jireusang
Recent works
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Summary
The truth cannot be threatened: Jake Seresin does not fuck sheriffs just to outskirt the law.
But, well, maybe it could be bent.
Bradley Bradshaw is a deputy.
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Summary
“You’re gonna be late,” Bradley says.
“I have three minutes,” Jake just says, eyebrows scrunching as non-regulation fringe falls over his forehead.
“Are we gonna use them?” Bradley asks, gaze flicking to Jake’s mouth as it curls into a winsome grin.
“Well, we’re sure as hell not gonna waste them, Bradshaw.”
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Jake slightly furrows his brows in reaction to the loud slam of the door, but any and all noise of the building quickly becomes very difficult to focus on.
One, because the locked door of the single-occupancy bathroom muffles all sounds of background music, clinking glasses, and happy drinkers.
And two, because Rooster’s suddenly crowding into his space, and Jake finds it considerably harder to think coherently with Rooster’s hands pushing into his shoulders as his lips skim over his.
It could also be the alcohol, contributing to his growing loss of rationality. But Jake also kind of likes the way that Rooster tastes like beer.
So, whatever, it takes a suicide mission for them to act civil.
It takes three drinks for them to act like a lot more.
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Rooster blinks. “And you came to me for this?”
Hangman shrugs, like, if he has any of the same worries, he’s letting them slide off his shoulders and fall to the floor with no care in the world. “Javy won’t give up his trip to Hawaii with his girlfriend for me,” he says, lazily. “But you have nothing else going on this summer, right?”
And Rooster pauses because he kind of has a strong point.
“Just a week?” Rooster asks.
“Just a week,” Hangman confirms.
Rooster breathes out, and Hangman tacks on a, “Please?” with that stupid, sweet-talking smile. And Rooster decides that maybe a pool and a Texan sun is worth acting like he’s dating Jake Seresin in the shade.
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Summary
He holds up a large brown paper bag, drawing Bradley’s eyes. Hangman shakes it as if it contains all of Bradley’s answers.
“Bandages,” Hangman tells him, shrugging again. Inadvertently, Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the creased gauze on his neck. “Nurse said you should change them every 24 hours, starting tonight. Supplies in the bag.”
“That’s something I can do myself,” Bradley responds, trying to pour as much assertiveness as he can into the statement. He thinks, maybe, if he meets Hangman at the same level of confidence he’s been showcasing, Hangman will feel threatened enough to leave. But Hangman, as nothing ever rattles him, stands unperturbed.
“Even the ones on your back?” Hangman asks, still lazy, yet never missing a beat.