FLYBY (b. bradshaw)

𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙀𝙀

Warmth.

That was the first thing that Lilah felt when she was awoken to a blaring alarm. She groaned, rolling away from the warmth to find something to throw at her alarm clock on the other side of the room. Her head pounded and the light was like daggers.

"God, I'm an idiot." she grumbled to herself, pulling her fluffy, white duvet back over her head.

She knew that if she didn't get up, she'd be late to work, but the warmth was so inviting. She rolled back over, only to hit something hard. And squishy. And breathing.

"What the fuck!" she shrieked, jumping out of bed.

He didn't have on a shirt, the duvet covering from his hips down. God was he ripped. His muscles rippled as he shifted towards her, his green eyes fluttering open.

"This is not how I wanted to start my morning," Bradley grumbled, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. "Shit, we're late."

He got up. He didn't have on shorts, just his underwear. She was suddenly aware that all she wore was an old t-shirt. More specifically one of his that he'd left at her house at some point in time. She watched him putter around her room, gathering up his stuff. Bradley was entering the bathroom when she finally snapped out of her trance.

"Why the hell are you in my house?" she demanded, following him into the bathroom. "Better yet, why the hell were you in my bed?"

He started to brush his teeth, using a spare toothbrush and his own toothpaste and ignoring her screaming. He only glanced at her once the whole three minutes, pissing her off even more. Only once he had plopped the toothbrush back into the little glass holder she had was when he responded.

"You were wasted. So I brought you home. In your car. And Payback locked me out of our housing facility, and plus I didn't have anyway to get home. So I crashed here."

"That doesn't explain why you were in my bed." she snapped. "Also put on some pants!"

"Yes ma'am." he snickered when she scowled. "Your couch isn't very comfortable, you see, and I didn't remember that until, well I'd already stripped completely and was ready for pass out. So I just made my way to your bed." He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. She tried to ignore the bulge in the crouch. "You're actually nice when you're asleep, cuddled up to me and everything, I think you should try that while you're awake too. Maybe I won't have to beat people up in bars."

"Fuck off." she growled, grabbing the first pair of shorts she saw and crossing her arms over chest to hide the fact she didn't have on a bra, even if he already knew that,

"Well as nice as this was," he glanced down at his phone, "My ride is here."

"Oh, no, you don't get to just waltz out of here." She gripped on to his shoulder a little too hard, making his curse softly. "Not until we talk about why they hell you're so interested in my well-being after two years of not speaking to me!"

"I'm not." he stated, a little wearily, as if he didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"Really? You don't care about me? Then what was that scene at the bar? Beating Hangman up? And then helping me home? I know plenty of other people who would've helped me home." she fumed. "Because if that't not caring, then I wanna know what caring is."

Bradley finally turned around to face her, but didn't meet her gaze. "Look, you don't leave a girl in a bar alone. Especially drunk, the wrong person might find you. The whole Hangman thing, you don't hit girls, even if they hit first." He glanced up at her, a smile dancing on his lips. "And plus, your grandfather would've whooped my ass if I didn't."