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At first, Bradley isn't sure what catches his eye. He sits on the piano bench at the Hard Deck, having just belted out the last few bars of Great Balls of Fire. A glance out the window reveals the dim light of evening and a scattered number of people walking to and from their vehicles. Military personnel wander throughout the building. Rooster shouldn't be on edge, but he could've sworn he saw something-
His eyes catch on a figure out on the beach, small with broad shoulders. They stagger on unsteady feet, eventually crashing to their knees with one hand bracing them and the other clutched to their chest. Bradley moves before he's even aware of it.
"Rooster?" Phoenix calls after him, but he barely hears her.
Bradley pushes his way through the crowd. The world around him doesn't quite feel real, because he knows that figure on the beach. It's been fifteen years, but he knows him as well as he knows himself. Bradley might be losing him right now.
"Whoa, Bradshaw!" Hangman says, intercepting him with a hand on his shoulder. "You're looking a little pale. Your little show take that much out of you?"
"I don't have time for this, Hangman," Bradley breathes, forcing his way past and probably making a huge mess by pushing him into a couple guys' backs. He has to get outside. He feels a hand on his wrist and wrenches himself free before it gets a firm hold. "Leave me alone!"
"What the hell, Bradshaw? Take it easy."
Hangman, again.
Bradley breaks into the free air and sprints through the parking lot. He hears a couple sets of boots chasing after him, but he can't bring himself to care as he leaps over a wooden parking guide and onto the beach. The figure he saw before lays on his back now, unmoving. Bradley pushes himself, cursing the sand for slowing him down until he's close enough to hear the man breathing.
"Bradshaw, where the hell is the fire?!" Hangman yells.
"Rooster!"
He doesn't answer them, instead skidding to a stop in the sand beside the man. Like he feared, it's Maverick. "Mav!"
The old man's eyes open and he blinks. "What're you doing here?"
"What do you mean 'what am I doing here?' You're out here having a damn heart attack in the middle of the fucking beach!"
Hangman reaches them before Phoenix, bending over and panting. "Fuck, Bradshaw! If you were this fast in the air- Oh. Damn, Pops. If I thought you were gonna keel over and die, I'd have been a little nicer when I threw you out."
"I'm not having a heart attack and I'm not dying," Maverick answers, sounding almost amused by the assumption.
Bradley places his hand at Mav's pulse point on his wrist and counts the beats. Maverick's breathing eases from the sudden start Bradley gave him, but his heart still pounds a mile a minute. It gives him away. "Then what the hell are you doing out here?"
"Leave it be, Lieutenant."
"No."
Maverick hisses a breath of annoyance and pushes himself into a sitting position. "I'm fine. You can go back to having a good time."
Bradley scowls. "Again, no."
"Lieutenant."
The warning in his tone does nothing to deter Rooster as he drags the stubborn aviator up by his wrist, leading him back to the parking lot at a much slower pace than he arrived. He walks with Mav straight past Phoenix and Hangman. "You're getting your ass in the truck and we're going to the hospital."
"I don't need one."
"I don't care if you don't think you need one. You're getting checked out to make sure you're not going to up and die."
Maverick drags his heels in the sand. "That's enough, Rooster."
"Shut up."
"I told you I'm fine."
Bradley feels Maverick's heartbeat hammering away in his wrist with every step he takes, a fervent throb that says he's not quite calm yet. "And I told you I don't care. You don't get to decide this time."
Maverick, who wasn't fighting too terribly hard before, throws his weight back and halts them in their tracks. "Rooster, stop!"
"I know you don't want to, but I can't just ignore-"
"Lieutenant Bradshaw, that's enough!"
The words make Bradley straighten against his will, which infuriates him to no end. Mav is still the ranking officer among them, and that tone demands he obey whether Bradley wants to or not. The other aviators stare shamelessly. He grits his teeth and turns back to look Maverick in the eye. "What do you want me to do, old man? I am not just going to sit around here on my ass if you're about to drop dead."
"I want you to listen to me when I say that's not going to happen, for one."
"Right. Listen to you."
Maverick's brow furrows and he glances at Bradley's fellow pilots. "Do you really want to do this here?"
"If you'd get your dumb ass in the truck, we wouldn't have to."
A long-suffering sigh falls from Maverick's mouth and he purses his lips. He takes a deep breath, meeting Bradley's expectant gaze. "All right, Lieutenant. You can have it your way if that's what you really want."
Bradley wheels around and starts walking again. "Well, there's a first."
This time, Maverick doesn't fight, allowing himself to be led with an obedience foreign to him. Bradley feels the prying gazes of the other pilots on his back well after they step out of eyeshot, but he doesn't care. At this point, if he can get Maverick to actually go to the hospital of his own free will, it'll be enough compensation all on its own.
Maverick settles in the truck, snorting when Bradley locks his door before closing it behind him. He almost runs straight into Phoenix when he rounds the Bronco's front end.
"Rooster, what is this all about?"
"I don't want to talk about this now, Phoenix. I've gotta take this stubborn fucker to the hospital."
Phoenix frowns at the not-so-subtle brush-off. "Roo-"
Bradley sighs and dips his head apologetically. "Look, Phoe. It's a really long story, and I will tell you all about it, but I can't do it right now. Okay? Everything will be fine once I get back."
"You sure you don't want company?"
"Not for this."
The younger aviator gives in without any extra prodding. Bradley pats her shoulder appreciatively on the way by and hops up into the truck. Maverick says nothing when he starts it, sitting across from him in dead silence as though afraid to break it. He leans against the door when they pull away, still and quiet—both things that Maverick is not.
"What were you doing on the beach?"
Mav throws a look Bradley's way. "Napping."
"Don't lie."
"Who says I'm lying?"
Bradley bites back a growl. "I do. I saw you collapse in the sand, you asshat. Not to mention you were breathing like an asthmatic and your pulse was through the fucking roof."
The old man mulls Bradley's words, beginning with careful slowness, "Why does that matter?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Well.... The last time we talked, you said you wished I was dead."
Rooster's breath catches in his throat and he grits his teeth, gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "Yeah, well, I guess we're both liars."
A small, if ill-timed, smile crosses Maverick's face. Bradley only sees it out of the corner of his eye, but he sees the way it lightens the old man's shoulders and relaxes his pinched expression. He still looks somewhat cagey, and Bradley has no intention of letting him avoid the question by getting into their issues.
"So. Beach. What were you doing?"
Mav mutters something under his breath.
Bradley bristles. "Just tell me the fucking tru-"
"I was having a panic attack, okay?!" Maverick snaps. "Is that what you want to hear? That I'm still so fucked up by what happened to your dad that hearing you play his favorite song turned me back into a twenty-three-year-old kid clinging to his body after I'd gotten him killed? All this time, and I keep thinking that he would still be here if I hadn't been so monumentally stupid!"
The fire in Bradley's heart dwindles.
Mav digs himself deeper against the door, curling over himself. "If you think that you're the only one who wishes it had been me, then you're wrong."
Bradley takes a sharp breath. "Hey, that is not what I-"
"Isn't it?" Maverick manages, pressing his head against the glass. "You asked me for the truth, so don't complain now that you've got it."
The confession sits like lead in Bradley's gut, making him sick to his stomach. He doesn't know what to say, but he has to say something, doesn't he? "I don't."
Mav sags against the seat. "Don't what, kid?"
The complete and utter exhaustion in his voice nearly takes Bradley's breath away. Maverick isn't supposed to sound like that at all. "I don't wish that you had died instead of my dad. I wish my dad hadn't died, but I don't wish it had been you." When Mav says nothing, Bradley stares straight ahead at the road. "Mom and I never blamed you. That's never why I was pissed and you know it. You stood by my side for years while I fantasized about flying, and then when I finally had the chance, you stole it away from me."
"You weren't ready."
Bradley scoffs. "This bullshit again, huh? How the hell was I ever supposed to be ready if you didn't give me a chance? What did I even do?"
Mav shifts toward Bradley, just a little, and frowns. "What do you mean?"
"What did I do to make you doubt that I was good enough?"
"It was never about you not being good enough."
"Then what? Why the fuck would you spend my entire childhood letting me dream of following in yours and my dad's footsteps only to rip it all away from me? You thought I wasn't ready, fine, but you sure as hell didn't seem like you were about to pull my papers before mom-" Bradley's brain catches up to his mouth at the last second and realization falls over his face.
Mav shrinking as far into the upholstery as he can only serves to solidify the thought.
He looks so small in the seat, containing himself as far away from Bradley's ire as he can. It doesn't make any sense at all. Mav doesn't shy away from much of anything, but there he is, curled on himself with his mouth pressed firmly shut as he desperately holds onto the secret that hung over their heads for the last fifteen years. He never wanted Bradley to know; that much is obvious. Maverick would do anything for the Bradshaw family. Bradley always knew that. If Carole, growing weaker and more terrified by the day, asked Maverick to pull Bradley's papers, he would've swallowed his disagreements and done it.
But Carole never would've asked him to hide the truth. That was Maverick's choice. It was Maverick's choice to let Bradley lash out at him instead of her, verbally flogging him for so much as thinking in his direction.
"Mav-"
"Don't." Maverick sucks in a trembling breath. "We can.... We can keep talking about this, but I need to calm down first."
Bradley throws a glance his way. "You have until we're done at the hospital."
Maverick doesn't argue going there again, but, boy oh boy, is it clear that he wants to. The entire way to the hospital, Bradley listens to him go through an extensive set of breathing exercises, eventually growing so calm and quiet that the younger pilot looks over just to make sure he's still awake. He'll have to ask Mav how he does that.
The old man remains silent throughout his check-up, only protesting when the nurse requests he take off his shirt and jacket. Bradley stares at the patchwork of bruises across his back and front.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"That's classified."
Bradley arches a brow. "Classified or not, if you'd even gone to a hospital in the first place, I'd have heard about it, so this is obviously the first time since whatever it was."
Maverick sulks at having been caught. Bradley openly smiles at him for the first time in forever because of it, because sulking due to a hospital visit is just like him. The nurse doesn't catalog any breaks, but she does advise him to take a low-grade painkiller every few hours. Bradley highly doubts the old man will do it.
He trails behind Bradley after paying for the visit and skulks into the passenger seat. It doesn't take a genius to know he's not looking forward to continuing their conversation. Bradley doesn't bother starting the truck, instead twisting on the seat to face Maverick.
"So, this classified mission. What's the redacted version?"
Mav blinks before shrugging. "Crashed a plane going past Mach 10. Rode the chassis down until the atmosphere was heavy enough to breathe and then punched out. Rough landing. Long walk back to civilization."
That sounds like a very, very heavily edited version of events, meaning super-secret things about super-secret stuff. Mav said it as though he was safely pulling sustained hypersonic G's, which makes Bradley curious, but not curious enough to risk his career by prodding Maverick for answers about things he shouldn't know anything about.
"If it weren't for all those bruises, I'd think you were invincible."
"Well, I'm not."
Bradley hums. He chews the inside of his cheek, knowing he has to ask Mav for the truth about his mom despite having figured it out for himself. "So.... Mom asked you to pull my papers."
Maverick clenches his jaw.
"Or did she make you promise?"
"Does it matter?"
Rooster curls his lip at the evasive tone of Maverick's voice. They made it this far. How hard can it possibly be to just come out with it? "Of course, it matters. If she was just asking, you could've said no. I'd like to think you would have. But to promise her when she was dying? I mean, she must've been so fucking scared."
Mav swallows hard.
"Mav...," Bradley starts, nervously wetting his lips. "It's been fifteen years. That's a long time to think, and I can tell you I'd much rather we were on the same side."
"I'm always on your side, kiddo."
A sudden lump forms in Bradley's throat. Maverick hasn't called him that in forever, hasn't had the opportunity or the perceived right. Bradley sniffles and fights back tears, maintaining his composure out of sheer stubbornness. "Then, let me have some damn closure. Help me understand so I can finally let go! I don't-" He grits his teeth. "I don't want to be angry. I'm just... so damn tired. Tired of wondering, of being pissed, of being-"
Maverick glances up when the word catches in Bradley's throat. "Being what?"
Rooster hesitates before muttering, "... alone."
"Yeah." Mav relaxes and tilts his head over the back of the seat. He closes his eyes, giving in to Bradley yet again. "Me too, Bradley."
"So, what happened?"
The older aviator huffs a breath and swipes a hand under his eyes. "A couple weeks before she died, she... she called me into her room while you were asleep and asked me. I tried to tell her that it would break your heart, that you might hate her for it, but she didn't care. Carole just wanted you to live, begged me to make sure you didn't go out like Goose. You were so damn young and she just wanted you to grow up safe."
"You did, too."
"Of course, I wanted you to be safe. I spent years protecting you, watching you grow while praying the whole time that I wouldn't fuck everything up like I always do. She wasn't the only one who was afraid for you." Maverick shakes his head. "The first time she made me promise, I said yes, but I didn't intend to go through with it. She just glared at me with that look in her eye, and she grabbed me by the collar and said, 'Damn you, Pete. Don't you lie to me.'" A tearful breath flutters from his mouth. "I still remember how she looked at you, curled up in a chair beside the bed. Carole hated that you were watching her waste away, that she couldn't be strong for you even if she wanted to be. She fought so hard, Bradley. She fought so damn hard."
Bradley stays quiet, wiping at his own tears and swallowing back his anger. Carole put Maverick in a terrible place. If he lied to her and Bradley did somehow burn in on a mission, Maverick would always blame himself for not listening. In choosing to pull Bradley's papers, —promise or no promise, it was a choice—Maverick kept him safe, even if only for a few more years.
He allowed Bradley to reach the age his father did before ever setting foot in a jet, and it had to be enough. Maverick knew the second Bradley could apply to the academy again, he would go and this time, there would be no stopping him.
"I didn't do it to hurt you, Bradley. Carole loved you so damn much," Maverick whispers, dragging his fingers roughly through his hair. "I'm sorry."
Bradley's tears spill over then and he bows his head to hide them.
"Don't cry, kiddo."
"Mav."
A hand touches Bradley's wrist and he crawls across the bench seat with hardly any encouragement. He drags Maverick close, breathing in his scent. As always, it contains jet fuel, but he also smells ever so faintly of fire. Fuck, he missed being held by Maverick. The older pilot is small compared to Bradley, but somehow, Bradley is always the one made to feel safe.
He buries his face in Maverick's hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Your mom.... You missed her so much, and I didn't want you to remember her as the reason you couldn't fly."
Bradley squeezes his eyes closed.
Maverick rubs his back, crooning the reassurances Bradley only dreamed of in his darker moments after leaving home. "I thought.... I thought it would be easier for you to hate me than to let you see how scared your mom really was. Easier than taking the chance that you would hate her as much as you did me."
"Well, it wasn't easier for me," Bradley croaks. "Damn it, Mav."
"I'm sorry."
Bradley dips his head into the crook of Mav's neck and shoulder, shuddering when the old man cradles him close. How can Mav comfort him like this after spending so long being willfully ignored? Mav holds firm when Bradley tries to pull back—to tell him that he doesn't deserve this—and tenderly cards his fingers through Bradley's curls. He used to do that all the time when Bradley was a kid.
"No. Hey, don't do that. You had every right to be upset."
"Mav-"
Mav lets him out to arm's length and no further, cupping his face in both hands. "I understand, Bradley. Okay? I promise, I get it, but listen to me, huh?"
Bradley tries to duck away in an attempt to deny Maverick's plea. His parents would be ashamed of him for the way he treated Maverick.
Mav quietly begs Bradley to look at him, only speaking again when he has his full attention. "I won't tell you it didn't hurt every second that I couldn't be there for you, but if there is one thing that never changed, it's how I feel about you. I love you. Okay, Bradley? Do you hear me?"
"I-" Bradley heaves a breath. "Please, let go. I-I need to process. Please."
The older aviator lifts his hands and Bradley scoots back, turning to face the steering wheel. He grips it tightly along the top ridge, leaning his head forward and battling the confusing swirl of emotions in his chest. Fifteen fucking years of anger and what was it all for? The second he thought Maverick was going to die, it didn't even matter anymore.
Bradley has no idea how much time passes before the toe of a familiar boot nudges his knee.
"Switch spots with me, huh, Roo? I'm gonna drive you back to base so you don't miss curfew," Mav murmurs, keeping the distance between them respectful. His voice still sounds somewhat hoarse.
Almost on autopilot, Bradley gets out of the truck, watching Mav hop across the bench seat and into the driver's side of the car. He settles in Maverick's seat, absorbing the warmth left behind by his godfather's presence. Maverick keeps an eye on him the entire way. Bradley feels his worried gaze every time it lands on him.
"You're worrying me a little, Bradley. You've been quiet for twenty minutes now."
"I don't know what to say," he manages, his voice wrought with grief. Bradley threw his relationship with Maverick out the side of a freight train and onto a busy street, yet still the man treats him with the same kindness and gentleness as before.
Maverick hums. "That's okay."
It's really not.
"It's been a long time, and this is a lot to process all at once. Honestly, I'm... sorry for getting you all wound up before whatever you've got going on tomorrow."
Bradley shrugs. "It's okay. I'm not even sure what we're doing here yet."
Mav hums. The sound is noncommittal.
Before he has a chance to ask, Maverick pulls onto the base. "How're you getting back to the Hard Deck for your bike?"
"I'll walk. It's not far, and I'm not so old than I can't handle a stroll."
"Well.... Okay," Bradley mutters, unsure what to say to him now. "Thanks for bringing me back here, I guess. And thanks for telling me. I know you didn't want to, but I'm... I'm glad to know, even if I don't know how to feel about it." Guilty, mostly. "Just.... Thanks."
Mav smiles, hopping out of the Bronco and meeting Bradley's gaze. "It was good to see you, kiddo. Be safe."
Bradley nods self-consciously. "Yeah. You, too."
"Oh, and Bradley?"
"Yeah?"
Maverick's expression softens. "While I still don't think a trip to the hospital was necessary, thanks for caring."
Bradley never stopped, no matter how hard he tried, but he doesn't know how to say that. Maverick is gone before he has to come up with something. With nothing better to do, he returns to his barracks and rolls into his freshly made bed. This day did not end the way he was expecting it to, and he'll no doubt end up with Phoenix pounding on his door before too long to demand answers.
But, if he's counting wins for the day, the talk with Mav is a good one. Showing up Hangman was another. Potentially embarrassing himself in front of the smug bastard while he was freaking out about Mav wasn't so great, but it was for a good cause. Seeing Phoenix again counts, right? Even if she did hit him with a pool cue. That's less than he deserves for ghosting her anyway.
"Bradshaw, open up!"
Speak of the devil. Bradley makes a quick detour into the bathroom, rinses his face to get rid of any proof he'd been crying, and then answers his door. He smirks when she eyes him suspiciously. "Phoenix. What can I do for you?"
"Don't look at me like that, birdbrain. Your charm and swagger routine isn't gonna do shit to get you out of explaining what the hell that whole show was at the Hard Deck."
Bradley shrugs. "I thought the old man was having a heart attack."
Phoenix arches a brow. "You were pretty freaked out."
"What do you want me to say, Phoenix? I thought he fell over out there, but he was just trying to enjoy the sunset."
"You're getting defensive."
Rooster remembers now why he stopped texting her back. She was always too good at seeing right through him and calling him on shit he didn't want to deal with yet. "I told you before, it's a long story. It's not one I'm ready to talk about, especially not now."
"Why especially?"
"Phoenix."
The younger aviator glares, fierce as her namesake. "You don't have to shut me out, you know. I'm not going to judge you."
Bradley rolls his head back with a sigh. "I know that."
"You said you'd tell me about it."
"And I just said I'm not ready."
Phoenix is disappointed, but she eventually caves and raises her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to push, but you're really bad about letting things sit too long."
She has no idea how right she is.
"You want some company?"
A genuine smile crosses Bradley's lips and he invites her inside. She shucks her boots, belt, and button-down overshirt and crawls into his bed. He lays on his side, allowing her to curl around his back like she used to the last time they were stationed in the same place.
"You still like to be the little spoon, right?"
"Shut up," Rooster grumbles.
The younger aviator chuckles and nuzzles her nose into his neck. This was the arrangement they came to after she found out he was just a tiny bit touch-starved their first time through Top Gun. The first time, he wouldn't look at her for the entirety of the next day, but then she kicked his ass in maneuvers that evening without a second thought. She didn't treat him with kid gloves despite him showing vulnerability.
They fall asleep together, Phoenix still wrapped around him protectively.
Come morning, they spend a quiet breakfast with one another and then split up to get ready for their mission briefing. He settles in with a smile on his face, one that feels lighter than it has in years. Phoenix seems to sense it, too.
"Bright and shiny this morning, huh, Rooster?" Hangman drawls, chewing on a toothpick. "A shock, considering last night."
"Eh. The old man really was just taking a nap. Put me in a good mood."
Hangman huffs. "Well, that's good to hear, I guess."
"Attention, graduates," Admiral Bates calls, drawing their attention to the matter at hand. He describes the nature of their circumstances, talking about both fifth-generation planes and the skills required of them in their upcoming mission.
Only when a familiar figure walks between the rows of chairs does Bradley realize why Maverick was not-so-coincidentally in town at the same time as him.
"Good morning. It's good to see you all here." Mav teasingly meets Hangman, Coyote, and Payback's gazes, then allows a warm look just for Bradley to flicker across his face before returning to the matter at hand. "The F/A-18. I'd assume you all know this book. Memorized it."
Bradley smirks when he throws the damn thing in the trash.
Now, this? This is the Maverick he remembers, and he wants them to stretch the limits of the achievable. Go figure. This should prove to be an interesting time at Top Gun.