"You're not drinking. Why are you not drinking?"

"Evie, if I started drinking, we'd end up single handedly draining all of Mom's liquor supply in minutes," Casey replies, watching as Evie downs the rest of her margarita in seconds, flat, and trying her best to suppress a worried frown, "I'm perfectly fine not sharing this time."

"Spoilsport."

"Guilty as charged."

Evie's mock scowl provokes a laugh before Casey can stop it, and she tries to remember that this isn't exactly behavior that is outside of the norm. Even in college, their mode of operation for when things seemed bleak had always involved alcohol. Perhaps not the healthiest of coping mechanisms, it still always managed to get them through, and they had always managed to create an amusing sort of chaos along the way.

Something about this time seems different, though, and it isn't just because Casey isn't drinking herself. And a slight glance to where Bradley sits on her left shows her he is thinking the same.

He is clearly every bit as at a loss as Casey is, and the only thing that makes her feel even slightly reassured is the occasional brush of Bradley's arm against her own while she sits between him, and Evie at the bar.

Whether he is doing it knowingly or not, Casey appreciates the contact far more than she knows how to put into words, and it gives her the level of calm she needs to refrain from pressing Evie for any more information than she appears ready to give.

Instead, it allows her to opt for another topic of conversation altogether, even in spite of the blatant awareness that avoiding the problem may not be the smartest choice she could make.

"Tell me you didn't check into a hotel for while you're here."

"Hmm? No, I mean I did," Evie informs, her brows furrowing for a minute as she accepts another margarita from the older man now standing behind the bar while Penny is off on break, "I didn't want to just—impose."

"Trust me, you won't be. In fact, if you play your cards right, I feel like my mom will end up liking the idea of you as a roommate more than me."

"You know, that's probably true. At least I don't snore."

"Hey! I do not snore," Casey protests, leaning over to elbow Evie in the side, and taking some manner of relief in the almost immediate laugh that her friend gives in response, "Give me one example of where I actually snored."

"Well, there was that time we slept in the car on that road trip to Vegas because we didn't want to deal with that creepy concierge at the hotel."

"You mean the time where you claimed you recorded it and then that recording conveniently got deleted?"

"And then there was the time after that concert—" Evie elaborates, grinning as she pauses just long enough to manage another sip of her refilled margarita, "And your twenty-first birthday."

"I didn't crash with you after that party, Ev."

"I know."

"Then how did you get your intel?"

Evie just grins impishly at her, and Casey furrows her brow, trying to think of exactly what might have happened to allow her friend to be so confident in something she couldn't possibly have witnessed. The evening in question is still on the blurrier side in her own memory, because she'd been more than a little drunk. But then it hits her. Evie's eyebrows waggle at her, and she turns to see Bradley's sudden unusual interest in peeling the label away from his bottle of beer.

"You didn't."

"I didn't record a thing," Bradley assures, grinning even in spite of Casey's flushed cheeks and exasperation, and holding both hands out as a way of feigning innocence for just a moment longer, "But she'd been lamenting about you refusing to believe you were even doing anything, and—"

"And?"

"And it was—cute."

"See? He thinks it's cute."

"Both of you are dead to me," Casey quips, knowing both Bradley and Evie will be able to tell she would never actually mean the words in a million years, though that is not entirely enough to persuade her to avoid feigning a scowl, either way, "Dead. To. Me."

"Uh-huh."

"No, I'm—I'm being completely serious."

"We believe you," Evie states, the slightest hint of a mischievous twinkle to her eyes going a long way to disprove the words in next to no time at all, "Really. You're—so convincing."

"I'm certainly endeavoring to be."

"I think this is Evie's way of saying you're failing, Case."

"I'm beginning to see that, myself."

Risking another glance at Bradley, Casey can't seem to stop the flush that burns across her cheeks in response to the look he is giving her. She can't exactly read it, but it feels like more than simple amusement. Like something more akin to understanding. Acceptance.

It baffles her for a moment, because in spite of her protests, the idea of being caught snoring really isn't all that important to her in the grand scheme of things. But even in spite of his own teasing, Bradley almost seems willing to derail the conversation entirely if she is in any way actually troubled by it.

And Casey is far more grateful for that than she really cares to admit.

"Okay. Okay, so—I snore," She sighs, biting the inside of her cheek to restrain an amused smile, "Sue me."

"Nah. I think I'll just settle for bringing it up on random occasions for the rest of your life to embarrass you."

"This from the woman who swore that she'd just live with me permanently if we reached forty and still didn't find ourselves a man."

"Hmm. I did say that, didn't I?" Evie muses, leaning forward to rest an elbow on the bar, and wincing as she misjudges the distance, and nearly topples off of her stool as a result, "Weren't we going to—adopt a kid, too? Or was that a puppy—"

"It was definitely a puppy. Would've been a cat, but you're allergic."

"Right."

"Wait. You two actually had a plan for something like this?"

"I mean, when you're staring at a laundry list of failed relationships, yeah. We—we had a plan," Casey shrugs, frowning as soon as she realizes Bradley's expression has shifted from the surprising understanding of before, to something that is unreadable, "Evie even typed up a mock pact about it."

"A pact."

"A pact that we're actually gonna have to go through with, from the looks of things," Evie grumbles, her gaze fixed on her rapidly dwindling margarita, such that she completely misses the way the tenor of the conversation seems to shift in seconds, "Not that I'm complaining, Casey, but the snoring, my God."

"Shut up, you."

"Case," Bradley interjects, not entirely sure why he is so determined to keep pressing the issue of this apparent pact, even with the very real twist in his gut that didn't seem to be letting up the longer he spends thinking about it in any capacity at all, "What is this?"

"It's—realism. Or our attempt at it anyway. We're hardly joining a cult."

"Ooh. Now there's an idea, we can make a cult!"

"Evie," Casey groans, lifting a brow at her friend, and stifling an unwelcome snort as soon as she watches Evie glance blearily between her, and Bradley, as though trying to piece together the pieces of a very complicated puzzle, "No cults."

"None?"

"None."

"But what if we use our powers for good?"

"Something tells me that, with the two of you, that might not always be possible."

Evie shrugs in response to the comment and goes back to her margarita, but Casey cannot seem to persuade herself to look away from Bradley's face, even with how obvious it is that the comment lacks at least some of the humor it was intended to have in the first place. Her own amusement fades rather quickly at the realization, and she cannot quite place where things managed to go so wrong.

It was just a silly little agreement. And Evie had been with Aiden at the time, so Casey never really thought it would ever come to fruition.

She never thought Bradley would actually care if it did. He hadn't exactly been single when the agreement was made, either, and Casey had been desperately trying to prove to herself that she didn't need him as badly as she knew she truly did.

She hadn't ever been able to pinpoint the exact moment when she had fallen for him, but in the time since, Casey had tried to tamp those feelings down. To pretend it didn't matter. Because the truth of the matter was, she was terrified. She still is, in a way. It's why she's been so reluctant to just blurt the truth about the baby. Why a part of her almost feels relieved over Evie's presence, because it gives her another reason to delay the inevitable.

Keeping her feelings to herself had always seemed like the best way to maintain the bond she and Bradley had known since they were kids. It had seemed like the only way, because she had seen enough proof of how friends turned lovers rarely worked out, in the end. But this is bigger than her own desire for self-preservation, now. Bradley has a right to know…

"Case? You okay?"

"Hmm? No, I—yeah. I'm fine."

"Then tell me why you look like you're gonna puke right now," Bradley persists, confused, to say the least, when Casey almost immediately shies away from his hand moving to rest on her shoulder, her eyes going wide as she hops down from the stool, her skin paling just a bit as her own hand lifts to cover her mouth, "Case?"

"I'll—I need to—I'll be right back."

"Case!"

Evie blinks up at him as Casey darts away, seemingly oblivious to his concern as she weaves through the crowd around them gathered at the bar. And surprisingly, in spite of how she is obviously more than a little inebriated, she clambers down from her own stool, offering him a determined look for a moment before she speaks.

"I'll go check on her."

The blonde moves to follow after Casey almost immediately, and Bradley has to act fast to snag her before she disappears entirely, aware of how she seems to recoil back from his light hold on her wrist for a moment, before relaxing just as quickly. She spends a moment eyeing him, as though sizing him up. Wondering if he will question her reaction that she clearly knows was not concealed at all.

It is becoming increasingly clear that if he does ask her anything, she will only find some way to pull away from the truth, though, and even if he hardly wants to, Bradley forces himself to resist the urge, as a result.

"I just—thanks, Evie."

"Yeah. I—any time."

Evie pulls away in earnest not long after the response, and this time, Bradley lets her go, not entirely sure he is doing the right thing, even though he hardly has a clue what other possible choice there is to make. It's been painfully obvious that Casey isn't herself. That she's holding something back. And now it seems like Evie is doing the exact same thing.

He spends a moment wondering how in the hell he is supposed to help either of them, but he doesn't have much of a chance to consider that, the sound of a familiar voice calling him from across the bar diverting his attention in next to no time at all.

"Bradshaw! Get over here! We still need to settle that tie from our last pool game."

Deciding to trust that Evie and Casey can only get into a small amount of trouble in Penny's bar, compared to anywhere else if left to their own devices, Bradley turns and manages a grin as he moves towards where Natasha is already waiting with pool cues in hand. Just a look at her face tells him that she can see right through him, and despite all appearances to the contrary, he generally does not care.

He knows she won't grill him. Not now, even if she is giving him a look that signifies at some point they will be having a discussion about this, especially given what happened during training earlier that day. And as he swipes one of the pool cues from Natasha's hands, Bradley continues to watch her, unblinking, a laugh escaping as she lifts a finely arched eyebrow as soon as the likeness of their silent standoff to an airborne game of chicken registers in her mind.

"Okay, Phoenix. Show me what you've got."

Natasha's expression only grows more incredulous when she recognizes the obvious attempt at blatant bravado in his reply, but she doesn't say anything, choosing instead to shove past him with an obvious roll of the eyes before lining the pool cue up to take the first shot of the game.

…

When Evie stumbles into the bathroom, and silently curses her stupid high-heeled shoes that do not seem compatible with her current state of intoxication at all, she does not immediately see Casey stepping out from one of the stalls, wiping at her mouth. Instead, she stares at the odd pattern in the tiling on the floor, because the faint shimmers in the mosaic pattern captivate her for far longer than they really should. She frowns, because her vision narrows to a pinprick, before flaring out to a nearly overwhelming array of sensation once again.

She knows something should be alarming her about that, but she can't quite put her finger on it, and then she hears the hiss of water barreling down into the sink, and her attention is called away.

"Evie?"

"Hey."

"Are you—are you okay?"

"Me? Yep. Totally fine," Evie says, moving away from the door in favor of joining Casey at the sink, instead, and stumbling just a bit along the way, "You?"

"I'm fine."

"So you weren't just throwing up, then?"

"How did you—"

"Casey, we've been friends for years. And I've been drunk with you enough to know your 'I'm gonna hurl' face."

Casey does not have an immediate reply to that, because as much as she may not want to admit it, she knows that Evie has a point. Just as she knows that her friend may soon be mere inches away from the truth of what is actually going on, particularly when Evie's blue eyes narrow, and she stumbles another step or two closer until she can grab Casey's hand with her own.

"Only—you're not drunk."

"No. I'm not."

"In fact, you haven't had a sip of anything even remotely resembling alcohol since I got here."

"Well how—how do you know I wasn't drinking before you showed up?" Casey asks, resignation already taking over her features as soon as she recognizes Evie's answering roll of the eyes.

"I also know your 'I'm slightly buzzed' face. This? This is not it," Evie insists, using her hold on Casey's hand to tug her over to the wall so that she can lean against it without threat of falling down, "What's—what's going on?"

"I thought most people weren't supposed to be this perceptive when they're drunk."

"Lucky for you I'm not most people."

Moving to lean back against the wall at Evie's side, Casey squeezes her eyes shut, and swallows past the lingering bile burning at the back of her throat. Because truthfully, she has no idea what she is supposed to say. She doesn't want to keep things from Evie, but it feels almost wrong telling her, before telling the one other person whose life is about to change. Before telling Bradley, which she hasn't been able to succeed in just yet. And even outside of that rather large factor, Casey cannot seem to shake the thought that if she does opt for full disclosure, Evie will only use it as a means to get out of explaining whatever it is that is going on with her.

"What if I—what if we made a deal?" Casey offers, noting Evie's suddenly perplexed expression, and hoping that such a thing will make it at least slightly easier for her to attempt delaying the inevitable, if only for a moment, "What if we table this conversation until you're sober."

"So there is something going on."

"I think there's something going on for both of us, Ev."

"Okay. I—okay," Evie stammers, dragging a hand through slightly tousled hair, and allowing her head to drop back against the wall with a soft thunk not long after, "I can't exactly deny that."

For a moment, Casey and Evie remain as they are, leaning against the bathroom wall in silence, each of them apparently caught up in their own internal musings, and unable to break free. But the sudden squeak of the door hinges as another woman slips inside the room quickly breaks them of their reverie, both of them rather easily ignoring the intruder's skeptical glance before she slips inside a stall, and Casey shakes herself before attempting to speak.

"So is that your agreement to the deal, or—"

"It's an agreement. But you've gotta promise me one thing, first."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Promise me that you'll at least let me have coffee first. And maybe breakfast, and then we can have our heart to heart."

Casey cannot resist the laugh that bubbles up at the almost predictable reply, and she loops her arm through Evie's again as the two of them navigate their way through the door, and back to the bar at large. And even though she is not blind to how both of them are clearly more than a little eager for the reprieve from having to be completely forthcoming, Casey would be a liar to pretend she isn't more than a little thrilled to have Evie by her side.

A sentiment she endeavors to show through the gentle squeeze she delivers to her friend's arm, while she leans over to ensure the blonde can hear her reply through the rush of sound assailing them from the bar.

"You've got yourself a deal."

…

"So who's your friend?"

"Off limits."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Seriously," Casey confirms, her attention still riveted to the spot just a few feet ahead, where Evie is engaging in what appears to be a riveting conversation with Bradley and one of the other pilots—Bob, she thinks—near the upright piano, "She's not—"

"Not available?"

"I was going to say she's not that kind of girl."

"And what kind of girl is that?" Jake questions, turning to lean with his elbow against the bar, aware of Casey's almost immediate skeptically raised brow that comes about in response, "You're not actually going to tell me, are you?"

"That would ruin all the fun."

"I feel like that might be what you're doing already."

"Oh?"

"I mean, are you her body guard or something? Secret lover? Is she another product of Mav's exploits?"

"Hmm. Secret lover sounds interesting. Let's go with that one," Casey decides, grinning at her companion's exasperated frown, perhaps most especially because behind all of that, she can see the faintest flickers of amusement in his eyes, "It's definitely a bit less soap-opera than being my secret sister."

"Damn. I liked that plotline the best."

"Of course you did."

"Seriously, though. You're not going to give me anything?"

Casey frowns at that, because honestly, she isn't one hundred percent sure she has any right to shield Evie from anyone at all. She certainly doesn't know Jake. Not well, at least. Certainly not well enough to know whether her friend would be able to hold her own with the guy, or if she would only end up getting hurt. And hell, for all Casey knows, the pilot calling himself Hangman might not actually be the cocky, self-assured lady-killer that she pegged him as from the start.

The fact of the matter is, she probably shouldn't be interfering in Evie's life at all, whether that interference comes out of a desire to protect her, or not. But Casey still can't shake the sensation that something is wrong with her friend. That her sudden arrival stems from more than just a desire to be around familiar faces so soon after the death of her brother.

Something is definitely off, but with as little as Evie has given her so far, Casey is nowhere near capable of figuring out even a hint of what that something may be.

"I really don't think there's anything to give."

Even as she says the words, Casey knows they are false…

"Right. You do realize making her all secretive and mysterious is only making her more intriguing, right?"

"That is definitely not what I'm trying to do."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

Aware of the unexpected shift in Jake's demeanor, Casey allows herself to observe him for a moment, without worrying whether or not he will be unnerved by the act on the whole. And to his credit, he remains unperturbed, apparently content to remain where he is until she decides how she wants to reply.

For a moment, Casey wonders if she is getting a glimpse of who Jake really is, behind all of the bravado and obvious charm. She wonders if he might actually be someone she can trust. But before she can make any attempt at deciding whether or not she wants to explore that supposition further, Casey finds herself stunned by the unanticipated accuracy behind Jake's next words.

"You don't even know, do you?"

"I—that's not—I don't—"

The words trail off into silence, and Casey fights the urge to retreat beneath Jake's suddenly keen gaze. Because it almost feels as though he is reading her every bit as easily as her parents can. As Bradley can.

It doesn't make any sense, because he hardly knows her. And Casey would be lying to pretend she isn't more than a little relieved when she recognizes Evie's voice calling to her from across the bar, the beginning notes of a familiar song echoing out from the piano as Bradley's fingers dance across the keys.

"Casey! C'mon, loser, Bradshaw's playing our song!"

Casey sends an almost apologetic glance to Jake before turning to head over to where Evie beckons with an almost blinding grin, a faint laugh escaping as soon as she realizes her friend is already starting to sing along to "Benny and the Jets." And even though she knows they are nowhere near to being what anyone might call normal, she returns Evie's smile with one of her own, sliding onto the bench before the piano on instinct, and allowing her right arm to brush against Bradley's side.

A shockwave seems to rip through her at the contact, but Casey does not pull away, the look that Bradley gives her causing her stomach to somersault at least half a dozen times in rapid succession. And even then she makes no move to create any distance between them…

Not even when he leans a fraction of an inch towards her, and the temptation she felt to kiss him before Evie arrived resurfaces with a vengeance.

…

By some miracle, Casey managed to resist kissing Bradley. She managed to resist the urge to do anything that might make it seem like they were anything more than friends. The two of them spent the rest of the evening with Evie nearby, and somehow, the blonde had been able to look sober enough to consume two more margaritas along the way.

Casey cannot help but shake her head in both amusement and exasperation at the thought, after ensuring Evie is successfully dozing off beneath a pile of blankets and pillows on the bed in her room. And as she shuts the door behind her, she allows herself a small moment to exhale in a shaky rush, knowing that the very last thing that could keep her from a full confession to the man still waiting for her on the front porch of her mother's home is now fully removed from the equation.

Moving back down the hallway, Casey tries to steel herself as best she can, her mind clinging to the closeness she and Bradley shared at the bar like some sort of lifeline that can keep her afloat. She tries to convince herself that their friendship can survive this. That it will survive this.

She catches sight of him sitting on the porch steps through the partially opened door, and takes a moment to admire the obvious strength in his frame. The way the porch light shines on the natural lighter brown highlights in his hair.

Another shaky breath escapes, and then Casey forces herself to continue walking out onto the porch, her hand moving on instinct to rest on Bradley's shoulder as she lowers herself to sit beside him on the step.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. You—you're sure you don't need to—to get back to your own place?"

"Tryin' to get rid of me?"

"No. No, I just—I don't want to cause you to lose sleep. Or end up late to training tomorrow, or—something."

"I won't do either. Scout's honor," Bradley promises, his brow furrowing as soon as he realizes that Casey seems to be shivering through the smallest bit of contact between them where her arm brushes against his side, "You cold?"

"No, I—I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just—I'm um—I'm not exactly sure how to say what I want to say," Casey admits, a flare of regret stabbing through her as she notices the almost immediate concern in Bradley's expression, "Not that—it's not bad. Or at least I—I don't see it that way."

"Case, you're killing me, here—"

"Right. Sorry. I'm—I'm really not trying to, I swear."

"Okay. So can you just—help me out here?" Bradley prompts, turning so that he can face Casey head-on, and frowning when she goes rigid as soon as he reaches for her hand, "Is this—is this about what happened when I was on leave?"

Forcing herself to relax, even though the question causes a spasm of apprehension to tear through her frame, Casey nods, her gaze dropping down to where Bradley's hand rests over her own in the process. She is torn. Torn between wanting the contact, and needing space to keep her own wayward thoughts in line.

Of course, as soon as she realizes the significance behind Bradley's next words, any and all possibility of keeping her thoughts in line falls apart.

"You regret it."

"What?"

"You regret what we—what we did."

"Bradley—oh my God, no. No. I don't—I never could."

"Then what the hell is going on, Case? Because something is—something is different. And don't—don't say it's just worry for Evie because I know that's not what this is."

Casey doesn't even realize Bradley has removed his hand until she feels the sudden rush of chilly evening air over her skin, and she sucks in a breath as she tries to understand why she suddenly feels so—bereft. Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest, and she blinks as she tries to pinpoint the reason why she cannot seem to speak.

She wants to tell him everything. Not just about the baby, but about those nights they spent together as well. She wants to tell him exactly how hard it's been to fight the urge to tell him she loves him since the idea first came to her mind, years ago. That she could never in a million years regret anything that's ever happened between them.

The words build up inside of her so quickly that restraining them almost feels like it causes her physical pain. Like the pressure of it all will tear her apart. But even when Casey finally opens her mouth to speak, a part of her already knows that, of all of the things she wants to say, anything that is even remotely close to exposing her own overwhelming feelings will not be what comes out.

Instead, some instinct she doesn't even know she possesses—an instinct she honestly does not want—simply blurts bare facts.

"I—Bradley, I'm—I'm pregnant."

…

So…yeah. That happened. I wound everything up for Casey's confession and then left it on a small cliffhanger. Oops? Hopefully none of you hate me all that much? Would you accept it if I told you that the muses made me do it? Because honestly, I initially pictured the entire scene going a little bit differently, and had even toyed with having someone else put the pieces together first. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt it might inadvertently cheapen what Casey and Rooster do have, in the process, and I definitely didn't want to risk that. Either way, though, hopefully the way everything is going so far with those two makes sense? I know we haven't seen Bradley's reaction, yet, but I promise, there really is a method to my madness, and it is my hope that all of that will become clear as the story goes on!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! And special thanks to Boris Yeltsin, SirenWolf28, batgirlinmetropolisoncybertron, ChiTown4ever, and Goop42 for leaving such wonderful reviews the last time around! I truly appreciate your support so much more than you know (seriously, I would be nowhere without your encouragement and thoughtful comments)! And I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this chapter, so if it's sub-par, I'm more than willing to take it down and try again! But either way, I hope you continue to enjoy where the story goes from here!

Until next time, darlings…

MOMM