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The atmosphere at The Hard Deck is placid. Lethargic, even.
The light filters warmly through the windows and the air smells faintly of salt water. It’s still early evening and the music is set low, and aside from half a dozen other people, they’re on their own at their spot at the bar. He can hear low chatter from the other patrons, watches as Penny wipes some glasses as she leans against the counter and talks in private tones to another woman. He observes as Amelia comes rushing towards her mother, sees her lips move as she says something, but Bradley can hardly make out the words. All of it feels fuzzy, as if he were underwater or if he had cotton pieces stuck inside his ears. He watches as Penny laughs breezily — tenderly, motherly — at whatever her daughter says, a lump forming in his throat and something heavy and melancholic settling on his chest.
He swallows and looks away. It’s not a good day. Regardless of how many years pass, Bradley thinks the 29th of July will never be a good day for him.
Doesn’t matter if he hardly has any memories left from his father; doesn’t matter that if it weren’t for his mother’s and Mav’s photographs, he would barely remember what his father looked like. Doesn’t matter if he doesn’t even recall what Nicholas Bradshaw’s voice sounded like. It hurts all the same.
Sometimes it still catches him off guard that his dad has been dead longer than he’d been alive. Bradley has outlived his old man by more than a decade. He’s flown more than him, partied more than him, seen a number of sunrises and sunsets more than him. Lived more than him, in every aspect.
Bradley’s grief physically hurts him. It clenches around his heart, squeezes at his lungs, steals the breath from him and sweeps the ground off his feet.
Today hurts, just like it hurt all previous years and just like it still hurts everyday. And yet, as Bradley closes his eyes and leans his head down to his right, letting it rest heavily against the shoulder of the person beside him, feeling an arm come around his back and a hand squeeze his sides in an affectionate manner, Bradley thinks at least he won’t have to hurt all on his own today. Not this year.
Because this year, and hopefully in the many more years yet to come, he’s got Maverick by his side. And that makes him feel so incredibly safe and loved, and it gives him the strength he didn’t know he had to go through yet another anniversary.
“You okay, kiddo?” Mav asks, his lips grazing softly against Bradley’s curls, and Bradley has to fight the urge not to fold into his godfather’s embrace as if he were still a five year old kid.
Mav’s affection doesn’t take the pain away, doesn’t make him hurt less — in a twisted kind of way, sometimes it even hurts more — but it feels so incredibly strong as home, that Bradley has to fight down the lump in his throat. To think he almost lost this, his last real family, forever. And for what? His own pettiness and stubbornness in holding a grudge? For almost fifteen years?
God, he’s so glad he’s not alone anymore. He leans against Maverick for a few more moments, takes a couple deep breaths — inhales the scent of worn leather and cheap corner store deodorant and jet fuel. Wills the wetness behind his eyelids to recede.
“I’m okay,” he croaks, and he means it. It’s his father’s death anniversary and he feels like he’s missing a limb, a piece of his soul. But he’s got his other dad right there, holding him, grounding him, and there’s not much else Bradley could ask for right now.
He feels as Mav presses a kiss to the side of his head, holding him there for another moment. “Okay.”
It’s dark outside. The music is louder and the bar is fuller, and Bradley is still sitting beside his dad, but they have company now. Uncle Ice had joined them not long after they arrived, Slider at his side, and Slider’s wife with them. Wolf and Wood had arrived together, ordering two beers before they had even fully sat down (“Don’t give me that look, Kazansky, it’s been a long day”).
Bradley’s feeling slightly tipsy, having drank maybe one beer too much, and he rests his head on his hand, elbow on the counter. The mood had lifted somewhat after the other’s arrival, and even though Bradley still finds it hard to breathe through the lump in his throat sometimes, it gets easier when he looks around and notices he’s surrounded by his family. He has Maverick on his right and Ice on his left, and all his other uncles around him. It makes a warm feeling bloom in his chest, melting the frigid cold in his veins.
It’s bittersweet in the most unjust way, but Bradley is grateful for it nonetheless. He just wishes his ma and his dad could be there too, is all. They’d have the time of their lives.
Bradley only realizes he isn’t paying attention when he comes to roaring laughter from everyone around him but Mav, who slides forward on the counter, face in his hands as he tries to hide his flaming cheeks. Bradley feels more than sees Ice leaning behind him to pat his husband on the back.
“Can we not talk about this? Let’s pretend it never happened,” Mav begs as he turns towards Ice, while the others cackle even louder in the background.
“Sorry, hotshot, you brought this up on yourself,” Ice grins at him. Distantly, Bradley muses on how his uncle looks like a whole different person when he’s surrounded by his friends and family, away from the burden of his heavy uniform. He may have aged faster than the others when the cancer hit him a few years ago, but after his treatment time went kinder on him, and Bradley relishes on laugh lines and the crow's feet on his uncle’s face. It’s proof of everything he survived, and proof that he’s here today — a solid, unmoving and always present pillar in Bradley’s life, even when he was too stupid to appreciate it.
Mav groans and stands up abruptly. “Penny, darling, another one, please! And make sure to put it on Ice’s tab!”
Penny snorts. “Not like he wasn’t going to pay for yours anyway,” and yes, she has a point.
He turns to Ice, and finds the man gazing adoringly at his husband over the top of his head. Ice notices him watching and Bradley mock gags at him because his dads are disgustingly in love and it’s a wonder the whole Navy still hasn’t put two and two together about them, because they definitely don’t care to hide it anymore.
Ice rolls his eyes at him and ruffles his hair fondly, if not a little bit rougher than necessary.
“What were they talking about anyway?” Bradley asks. “What has Mav all worked up?”
Maverick groans and Wood sniggers loudly. “You didn’t tell the kid?”
Wolfman joins his partner in the loud laughter, swinging an arm around Ice’s shoulder as to lean better across the man towards Bradley. “Maverick here thought there wasn’t any need to wash his towels back in our days at TOPGUN.”
Bradley is silent for a minute, while his brain processes the information. “What the fuck, Mav.”
“Don’t listen to them, baby goose, it’s all slander,” the older pilot argues.
Hollywood cackles even louder. “No way, I can’t believe you haven’t told your kid this story, Ice.”
“Haven’t really had the time, Wood,” Ice says good natured, and while part of Bradley’s still high on Hollywood calling him Ice’s kid, another more self conscious part of him can’t help but get hooked on the fact that Ice didn’t have the time to tell him because Bradley had pushed him out of his life for the past 15 years. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though, because Ice quickly follows it up. “And anyway, we can tell him about it now. Hey, trouble, why don’t you do the honors?”
Mav shakes his head and slumps down on the counter, head hidden in his arms.
“Oh, man, Goose would have loved to tell you this story, kid. I remember him laughing like an idiot for ten minutes straight and then some,” Slider speaks up from his spot beside Mav.
Bradley smiles fondly at the image that forms in his head. He can already picture it, his dad surrounded by all the other pilots, his co-workers and best friends, all together in one room, leaning against each other in a poor attempt at staying upright while they all howl at some stupid shit Mav did. What he wouldn’t give to see his old man alive, retired and laughing just as much now, surrounded by the same people as 30 years ago and losing his shit over this story all over again.
Bradley smiles around his grief. “Okay, sounds interesting, what did Mav do?”
Wolfman’s grin, true to his callsign, turns wolfish as he takes a swig from his beer. “Buckle up, kid, you’re in for a ride.”
*** WET TOWEL INCIDENT FLASHBACK***
They had just come back from another hop, the fourth one that day, and they were all sweaty and stinky and in dire need of a shower. Hollywood and Wolfman had stayed back after their usual debrief as Viper chewed them out for an off the books maneuver Wood had pulled during their flight, and arrived at the locker room just as most of the other pilots were already getting changed into their service khakis, clean after their showers.
Now, Hollywood thought it was very convenient that most of them were already done and would be out of the lockers soon, because that meant he and Wolf had the showers all for themselves, and he planned on making good use of that rare opportunity.
——
“Uncle Wood, I really don’t wanna know about those details, please,” Bradley groans, hiding his face on Ice’s shoulder and feeling said man shake with poorly contained chuckles.
“Yeah, Wood, don’t expose my kid to your dirty adventures,” Mav says, covering Bradley’s ears with his hands. “Acted like a pair of dogs in heat, the both of you.”
“Oh, please. As if you and Ice didn’t do much more, and much worse, might I add, than Wolf and I ever did. In fact, I distinctly remember—“
“Sweet Jesus can we not!” Bradley shrieks and puts his own hands on top of Maverick’s. “I really don’t wanna hear about my parents’ sex life, no thanks.”
“Loosen up, Brad, we all know you ain’t no saint. My eyes are still bleeding from walking in on you and Jake the other day,” Wolf pipes up, grinning even though he actually does look kinda haunted. Bradley just groans louder, because that had been a horrible day and he had never gone limp so fast in his entire life.
“Let’s just please get back to the story, please, I’m begging you.”
All of them nod enthusiastically.
——
Anyway, shower time. Wood grabbed his toiletries and, with Wolf on his tail, walked towards the towel hook to get his blue one.
Which was… damp. Again. The first couple times it happened, Wood didn’t think much of it. Figured it was the steam in the room, or something like that. But it kept happening, and sometimes it wasn’t just damp, it was downright wet.
“Alright, that’s enough,” he growled as he walked back into the locker room, naked as the day he was born, damp towel in hand. “Which one of you fuckers is playing with me?”
“What’s got your panties in a twist, Woody?” Goose asked as he leaned over the sink, combing his mustache as he glanced at Hollywood through the mirror in front of him. “Oh, never mind, you don’t even have panties on.”
“Knock it off, Bradshaw,” the man snarled. “My towel keeps turning up wet! One of you idiots think you’re being funny but newsflash! It’s not anymore!”
“I’ve got literally no idea what you’re talking about, man,” Merlin shrugged.
“Yeah, no, I don’t know anything about that, Wood,” Sundown agreed.
“My towel is never damp, maybe you’re just being dramatic? As always?” Slider drawled.
Hollywood squinted his eyes, analyzing each of the pilots. “If this happens again, you’re all dead. I’m serious. I'm committing homicide, I don’t even care.”
“Ooo scary, Woody!” Goose cackled. “C’mon, Mav, are you done taking a dump, or not! Gotta get out of here before scary Woody kills us all.”
As the whole locker room fell into raucous laughter, Maverick came back from the toilet, zipping his trousers up.
“Yeah, gimme a minute and then we’ll leave these drama queens to their own devices,” he grinned, on his way to the sink to wash his hands. As he came back, he passed by Wolfman and a fuming Hollywood. “Let’s go, Mother Goo— hey, Wood, where’re you going with my towel?” he asked, doing a double take.
“What do you mean, your towel? This is my towel.”
“Uh, no? I just used it, it’s mine.”
“You— what?
Maverick cocked his head to the side. “What, what? I just said it, it’s my towel.”
“Maverick. This is my fucking towel, you dumb piece of shit. Yours is the red one,” he snapped, pointing at the innocent red towel hanging on the towel hook.
“Wood, I can tell you that I’ve never used that towel in my life before. But I do use this one every single day.”
–—
“Mav, oh my god!” Bradley moans, barely believing his own ears. “Tell me this isn’t true,” he asks, turning to Ice.
“I’m afraid you haven’t even heard the best of it yet,” Wolf says before Ice can answer, and Maverick groans from where he’s seated.
–—
The silence was deafening as the horror of it all dawned on Hollywood. A pin could be heard if it were to fall on the floor, and Hollywood believed he was a second away from having a stroke. While Ice and Slider looked almost purple from holding in their laughter, the others stared wide eyed back and forth between him and Maverick.
Sundown broke the unspoken rule not to move as he stood up from the bench, the task of tying his shoes abandoned as he walked towards the towel hook. He took the red one, brightening as he brought it to rub against his face. “This towel is so warm and fluffy! It feels like it’s been in the sun forever!”
Goose choked on a ridiculous attempt at holding his laughter, and Slider and Ice leaned on each other as they looked like they were having the time of their lives. “Jesus fucking Christ, please tell me I’m not dreaming and this is actually happening.”
Merlin chortled. “Yo, Woody, how does it feel to know you and Mav have been drying your junks with the same towel?”
Goose smirked. “Intimate, I bet.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Hollywood all but hollered, and Wolf was sure he saw a vein pop on his partner’s forehead.
Mav just gave him a confused puppy look. “What do you mean, am I ou—?”
“How do you think this is your towel?! Do you even wash it?”
Mav snorted. “No? I don’t wash the towel, the towel washes me. Who washes a towel?”
At that, Ice broke off mid laughter, eyes bulging out. “Wait, Mav, you never wash it?”
Maverick looked genuinely puzzled. “You wash your towel?”
Well, if Hollywood looked angry before, he looked downright murderous now. “You never wash the towel?!”
Goose looked like he thought the situation couldn’t get any better, but then Maverick put his hands on his hips, an indignant frown between his eyebrows. “Well, what am I gonna do? Wash the shower next? Wash a bar of soap? You gotta think here, pal,” he cried and poked a finger against his skull.
Wolf stretched a hand out to hold Wood’s shoulder as he heard the pilot take a heaving breath before exploding again. “I am furious!”
And Maverick wasn’t called Maverick for nothing, his temper finally getting the best of him. “I come out of the damn shower, I’m clean as a damn baby, and I use the towel,” he yelled, hands going up in the air as he took a step towards the pair.
“Lemme ask you this, then, Pete Maverick Mitchell. Have you been wearing my underwear too?”
Goose was so confused, this was the best day ever.
“Sometimes, yeah. Who cares?”
Wood made a gagging sound and Slider, who was just managing to contain his laughter, slid down against the lockers in true fashion to his callsign, shaking with full belly laughter. Goose grasped Slider’s shoulder with both hands, in a manner that was probably to calm him down, but ended up being more of a way to hold himself up.
“What, you guys don’t wear each other’s underwear?” Mav inquired, a single eyebrow going up as everybody started shaking their heads. “You’re lying, we all wear each other’s underwear.”
Wait, what.
“Mav, buddy, I love you, but have you been wearing my undies?” Goose frowned , going pale.
It’s chaos from there on and all hell broke loose. Merlin joined Slider on the ground, followed soon after by Goose, the three of them wheezing for air while simultaneously plotting Mav’s demise. Ice just looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole from second hand embarrassment and murderous intent, and Wolf got busy holding Wood back from lounging at Maverick, who was being held back by a resigned looking Sundown.
*** END WET TOWEL INCIDENT FLASHBACK***
“I swear to god, I’ve never laughed as much in my life as I did that day,” Wolf says, drying his tears and drowning the rest of his beer. A chorus of cheered agreement follows through the group.
“Because of Maverick here, we all had our names written with Sharpies on the back of our underwear from that day on,” Slider snorts.
Bradley is wiping away tears of his own, trying to get his breathing under control. “Mav, I cannot believe you didn’t wash your towels until you were fucking 23 years old,” he cries, mortified, turning around to his godfather.
“Fuck off, kid, my thinking had logic, okay?” Mav pouts, red in the face, but his expression is fond.
“Yeah, sure thing,” Hollywood snickers. “I thought for sure I was going to have an aneurysm that day. RIP Hollywood, son, brother, fighter pilot. Cause of death: one Maverick Mitchell.”
They all start laughing again, and Bradley watches as Ice finally takes pity on his husband, leaning over Bradley to rub his back. “You did bring it on yourself, Mav.”
“Thanks, dearest, so you’ve said,” Mav mutters and rolls his eyes for good measure.
“Sorry, trouble,” the Admiral grins and shoots a wink at his wingman — who despite feigning annoyance, shoots one right back.
As they settle down, the mood goes calmer again. Penny pours them another round and chatter resumes among them, quieter than before, but also lighter, conversation floating easier between them.
Bradley sips at his drink and wishes, not for the first time that evening, that Jake was there. He misses his infuriating boyfriend, who had insisted that Bradley go on his own today, since Goose’s death anniversary was not the day he wanted to be introduced to his whole extended family. Bradley told him he would have liked to have him there, but he understands how Jake must have felt. They had already spent the entire day together, and he had been reassured that he’d be welcomed back home with the promise of a warm dinner and couch cuddles and fluffy blankets, so he conceded.
Still, though, as he gazes around the bar and turns to look at what is essentially his family in all but blood, he’s pretty much convinced that they would have taken to Jake like fish to water.
Soon, Bradley mentally promises himself. Most of them already know him anyway, be it as Jake, Bradley’s boyfriend or as Lieutenant Seresin, callsign Hangman, and at this point it was more a formality and about getting them all together in one room to spend quality time in each other’s company.
It’s when Bradley is musing about planning a family barbecue to accomplish just that, that the sudden want to introduce the man he’s pretty sure is the love of his life to his parents hits him in the most overwhelming way. It leaves him breathless for a second, because not only is it the first time that it
dawns on him that he loves Jake Seresin, but also because he misses Nick and Carole Bradshaw so goddamn much, and he’ll never know what a meeting between them and Jake would have looked like. It makes his eyes sting and his vision go blurry at the unfairness of it all.
He blinks a couple times, willing the tears away. Takes a minute to recompose himself before automatically turning to his childhood source of comfort, only to find Maverick already watching him.
For a moment, nothing happens and they simply stare at each other. Mav’s eyes crinkle at the corner as he unconsciously shoots Bradley the most gentle and fatherly smile he’s received in recent memory, and Bradley has all of three seconds to try to will his emotions under control before he spectacularly loses that battle and a sob rips past his lips and he bursts into tears.
Mav’s face falls and he has him in a bone crushing embrace before he even realizes what’s going on. When his brain catches up to him, he clings to his godfather, arms going around his neck. He abruptly feels 4 years old again, in a cemetery where his father’s casket is being lowered into the ground, little face buried in Mav’s neck while he wails in his godfather’s arms and his mother kneels on the perfectly trimmed grass, shoulders shaking with her own cries of anguish, which he knows she’s tried so hard to hide from him before.
It’s like a dam opens, then, and years of repressed emotions immediately flood him as he bursts into a fresh set of tears. Distantly, he feels Mav’s hand on the back of his head, pressing Bradley tightly against him, while the other holds him firmly around the waist. He feels Mav’s hot breath against the side of his face as he mutters soothing words and presses tender kisses to his hairline. Bradley can’t make out the words in his grief fogged mind, but he relishes on Mav’s affection, and even though he’s been taller than Mav since he was 16, he suddenly feels so small in the arms of this man who has fundamentally been his dad for so many years.
“It’s alright, baby goose, let it all out.” Mav’s voice washes over him like a balm. He feels a kiss being pressed to the crown of head and slowly untucks his face from Maverick’s neck — suddenly aware of the wetness of Mav’s own tears — to see Ice’s blurry outline.
His lips wobble as he tries to say something, but Ice just fondly shakes his head, fingers combing through his locks. “We got you, kiddo. Let it out, we got you.”
Bradley chokes on his tears, overwhelmed. “I just— I miss him so much,” he gasps. “And— and mom, too, I miss her so much, too”
Mav’s arms go infinitely tighter around him.
“Please, dad, I want them back,” he hiccups, and feels as Ice hugs both of them, enveloping them in his embrace.
“I know, kiddo, believe me, I know,” Mav whispers, rocking him a little from side to side. “I’d give anything to bring them back to you, baby goose. Anything.”
And Bradley believes him. Because he’s lived with Pete Mitchell during many of his dad’s death anniversaries, and he knows that Mav suffered just as much as him, if not more. Every single year on July 29th he would wake up just before dawn, run down the corridor from his bedroom to Mav’s and stand in front of the closed door, hearing the muffled sobs coming from inside.
(”It should’ve been me, Tom. It should’ve been me, I should’ve gone down instead of Goose, Goose didn’t deserve it, he was good, Tom, he was so good—“
“Pete, baby, look at me. It wasn’t your fault, no one could have foreseen it. No one.”
“He was my responsibility, Tom, mine! I had one job, which was to keep him safe and I couldn’t even do that because I was so selfish—“
“Pete—“
“And now he’s dead! And Carole’s a widow and Bradley won’t ever see his father again and it’s my fucking fault and I hate myself, I hate—“).
Bradley could never bring himself to enter the room during those moments. He also never had the strength to leave. Every year he would slide his back down against the door and cover his little ears with his hands, palms pressing firmly against his skull, and every single year he’d cry and hope the pain of his own heartache would drown the sound of Maverick’s.
Maybe it’s foolish of him, but Bradley thought it’d get better with time — dealing with the loss of his parents, that is. As a child, he had asked Ice several times about whether or not the pain would eventually go away — he had never had the guts to ask Mav, who always looked like a hair’s breadth away from collapsing entirely at the mention of his recently dead best friend. Ice, however, would always look Bradley directly in the eye and firmly tell him that no, it wouldn’t. He remembers how his child self would always tear up at the harsh reality of Ice’s words, but his uncle would always gather him up in his arms and tell him that it would get easier. It wouldn’t hurt less, and nothing would ever fill that gaping hole in his chest, but it’d get easier.
At the time, Bradley had been so desperate to believe in a future where things wouldn’t be so hard, that he clung to Ice’s words the same way a drowning person does to a lifebuoy.
Right now, however, Bradley is tempted to say that nothing got easier. Even though, rationally, he knows that’s a wrong accusation.
Because he may be emotionally wrecked, and it may feel like he’s back to the day he received the news of Nick’s Bradshaw’s passing (and then to the day the doctors told him he shouldn’t get his hopes up because they were too late for Carole’s Bradshaw’s cancer treatment), but he isn’t alone anymore.
Because here he is, sobbing, yes, but doing so in the arms of two of the three people he loves most in the entire world, while surrounded by his uncles and being so thoroughly covered in a blanket of love and affection, that it has him wondering why he ever, if even for a second, believed that this family didn’t want him.
Bradley takes a shuddering breath in — vaguely notices that he’s practically sitting on Mav’s lap — and wipes the tears off his face. He snuggles further into his dad’s embrace, and then looks up at Ice, who took the bar stool he was previously occupying, and who presses a thumb to the corner of his eye, stopping another stray tear on its track. He cradles Bradley’s face in his hand for a second before leaning in and kissing him on the forehead. “You back with us, son?”
In the fifteen years of distance he let himself put between him and his family, Bradley had somehow forgotten what it was like to be called son by Thomas Kazansky, the COMPACFLT. So, robbed of his words, he nods dumbly.
Ice smiles at him, gently, indulgently, like he knows exactly what Bradley’s thinking. “Good. You had us worried for a second there, baby goose.”
Bradley stares owlishly at him, before turning his head slightly upwards to look at Mav, only to find the other man with his eyes closed, dried tear tracks on his cheeks, head resting against Bradley’s own. His heart does somersaults in his ribcage, and when he turns to look at Ice again, said man just shrugs a little, a helpless sort of resigned ache to his smile. “He can’t stand to see you in pain.”
Bradley clenches his eyes shut, breathes in and out the way his therapist taught him to, and turns to fully put his arms around Mav, returning the hug he’s being held in. Mav stirs at that, as if he too were lost somewhere deep in his mind and had just come to.
“I love you,” Bradley whispers, and puts as much conviction into it as he possibly can, because he needs them to know he has never meant those words more than he means them now. “Both of you, so much.”
Mav makes a choked little sound at that and immediately crushes Bradley into him. “We love you too, kiddo. More than you could ever imagine.”
Later, when they’ve calmed down and Bradley’s gang of uncles have smothered him with more funny stories about Goose and their time together at TOPGUN, everybody collectively decides it’s time to leave. Penny refuses to let them pay and shoves another warm honey-lemon tea into his and Mav’s hands, which she’d been doing since they switched from beers to tears. Bradley holds the take away paper cup between his hands and blows Penny a kiss in thanks.
Ice walks out of the bar ahead of them, claiming he’ll get the car. Bradley catches Maverick staring at Ice’s ass as he goes through the door and rolls his eyes as his dad stumbles out of his stool and rushes after his husband, honey lemon tea sloshing dangerously in his hands.
Slider comes from his right and hooks an arm around his shoulders, just as Wolf ambushes him from his left. Bradley looks skeptically between the two of them, but both are still busy watching the couple leave the bar (Mav catches up to Ice, hooking an arm around his waist and leaning on his tiptoes to messily plant a kiss on his cheek, but missing it when Ice turns his head towards him, getting the corner of his lips instead. They stare at each other for a second before breaking into fond laughter, their noses rubbing together. Ice loops an arm around Mav’s shoulder and then they’re out of sight).
Wolf sighs heavily beside him, shuffling around his coat pocket for a few moments before taking his wallet out and handing Bradley a 20. Slider eyes him, mutters a curse and does the same.
Bradley stares confused at the money in his hands. “What’s this for?”
“We had a bet going on back then, in 86,” Wolf starts. “Those two were so obvious it was painful, but we all thought it was just a heat of the moment thing.”
Slider nods. “So we bet on how long we thought they’d last.”
Bradley is still confused. “Okay? What’s that got to do with me?”
Hollywood joins them from Wolf’s side, planting his own twenty dollars bill on Bradley’s still open hand. “Your old man was the only one who bet they’d get married and be together forever. Said they were endgame. Guess it’s your money now, kid.”
Bradley chokes on a breathy laugh. Of course Goose would have taken one look at Maverick and known the man was gone beyond words. “What was the longest you guys bet on?”
“I think Chipper said something about two years, but I’m not sure,” Slider shrugs.
Bradley cannot imagine his dads as anything but eternally in love, so the notion of someone even suggesting that best case scenario they’d only last 2 years is frankly kinda laughable. “You’ve lost yourselves quite the easy money, gentlemen.”
Wolf shakes his head. “You didn’t see them then. All that sexual tension, I swear to fucking god. I thought they just needed to get laid and get it out of their system.”
“And look at them now. Soon they’ll be celebrating their 30-something anniversary already,” Wood says and all of them heave a collective sigh, but the effect is ruined by the warm smiles on their faces. It’s obvious they’re all more than happy for their friends.
Bradley pockets the money away, thinking about using it to buy some more fresh flowers to put on his parents’ graves the next time he goes there — this morning, when he went with Jake, they had already brought a huge bouquet with them.
They say their final goodbyes to Penny and head out to the parking lot where Ice and Mav are already waiting. Bradley kisses Slider’s wife on the cheek and hugs each of his uncles tightly, with promises to visit all of them more often (“And do bring your boy next time, Brad. We’ve yet to have a… talk, with him,” Slider’s grin is a little predatory, and Bradley shakes his head, amused. His uncles’ protective sex talk combined with Jake Seresin’s infuriating and shameless charm would definitely be an interesting thing to experience, even if he will probably want to die when it happens).
He jumps into the backseat of Ice’s car while Mav goes shotgun, and they drive off to Jake and Bradley’s tiny apartment. The ride is mostly spent in comfortable silence, and Bradley’s grateful for it — it’s been an overwhelming day and as much as it had been painful, it had also been incredibly beautiful. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have family with him at this time of the year, so he soaked up their company and their comfort like a dry sponge, and he’s so glad he has them back in his life.
The day, however, has been long and it has taken its toll on him, so he can’t wait to get home and crash for the night.
When they finally arrive, the three of them get out of the car. Bradley gets crushed on Ice’s embrace and then on Mav’s, and just as he’s planning on saying goodnight, his pa holds him by his sleeve.
“Wait, son. Pete, there’s something you wanted to give him, remember?” Ice says, pointing with his chin at his husband’s coat.
“Oh, yeah, shit! I had almost forgotten,” Mav cries, shoving his hand on the inside pocket of his jacket. Bradley regards the scene curiously, watching as Maverick holds whatever it is that he took from his pocket in the palm of his hand for a couple seconds. He notices as his dad swallows thickly, one hand coming up to roughly wipe away at his eyes. Ice takes a step closer to him, gently squeezing the nape of his neck.
“I’m sorry I held onto these for so long,” Mav apologizes as he places the object on Bradley’s open hand, squeezing his own around it. “You have a right to them more than anyone else.”
Bradley swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and stares at Nick Bradshaw’s dog tags in his palm. They’re so shiny they reflect the lamp post’s light, so they’ve obviously been well cared for throughout the years. He glides his thumb reverently along the raised letters, blinking when they suddenly go blurry, and, at a loss for words, closes his fist tightly around them and pulls Mav into a hug.
He takes a shuddering breath in and feels as the older pilot rubs his back in circular motions. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. I meant to give them to you on your 21st birthday, but…” he trails off, shrugging slightly.
Neither of them mention the fact that, at the time, Bradley would’ve thrown the package away without even opening it.
“You knew him better and longer, you have a right to them just as much as me,” Bradley rasps, burying his face on Mav’s shoulder and shaking his head when he feels like his dad’s going to protest. “He was your best friend, shut up, I don’t wanna hear it.”
Ice laughs wetly behind them and Bradley blindly reaches towards him, curling his arm around him when Ice joins their group hug.
“Thank you, dad. Thank you, pa,” he breathes and relishes in how their arms go simultaneously tighter around him. “Thank you for holding onto them for so long.”
He feels as Ice places a kiss on top of his head and as Mav combs through the short hairs on his nape, closing his eyes and feeling like a child in between the two of them — safe and warm and cared for. Loved.
“Anything for you, kid.”
And when they finally disentangle themselves and say their goodbyes and Bradley finally steps foot into his house, Jake’s already there, leaning against the doorframe to the living room, toothpick rolling on his tongue and an impossibly fond expression on his face. “Well, hello there, stranger,” he drawls prettily, stepping towards Bradley. “Dinner is ready and the bath is warm. Shall we?”
Bradley all but falls into his space the second he takes his shoes off by the doorway. They're suddenly forehead to forehead, toe to toe and Bradley easily slots their fingers together as they just stand there, just for a minute. He breathes in, holds it for a few seconds, exhales. When he feels like he can talk without choking on his own emotions, he pulls Jake in completely, squeezing him tightly and inhaling the scent he’s come to associate with home. “A bath sounds amazing right now.”
“So predictable. You're just eager to get me naked, Roo,” Jake scoffs, but try as he might, he can’t hide the humor in his voice from Bradley. He just sounds amused, if not adoring.
Bradley laughs softly and lets his lips linger against the side of his boyfriend’s neck. “That’s just an added bonus.”
“Bradshaw, you sly dog,” Jake teases but makes no move whatsoever to let go of him. Instead, he snuggles further into Bradley’s chest. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Bradley swallows dryly, blinking a couple times before opting to close his eyes and let Jake hold him.
“I’m home,” he whispers.
The 29th of July is not over yet — there’s still an hour to midnight and the moon shines brightly over the graveyard.
Maverick stands up, knees protesting loudly in the peaceful darkness of the cemetery, and brushes his hand one last time over the polished marble of Goose’s tombstone.
He takes a couple steps back, automatically falling into place beside Ice and leaning against him when his arm wraps easily around his shoulder. ”Think he’s doing okay up there?” Mav’s not a religious person, but he can’t help but ask.
Ice lets his head fall against Maverick’s, looking up at the endless expanse of skies above them, twinkling with tiny bright stars. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I think both of them are doing pretty okay.”
Mav hums, looking up as well. “Good,” he says. “I hope they can see Bradley from wherever they are. He’s so big now, all grown up and living an adult life. Goose would be so proud.”
“He is, baby,” Ice reassures. “And I’m sure he’s also very proud of you.”
Mav tilts his head to look at his husband of more than nine years, partner of more than thirty. He’s still as handsome as the day they met, and Maverick can’t help but wonder how lucky he got to have this man in his life, who went through thick and thin for him, saved him in more ways than one and helped him raise a child with nothing but abundant love to give. He hopes Goose and Carole can see that too.
Maverick smiles. “Of us, Tom. Of us.”