on, between two pilots she does not recognize. She takes note of how her mother's eyes seem to widen as she turns to offer another newcomer a drink, and pauses in the act not long after, her expression adopting an unmistakable tone of surprise.

Casey hadn't considered calling or sending a text to warn of her impending arrival, half-convinced that doing so would only make the return more daunting than it already is. A fact that her mother only confirms as soon as she recovers from her surprise for long enough to change course entirely.

"Casey?"

"Hey, Mom."

"I didn't think you were coming back for another visit until your birthday," Penny Benjamin states, only the smile that pulls up at both corners of her mouth removing the likelihood that her words might inadvertently be misunderstood, "What changed?"

"A girl needs a reason to come visit her mom, now?"

"When her mom knows her as well as I happen to know you? I'd say so."

"You make it sound like I hardly visit at all!" Casey laughs, aware of the slight arch of her mother's eyebrow that comes about almost as soon as the protest leaves her lips, "What? I—I visit!"

"Not nearly often enough."

"Is that your way of saying that you miss me?"

"What do you think?"

Unable to resist the tenuous grin that pulls at her lips, Casey relaxes just a little in her seat, the apprehension she'd been nearly overwhelmed by upon her first arrival seeming to fade, albeit by only a small degree. Regardless of the true reason behind her return, she would be a fool to pretend she had not also been seeking some manner of familiarity because of it. As though a part of her needs to be back among family and friends, no matter what each of them may think of the truth when she can no longer keep it at bay.

The idea of coming clean still terrifies her, of course, but beneath the weight of her mother's curious gaze, Casey is forced to put such thoughts to the back of her mind, if for no other reason than to ensure that the truth does not reveal itself until she is ready.

If she ever truly can be, at all.

"I think you missed me."

"You seem fairly confident," Penny teases, her own laughter far more warm and welcoming than Casey truly believes she deserves, "Perhaps that confidence needs a drink?"

"Are we promoting alcoholism now?"

"Or maybe I just know my daughter well enough to know all of her habits."

"Well this time, I think I'll pass," Casey says, the renewed surprise in her mother's expression causing a curious twisting sensation to take root in her gut, something that is not all that far away from guilt, "Maybe just a Shirley Temple?"

"Feeling nostalgic, are we?"

"Something—something like that, yeah."

Whatever doubts her mother clearly seems to harbor over the request, and the motivations behind it, Penny seems content enough to let them go for now, a reality for which Casey is abundantly grateful, whether or not she will ever be able to put such a feeling into words. And even if she is well aware she is hardly off the hook, or free from any and all forms of scrutiny, Casey takes the drink her mother hands her with a far more encouraging smile than she initially believed herself capable of summoning…

And although she has good reason to opt for refusing the alcohol her mother had initially offered, Casey cannot help but wish for something a bit stronger as soon as a voice calls out above the music, alerting her to a new arrival she is hardly prepared for at all.

"Bradshaw! Is that you?"

No matter her hopes for obtaining at least one night at home without being forced to face the consequences of her own actions, such as they are, it would appear that she is not about to be so fortunate.

A reality that is only confirmed as soon as she glances towards the new arrival, and finds herself absolutely incapable of looking away.

…

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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 1 month

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Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 2)

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Taglist: @kmc1989, @phoward89, @bellaireland1981

Part One

"Bradshaw! Is that you?"

The words seem to reach Bradley through a fog, whatever clear-headed resolve he had possessed when first stepping through the doors of The Hard Deck all but gone as soon as he catches sight of the familiar brunette standing just a few feet away at the bar. For what it's worth, Casey appears every bit as surprised to see him as he is to see her, even in spite of how Bradley, at least, ought to have seen this reunion coming from a mile away.

Of course Casey would've gone home, after everything. She would've been drawn to family every bit as much as he might have been, even without orders to return to Top Gun, himself.

Bradley tries to remind himself of that as he risks another glance Casey's way, before veering off to join Phoenix and a few other familiar faces by one of the pool tables, instead. He does what he can to ignore the flare of guilt that twists in his gut as soon as he sees the flicker of disappointment Casey tries to hide as soon as he turns away.

It would be a lie for him to pretend he isn't troubled by the sudden distance that seems to have risen up between them, but there isn't a damn thing he can do about it, now. Not in a crowded bar.

If there is one thing that he knows neither of them want, it would be for what happened between them eight weeks ago to become public knowledge. Not with her mother behind the bar, or Jake Seresin already watching his approach like a predator sizing up its prey.

As much as he hardly wants to seem like he is simply shrugging her off, Bradley can't find an indication that he has any other choice. Not even when Natasha's next words are hardly enough to keep him from feeling as though he should have stayed away.

"This is how I find out you're stateside?"

"Yeah. Just figured I'd surprise you," Bradley shrugs, hoping the response will be sufficiently nonchalant. Enough to avoid sparking any suspicion, because if anyone can read him like an open book aside from Casey, herself, it would be someone like Natasha Trace.

Something that is only confirmed when the woman in question offers him what amounts to a skeptically raised brow, before taking the liberty of smacking the end of her pool cue against his gut in tandem with her reply.

"Guess I surprised you back."

"It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too," Nat quips, unspoken questions still lingering in her expression, though for now at least, she seems merciful enough to avoid asking them out loud. More grateful for that reality than he truly cares to admit, Bradley manages a thin smile, only for the look to fade moments later as he takes in Natasha's suddenly significant look over his shoulder.

"Incoming."

"Hey."

The greeting is soft. Far more tentative than Bradley is used to, considering its source, but even then, the lurch coming from inside of his chest is unmistakable. It very nearly drives him to his knees. Just a glance at Casey's features is enough to prove she is mirroring his own uncertainty, and for a moment, Bradley finds himself half-tempted to question her motives, at least within the confines of a skeptical glance. But that is before he follows the line of her gaze back toward the bar. Before he notices yet another familiar figure seated nearby.

He hadn't noticed Mav in the crowd until now, but clearly Casey is well aware of her father's presence there, the slight lift to her chin telling him all too clearly that she is trying to maintain the appearance that everything is exactly how it has always been, before. And even if he is less than pleased at the discovery, such as it is, Bradley still cannot seem to bring himself to let her down.

"Hey Case."

"Nat."

"Mitchell," Phoenix acknowledges, watching as Casey seems to accept the one-armed embrace Bradley provides, regardless of the slight stiffening of her spine, "Didn't realize you'd be back in town."

"I didn't realize I would be either, until I was halfway here," Casey admits, trying to ignore how Bradley's arm lingers around her shoulders, keeping her close, and praying that the dim lighting overhead will mask her flushed cheeks if she should fail, "What brought you back?"

"Special detachment. Doing a hell of a job of keeping us all in the dark, though."

"Any idea when you'll find out what it all entails?"

"Way I see it, that doesn't matter, sweetheart. What matters is who's gonna be team leader."

Turning to face the new arrival, Casey is not blind to the tightening of Bradley's arm around her. She does not miss how his entire body seems to go rigid, as though anticipating some reason to be on alert.

Truthfully, aside from a cocky sort of charm that is so obvious it is nearly painful, she can hardly tell why the stranger standing in front of them would warrant such a reaction. A reality that allows her to favor him with an almost resigned smile before she replies.

"Let me guess. You think it's gonna be—you?"

"Damn straight."

"You seem awfully confident."

"Maybe you'll let me buy you a drink, and I can show you why."

"Or maybe, I'll pass," Casey retorts, the words softened by the obvious amusement that rests behind them, even in spite of the sense of emptiness that threatens to overwhelm her as soon as she realizes Bradley appears to be pulling away, "Sorry."

"Now why do I get the feelin' that you're not?"

"You have trust issues?"

The stranger laughs in response to the quip, and Casey allows herself to feel a small modicum of relief that he appears content to play along, rather than taking offense at her refusal of the offer being made. For a moment, she even considers carrying on with the little ruse, if for no other reason than to distract herself from other, less encouraging thoughts.

Before she has the chance to fully decide, though, the matter appears to be taken out of her hands entirely, the amusement that is so apparent in the newcomer's expression remaining firm even as his attention shifts toward Bradley, instead.

"She with you, Bradshaw?"

"How is that any of your business?"

"Well I don't think it qualifies as top secret—"

"That's your opinion, Hangman."

"Actually, I'm thinkin' it's more like a fact," The man—Hangman—states, his smile only growing as he leans forward on the pool cue held firmly in both hands, "But if you're not willin' to admit it, I'm sure someone else here will be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm pretty sure it means he thinks you're embarrassed to be seen with me."

Bradley can tell that there is obvious humor behind the words. That for her part, at least, Casey is not offended by the implications of the other pilot's assumption. By contrast, he can feel his jaw tightening in aggravation, the tension he already felt given everything that still rests, unsaid, between him and the woman standing beside him only growing in response to Seresin and his constant need to have the upper hand.

It would be a lie for him to pretend he isn't half-tempted to do something—anything—to get the knowing smirk off of Seresin's face, but before he can consider whether the potential consequences are worth it, Bradley feels the sudden pressure of a smaller hand slipping into his own, and delivering a tiny squeeze.

Casey…

"I'm with him. Sorry."

"Why am I gettin' the feeling you'd say that, even if you're really not?"

"Oh, I don't know," Casey muses, her eyes flicking to Bradley's for a moment, just in time to note how he seems to relax, bit by bit, "Maybe because I would."

"Ouch, kitten. Retract the claws."

"Don't ever call me kitten again, and you have a deal."

Jake laughs, but Bradley notes that he does seem to back off, a fact he is incredibly grateful for, even if he will never own up to it out loud. Before long, Seresin's attention is diverted by a new pool game, and he moves away.

Once again, he finds himself alone with Casey, at least relatively speaking, and left with what seems to be nothing to say. But before he can even attempt to change that apparent reality, she is taking the pressure of breaking the silence from him in its entirety.

"We um—we should catch up sometime, when we aren't—"

"In the middle of a bunch of pilots?"

"Yeah, something like that," Casey agrees, laughing softly, though this time, the amusement does not reach her eyes, "But only if you—if you want."

"Case, why the hell wouldn't I—"

"If you're too busy with the mission, I mean."

"I won't be."

"Well if you are—"

"I won't be," Bradley repeats, holding Casey's gaze even in spite of how the doubt he can see so clearly is like a knife in his gut. Things never used to be like this between them. For as long as he can recall, they'd both been able to read one another, and predict the other's needs.

By contrast, now, it seems like they have lost that. Like they can't manage even a singular step in the direction of what is normal without stumbling. And the only reason that he can find for that is what happened between them before the last time he'd been deployed.

He didn't regret it. He honestly doesn't think there would ever be a way that he could. But with Casey's obvious nerves, he can hardly tell where she stands, and that, in turn, fuels his own.

"Why wouldn't I want to, Case?"

The question isn't exactly something he expects to ask again, but instinct appears to have taken over, above all else, regardless of how Casey's expression seems to falter just a bit in response. Once again, Bradley is confronted with her hesitation. With how he can tell a part of her, no matter how small that part may actually be, wants to bolt.

He wants to find some way of reassuring her, but he would be the first to admit that he hardly knows where to begin. And in the wake of his indecision, Bradley soon finds that Casey is seizing on the first reason she can find to pull away.

"I should um—I should go see what that's all about," She begins, inclining her head toward the bar, where a group of patrons have started chanting 'overboard', amid laughs and other indistinguishable shouts, "Talk later?"

"Definitely."

Casey moves back toward the bar relatively quickly, and Bradley realizes that he truly ought to have known the commotion had something to do with Mav. In an attempt to avoid being pulled into the fray, he turns and heads toward the piano standing nearby instead.

The feel of the keys beneath his fingertips settles him in the face of the apparent rift between him and the only other person who can. And as he begins to play, Bradley forces himself to forget absolutely everything outside of what he is doing right now…

Given the alternative, it seems to be the only choice he has.

…

"Everything okay?"

"I think that's a question I should be asking you," Casey replies, allowing the door to swing shut behind her, and stepping out onto the small patio behind her mother's bar with a faint smile toying at her lips, "Getting a little old for being literally tossed out on your ass, I think."

"Age is a matter of perspective."

"And yet I seem to recall you used to be able to get back on your feet a little faster—"

"Watch it, kid," Pete laughs, brushing the last of the sand off of his jeans while Casey comes to stand not all that far from his side, "You didn't answer my question."

"Maybe that's because you really don't need to ask."

"Uh-huh."

"You don't!" Casey insists, the doubt that remains in her father's expression bothering her far more than she cares to admit, "I'm fine, it's just—"

"Something with Rooster?"

"I'm Switzerland, remember?"

"I know," Pete acknowledges, the hasty nature of Casey's response giving him every reason to believe his suspicion is correct, "Doesn't mean I wouldn't want to help."

"I don't really think that you can."

The confession escapes before she can stop it, and Casey hurriedly averts her gaze in hopes of avoiding being forced to look her father in the eye. Hardly one to want to seem defeated, she knows that by admitting to any sort of uncertainty at all, she is doing precisely that.

She can sense him looking at her, whether she truly wants him to be doing so or not, her cheeks warming beneath his gaze perhaps even more so than from the setting sun. And even if she is still not at all willing to truly come clean, Casey forces herself to at least try to correct the impression left by her last reply.

"I didn't mean that you can't, I just—"

"You want to try and figure things out yourself."

Suddenly unable to manage an actual answer, Casey settles for offering her father a singular nod instead, her guilt over keeping him at arm's length at odds with her unwillingness to allow anyone to know the truth. Before, she'd always been able to tell him anything. In fact, she can recall a time where, aside from Bradley, he'd been the first person she would run to if trouble came knocking at her door.

Now, by contrast, allowing her father to know the truth—to know what really happened between her and Bradley—is perhaps the most terrifying thing she can imagine.

Or the second most terrifying thing, really, compared to the sudden realization that her hand has drifted to rest over her stomach without her consent…

Jolting to attention, Casey snaps her hand back to her side as quickly as she can, her teeth digging into her lower lip for a moment as she scrambles to think of something to say that will move the conversation along. It does not escape her notice that this is yet another unusual barrier between them. A thing that she wishes did not exist.

Before she can even attempt to fix the situation, though, she recognizes the sounds of a familiar song on piano wafting out of the open window nearby. She notes the sudden change in her father's features whether he would likely rather her ignore it or not.

Casey knows without even looking that it is Bradley at the piano, and a part of her honestly wonders if he might have chosen the tune on purpose, even as awful as such a suspicion makes her feel. But regardless, there is one thing that she now knows for sure.

It would seem she is not the only one that has secrets to keep.

…

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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 12 days

Text

Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 4)

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Taglist: @kmc1989, @phoward89, @bellaireland1981, @pinkpantheris, @djs8891, @shanimallina87, @tarotwithaura

Part One Part Two Part Three

Bradley Bradshaw was having a very bad day.

He had expected this. As soon as he saw Mav sitting at the bar at The Hard Deck, he had known, somehow, that things were going to be messy. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to ignore the implications.

The rest of his fellow aviators might not have picked up on it, but Bradley had known almost immediately what the plan was. While his companions had all been wondering who would be teaching them, he'd been able to see it coming from a mile away.

Not saying anything about it had been a conscious choice, but he hadn't exactly been willing to risk the ensuing commentary from his peers if they learned the truth. Hangman, he knows, would have been particularly obnoxious.

All of it is a situation he would much rather avoid, and that had all been before Casey had come into the picture.

The thought of his best friend, and how strained everything seems to be between them causes his jaw to tighten, because of everything he had been prepared for since returning to San Diego, losing the simplicity that had always existed between them had not been a part of it. He'd become so accustomed to it that it never occurred to him that he could ever lose it. He wore it almost like a second skin.

Casey had clearly been holding herself back last night, though. He could've recognized the signs even if he didn't know her almost as well as he knew himself. She'd smiled, but it hadn't reached her eyes. Accepted his arm around her, but her shoulders and spine had been stiff. Tense.

He hadn't seen her after he'd been at the piano, and Bradley would be the first to admit he regrets that one small fact. That he regrets its implications. Because if Casey is so studiously avoiding him, it has to be for a reason. And there is only one reason he can think of that passes muster.

She regrets what happened the last time they had been together. Or at least, it seems as though she does, and that is a reality that is far more painful than anything Maverick or Hangman could ever throw his way.

Maverick.

The guy had been trying to talk to Bradley all day. Not all that unusual, he supposes, given how Mav has never exhibited much concern for boundaries before, personal or professional. But with everything going on with Casey—everything that had happened with Mav in the past, as well—Bradley would be a liar to say anything less than that he is absolutely not in the mood for any sort of conversation with the man, at all.

Mav, though, hadn't seemed to pick up on that. First, with the interaction on the tarmac, and then everything else that had happened in the air. And now, as Bradley finishes the last of the push-ups after enduring yet another kill-shot, he comes to the conclusion that all he really wants, now, is to be left alone.

A reality he is apparently not about to have, given how Phoenix is moving to crouch at his side.

"What the hell was that?"

"Don't worry about it."

"You trying to get kicked out? Breaking the hard deck. Insubordination. That wasn't you up there. Talk to me," The dark-haired pilot insists, genuine concern apparent beneath the demanding nature of the words. A concern that somehow renders the idea of denying her the information she clearly seems to desire enough to make everything worse.

And yet, that is precisely what Bradley intends to do.

"Seriously, Nat. Don't worry about it."

"Look. I'm going on this mission. But if you get kicked out, you leave us flying with Hangman. So what the hell was that—"

"He pulled my papers."

"What? Who?"

"Maverick," Bradley explains, resisting the urge to wince over how quickly the words had come out, whether he truly wanted to provide Phoenix with an answer, or not, "He pulled my application to the naval academy. Set me back four years."

"Why would he do that?"

Bitterness burns like bile at the back of his throat, a condition made only worse by the reality of how, no matter how many times he turns the matter over and over again in his head, Bradley has yet to come up with a suitable answer. He'd had absolutely no indication of Maverick's intention to do what he did. No way of knowing what was coming until it was far too late to stop it.

Not having a concrete reason for the betrayal is probably the worst part of it all, if Bradley is being honest. And as he risks a look at the woman still remaining beside him, he forces himself to do what he can to reassure her he isn't out of the game entirely. At least, not yet.

"I'm fine, Nat. I've got this."

"I'm not flying with Hangman?"

"You aren't gonna be flying with Hangman."

"You'd better not be talking out of your ass right now, Bradshaw," Natasha retorts, reaching out to punch Bradley in the shoulder, before standing to her full height once again, "Hard Deck tonight?"

"I'll see you there."

Seemingly satisfied with the response, at least for the time-being, Phoenix begins to move to follow their fellow aviators headed for locker rooms, and then the bar, leaving Bradley alone with his thoughts once more. In truth, he'd much rather just turn in for the night, given everything that's going on, but he knows that answer would never have been acceptable. It would have prompted more questions that he is not entirely sure he can clarify.

He is almost positive that Casey will be there, too, and as much as he wants answers from her, as well, about whatever it is that has her so tense it seems as though she could shatter into pieces at any moment, Bradley can't be entirely sure doing so will not end up making things worse. Something he knows already that he can hardly afford.

She'd stayed by his side in the aftermath of Mav pulling his papers. She hadn't budged, even when he knew it had to be costing her to be caught in the middle as she was.

It's that reality that has him all but determined to let her take this at her own pace. To come clean when she is ready, and not before.

But it would be a lie for him to pretend he is not hoping that moment comes sooner rather than later…

He isn't entirely sure he has the patience for anything else.

…

After spending the remainder of the morning in bed once she'd gotten back home from dropping Amelia at school, Casey catches herself rolling over to see the clock on her bedside table in order to check the time.

4:15pm.

She'd slept for just about half of the day.

Groaning, Casey levers herself upright, fighting against the nausea brought about by the sudden shift in position as best she can. A hand lifts to drag through sleep-tousled hair. Her legs swing over the edge of the bed so that her toes can curl into the carpeting, and her eyes slip closed as she stretches out the stiff muscles of her neck.

Dimly, she can hear movements throughout the rest of the house. A clear indication of her mother preparing for another night at work. And before she can convince herself to remain exactly where she is, Casey is rising to her feet, managing one final stretch before padding over to her door and taking the small hallway to the kitchen at its end.

"She lives."

"You're hilarious, Mom."

"Was starting to wonder if I needed to call in reinforcements to get you out of bed," Penny teases, rummaging through a cupboard, and pulling out a small packet not long after, "Tea again?"

"Please."

"You give up coffee since the last time you were home?"

"Just wanted a change," Casey shrugs, hoisting herself up into one of the stools that surround the kitchen island, and watching as her mother begins to boil some water with a familiar sort of ease, "Might have decided my stomach wasn't as young as it used to be, too."

"Too many nights spent abusing it while staying up late studying in college?"

"Something like that."

"I seem to remember warning you about that, now that I think about it," Penny muses, aware of her daughter's answering laugh, as well as the slight hint of a flush upon her cheeks, "Live and learn, and all."

"Or just the advantage of age lending you some perspective."

"Watch it, wiseass. I could just put the tea back in the drawer."

"You love me too much to do that."

"Do I, though?"

"You should!" Casey exclaims, unable to fully keep the laughter out of her reply, despite her desire to feign at least some level of indignant offense, "I am your firstborn, after all."

"That's true enough," Penny admits, moving the tea kettle of boiling water away from the stove's burner just as it begins to whistle, and pouring two glasses of the steaming liquid before handing one her daughter's way, "And since you're my firstborn, I think I know well enough when you're not being entirely honest."

"Honest?"

"About whatever it is that brought you back home. And why a girl who's been addicted to coffee since she was sixteen is suddenly preferring tea."

"Change in preferences?" Casey hedges, almost immediately aware of how the slight waver to her response is unlikely to make it very convincing at all.

"Uh-huh. Try again."

Frowning, Casey wavers between the two options that now rest before her. Biting the bullet. Telling her mother the truth. Or, remaining steadfast in trying to come up with another lie. She knows it might be easier, in the long run, to opt for the former. That her mother might, in fact, be able to help, at least when it comes to deciding what on earth she is meant to do going forward.

In spite of that awareness, however, and regardless of whatever comfort it may bring, Casey still catches herself hesitating. She catches herself remembering that even speaking the truth will only make it real.

Before she can fully come to terms with any sort of a decision, though, she is saved by the sudden chiming of her cell phone coming from inside the pockets of the loose-fitting sweatpants she'd been sleeping in. And even if she can clearly sense Penny's disappointment as she scrambles to answer the call, Casey seizes on the well-timed means of an escape as quickly as she can.

"Hello?"

"Casey? It's—it's Evie. Can we—can we talk?"

…

After the sort of day that he honestly should have seen coming, the relief Pete Mitchell feels at the prospect of walking into The Hard Deck to settle his tab from the previous evening comes as a bit of a surprise. He'd wondered, ever since realizing Penny was the proud owner of the establishment, if he'd actually be welcome, given how complicated things had once been between them.

Knowing that history, he could never have blamed her if she would have chosen to make her own life easier by refusing to allow him a place in it, but Penny hadn't done so. She had never once made a concrete move to turn him away. Together, the two of them had raised their daughter as best they could, even amidst the inevitable deployments, and he even liked to think of himself as something of a father-figure to Amelia as well.

Especially with the younger girl's own father as lacking as he was, Pete considers his bond with Amelia to be something of a blessing.

And that is even when she is doing exactly as her mother does, and giving him a hard time.

"Captain? Still?"

"A highly decorated captain," He corrects, watching as Penny stows the cash he'd just provided in her pocket, while Casey slips around her with a tray of clean glasses to replace behind the bar. She offers him a smile, though even he can tell it does not hold enough weight behind it to make it to her eyes.

He wants to ask her what causes that. Every protective instinct he possesses is all but insistent that there is something wrong, even if he cannot yet discern exactly what that something might be. But before he has the chance, he finds his attention pulled back to Amelia and Penny, just as Casey's is, as well.

"Finish up. We need to get the boat to the yard."

"I can't go."

"What do you mean you can't go?" Penny questions, regarding Amelia with a skeptically raised brow, though the expression hardly does anything to diminish her daughter's ensuing reply.

"Test tomorrow. I need to study," Amelia informs, her expression at least somewhat apologetic as she attempts to justify her sudden change in plans, "They only told us today."

"I can't sail her alone."

"Use the engine."

"And why are we taking her to the yard?" Penny persists, sharing an amused glance with Pete, before recollection dawns in Amelia's expression, and her shoulders slump just a bit in defeat.

"To fix the engine."

"I can help," Casey chimes in, stowing the last of the glasses behind the bar, and moving forward to lean her elbows against the wooden countertop resting between them, "That way Amelia can study all she wants."

"Says the girl who was throwing up in the bathroom all of thirty minutes ago?" Amelia counters, ignoring the way in which Casey's eyes seem to narrow in challenge in favor of going on, "Not exactly the sort of sailing partner I would want."

"I'm fine now, aren't I?"

"You're sick?"

"I survived on nothing but take out the entire trip here," Casey admits, hoping the lie will pass muster, even as she tries to ignore the slight flush of embarrassment that burns at her cheeks beneath the weight of her father's apparent concern, "I probably just picked up something from that."

"Uh-huh."

"Really, Dad. I'm fine. And I'm sure I'll continue to be fine while helping Mom."

"Or she could consider letting me go with her, instead," Pete suggests, turning his attention toward Penny, even if he would be a liar to pretend his concern over Casey's apparent evasive answer is not eating him to the bone, "I mean, I am in the Navy."

Watching, as Penny, Amelia, and Casey seem to share a look meant only for the three of them, Pete maintains his silence, knowing, somehow, that to press his advantage now would only be a detriment, as compared to a means of success. But just as he is prepared to admit defeat, Penny is turning away from her daughters, and back to him instead, an almost mischievous smile pulling at both corners of her mouth.

"Alright then. Hot-shot. Why don't you show me what you've got?"

…

"Wow. You look like you've had an absolute day."

The words escape before Casey can fully bring herself to stop them, her fingers brushing against Bradley's as he takes a seat across from her at the bar, and she hands him a beer. He offers her a muted groan in response, the hand that is not holding the bottle swiping across his face as though seeking to erase all of the weight of the day he'd just endured away with a single gesture. The effort fails, much as he'd already suspected it would, and Casey finds herself managing an understanding smile not long after, her own troubles waylaid, for the moment at least, in favor of trying to assist Bradley with his own.

"What happened out there?"

"You don't want to know," Bradley replies, pausing for just long enough to take a swig of the beer Casey has handed him, before he forces himself to look her in the eye, "Might fly in the face of your one rule."

"Maybe I don't really care about that rule right now," Casey quips, cocking her head to the side and sending Bradley a look that she hopes will all but persuade him to answer her question head-on, "Maybe I just care about a friend who's clearly having a tough time."

"I'm not about to give you more to worry about, Case."

"Too late, Bradley. I'm already kind of worried."

"Well don't be," Bradley says, hardly missing Casey's almost immediate frown, whether or not he can tell, simply by the hasty way she seeks to erase it, that she hadn't wanted him to take note of it at all, "I'll get over it."

"Maybe you shouldn't have to."

"It's fine."

Aware that she is apparently not about to obtain a full answer, at least not right away, Casey settles for diverting her attention to wiping away a stray stain on the counter of the bar, instead, her teeth chewing at her lower lip whether she truly wishes to give into the gesture or not. Unbidden, some of her former apprehension at being in such close proximity to Bradley returns, and it is all she can do to maintain her composure as best she can.

She hates the idea of being estranged from him. Of being so strained that even the thought of carrying on a normal conversation seems impossible, but that seems to be precisely where they are. He can't bring himself to talk to her about her father because of a rule she developed when they were younger. A rule she had hoped would keep their friendship intact. And Casey?

Casey cannot fathom telling him the very thing that has been chomping at the bit to break free since the moment she'd seen him last night without also thinking of how likely it would be for her entire world to begin falling apart at the seams.

Some small part of her knows it is foolish to be as terrified as she is. It is the very same part of her that knows the longer she waits to come clean, the more disastrous the end result of her confession may be. If Bradley even begins to think she is deliberately trying to keep him in the dark, she cannot honestly say if he could ever forgive her, being far more privy to his tendency to maintain a grudge than most.

As nervous as she may be over the prospect of potentially losing him for good, however, Casey still cannot even begin to consider how she might broach the topic that is keeping her so panicked. And whether or not Bradley suspects anything behind her obvious case of nerves, it clearly is not enough to prevent him from breaking the silence between them, a calloused hand moving to rest atop her own before he speaks.

"Wanna get out of here once your mom gets back?"

"Oh God, yes," Casey exhales, knowing full-well that her mother's return will signify her father's as well, and seizing upon the idea of putting some distance between them, more for Bradley's sake than her own, "That sounds—"

"Fantastic?"

"Definitely."

"Any place in particular you want to go?" Bradley asks, already suspecting he knows Casey's answer before she can even put it into words. It is a testament to how well the two of them can read one another that she seems capable of managing a genuinely amused smile, even in spite of whatever nervousness keeps her holding bits and pieces of herself back. Though even that reality is clearly not enough to provide any restraint from her ensuing reply, his amusement escaping in the form of a laugh as she settles for an answer that is predictable, to say the least.

"Ice cream?"

"As if I didn't already know that would be your answer."

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," Casey laughs, taking some manner of comfort in the simple act, even as she turns to hail another request for a beer from farther off down the bar, "It's not, by the way!"

"Speak for yourself, Case. It sort of is."

"I kinda hate you right now, Bradshaw—"

"Nah. You love me and you know it."

Flushing at the remark, Casey forces herself to redirect her attention to the task of providing drinks to the other patrons gathering around the bar, whether or not her heart performs a giddy little swoop in response. She still does not know if she will be able to summon the courage to tell Bradley what is going on, once they have a few moments spent alone. But regardless of that singular fact, she would be a liar to pretend that time alone with her best friend is not precisely what she feels she has been needing all along.

Anything else, she will simply have to trust to fall into place along the way.

…

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