ˢᵃᵘᵈᵃᵈᵉ

bradley bradshaw 𝔁 fem! reader
𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕘𝕦𝕟: 𝕞𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕜

❝ can i have your real name? ❞

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫.

The bar was a hot spot, and you always found yourself with your friends their every Friday night. It had become routine now, and you had also formed a close bond with the bar owner and her daughter. You loved the dynamic and ambience of the bar, and enjoyed watching cocky patrons get thrown out if they disrespected a woman or soldier. There were allot of army brats around, given that the area the pub was based in was a military town. You usually managed to coax a drink out of a few of them before returning to your friends, offering them nothing but your winning smile before they sulked off to their fellow squadrons. 

But you weren't prepared for him.

Bradley Bradshaw sure knew how to make an entrance, his glasses dipping as he scanned the room before finding his friends. Ever since their experience at Top Gun, they had changed from being simple competitive classmates to a tight-knit group of friends. Bradley had greeted Phoenix, and even Hangman, the rivalry still present yet much softer, before his eyes found a figure.

Your figure.

You were leaning against the bar, resting your arms against the polished wood of the countertop as you rattled off a list of drinks before settling on a dry beer for yourself. Penny, the owner and long-term girlfriend of his uncle Maverick, smiled warmly at you, gathering the drinks you wished for before grasping your hands and talking. You reciprocated the action, rubbing your thumb over the diamond ring on her fourth finger with a beaming grin. 

One of your friends came up to you and rested her head on your shoulder, nudging you playfully before picking up the three bottles of beer you had ordered, kicking your butt on the way with her boot as she made her way to the three girls sitting in a booth.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing good naturedly before returning your attention back to Penny. She spoke to you for only a moment before she met Bradley's gaze from over your shoulder. Waving with a smirk, the action caught your attention, and the next thing he knew, you were turning around in curiosity, locking eyes with him.

He was taken aback, and it only seemed to hit him that his mouth was scraping the floor and his eyes were wide as he felt a hand clap his shoulder, finding the teasing smile on Hangman's face at his side. Phoenix openly snickered, patting his arm whilst the rest mercilessly poked fun. Shoving them off with a roll of his eyes and a bemused smile, he turned back to you, finding your hand placed delicately over your lips as you smothered a grin. 

Before he managed to shrug off his fellow pilots, you had already returned to your friends, each clinking your bottles together before falling into bright conversation. Bradley let out a huff, turning around and sending a pointed glare at Hangman who merely smirked around the rim of his own beer.

"She was checking you out, gramps," he raised a brow.

"I'm only thirty-three, asshole," Rooster muttered, leaning down and drawing the stick before thumping it against the ball, gathering himself a point. "And she wasn't."

"She was," Coyote aided his blonde friend. "Eyes zeroed in on that chiseled ass of yours."

Laughter erupted from the pilots, some even bothering to take a dramatic glance at Bradley's butt to which he dodged with a sway of his hip.

"Hey, maybe we're wrong," Hangman shrugged, gesturing to himself and Coyote. "Besides, I don't think she would be into you, birdman."

That had Bradley squinting, sizing up the tanned man before him. "So, one minute she's checking me out, and the next she doesn't like me?"

"We women are very complex," Phoenix grinned.

"However, the approach is simple." Jake stepped forward, and suddenly, a $100 bill was lodged in between his fore and middle finger. "Get her number, and this is yours."

"$100? That's nothing, bagman," Bradley scoffed. "How about I list some stuff off like a real game of hangman?"

Hangman sighed with a twitch of his nose. "You can draw me into flight deck, as well."

"Deal," Rooster immediately agreed with a curl of his lips. "Now, was that so difficult?"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, before pasting on a grin. "I wanna see that woman swoon."

"Looks like Bradshaw already is," Fanboy chuckled, shaking his head at the sight of Bradley, who was watching you from his spot by the table. 

Bradley was ecstatic; he was going to beat Hangman yet again, AND get an excuse to speak to you? He was in heaven, it seemed, as the pilot slowly made his way towards you, a saunter in his step, however not too cocky.

"Hi."

His greeting was short and spoken with a smile. You looked up from your friend, a small smirk pulling at the corners of your lips as you nodded, "Hey."

"How's your night going?"

"It's going fine," you replied, glancing at the women around you. "Just having a girl's night."

The way you emphasized the word should have been answer enough, but Bradley really only registered that you were blowing him off when you started the conversation again with your friends, leaving him standing there like a deer in headlights.

Sighing, he glanced to the side, finding Hangman smirking victoriously as he twirled the green bill between his fingers.

Hell no.

Bradley leaned down, which caught your attention, your head turning to face him in confusion. "Okay, I need to explain something." Your eyebrows pulled into a questionable frown as you watched him. "See, my friends think they saw you checking me out," he shrugged a shoulder.

"Oh, did they?" you smirked.

"They are certain," the man promised with a definitive nod. "They saw our future in your eyes apparently; the house, the kids, everything."

You chuckled, shaking your head as he nodded his head, trying to convince you. Looking back up at him, you pursed your lips, "So, what would it take to get them off your case? And mine?"

"Well, maybe I could teach you some pool?" he offered with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Teach?" you repeated. "I know how to play pool..."

"Rooster," he answered your silent question.

The smile on your face was infectious. "Rooster? Your name is Rooster?"

"That's my call sign, ma'am," Bradley informed with that smirk that always came so naturally. 

"Can I have your real name?"

"Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

"Gosh, your parents must be wonderful," you said truthfully with a chuckle, tilting your head at him. You were thinking to yourself, mulling over some thoughts. "How about a simple game? Where I beat you."

A slow smirk painted his lips as he stared at you, leaning back slightly to rake his gaze over you. "You're cocky."

"Confident."

"Either way, I like it."

Smiling, you stood up and took another swig of your beer before leaving it at the table, alongside your friends who watched with smiles, as you took Bradley by the hand and led him towards the pool tables. He usually would grin mockingly at his friends, silently bragging, however he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from you for a single second.

Standing by the pool table, you grabbed ahold of two of the polls, tossing him one before leaning down. Your back arched as you closed an eyelid, focusing on the red and cream ball before you, ignoring the gaze trained on your form.

Kicking the ball, it landed in one of the netted holes and you stood, leaning the stick against the floor with a smile.

"Not bad," he said with an appreciative nod of his head.

"Your turn."

For about twenty minutes, you were a laughing mess as you played pool with Rooster. He was, safe to say, wonderful. Bradley was incredibly witty and that laugh of his always had you feeling a certain sense of pride that you could bring such a sound into the world. He was soft spoken at times, and the next thing you knew, he was bracing above you, guiding your arms as he whispered instructions into your ear.

"Then, you lean back," he murmured.

"Kind of hard too when I've got 200 pounds of muscle on my back," you whispered, grinning at the sound of a huffed chuckle escaping his nose, the warm air brushing along the shell of your ear. However, he did listen, lifting himself slightly so that you could follow his instruction.

The ball fell perfectly into the net, and you spun around, wrapping your arms around the broad expanse of shoulders with an elated laugh. "I won!"

"That you did," he chuckled, rubbing a hand down the swoop of your back. 

Leaning back slightly, you remained in his hold. "My brain is telling me that you let me win-."

"No," he denied, shaking his head. "That was all you."

You smiled softly, glancing at his lips for only a moment before pulling yourself out of his grasp. Your arms crossed over your chest as your mind swirled with thoughts. Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention, making you look over, where you found Rooster's fellow pilots. They were watching the exchange with eager eyes, some with encouragement and others with unease masked with arrogance. 

"So, the bet ends when you get my number?" you asked. Bradley blinked, and he only suddenly seemed to remember why he had even gotten the 'courage' to speak to you. 

"Yes," he hummed softly.

"... What about if you call me? Is that still apart of the bet?"

"I don't think so, ma'am," Rooster smiled softly. 

"Okay, here's what I'm going to do," you started. "I'm going to give you my number; we'll make a real big show out of it." 

Stepping forward, you grasped his hand in yours, raising it to your eyeline. Wordlessly, you reached over and grabbed a pen that was lying near some gamble sheets and began writing across his palm. Bradley could only watch in complete admiration at the way you sighed your number and name with a small heart. 

"I'm hopin' to God this is real," he mumbled, urging a small smile from you.

Dropping his hand and tossing the pen, you proceeded to take another step forward, your chest brushing against his own, to which you heard his sharp intake of air.

"And now, as I walk away, you're going to go to your friends and get that $100. But when I get home later tonight, I'm hoping that my phone is gonna start ringing... Can I count on you?"

"Wouldn't dream of having it any other way," Bradley nodded, and before he could speak again, you were doing exactly as you said, wandering off towards that booth table where your friends greeted you with contained shrieks of excitement at the story you were about to regale. 

Rooster returned home that night at about 10pm, hair damp and shaggy as he ran his fingers through the brown locks. Leaning over to his nightstand, he picked up his phone before turning his other palm, where the black ink, although slightly smudged from the shower, was still clear as day.

**** **** **** 
          Y/N 

Tapping in the numbers, he raised the phone to his ear, listening intently to the dialing sound-

"Hello?"

He smiled. "Y/N?"

A chuckle rattled through the receiver. "Rooster. So, I guess I can count on you."

"It would seem so," he agreed. "What are you doing?"

"Watching a movie."

"Which one?"

"Inception," you answered.

"That's a good movie."

"It's a great movie." Bradley rolled his eyes, smacking his palm against the side of his head. He sounded like an idiot. Of course, Inception was a good movie. You definitely knew that. "Bradley?"

"Yes?" he mumbled upon the sound of your voice.

"Sorry, I thought you hung up."

"I'd never hang up."

You laughed again, and he imagined you were biting your lip, twirling a piece of blanket that was draped over your body as you watched Inception on your TV, eyes glued to Cillian Murphy or Tom Hardy whilst you listened intently for him on the phone glued to your ear.

"Is there something you want, Rooster?"

Straight to the point. He liked that.

"Dinner," he answered suddenly, and then cringed to himself. God, that probably sounded awful, so he was quick to continue. "Dinner with you."

He sounds like a damn caveman with the blunt, barely two-syllable demands.

"You want to have dinner?" you wondered.

"Yes," Bradley nodded, as if you could see him. "I'd love to have dinner with you. If you wanted."

Please say you want to.

"... Is this apart of the bet?"

"Definitely not. I'm just going off my own script here," he smiled. 

"Your own script is pretty entertaining," you snickered.

"It'll be even better in person."

"At dinner?"

"If you're willing to put up with me."

It was silent on your end of the line, and he was practically at the edge of his seat, brushing a hand over his chin as he waited.

"Well, let's go somewhere fancy," you said. "I mean, you did just win $100."

Rooster grinned, his heart thumping wildly that he wondered if it would leap out of his chest and crawl through the phone to kiss you. 

"You pick a time and place, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Pick me up?"

Bradley smiled, eyes closing in bliss as he answered, "Expect to see me outside your door with flowers, ma'am."