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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

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I wish you would write a fic where…Rooster teaches someone to play the piano. Could be to anyone: reader, reader’s child, or a music teacher!Rooster AU…anything you can come up with!

it's like you were in my daydreams, nonny, seriously. understand i don’t know the first thing about playing the piano so hopefully, this does not suckkk. I would have loved to have written music teacher!rooster, but I wouldn’t do it justice. So, if any of my friends know piano enough, I will put this to them! fluff awaits in ficlet form, I hope you enjoy x

Bradley had been gone a while, needing to shower before dinner after a sweaty afternoon in the cockpit. He enjoyed his space to shower, give him time to go over his day and just take time for himself (except those rare times when you’d join him of course, but those were a rarity these days).

He’d willingly accepted the whiskey you’d handed him when he walked in, on ice when he arrived to cool him somewhat. And he’d kissed you slow and purposefully, grounding himself back to the Earth and more importantly you. You hadn’t mentioned to him that the one item he’d been waiting weeks to arrive had been placed with love and care in the study. You wanted him to unwind before -

“Daddy! Hurry up, you need to see this!”

Well, the peace and quiet were nice while it lasted. You heard the shower shut off and the sound of feet thundering down the hallway towards the bathroom, knocking incessantly.

A few minutes later, Bradley reappeared in his boardies and a loose white tee, bare feet, hair loose and tendrils stuck to his forehead, wandering down the stairs with his baby girl on his hip. “What do I just gotta see?” Rooster chuckled, placing his little one on the floor and she took off. “It finally came?” he asked you hopefully.

You gave a wink in confirmation as he kissed you tenderly and took off with the same speed as your daughter.

“Okay, kiddo, ready to do this?” Rooster asked, plopping little miss on his lap as she bashed the keys in only the way an excited child can. It had been months since Rooster put his dad’s piano in storage to move to California. All of your family’s worldly possessions slowly but surely arrived, but his piano, the biggest and heaviest, was last.

The house was now a home. His study was finally complete with acoustics, a random bongo from his travels and his dad’s old piano.

Rooster’s fingers drifted across the keys, following his daughter’s as she giggled, trying to escape him and Rooster huffed a chuckle behind her ear. You smiled at them, leaning against the doorframe and letting them have their space. You pulled your phone from your pocket and started recording as Rooster asked for her hands, and started helping her find notes. Something to send to him on a long deployment when it was all getting a bit too hard.

“This is a C, gently press the key, sweetheart.”

BANG!

It wasn’t a note exactly but Bradley encouraged her to try again with gentler fingers this time. He held her wrist and showed her the force she needed and you swore, you could not have met another man you’d want to go through this life with than Bradley Bradshaw. Not the perfect man or father, but perfect for you and your little girl.

This went on for another few minutes and as you expected, Bradley had the patience of a saint with her. You sometimes wished you had the same ability. You lost your cool so much easier with the amount of sound, mess, selective hearing -

“I hate to cut in, Bradshaws, but it’s nearly dinnertime,” you interrupted as Bradley nodded but didn’t make an attempt to finish up to prepare the table. You wandered over, massaged his strong shoulders and tenderly whispered in his ear, “You’ve got five minutes, Lieutenant Commander.”

He shuddered. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of bein’ late.”

“I hope not,” you said, hearing him tell her he was going to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and they were going to learn together over the next little while together.

“I used to sing this to you every night when you were just a baby. When you were still in your crib.”

“Before I started walking and talking?” she asked.

“Yep. And making messes, and sassing Momma. And going to kindergarten. You’re growing up too fast...” Bradley tutted her. “Fingers here, baby girl. Let’s have a few more minutes then dinner.”

A few hours later, Rooster had finished bedtime and wandered back down to find you reading in the study, legs hiked over the side of the arm. He knocked them off and spun you to sit up with a low squeal. He crouched before you and spread your legs wide, his large palms pressing into your ribs and dragging you forward. “How’s the book, Momma?”

“What book?” you teased. He knew he had your undivided attention, took the book and tossed it away gently. It was so few and far between you got moments together. While Rooster had relocated and taken up a permanent position at Top Gun, he still travelled a lot. He still worked long hours. He still missed a lot of the important stuff. But he was home every night and that’s more than you could ever ask for.

You laced your fingers in his hair and pressed your fingers into his scalp. His honey-coloured eyes fluttered closed and he leaned forward into your touch. “You gonna play something for me now?”

“You want Twinkle, Twinkle too?” he muttered a joke, your fingers feeling so damn good and he wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his weight collapse against your chest.

“Not Twinkle, Twinkle,” you told him without having to tell him as he grumbled a quiet laugh. “Our song.”

“Why our song?” he opened his eyes to you and moved his lips for yours, leaving a gentle peck against your mouth, his tongue darting out and sweetly sweeping against yours for just a taste.

“It’s our wedding song, I love it. And I love it more when you sing it for me.”

He gave you a shy kind of smile. “Okay, love. Your wish is my command,” Bradley moved to stand, caressing your chin with his calloused palms and he passed and moved back to his piano stool. He so desperately needed a new one. The cushion was so very well used and the material desperately needed reupholstery. You knew why he hesitated and you knew when you’d never take it upon yourself to do that for him but it did really need some love.

“It was Dad’s, it’s perfect,” he told you one night when you asked.

He looked back at you and gave a small grin, gently rubbing his lap, and begging you to take a seat. “You aren’t getting out of this so easy,” he offered you his hand. You pulled yourself off the seat and took his waiting palm. He pulled you over, sitting you down right where he needed you. He nuzzled your ear and whispered, “Gonna be my good girl and learn with me?”

“Can’t I just sit here and watch you get lost in the music instead?” his voice made you heady and needy in a matter of moments.

“No, you have beautiful hands, you can play with me.”

“We can skip the lesson and I just play with you anyway?”

He huffed a laugh into your skin. “You can do that later. But right now, we’re doing this,” Bradley’s fingers grazed down your arms and his hands came to rest on the keys. “Now... each key on a piano uses seven notes - ”

“C, D, E, F, G, A, B,” you muttered. You weren’t a fool. You knew the basics... just don’t ask you where they were on the keyboard before you.

He hummed proudly. “Good girl. And these notes repeat themselves all over the keyboard. This is C,” he guided your hand to the key and let you press it. “Good,” he gave a dimpled grin back as you glared at him.

“I think I can play a key, Bradley.”

“I know, but I love riling you up, so...” he admitted, kissing your clavicle. “Try D, E... F,” he instructed as you did as you were told. “Very nice,” he breathed into your skin. “A plus.”

“A plus? I didn’t realise this was graded, sir,” you mocked, knocking back a quick rendition of Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star as Bradley chuckled. “Honestly, had no idea I’d remember that after all these years. Don’t think I’ve played since I was little one’s age.”

“Wasn’t your thing,” he understood, fingers gracing over the keys in a melody that only he knew. Sweet, slow, sexy. Just like your man. “I didn’t have a choice. After Dad died, Mom put me into class, and my hands weren’t even big enough to reach the right keys. I feel like she didn’t want me to lose that part of Dad, but I don’t even really remember him playing anymore.”

He didn’t remember much of his dad at all, truth be told. He’d grin and listen as his dad’s old team would talk about Goose’s exploits with Mav, but really... he couldn’t even really remember what his old man looked like if he wasn’t looking at a photo of him. He knew he resembled him, but he was his mother’s son too.

“Little love will need a few more years to practice with me before we put her into a lesson. If she even wants to.”

You reached back and wrapped your arm around Bradley’s neck. “Whatever you think, sweetheart.”

He nodded, satisfied.

“But are you going to play me our song?”

“I’ll play our song,” he agreed, his voice low as he played the opening keys to the song that would only ever be played for you, his soft, gravelly voice simply melting you as he commenced. The rumble of his chest reverberated through your back, warming you, calming you.

🎶 Well I've always known, pain's like a heavy stone. It's too much to carry... to carry alone.

That's the story of love. It takes time to know it's true. You need someone to lean on. I need someone to lean on too. Someone to help you through. Hey, so just let me carry you.

Carry you, carry you, carry you, oh baby. You let me carry you. Carry you, carry you, carry you...🎶

“God, I could listen to you sing for hours,” you rested your head back on his shoulder as he placed a kiss on your temple and he kept singing. You could feel it in your soul how desperately he felt the words called to you, your relationship, the love you had for each other.

🎶 Just you and me baby. We can weather what's wrong. A heavy heart is a heavy load to carry alone 🎶

When he stopped playing, he urged you to stand and went over to the record player, holding a finger up and tenderly urging patience as you leaned against the piano and watching his shoulder and biceps tense and flex as he flicked through his record collection, looking for the perfect song to cue.

He smiled as he turned, the gentle crackle of the old vinyl eerie in the quiet, dim room as he held out his hand. “Come dance with me, love.”

“Class is over?” you teased, approaching him and reaching for his hand as he carefully twirled you under his strong arm and guided you into his arms. He nodded softly and you felt the air in the room change.

“Class is over, love. Dance with me now. Need to touch and feel you.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek, unbothered by the marring of blemishes from his wiry scars. The most beautiful man you’d seen and he had the audacity to be in love with you too.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x And if you haven’t downloaded it already, go get The Teskey Brothers, please. Quick smart.