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"I think I'm in love with you."
Bradley is standing on Jake's porch, his car parked too far down the street to turn and run. Ten minutes ago, this felt like a good idea. Now, with Jake leaning on the doorframe, his tank top pulled up just enough to see the trail of hair over his stomach… Jesus, Bradshaw, focus. Don't let him get in your head more than he already has. The point being, it doesn't feel like quite such a brilliant idea anymore. Not when Jake is right there, studying Bradley with that awful poker face of his.
Jake issues a low whistle. "Well, colour me surprised, Bradshaw." He pushes up from the doorframe, standing at his full height. He's making himself look big, trying to intimidate. Bradley has been through that routine enough times not to fall for it. "Thought you hated me."
Bradley snorts a laugh. "Where'd you get that idea?"
Jake's green eyes are piercing, even in the shade of the porch. "Oh, I don't know." His brash tone falters for a second, subdued—a far cry from his typical larger-than-life persona. "Probably when you said you hated me."
Ah. Yeah, that would do it. The problem is, Bradley doesn't remember a time when he'd said that. At least, not to Jake's face. Sure, there was that time back in Miramar that he'd rambled to Phoenix about something like that… Okay, he'd pretty much said exactly that. But that can't be right, there's no way Jake could have—
"You heard that?"
Jake rolls his eyes. "Loud and clear, Rooster. So, you mind telling me how I'm supposed to believe all of a sudden that you're head over heels?"
Bradley grimaces. "I didn't mean it, Jake. It was a shitty day in a shitty week and I was drunk, okay?"
"I'm unconvinced, Bradshaw. You sounded pretty sincere to me."
"Well, I wasn't. I was frustrated, sure, and I never should have taken it out on you—but it wasn't hatred." Bradley breathes a low sigh. "I guess I just didn't know what to do with how I felt about you. It wasn't like I could tell you, was it? You would have laughed in my face."
Jake raises an eyebrow. "Now that's an idea. I could still do that, if you ask nicely." He smirks, infuriatingly, endearingly.
Bradley can feel the flush that rises on his cheeks. "Shut up, Hangman. God, you're the worst."
"See, that's more like it. There's the Rooster I know." He says it with a hint of mischief. "He would never fall for a guy like me." His smirk widens into a shit-eating grin.
It almost feels like a challenge. Like he's daring Bradley to push back. "As if you haven't been pulling my proverbial pigtails for years, Jake. You ever gonna work up the nerve to tell me how you feel?"
"Like hell." He says, eyes sharp. "You first, or no deal." Jake takes a step backwards, crossing the invisible line Bradley didn't know was there until now. "Off that perch, now, darlin'. I know you have it in you." He turns, leaving Bradley to watch him walk away.
Bradley pushes past his inhibitions and follows him over the threshold. Jake doesn't let up, beginning to head upstairs. Bradley gladly takes the bait, the sharp sting of the hook a fleeting thing. He kicks off his shoes. "I hate your ego, and your temper, and the way you think you're always right." His hand finds the bannister as he follows Jake.
"I hate that stupid smirk and the way I fall for it every time." They're on the landing now, Bradley matching Jake's pace. "I hate your perfect hair and your perfect face and your perfect body."
"I hate that you're all I can think about." Bradley catches his breath as Jake slows. "I hate that you're all I want to think about."
They've come to a stop right in front of a door, Jake's hand hovering over the handle. Bradley moves in for the kill. "I hate how much I love you, Jake Seresin. Against my better judgement. Against everything I thought I knew."
Jake turns the handle.
It takes Bradley a second to react, to keep from tripping as he stumbles after Jake into the room. Inside, Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed. He doesn't say a thing, just stares at Bradley, expression unreadable. Bradley hates it when he does that.
"We had a deal, remember?" Bradley pushes the door closed behind him. "Your turn, prettyboy."
There's a wicked glimmer in Jake's eyes. "If you insist, Bradshaw." He's slow as he moves to stand, searching, calculating. "Maybe it's time I took it slow, tried things your way."
Bradley steps forward and they almost circle each other for a brief moment, leaving Bradley with his back to the bed. Jake looks him up and down before continuing. "I used to think you'd have burned in by now. Ninety-nine problems, I'd have one less." He reaches up and undoes a button on Bradley's shirt, then another. "I hate that I'm glad you didn't."
The way he's moving is tantalisingly slow, every motion imbued with purpose. "I thought you could never be half as good as me. I hate that you had the nerve to prove me wrong."
Jake's fingers ghost over Bradley's belt buckle. "I hate that you have me doing all the work, Bradshaw." He raises both eyebrows.
Bradley gets the hint, scrambling to remove the belt, shrugging his now-unbuttoned shirt off and letting it fall to the floor. "I hate that you dress like a washed up divorcee. Those shirts are a crime against fashion." Jake's smile softens for just long enough that he's distracted, giving Bradley a chance to get his hands under Jake's tank top and push it up. Jake yields a little and raises his arms to let Bradley toss it aside. Bradley uses the momentum to push Jake back against the door.
"You know what I hate most, Rooster?" Jake says, meeting Bradley's eyes. He brings a hand to Bradley's face, brushing a thumb over his top lip. "This stupid mustache. I mean, really, wh—" He's cut off as Bradley's mouth finds his, the rest of his words forgotten as they move against each other.
Jake's hands snake around Bradley's waist before tugging at the button of his jeans. Bradley breaks away for a split second to kick them off, discarding them and his tank top on the carpet. Jake looks him up and down with a sly smile, admiring the view. That sly smile is wiped off his face as Bradley nuzzles into his neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses below his ear. "So help me God," Jake tries to say, struggling to maintain his composure, "I will make you shave that thing if you keep this up."
"You wouldn't dare." Bradley smiles sweetly. "Hey, Seresin. Don't leave me hanging."
"Fine, have it your way." Jake says, ducking around Bradley and digging around in his nightstand. He slips off his sweats and boxers and returns to the bed. "I hate that you drive me crazy like no one else, Bradley. I hate that you took your damn time figuring that out, because I never tried to hide it."
Joining him on the bed, Bradley fumbles for the lube that Jake retrieved from the nightstand and coats his fingers. He meets Jake's eyes. One of these days, he's liable to get lost in them. They breathe together for a moment. "You're sure?"
"Sure as the sun rises in the East." He drags Bradley into another kiss. "Sure as it sets in the West." Jake's voice is a whisper against his lips as Bradley presses a finger in slowly. Jake tenses up for a split second and then exhales, letting himself relax into the touch.
Bradley takes his time easing Jake into it, adding another only when he's sure Jake can handle it. "What did we say about that perch, sweetheart?" Jake mumbles with two fingers inside him. Bradley responds by pressing in a third, revelling in the way Jake gasps.
"I'm clean, if you wanted to…" Bradley says as Jake reaches behind him for the condom. Jake nods and lets it fall back to the nightstand. He shudders a little as Bradley withdraws. "You're beautiful." Bradley utters, transfixed. "So perfect."
"Tell me something I don't know." Jake murmurs.
Bradley laughs lightly. "Thought you knew everything, baby." He leans down to kiss Jake again, moving them both for a better angle.
"I thought I did too." Jake's voice is barely a whisper as Bradley's cock presses in ever so slightly. When he speaks again, it's through a gasp. "Until I met you." He pulls Bradley closer, sinking down as he does so. "You're just full of surprises, ain't you?"
Bradley responds by starting to move, slow at first until Jake shoots him a look. He picks up the pace, Jake's legs tightening around his waist. Whatever intensity existed between them before, this is on another level. Bradley can't remember the last time he felt this good, this safe. If Jake is the one to lead him to an early grave, far be it from Bradley to complain.
Jake's hands are everywhere, on his chest, on his back, in his hair. He pants as Bradley keeps to his rhythm, finding his target over and over. Bradley braces his hands against Jake's chest, digging in his fingers enough to leave a mark.
He can tell Jake is close, can feel it in the way he trembles with every movement, a hand now rooted in the back of Bradley's curls. Jake's mouth finds Bradley's again, kissing him until he can't hold his breath any longer. He moans, breath hot against Bradley's lips. It's all Bradley can do not to lose it right then, letting the sounds wash over him.
Then Jake tenses ever so slightly, clenching around Bradley with a low groan. Another roll of his hips, and they're both gone. Just seeing the way Jake's face scrunches, his eyes squeezed shut as he comes, heat spreading between them—it's enough to have Bradley following right after him, dizzy with pleasure.
Bradley slumps against Jake, everything a haze. For a long time they just breathe, too spent to form coherent sentences. He pulls Jake close, flush against each other with no intention of moving. His fingertips trace Jake's spine, mapping out every mole, every scar.
After what could be minutes or hours, Jake breathes deeply, holding it for a long moment before exhaling. "I hate that you're so good at that."
Bradley can't help but laugh, trailing kisses along Jake's jawline. "I can leave whenever." He grins as he says it.
Jake pulls Bradley even closer, impossibly close. "Don't you dare, Bradshaw."
"Tell me something real." Bradley's voice drops to a whisper.
"Alright." Jake mutters, tracing circles in the small of Bradley's back. "I love you too." He breathes the words against Bradley's palm, sealing them there with a kiss. "That's as real as it gets."