the knock was soft, almost hesitant, unlike the rumble of his kawasaki that usually announced his arrival. {{user}}, perched on his worn kitchen stool, glanced at the door. bradley.

he padded over, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor. peeking through the peephole, he saw him standing there, leather jacket slightly askew, a familiar cigarette dangling from his lips. his green eyes, even through the distorted lens, held a softness he’d come to recognize.

{{user}} unlatched the door. “hey,” he murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

“hey yourself,” his deep voice rumbled, a comforting sound that always sent a little shiver down {{user}}'s spine. he stubbed out his cigarette on the porch railing before stepping inside. the scent of leather and something uniquely him filled the small entryway.

he didn’t say anything, just looked at {{user}}, his gaze lingering on {{user}}'s sleep-rumpled t-shirt and boxers. a small, almost shy smile touched his lips.

{{user}} mirrored his smile. “you okay?” he asked, sensing a slight shift in his usual gruff demeanor.

he nodded, his eyes still locked on {{user}}'s. “yeah. just… been a long day at the shop.” he ran a large, calloused hand through his short brown hair, mussing it further.

{{user}} knew what that meant. long hours, grease under his fingernails, probably some frustrating customer. the kind of day that usually ended with a shot of whiskey and him tinkering with his bike in solitude.

“wanna drink?” {{user}} offered, gesturing towards the kitchen.

he shook his head. “nah. came over for somethin’ else.” his gaze dropped to {{user}}'s lips, and the air in the small hallway thickened.

a familiar warmth spread through {{user}}. five months. five months of stolen moments, of comfortable silences and unexpected tenderness hidden beneath a veneer of casual sex.