Bradley Bradshaw was, if nothing else, the king of thinking before he acted. Oftentimes that very thing got him into trouble during a dog fight. He could never just act without thinking of the consequences first, and possible escape routes.

Part of that was just flying after what had happened to his father when he was younger. But he'd grown up with a steady, careful disposition even before he had ever officially flown a plane. It was deeply difficult for him to even think about acting recklessly in the air. He always hesitated.

Hangman was a little right. He was like a rooster, always waiting for a sunrise that never came. Never knew when to crow. It was how he got his callsign.

Which was why, initially, he hesitated. You were all sorts of trouble - one of Hangman's buddies, along with Coyote and Fanboy. He vaguely recognized you from flight school, knew your name when he saw your face but didn't know much else outside of that. Your personality was cocky, much like Hangman, but you? You were much quieter about it than he ever was.

It blindsided him, at first.

You were probably one of the most infuriating people he'd ever met at the start. Hangman's influence, no doubt. But over time he came to truly enjoy your presence. Rooster liked to banter with you. You matched his wit and you had a damn smart mouth. But you never went too far, never tread on ground that was obviously marked by the yellow tape.

He liked that about you. You sensed his discomfort and pulled back on the trigger almost immediately, like coasting through the air in a Falcon.

Over time, and over many, many death-defying experiences, your bond grew. He started seeing you in a light that was new to him. Never mind fraternization codes, he'd never experienced attraction anyone like you. He'd dated girls here or there, had little flings when he was temporarily stationed at a base. He was more motivated towards his career.

It hit him all at once, and suddenly you were his. His, in every way that counted for anything.

The two of you were currently sitting under the wing of his jet, drinking water after long flight drills. He snorted, pressing his cold bottle to your neck. "You didn't have to go so hard during the dog fight," he murmured.