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How’d I Get So Damn Lucky? | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

summary: as you approach your six months anniversary with Rooster, you contemplate whether or not you are too much for him to deal with.

a/n: i partly wrote this during my lunch break at work and partly after smoking weed but i’m kind of proud of this regardless. and also this was a request from @hufflepufftruffle eek... i hope it turned out okay :)

warnings: mentions of sex because durr

It had been six months of pure bliss.

Bradley was everything you had ever wanted in a boyfriend; everything you had searched for your entire adult life. He was endlessly kind and attentive - he made you feel needed, in more ways than one. He was funny. He was hot. And the sex was mind blowing.

But you couldn’t help but feel an itch of guilt in the back of your mind as your anniversary approached. He told you he was planning something special, but days earlier, he’d returned from a deployment on which he nearly died. It had shaken you to your core: his job was dangerous. You’d cried into his arms as he told the story of needing to eject. He had two broken ribs and a concussion. And yet, he had immediately reverted back to supportive boyfriend and started planning a special outing for the approaching date.

Who were you to be the one who cried for him while he recovered from a reminder of his mortality? He should be leaning on you, you reasoned. His father had died as an aviator. And yet, his focus was always you.

“Are you okay, doll?” He asked you during breakfast a few days before your anniversary. You’d been quiet; too quiet. “You still shaken up?”

“Me? No, I’m fine.” You forced a smile. “You should be worrying about yourself, not me.” You added.

“I’m always worrying about you,” he shrugged. God, it made your stomach hurt. He was so selfless.

You knew you were a lot sometimes. Overly emotional, easily freaked out by his chosen career path. Sometimes you wondered if you were really good for him. Especially when he spent so much time thinking about you instead of focusing on himself.

You found yourself drawing back a bit. He asked to come over one night and you’d lied about having plans with some girlfriends, which just made you feel even more guilty, and you ended up crying into a glass of Chardonnay all evening instead of being held in his warm arms.

He called the next morning. You declined.

The girls slept over, I’ll probably be gone all day. Sorry. You texted.

I’ll come over tonight, he responded loyally, missing your beautiful face.

You left him on read.

Later that night, you heard a knock on your door. You’d spent the whole day pent up in your apartment doing busywork to distract yourself. You’d washed your linens twice.

It was Rooster and his perfect smile on the other side of the door, which you opened little more than a crack. He was holding a bottle of Prosecco and a grocery bag.

“Thought we could make some pasta and watch a movie,” he offered brightly. “You know I make a mean spaghetti.”

You smiled sadly. “That’s... really sweet babe, but I’m feeling really under the weather. I think I have a stomach bug or something. Can we take a rain check?”

He frowned. “I’ll draw you a bath, we don’t have to eat anything if you’re feeling sick.”

He tried to squeeze inside but you pressed on the door. Rooster froze.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asked, eyes wide. You felt a lump rising in your throat.

“I just need to be alone right now, okay? That’s it.”

He slowly nodded. Your heart broke at his dejected face. “I know something’s wrong, honey. If you don’t want to talk to me right now, that’s fine. But I’ll be here when you do.”

He pulled the door closed and you heard his footsteps receding. A wave of self-loathing rushed over you. You numbly locked your door and retired to your bedroom, where you fell asleep in a half-empty bed.

Rooster had texted the next day asking if you wanted him to bring you breakfast, which you declined, but half an hour later you received another text telling you to check outside and sure enough, he’d left a Tupperware of pancakes and bacon on your doormat. God, you loved him.

Phoenix texted you later that day, too. The two of you had grown close since she was more or less the only girl in Rooster’s friend group and the pair of you formed a kinship.

Hey hon. Is something going on? Rooster seems sad and he only acts this way when it has to do with you.

That certainly tugged at your heartstrings. There was nothing that upset your sweet boyfriend more than someone he loved having a problem.

Thinking I maybe need to take some space from him. I can’t be the most important thing in his life.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to spill the beans to Phoenix, but you trusted her. You quickly typed out another message.

Please don’t tell Rooster. Don’t want to make him feel like he’s done something wrong. He’s the best man I know.

You figured you’d leave it at that.

With your anniversary fast approaching, you knew you’d need to tell him sooner or later how you were feeling. It pained you to keep your feelings inside. You weren’t sure what the end goal was. A break? But those always led to breakups.

Perhaps a breakup was what was best. It would allow him the energy to care for himself. It would kill you to be away from him - you loved him, more than anything in the world - but it may literally kill him to have you as a distraction.

He always told you how you were it for him. That he’d never felt this way before, that you were his soulmate, the woman he wanted to marry and carry his children. You knew he was being sincere. And you wanted that too, more than anything. You wanted to wake up every morning beside him for the rest of your life.

But being selfish wasn’t an option, not when Rooster’s life was on the line. It was a no-brainer. You’d just have to learn to live without him.

Which felt absolutely impossible.

Another text popped up from Phoenix.

That’s how he is, babe. He lives to care for other people. That’s what makes him really happy. Knowing he has someone as wonderful as you is enough to bring him home each time.

You sighed deeply.

You decided to go for a walk to clear your head. So you walked, and walked, and walked until you were on the beach and walked some more with your shoes in your hand and your toes in the damp sand. You walked until you were near the Hard Deck, where you finally decided to sit and watch the sun, which was grazing lazily across the sky towards the West.

Sounds from the bar behind you made you think about Rooster and his silly piano songs. He’d sing to you sometimes, and make up little verses about how much he loved you. Then he’d pull you into his lap and kiss the side of your mouth and say the same line with the utmost sincerity each time.

“How’d I get so damn lucky?”

The tears were flowing down your cheeks before you could stop them. That was all you would have now: the memories of him. His voice, his kind eyes, the scars on his neck, his songs, his mustache that tickled you whenever he went down on you. Was it whorish of you to ponder that you’d miss the sex? The weight of his body on yours, his skilled fingers and beautiful, stupid porn-star moans?

He’d ruined all other men for you.

“You’re thinking so loud that I can practically read your mind.”

His familiar voice startled you. You tried to wipe at your tears before he plopped down beside you, with no luck.

He didn’t look at you. Rooster always knew how to read your mind, so he waited until your breathing evened out and your checks were dried by the wind before turning to you. He knew that it embarrassed you to cry in front of him.

He reached out and tilted your chin to look at him.

“Hi, baby.”

You mustered a smile and responded. “Hi, Bradley.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “Bradley was my father. Call me Rooster.”

“Your father’s name was Nick.”

He looked at his feet and chuckled. “Not in the mood for jokes, I see.”

You hummed. He waited a few moments before speaking again.

“Why don’t you want to be the most important thing in my life?”

You huffed. “So Phoenix told you. I’m going to kill her, I swear-”

He interrupted you. “Nah, I looked over her shoulder and saw her texts. We were at the Hard Deck together. She doesn’t deserve to be slaughtered.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “So you saw me out here?”

“No,” he responded, “I went home immediately after I saw what you said to her. And you weren’t there, so I guessed that you went on a walk, and I just... connected the dots that you walked all the way here. Must have a lot on your mind to have walked for so long.”

“I guess,” you murmured. Your chest hurt. You could feel that it was all about to come out, so you took a deep breath and decided to get it over with. “I was going to break up with you tonight.”

His silence was painful enough of a response.

“Why?” He asked quietly.

You shrugged.

“No, really. I want to know,” he pressed. There was some anger in his voice, but mostly just sadness. “Because I know it’s not because you don’t love me anymore. I know you love me. And I love you, and we’re happy, and we want to spend the rest of our lives together. So what the hell makes you think that ending it here is the right thing?”

You shuddered. Sobs were threatening to ruin the words you had prepared for him during your walk.

“I do love you. A lot, Rooster. But I can’t be a distraction to you. I get so.... worked up about your missions. Like last week, you came back and you had almost died and I made it all about me and now you’re planning this nice surprise for our anniversary and you don’t seem to care at all that you could have not come home at all. And if you’re up in the air and for even a second you think about me instead of your job, you could die. And I just can’t... I can’t be the reason for that. I love you too much.”

The tears had started again, but instead of looking at the sunset like he had been for the entire conversation so far, he grabbed your face and forced you to look into his eyes.

There was no animosity; no hatred. Just love.

“Baby, the reason I’m alive is because you’re there when I get home. The reason I make the decisions I do up in the air is because I’ve got something to live for now. I’m not reckless, and I know words won’t convince you of that, but I had the opportunity last week to do some dumb shit that could’ve made things easier for the sake of the mission, but I didn’t because I thought about you waiting for me. I have a future with you, I can’t jeopardize that.”

You tried to look away but he held on tight, running his thumbs across your cheeks.

“When you get emotional about what I do, it just makes me think how much you must fucking love me for you to feel so sad even when I’m alive in front of you. You’re not making it about you, baby, it’s always about me. You’re good to me in a way no one has ever been before. You care like no one else ever has. I gotta come back to you, honey, so that we can have everything we’ve talked about. So I can marry you and give you babies and get old with you.”

You almost laughed with relief. You had no idea how much you needed to hear him say that. Everything became so clear with his words.

He loosened his grip and waited for your reaction. You didn’t let his hands fall far from your face, grabbing onto them and pulling them around your neck. Your arms shifted to grab at his shirt and pull him closer. The rest of your tears fell into his shirt as he rubbed circles on the back of your neck. When your sobs subsided, he spoke again.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

You shrugged tearfully. “I was just scared. I didn’t know what else to do. But when you tell me, it makes sense. I feel so stupid.”

He chuckled. “Mav always says I’m wise whenever I decide not to be dumb.”

You smiled. He kissed your eyelids. Your nose. Then your lips. You’d missed his lips.

“You’re not stupid,” he reminded you, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m glad you care so much about me. I only wish you’d told me earlier how you felt so we could’ve avoided all these days of you being sad.” He paused. “Your girlfriends didn’t come over the other day, did they?”

You laughed. “And i didn’t have a stomach bug.”

“Very clever excuses.”

“I try.”

He pulled you to sit between his legs. “I love you, honey. I’m happy to be here with you.”

“I’m happy too.”

“I’m glad,” he responded, his voice suddenly laced with nerves. “I, uh, know our anniversary isn’t until tomorrow, but do you think I could give you part of your present now?”

You twisted your head to look back at him. “Is it giving me mind-blowing head?”

“No,” he grinned, “that’s for tomorrow.”

You hummed and turned back towards the sunset. “I suppose whatever else you want to give me could come a little early.”

He shuffled around behind you and then went still for a few moments. One of his hands reached out in front of you, between your legs. You looked down at what he was presenting between his fingers.

It was a ring.

You twisted back so quickly that you thought you might have pulled a muscle.

“Rooster.”

“I know it’s only our six months and you said during the first month of our relationship that you wanted to date someone for at least a year before agreeing to marry them, but I’ve known from the moment I met you that you were the one for me and I just can’t wait any longer, honey. Please, if it isn’t too much to ask, will you marry me?”

Your mouth was hanging open.

Sure, you’d told him that, but you lied. Even in that first month, you knew that if Rooster got down on one knee, you’d say yes. And here he was, five months later, asking the question you’d been burning to answer.

“Of course I will, baby.”

It came out as more of a strangled sob, but Rooster seemed to understand because he grinned. His arms snaked around you and pulled you in for a long kiss. When he pulled back for air, he grabbed your hand and slipped the ring on his finger. It was beautiful - a tasteful size and very elegant, vintage looking.

“Is this..?”

“My mom’s?” He finished your question. “Yeah. She would’ve killed to have a daughter-in-law like you.”

You kissed him again. Then you laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

You swiped your finger over his eyebrow and kissed his nose. “Just never thought this day would end like this. I thought I’d be single by sunset.”

“Funny how things work out.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. “Funny.”

There was no feeling like sitting there on the beach with Rooster, toying with your new engagement ring, while he whispered how much he loved you in your ear.

“How’d I get so damn lucky?” You murmured as the stars rose above you.

“That’s my line,” he scolded.

When the moon was high in the sky, the pair of you finally stood up and he escorted you to his Bronco. You proceeded to make out against the hood like a couple of teenagers. Eventually, you pulled back and ran a hand through his hair lovingly.

“How about we go home and you give me my other anniversary gift early?”

He chuckled. “Anything for my fiancé.”

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