Chapter Text
It was one night. Just one.
The aftershocks of the mission still thrumming through each one of them, not letting up long enough to let them recover fully.
So, they do what everyone did when the world is a little too big and a little too loud. They hit every bar in the vicinity and drink until they can’t see or walk straight.
Jake’s lost track of how much alcohol must be in his bloodstream by now, swirling in his stomach in an unholy concoction of beer, tequila, and whatever that pink sparkly cocktail Halo had been drinking was supposed to be.
He doesn’t even remember stumbling into the Hard Deck, only one stop of many in their crawl. Fuzzily, he can guess the picture they must make; a ragtag train of giggling individuals staggering down the street under the flashing lights of the most tourist-y part of town, holding hands in a chain and pulling each other along with Phoenix leading the charge. He thinks he remembers himself and Payback swinging Fanboy out into the road like a catapult at least once, and finds himself giggling to himself over his drink.
A heavy weight crashes down beside him, making the beer in his hand slosh dangerously on the already stained table.
Coyote slings a heavy arm over his shoulders and fixes him with a firm stare for a second before throwing out a finger to jam it clumsily against Jake’s chest as he slurs, “You…are drunk.”
Jake paws at his friend’s hand, missing the first two times before grasping it and grinning, “You’re drunker.”
Not true. They’re both as shit-faced as each other.
“You’re drunkest.” Javy fires back, even as his head slumps forward to bonk against Jake’s shoulder, sending them both into fits of wheezing laughter as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.
Jake blinks blearily as he tries to take in their surroundings.
For once their group haven’t taken over the pool table or the darts board; he’s pretty sure he watched Penny pry the darts out of Fritz’s hand and hide them behind the bar. Not that Jake blames her. He’s the best shot of all of them, and even he has to concede that he’d probably take somebody’s eye out in his current state.
Phoenix and Bob are sat up at the bar, Phe talking at a hundred miles per minute and throwing her hands out excitedly in whatever story she’s telling him. It makes Jake smile unconsciously; she’s always been a happy drunk. Bob is just smiling at her fondly, the most sober of all of them, and dutifully pushing her upright every time she starts swaying a little dangerously on her stool.
Payback, Harvard, Yale, Fritz and Fanboy have somehow got themselves adopted by a hen party with no hope of escape, not that they seem to mind if the way they’re belting Abba songs from the Jukebox with the group of twenty-somethings is anything to go by.
Rooster’s swooped up Halo and is dragging her in a dance around the floor while she squeals with laughter and shrieks whenever he lifts her off the floor. More than a handful of couples have joined them. Classic Rooster. Who else could start a flash mob when their body is 80% booze?
Penny just watches on with warm but sharp eyes, keeping an eye on every single one of them because God forbid anything happen to one of Maverick’s kids on her watch.
“Where’d Omaha go?” Jake asks, batting at Javy’s head blindly while he glances around the blurry room.
“He left hours ago,” Javy mutters, muffled against Jake’s shirt, “Wanted to get back to his baby mama.”
Jake furrows his brow at that with a pout, “Babies ruin all the fun.”
Javy throws up a hand without lifting his head, “Amen to that, brother.”
Jake huffs in amusement and shuffles out from Javy’s weight, “I need a new drink. Be right back.”
“Bring shots!” Javy bellows with a grin, and an answering chorus of cheers from the other Daggers pop up from all around the bar.
Jake just flips him off, probably with the wrong finger but he’s seeing double so it’s a 50/50, and heads for the bar while trying not to crash into too many tables, chairs, and human bodies on the way.
Penny raises an eyebrow like she’d seen him coming a mile off, “You’re pushing your luck, Hangman. That’s gonna be one killer headache in the morning.” she warns.
Jake just grins up at her, all teeth as he leans on his elbows, “But Penny, I’m your favourite.” He purrs, tilting his head in a way he hopes is endearing.
It works, because the older woman just rolls her eyes fondly and leans closer to whisper, “Don’t tell the others.” before she ruffles his hair and turns to start up on the drinks.
Jake’s content to just hover there and let the world stop spinning for a couple of minutes when he feels a presence close on his shoulder and a hand on the small of his back.
“Local?” a smooth voice enquires.
Turning his head, Jake blinks dumbly for a second. It’s a man he doesn’t know; definitely at least a decade older than him, face lined and slicked hair silvering but still with a square jaw and strong cheekbones. The guy is taller, broad shoulders covered by an expensive looking jacket. His eyes are sharp and intelligent, and when Jake focusses, he can feel how large the hand on his back is and how the thumb is gently stroking against his spine.
Jake quirks his lip, “Who wants to know?”
The guy smiles, raising an eyebrow, “Would you believe me if I said it’s for a friend?”
“Absolutely not.”
The answering chuckle is deep and rich, and Jake can’t blame the way his knees falter a little on the alcohol.
“Local.” He rewards, “For now at least. Over on base.”
He’s normally more cautious about what details he gives out to randoms, but his brain is fuzzy and this guy is looking at him like he already knows anything Jake could tell him. He’s always liked an older man, someone who can put him in his place and guide him at the same time.
“Ah, a Navy man then.”
“Yessir.”
And he clearly doesn’t have to worry about it being a turnoff, because the hand on his back presses firmer and there’s a flash in the man’s eyes like Jake just told him he was a stripper.
“You’re not from here originally though,” the guy muses, narrowing his eyes like he’s solving a puzzle, “I can tell by the accent. I’m gonna guess Texas?”
Jake stares at him owlishly for a second, immediately knowing that this guy is five steps ahead of him and damn it that’s rare, “Good guess.”
He’s vaguely aware of Penny sliding drinks across the bar, sees the guy slip his card over discreetly before she slinks away again to give them privacy. It’s more reassuring than it should be; Penny knows all the regulars around here, she wouldn’t let it go too far if she knew there was trouble.
Mr. Silver fox infront of him smirks and leans in, practically bracketing Jake against the bar, “Well, I’ve got good taste.”
Heart thumping a little harder, Jake swallows and sees how the man’s eyes follow the line of his throat, “Is that right?”
“Oh, definitely.” The hand on his back starts tracing lightly up his spine and he shivers involuntarily.
Those eyes glint in delight at the feeling, “I have a hotel ten minutes away. I’m sure the bed is nicer than whatever they’ve got for you over there. Wanna take a look?” The guy cuts to the chase, voice low, lips close to Jake’s ear and shit how is he still upright right now? The scent of expensive cologne fills his senses, makes his brain somehow even more cloudy.
The hand slips back down curving over his ass, pulling him closer against the man’s bigger frame and Jake’s helpless to do much more than hum out his consent. If he were more sober, he’d probably be embarrassed to be putting on such an intimate display in clear view of the entire bar. But fuck it, they’ve had a shitty couple of months.
The older man’s answering grin is shark-like as he pulls away to start guiding Jake towards the door, hand still definitely far south enough that anybody looking would know exactly where this is going.
“Baby!”
Jake almost doesn’t stop, because he knows that voice but there’s no way it’s being directed at him. Rooster’s an affectionate guy with all of his friends, he could be talking to anybody.
Silver fox’s hand is on the door ready to lead them out into the night when Jake feels a firm hand come down on his shoulder.
His first thought is maybe it’s Javy. His best friend normally leaves him to it when he sees that Jake’s struck lucky, but he might just be drunk enough to not have caught the memo however glaringly obvious.
So when he turns to see Bradley Bradshaw stood so close to him, he has to blink a couple times to make sure he’s not seeing things.
“Baby, you can’t go wondering off like that,” Bradley says in a tone that is somehow both firm and painfully soft.
And Jake is confused as shit. So much so that he can’t do much besides open and close his mouth like a fish a couple times.
Sure they’re friendly again since the mission, but not…that friendly.
“He yours?” silver fox pipes up and Jake almost jumps as he remembers his presence. The hand on his ass drops immediately.
Bradley just offers the guy a tight smile, hand coming up to cup the back of Jake’s neck, “Last I checked?”
Jake just stares at him because since fucking when?
The older man raises both hands in defence, bowing out easily, “I’m sorry, I assumed-“
“It’s cool. He’s had a lot to drink, it gets him a little confused sometimes. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” and there’s something in the way that Bradley says it that triggers something in the back of Jake’s muddled brain.
It was an old act they used way back; back when they were fresh-faced and didn’t want to rip each other’s throats out every other day. When they were friends.
If one of them (usually Jake), got a little too close to somebody that the other (usually Bradley) deemed unsuitable, unappealing or even dangerous, the other would pull up and play the boyfriend card.
Jake tenses a little, suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious of his alcohol induced state and the fact that apparently Bradley’s seen something in that he concluded enough of a red flag to act as a cock block.
So Jake nods, letting Bradley pull him into his side possessively. Pressed against him, he can feel how the older pilot is slightly uneven on his feet and thinks it’s a credit to him how he’s able to act so sober when Jake knows that not even half an hour ago he was falling over himself just as bad as the rest of them.
“You might want to get him home,” the stranger suggests, and Jake catches a flicker of disappointment in his eyes even as he stays polite, “You two have a good night.”
“Thanks.” Bradley grunts back, slipping his arm around Jake’s waist and holding him in place.
Silver fox nods once, gives Jake one last lingering once-over with a smile, and then he disappears out of the door.
Jake feels a stab of disappointment himself, and he turns to look up at Bradley with a frown, “Why did you-“
“Wedding ring.” Bradley mutters bluntly, not taking his eyes off the door for a moment as if he needs to ensure that the guy isn’t going to dart back in.
Jake winces, dropping his gaze, “Oh.”
Because ouch he’s down for a lot of things, but home-wrecking is not one of them.
It’s a testament to how drunk they both are when he sags a little more against Bradley and the other man stumbles a little but doesn’t shove him off, “Why do I always get the assholes?”
That seems to break Bradley out of his protective shell and he chuckles, shaking his head a little and then wincing, “That’s what you get for being a pretty boy.”
Jake rolls his eyes at that, immediately regretting it when the room keeps spinning, “I really needed to get laid tonight.” he whines, the words coming out without him really thinking of them.
Bradley’s arm tightens a little around his waist and oh he’s still holding him.
Probably just trying to keep him upright.
He hears the slight hiccup in Bradley’s breath, could probably hear the cogs turning in his head if he tried hard enough.
Then Bradley’s hand sinks a little, wrapping around Jake’s hip, fingers digging in slightly and oh.
“For old time’s sake?” Bradley’s voice is breathy and low.
They’ve done this before. There was never a label on it, just two guys looking to blow off some steam every now and then. It had been easy, fun. Jake had been convinced they were the exception to the Friends with Benefits curse until their friendship fell apart and they couldn’t be in the same room together, let alone the same bed.
Jake looks up to double check that he isn’t just imagining this, or that Bradley isn’t messing with him.
But those dark eyes are dark and focussed, staring back at him with one eyebrow slightly quirked. Jake knows that he could duck out of Bradley’s grip and the taller man would back off in a heartbeat.
He grasps at Bradshaw’s hand and all but drags him around the shadowed edges of the room until they reach the bathroom. He has no idea if anybody clocks them. He doesn’t care at the moment.
The second they’re through the door, Bradley crowds him against the walls and is kissing him like his life depends on it. Jake briefly thinks how lucky they are that there’s nobody already in there before he claws blindly at the older man’s broad shoulders and kisses him back with just as much enthusiasm.
He gasps into Bradley’s mouth when he feels a thigh push between his legs, and Bradley takes the moment to dive for his throat, sucking at least one mark that will definitely be there in the morning over Jake’s racing pulse.
“This-this is just a one-time thing,” Jake gasps out, throwing back his head to give more access as a skilled hand make quick work of the zipper of his jeans. He barely registers that the back of his skull is met with Bradley’s palm cradling his head rather than the cold bite of tiles.
“One time.” Bradley repeats breathily against his collarbone before he surges down to yank Jake’s jeans off roughly.
Jake just lets him, reaching back to lean against the wall for support as Bradley manhandles him until he’s bare from the waist down. He feels exposed, heart rabbiting out of his chest as his eyes dart to the door because anybody could walk in and they’d be right there. He’s just out of it that the thought is more thrilling than daunting.
When Bradley comes back up, Jake grasps his face in both hands and immediately the fight for dominance starts up again. Jake knows he’ll lose. He always does, but if letting Bradley force his tongue into his mouth is enough of a distraction for Jake to get his own hands on the other’s jeans then he’s happy to accept defeat.
There’s a minute or two of fumbling, fighting to keep lips on skin as Bradley shakes his jeans off before immediately getting back in Jake’s space so that they’re pressed together from toe to mouths.
Jake keeps one hand grasped in the back of Bradley’s shirt that’s so bright it’s making his already fuzzy vision worse, while the other slips down to wrap around the taller man’s cock.
Bradley groans deep and low, dropping his head to start mouthing at Jake’s already sore throat. Jake whimpers when he feels teeth scrape against his skin, shivering involuntarily and getting revenge with a few firm tugs of Bradley’s already hard dick.
“Missed this.” Bradley rasps, soothing the bite with his tongue before immediately setting on another part of Jake’s skin, “Missed you.”
“Missed you too.” Jake gasps out even as his brain starts to scramble when he feels Bradley’s fingers slide down his ass, circling around his hole with a gentleness that doesn’t match the roughness of the rest of his attack.
The door starts to swing open and Bradley’s foot shoots out at rocket speed to slam it shut again as he whips his head around to shout, “Occupied!”
“Jesus christ man, couldn’t wait 'til you got home?” whoever it is grumbles on the other side, but they obviously take the hint and disappear.
The two of them just stand there frozen for a minute, breathing hard while they wait to see if they’re going to need to dart for their pants if they’re about to get kicked out.
When it seems the coast is clear, Bradley turns back to Jake and they both burst into laughter. Bradley drops his head on Jake’s shoulder and groans, “Shit, that could have been embarrassing.”
Jake grins when he has his breath back, bringing his hand that was holding Bradley’s shirt up into those soft brown waves and twirl them carefully between his fingers.
He swallows, in a moment of lucidity, and tugs gently to bring Bradley’s head up, “Bradley, please tell me this doesn’t…doesn’t change anything, right? We’re cool?”
Bradley’s eyes soften at his change in tone and he smiles reassuringly, “We’re cool. This is just…”
He’s clearly trying to find the right words so Jake helps him out, “One last hurrah.”
Bradley’s grin grows, “One last hurrah.”
Jake shudders as a jolt of pleasure seeps up his spine and he realises Bradley’s been absently running his finger over his rim this whole time, and he breathes out, “Just friends.”
“Real good friends.” Bradley agrees seriously, diving back down to his assault on Jake’s throat.
“Friends who fuck.” Jake moans shakily as a finger sinks in, closing his eyes tightly against the intrusion for a second.
Bradley’s other hand drifts up and down his side beneath his shirt and the simple act makes him relax steadily, “Friends who fuck.”
Whatever Jake plans on saying next abruptly leaves his brain and he cries out as two more fingers slide in to join the first, pumping steadily and stretching him out. He feels Bradley sigh deeply at the sound, hears him murmur roughly against his neck, “Shit, I forgot the noises you make.”
“It’s hard to keep quiet when you’re-" Jake’s retort breaks off in a strangled whine and a jolt when Bradley crooks his fingers perfectly over that nerve that he somehow still remembers exactly how to find. If he were more lucid, maybe Jake would think more deeply about that. As is, all he can do is grasp at the other man’s shoulders and try not to let his legs shake too much.
“Don’t you dare,” Bradley rasps, somehow sounding as broken as Jake feels already, “Wanna hear you. You’re so pretty like this.”
Jake whimpers at the words, feels how Bradley drinks it in and nuzzles harder against his collar bone. He can feel the hardness against his hip, but he’s too out of it to do much about it right now.
Abruptly, Bradley pulls his head back, lips red and wet and his eyes blazing. His fingers go still and Jake whines and tries to push his hips down on them for friction, but Bradley’s voice is asking softly, “You sure?”
“Jesus, Bradshaw, you’re killing me here.” Jake groans, “I want this, I swear. I want you.”
Something flashes in Bradley’s face and before Jake can even compute it, he’s pulled his fingers out and strong hands are under his thighs, hefting him up against the wall in a show of strength so powerful that it makes his head spin a little. Instinctively, Jake’s legs wrap tightly around the larger man’s waist.
He can feel the head of Bradley’s cock pressing against his entrance and forces himself to relax even as his pulse thrums at a million miles a minute.
Bradley leans in and entices him into a deep kiss that’s somehow so languid yet so intense that Jake can’t help but get sucked into it. His breath hitches and a small noise of pain comes from his throat as he feels Bradley slowly pull him down onto him. He’s suddenly relieved for the alcohol that’s dulling the pain a little.
“m’sorry, baby,” Bradley whispers against his lips, never pulling away for long, “You’re doing so good.”
Jake whimpers a little, more at his words than the feeling of being steadily filled, dragging the other man back into the kiss to distract himself.
To his credit, Bradley stays still inside of him for as long as it takes for Jake to adjust. He’s had guys who’ve hammered into him with little prep and no time to relax and shit did it hurt. It was part of why their thing had lasted so long. Bradley was safe. For all Jake teased him about his being too slow in the air, he was extremely grateful for that patience when it came to this.
Bradley’s breathing heavily, clearly holding back for all he’s worth. After a minute, Jake shifts experimentally and they both moan as pleasure sparks from where they’re connected.
“I’m good,” he whispers roughly, pressing his lips to Bradley’s neck to start mouthing a mark of his own, “I’m so fucking good.”
Bradley breathes out like he’s been told he’s allowed into Heaven and starts rocking his hips. He tries to start slow, he always does. But every thrust punches out a soft moan from Jake’s lips and every sound he makes drives Bradley to move a little faster, a little harder.
Before long, the pounding of skin on skin fills the bathroom and Jake can’t do much more than grasp desperately at Bradley’s shoulders and hold on for the ride.
Bradley’s muttering praise and sweet nothings punctuated by grunts, alternating between catching Jake’s lips and panting into his neck like he can’t decide where he wants to be more.
“God, like you’re fucking made for me,” Bradley groans, hitting Jake’s prostate dead on and drawing out an almost embarrassingly high-pitched cry while Bradley keeps mumbling incoherently, “so tight, shit. Nobody like you anywhere.”
Jake lets out a long and quivering whine at that, clenching around Bradley and closing his eyes tightly at the heat building up low in his body.
“Looked all over,” Bradley continues, abandoning his short, rapid thrusts to replace them with deep, powerful motions that punch the air from Jake’s lungs and leave him pulling at Bradley’s hair and whimpering a string of incoherent sounds, “Couldn’t find anybody as good as you. It was so fucking frustrating.”
Jake’s practically sobbing, feeling every nerve in his body light up with ever thrust, “Nobody but you, nobody-“ he yelps at a particularly hard rock from Bradley’s hips, his head rolling back against the wall, “Nobody, shit, nobody makes me feel like this.”
He feels Bradley’s smirk against his jaw, “Yeah? Nobody takes you apart the way I can, huh baby?”
“N-no one.” Jake gasps out, body tightening.
Bradley’s grip on his thighs tightens, his rhythm stuttering, “Wanna see it. Wanna see you fall apart. Come on baby, let go.”
His voice is gravelly with pleasure, and he starts grinding against Jake’s body. It would be smothering from some men, but Jake’s breathing just somehow quickens even more when Bradley’s abs give his own abandoned dick some friction and Jake scrambles for purchase as his orgasm starts to build.
His whole body is on fire as one well-aimed thrust pushes him over the edge and he gasps and writhes and scrambles for purchase at Bradley’s back and shoulders. He’s babbling absolute nonsense, eyes rolling back as his vision whites out and suddenly everything feels like too much. Bradley holds him down balls-deep, and the restriction amplifies his senses by a hundred.
Jake closes his eyes tightly even as the rest of his body goes boneless and limp in Bradley’s arms, head sagging against the older man’s neck as Bradley murmurs raspy reassurance, “I got you, baby. I got you.”
He’s still moving inside him, slower and gentler for the time being, but Jake’s exhausted and overstimulated and it feels like an electric shock with every twitch. He moans weakly, trying to push down his body’s instinct to get away from the feeling of too much.
Bradley speeds up the pace again, chasing his own release and pushed on by the soft noises that Jake keeps making against his ear, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort.
When Bradley comes, it’s with a primal groan that he smothers against Jake’s hair and one final deep pump of his hips before he jerks to a stop, shuddering as the release washes over him in waves.
Jake moans softly, still shuddering, releasing his death grip of Bradley’s shoulders to stroke his fingers down the back of his head soothingly. He’s not even aware of the heat that fills him, of the way Bradley pulses inside him while his own body clenches involuntarily.
Even after Bradley’s body sags, they stay there for a minute, panting and sweating. How Bradley’s still holding him up is some kind of miracle.
“You okay?” Bradley rasps, nuzzling against his ear.
“Mmhm.” Is the only sound Jake can pull out at the moment, his breathing still hitching with every inhale. He’s always been the more sensitive of the two of them.
Slowly, almost considerately, Bradley pulls out of him and murmurs an apology when Jake gasps in discomfort at the feeling. Jake’s too out of it to really care.
When he’s lowered back down to his feet, his legs are quaking and he knows he’d be on the floor if Bradley didn’t know him well enough to keep a careful grip on him.
Bradley smiles at him dopily, patient as ever as he waits for Jake to find his land-legs again, “Still got it.”
Whether he means himself or Jake is a mystery that Jake is too exhausted to solve.
“m’tired.” Is all he can mumble, blinking slowly as the booze and exertion slam into him full-force.
Bradley chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, “We’re gonna get cleaned up, then get you to bed, princess. Sound good?”
Jake murmurs his agreement with his eyes closed because yeah that sounds amazing right about now.
They’ll go back to their separate beds and won’t talk about it in the morning; there’ll be a knowing look and a secret smirk over brunch, unnoticed by their friends nursing their own pounding headaches as they try to piece the night together between them.
If Jake’s late, nobody needs to know it’s because it took him an hour or two to be able to walk straight with how sore and stiff his body feels.
If Phoenix notices Rooster looking a little too pleased with himself, he’ll just shrug and say, “I don’t kiss and tell.”
It was one night. Nothing more.