Bradley Bradshaw (Rooster) x Reader

Chapter 4- One Last Time

Tom Kazansky.
A man of many talents. I survivor of both external and internal threats to his life.

A long career in the navy, a man to be admired. A man more successful and impressive than most of us could ever even dream to be.

Someone with such a cocky but kind disposition.

A friend, a family man, you name it.

Rooster and I lay on the warm sand in a comfortable silence, watching the day fade away. Not a worry in the world.

A buzzing noise sounds from my jacket pocket.

I rush to unzip it and immediately pick up to hear a solemn voice.

"He's asked to see you." She states softly.

I dart up into a seated position, my whole body tensing, knowing whatever I'm about to hear isn't good.

"I'll be right over." I state hanging up.

Rooster looks at me questioningly and tilts his head. I force a smile and turn towards my bike, starting to walk, shock spreading through my body. I hear a sharp exhale as Rooster stands, followed by the soft crunch of sand as he runs up behind me. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Uncle Ice wants to see me- sorry. If you come with me I can drop you off at the base or something after to pick up your car..I'm sure that'll be fine. I just need to be there now." 

He nods and places the helmet back on his head, climbing on the bike behind me, more confidently wrapping his arms around me this time. I dart off straight to my Uncles house. 

After a few sharp turns and a couple shrieks from Bradley (cheering me up momentairly), the large house comes into view. 

I jump off and approach the looming door. Once welcoming, the house appears grey, frightening, miserable, quiet. 

Rooster remains beside the bike behind me, not intending to come inside as it's a family matter as Auntie Sarah pulls the door open, smiling softly at me before engulfing me in a bone crushing hug. 

I hug back, mustering the best smile I can before pulling away.

"It's back.." A short pause follows.

"He's in his office..it hurts even to speak." She whispers with grieving eyes. 

She turns to Rooster. 

"You.. look just like your dad. Please, come and sit inside." She beckons him over her  face morphing into a warm smile as directs him to the crimson toned leather sofa. 

I look over to the office, drowning in dread.

 My feet carry me over there despite the protest of my brain and I step inside, closing the door quietly. I take a seat on the small chair beside him.

His face lights up upon seeing me. I smile, happy to see he isn't miserable at least. 

He turns to his keyboard and swiftly types something. 

Stay for dinner? 

He smiles and I nod, happily accepting the offer. 

Good. Now I want to talk about the mission.

"But Ice-"

He sighs softly and points to the screen. 

"Well I want to talk about you." 

He chuckles and turns again, adjusting his teal neck scarf and typing.

You always were stubborn. Fine. We can do both but none of the sappy shit okay Icarus? 

I laugh along with him, he has never and will never change. 

"Deal." 

I want you out there on this mission. With the kid. 

He points to the door. He's just as observant as ever too. 

Listen to Maverick. If something happens to me, move on. Complete the mission. And for the love of god don't let them ground Maverick. Set the base on fire if you must, he is the only one who can keep you all alive. 

"I'm going on the mission. I can't make any promises about Maverick though, he's as bad as me apart from- well Cyclone can get away with hating him."

Ice shakes his head. Smiling fondly, thinking of Maverick's antics. 

 "Just try not to leave too soon okay? I wanna see my favourite uncle when I get back and rub it in that I'm better at flying." I smirk slightly.

He grins. 

I always knew you would be.

It sounds too much like a goodbye. 

Tears prick at my eyes. I quickly wipe them and look back at him. 

He stands slowly, I imitate his actions and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder. 

"The navy needs you. It's been a privilege watch you fly kid." He croaks out. 

"I was taught by the best." 

We break away from the embrace and I swipe the remaining tears off my cheeks. 

With impeccable timing, Aunty Sarah calls for dinner. I offer him my arm and we walk out to the long stained-oak table. 

Bradley stands in the kitchen, a tea towel in his hands, gripping onto a large ceramic baking dish. If I was in the right place right now I'd be teasing him and calling him a domestic goddess. Another time maybe. 

Uncle Ice sits down at the head of the table as I move to help lay the cutlery down beside the placemats. Bradley helps Auntie Sarah dish up and serve everyone, ultimately sitting down last, smiling contently as he did so.

The heavenly aroma of Auntie Sarah's famous cooking dances around us and the soft buzz of the oven sounds in the background. A large cake slowly rising inside of it. 

The room soon fills with laughter and vibrant conversations. 

Bradley was entertained with goofy stories of his dad as Uncle Ice scrawled them on a piece of paper for him, not a hint of sadness on either of their faces. 

But I'll never forget the expression on Tom Kazansky's face when Bradley played 'Great Balls of Fire' on the piano in the corner, all of us singing along while he watched.

Joy, nostalgia. He looked young again.