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Tom could tell when Maverick was hurting and trying to hide it.
He stood in the doorway to the porch, dressed and ready to go, scarf secured and coat buttoned, but hesitating all the same. Looking back into the living room, where Maverick sat, staring at a TV he wasn’t really watching to avoid Tom’s eye, so he wouldn’t see how damp they were. How damp they’d been since the text had arrived an hour ago.
Tom swallowed hard and tried to steady his voice. If Maverick could be brave, so could he.
“I won’t be long. Back before midnight, I promise,” he called, though he’d already said goodbye three times.
Mav lifted his hand in a wave, the other petting Piper’s lopsided ears a little more intensely than usual, a little too much like their dog was an anchor rather than just a collie pleased to be allowed up on the couch for once because papa was going out, “I won’t wait up. Hey, we’re not meant to be seeing each other tonight anyway, right?”
That gave Tom a real, genuine smile, in spite of the heaviness in his chest, “Well. We’ve never really played by the rules, have we?”
Maverick’s shoulders inched lower and he risked a glance over to him, blue green eyes shining, “Guess not…”
Tom’s chest clenched hard at the expression on his face, the pain he was trying so hard to keep in the set of his jaw and the lines around his eyes. Maverick wasn’t supposed to hide it with him, they’d never done that, not in the twenty five years they’d been together.
“Pete…” Tom murmured, feeling his resolve shake, widening the cracks already there.
But Maverick shook his head, cuddling Piper a little tighter because Tom was out of his reach. She thumped her tail at him reproachfully and he quickly busied himself with stroking her ruff in apology.
“Just…” he didn’t lift his eyes from her but Tom heard his voice thicken and saw his shoulders tense like he was waiting for a blow, “Just tell him I miss him, Ice. Please?”
The urge to run to him and take him in his arms was so powerful that it was instinctive, the same thing that told Tom to bank hard out of a jet wash or send his thumb moving to the trigger an instant before he needed to fire. But he had to stand his ground.
Because someone else needed him too.
“Of course I will. I’ll be back soon,” Tom said again, less brave than he had been before.
Maverick cleared his throat, “I know, baby…I love you.”
Tom gave him a watery smile, meaning the words more than he could say though he wished he could show it better as he made for the door, “I love you too, Mav.”
“Should hope so,” Maverick called after him, trying to end on a joke because he was the best damn man in the world, “Would make us getting married tomorrow a little awkward.”
For someone who didn’t really like bars, Tom liked The Hard Deck. He supposed at his age, it was meant to make him feel nostalgic for their own haunt back when they were at Top Gun but honestly, it just made him wince at how loud the music had been and how the floors had always been sticky. He much preferred this place, with its soft jukebox tunes, the walls full of trinkets Tom used to test his knowledge of squad patches, the sunset pooling in the hanging glasses and the sound of the sea just outside.
And, right now at least, the light, playful jazz coming from the piano in the far corner.
The bar was fairly quiet for a Friday night, though Tom still received some wide eyes and quick salutes from a few green looking khaki uniforms scattered at various tables. He chuckled and waved them off gently, wondering if anyone had warned them that Admiral Kazansky sometimes drifted in through the door. The ones who were used to it by now just gave him a wave.
Or, if they were Penny Benjamin, they came running around the bar to throw their arms around him.
“Evening, ma’am,” Tom grinned, hugging her back gladly.
“Aw, evening to you too, Admiral and congratulations!” she beamed brightly once she’d released him.
“You know the wedding’s not till tomorrow right?” Tom smiled teasingly, “You got the invitation?”
Penny swatted his arm lightly with a cloth as she went back behind the bar, starting to fix him the vodka on the rocks he’d ask for if she ever gave him the chance to order, “I know that, the receptions at my damn bar! I just wanted to take the chance to say it now, seeing as you’ll be too busy making eyes at Mav tomorrow.”
“Legally making eyes at my lawfully wedded husband,” he corrected, gratefully accepting the glass she slid towards him, “So perfectly allowed.”
Penny smirked though after a moment, the usual teasing brightness faded and her eyes softened, “You sound good, Tom.”
He didn’t. He sounded thick and rough and scratchy, like a record that wasn’t sitting in the turntable quite right and even after this short conversation he was having to reach for the handkerchief in his pocket. But he knew she meant it and that fact made him smile, if nothing else.
“Thanks, Penny,” he patted her hand where it rested on the bar.
She caught it and squeezed his fingers, “I’ll let you go. You know where to find him.”
Ice rapped his knuckles on the bar lightly, giving her a wink and moving off towards the corner. Off to the battered old piano and the man who sat at it, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and aviators even though he was indoors at ten pm.
He knew exactly where to find Bradley Bradshaw.
As he approached, sipping his drink, he watched the corner of Bradley’s mouth lift and those clever fingers dancing along the keys shifted and changed direction smoothly, the song dissolving into the wedding march.
Tom rolled his eyes and set his glass on top of the piano, “Knock that off and give your uncle a hug, Bradshaw.”
The grin that flashed up at him was as full of cheek as the first one Bradley Bradshaw had ever shown him, though the face around it had grown much older much quicker than he would have liked. Regardless, Tom melted just as fast. If Bradley hadn’t bounced up immediately to throw his arms around him, Tom would have gone down to him, bad back be damned. He just needed to have this boy in his arms again.
Tom had always needed to steady himself whenever Bradley hugged him, the kid was stronger than he realised. With how fiercely he embraced him now, he almost ended up on the deck.
“I missed you, Uncle Tom,” he murmured, voice thick either with emotion or because of how tight Tom was holding him.
“I missed you too, kid,” the words didn’t feel like enough, not for the yawning hole carved out of his chest, the one he could feel aching with how long it had been since he’d hugged Bradley.
They weren’t enough but they’d have to do.
Tom kept his hands on Bradley’s shoulders as they moved apart, not quite willing to let go of him yet.
“Sorry for texting you out of the blue, I didn’t know if you’d be busy…” Bradley looked apologetic.
“Not too busy for you,” Tom shook his head, steering him towards a table, “When have I ever complained about you texting me?”
“When I was drunk that one time?” Bradley offered with a lopsided smile, snagging a half drunk beer off the piano and following.
The memory made Tom chuckle, “I was three more texts off taking an F-18 straight to your dorm to put your ass in bed.”
Bradley slid into his seat, “I believe you would…”
Tom folded his arms, mentally cataloguing how Bradley’s facial hair was filling in, how his shoulders were that fraction broader, how the curls his mother gave him were following him into adulthood. Little details from the too long gap between now and the last time he’d seen him.
“So, how have you been, are you alright? How’s USNA, tell me everything?”
Bradley snorted, sliding the bottle between his hands, “You know most of it, Admiral. I’ve been following the rules, one phone call a fortnight.”
“That’s not the same as having you in front of me, telling me you’re okay,” Tom sipped his drink, the cold helping with the numbness that still prickled on his tongue.
“Well, I am. Promise.”
And there it was, the eyes flickering downwards and the shoulders tensing that Tom couldn’t see in the phone calls. The same ones he remembered from a younger Bradley, saying he had definitely finished all his homework, he had absolutely cleaned his room, he had no clue how a baseball had come sailing through the kitchen window.
So Tom did what he’d always done in those situations. He leaned back and he waited.
The tips of Bradley’s ears went red and he became very interested in picking the label off his bottle, “I mean, I like USNA. I like the classes, my grades are good. Still don’t love feeling like a senior citizen compared to everyone else but I’ve got a pretty nice group of friends.”
“How’s the flying?” Tom asked gently, a little afraid of the answer.
Bradley’s eyes cleared in that moment, as Tom knew they would, all the doubt fading. It was almost reverent, that look, a kind of bliss that he knew well.
“It’s just like you said, Uncle Tom. There’s nothing else like it, it’s…it’s freedom.”
Heart sinking, Tom smiled. There was no getting away from it then, not with that glint in his eye. He could have had Maverick himself sitting across from him. In his heart, Tom apologised to Carole, though he’d never known about the promise Mav made, not until it was too late.
Looking at Bradley now, it might have always been too late.
“That pilot of yours will be pleased to hear it,” he commented, a little more cautiously, “How is Jake?”
The shoulders came back up and those eyes closed off again, “Yeah, he’s…he’s good. We’re good.”
Tom gave a sigh, making sure Bradley heard it.
“Alright alright…” the young man squirmed across from him, loosening around the edges, enough for the words to slip past, “It’s…I mean, it’s shitty, not seeing him. At least when he was at flight school I knew where he was but now he’s deployed…he doesn’t even have time to call some nights.”
There was real pain in that voice, along with bitterness and jealousy. Tom knew Bradley wanted to be where his boyfriend was, that even the distance would feel easier if they were sharing the risk.
“It’s funny,” Bradley laughed with no humour, the label now turning to shreds between his fingers, “When being with me would have cost Jake his commission, he was right there and we could hardly touch. Now they say we’re allowed to be together but send him flying off God knows where.”
Tom’s chest clenched and he reached across the table to take Bradley’s hand. The first night young Bradley had crawled into his bed after lights out to talk, curled up in the dark where it was safe to tell him about the feelings he’d been having about other boys in his class, Tom had felt his eyes fill up for so many reasons. The sweet, uncomprehending innocence of it, the fact that Bradley trusted him in a way a younger Tom had never been able to trust, the chance to take all that hurt inside him and help someone he loved.
And fear. Fear for his Bradley, for all the pain on the way because of this thing they shared.
It broke Tom's heart to see it all come true, to see Bradley and this Lieutenant Seresin going through the same pain he and Maverick had, knowing he couldn’t protect them. He’d wanted the world to be better by the time they came along. Wanted but never hoped. He wasn’t that much of a fool
“It is shitty,” Tom agreed, knowing he didn’t have much more to offer than those words, “I get it.”
Bradley’s teeth caught his lower lip to stop the tremble in it, “He’s actually on leave right now. But he had to go see his family in Texas and they don’t, ah, they don't know about me. About him. About us.”
“I see,” Tom tightened his fingers, hating how familiar he was with the expression on Bradley’s face, “Kid…”
“I know, I know,” Bradley pushed his aviators up to scrub at his eyes, “It’s not his fault, I don’t blame Jake. It’s just fucking awful and I wish it was different for him. But I guess not everyone was lucky enough to have you, Uncle Tom.”
And your Uncle Maverick. I was only brave enough to be myself because he was, if it wasn’t for him I’d still be scared and angry and baring my teeth at the world.
“Anyway,” Bradley was clearly trying to veer away from that hot stovetop of a thought, “I’m rambling on about fucking grades and my goddamn love life when I should be asking you how your treatment’s going.”
Tom let him. He got to talk to Bradley face to face only a handful of times a year and he wasn’t going to make this painful for him if he could help it.
“All good news,” Tom dabbed at his lower lip, “It’s a lot to adjust to but all the scans are coming back clear and I’m feeling stronger than I have in a while.”
Bradley let a breath go that looked like it had been held for months. Tom knew his diagnosis had shattered the kid, telling him about it had been one of the lowest points in a time made up entirely of low points. It had started featuring in Tom’s nightmares, Bradley shaking and sobbing and clinging to him, his voice sounding so painfully young as he’d repeated over and over not you too.
It had become just another thing hurting Bradley that Tom couldn’t do a damn thing about.
“You’re looking good,” Bradley said hopefully.
Tom chuckled and tugged at the scarf around his neck, one of the many Maverick had got for him, “I’d look worse without this.”
Bradley pulled a face and shook his head, “You’re healthy. That’s all I care about.”
“Well,” Tom was too pleased not to grin at that, “I’ll try and stay that way.”
“You’ll do better than try, old man,” Bradley raised his eyebrows, “I need you around to bug for at least another two decades.”
Tom laughed at the stubborn look in his eyes, the stern face he’d been pulling since he was a toddler trying to convince him and Mav that ice cream was a breakfast food, “I don’t know. Marriage might finish me off.”
Bradley’s face softened with a pride that was strange to see on a young face, “You’ve been waiting for this a long time, huh?”
“A real fucking long time,” Tom admitted, a tiredly triumphant smile on his face.
“Bet you’ve been getting so into it,” Bradley teased, resting his chin on the mouth of the beer bottle and smirking, “I bet there’s mood boards and Excel sheets and action plans.”
“Shut up,” Tom muttered around his ice cubes, only annoyed because Bradley was right.
He rather felt he was allowed to be going over the top. For one, he had the chaotic factor of the other groom to contend with, there had been military operations he’d planned out with less nerves than getting Captain Maverick through a civil ceremony and a reception without any surprises. The proposal had been more than enough of a shock for Tom, that goddamn Righteous Brothers song with the whole of The Hard Deck joining in and Mav on one knee at the end the only thing that had kept Tom from bolting towards the door.
He’d never forgive his fiancé or Slider for that matter, luring him there under the promise of a quiet drink and a catch up so the trap could be sprung. Though Tom had gotten his revenge pretty quick by saddling his RIO with the additional duty of his best man.
Maverick, by contrast, would be standing up there alone tomorrow, until Tom could join him. That place at his left shoulder belonged to just one guy and no one else could fill it.
Apart from occasional heartbreaks like that, the careful sidestepping around people who should have been with them for this, it had been fun. The kind of giddy, slightly terrifying joy Tom had always thought he’d be denied, the stomach clenching, dizzying experience of shouting as loud as he could about how much he loved Pete Mitchell after decades of silence.
The kind of thing that made Tom wish he could go back and take himself at Bradley’s age by the shoulders, look him square in the eye and tell him the hurt would go away one day.
“With you at the helm, it’ll be perfect,” Bradley said with the perfect confidence of a child talking about someone they idolised, “It’ll be everything you want it to be, Uncle Tom.”
Tom wasn’t one for talking without thinking but in that moment, the weight pressed down so heavily it broke something deep inside and he couldn’t catch himself in time.
“You know it won’t be, Bradley,” he murmured, quiet but not quiet enough.
Instantly, Bradley’s eyes shifted, like clouds had passed over, and he winced like those words had been a physical blow.
Tom’s stomach dropped and he shook himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t…I shouldn’t have said that…”
“No,” Bradley’s voice had shrunk and his restless hands had stilled, retreating to his lap, “You’re right. I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I’m the one who's hurting you.”
They’d sent Bradley and his Lieutenant an invitation, of course they had. The silence in return had been heartbreaking but unsurprising.
Bradley’s cheeks were reddening and his voice was thick, “I shouldn’t have come here, this was stupid, I didn’t think. I thought I could at least share a little bit of this with you, do something, but I should have known it would just make things worse. I’m sorry, Uncle Tom.”
He made to move away but even old, sick and blinking back tears, Tom was fast. He caught him by the wrist, not a hard grasp, not to hurt, just a firm, grounding hood.
“Bradley, the last thing I want is for you to walk away right now,” he said softly, under the low hum of the conversation around them, “You’re free to, if it’s what you need but please don’t think it’s what I want.”
He could see the argument happening behind Bradley’s eyes. Shut down and walk away or risk asking for help. Close himself off until he was as small as possible or reach out and take up space. Tom wondered how often Bradley had that fight happening inside himself, this kid who’d had so many people he was meant to rely on taken away.
But tonight at least, he made the right choice.
“Could we take a walk, Uncle Tom?”
Tom knew that voice, that small, scared little plea. Can I sleep in with you guys? Can you come pick me up? Can we talk, just you and me? He’d never ignored it when Bradley was young and he wouldn’t start now, that voice got straight to the heart of him.
“Of course,” Tom stood and shrugged back into his coat, keeping a steadying hand on Bradley’s arm as they moved towards the door.
Penny threw him a worried look from the taps as he left bills on the bar. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look, making a note to explain sometime tomorrow.
The music gave way to the sound of the ocean as the door swung shut behind them. Full night had fallen, the only light being the moon in the sky and its twin on the surface of the water, swelling and fracturing as the waves rolled in and out. If not for the light of the bar behind them they might have been alone in the world.
Bradley wandered right up to the shore edge, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders tight and tense like he was getting ready to run. Tom kept his hand on him, steadying, an anchor to the here and now.
“I know what you want,” Bradley said after a moment, voice pained, “I know what you deserve, Uncle Tom, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I can’t…I can’t be around him, I just can’t. Not even for you. I know I’m letting you down…”
“Hey now. Kid, look at me…”
Tom drew him in, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, the way he’d always done when he could see Bradley slipping away from him, since he was small enough that Tom had to reach down and now they were on the same level.
“Forgiving Maverick is something you need to do on your own, I would never force that,” he watched as the tears Bradley tried to hold back in the bar now ran freely down his face, “I shouldn’t have said what I said but I’m not trying to make you feel bad. All I was trying to do was remind you I care. It matters to me that you won’t be there because you matter to me, Bradley. And I worry you forget that sometimes.”
Bradley opened his mouth but all that came out was a trembling lip.
Tom sighed, “Me and Maverick, we made things work and I love him to death. But I am in your corner, Bradshaw, one hundred percent, not his. Because you’re a good kid and I know you think there’s no one left backed up against the wall with you. But I am. I am and I always will be.”
Bradley’s shoulders shuddered as the sobs grew strong enough to break free of his chest, leaning down until his forehead hit Tom’s shoulder. All Tom did in return was stand back, hold fast, supporting Bradley while he couldn’t support himself.
It’s what he’d always done. And it’s what he’d always do.
Once Bradley had cried himself out enough to let go of Tom, he dashed back to the bar to pick up a couple of bottles and they sat on the sand, talking about small, safe things and listening to the waves. They talked about Bradley’s classes, they argued about which type of plane was best, they told the same jokes they’d always told. They acted like they had all the time in the world, until reality tapped them on the shoulder.
Bradley stood up, dusting sand off his jeans, “Well…I have a ridiculously timed flight back to Annapolis to catch but I guess that’s what happens when you book on a whim.”
He held out a much appreciated hand to Tom, pulling him onto his feet at only a minimal wince.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asked, just like he always did.
Bradley shook his head, “Nah, I’m good, Uncle Tom. Sorry for probably the shittiest bachelor party in history.”
Tom smiled and shook his head, nudging Bradley’s arm, “Oh I don’t know. Two drinks, only one other guest and mostly sitting down seems like my kind of party.”
Bradley managed a weak chuckle at that, looking grateful when Tom pulled him into a last hug, tight and safe and more than a little sad.
“You’ll be alright, kid,” Tom murmured, “You will.”
“You sure?” Bradley’s voice shook with what might have been a laugh and might have been a sob, half a joke and half a desperate plea.
“Dead sure,” Tom promised, drawing back so he could take him by the shoulders and look him in the eye.
“How do you know? How do you know I’ll be okay?”
Tom could only smile at him.
“Because I was, kid.”