Chapter Text
Maverick wakes to the loud ringing of his cell, rolling over to pick it up with a groan. "Mitchell."
"Uh.... Sir?"
For a second, Mav is very confused. He pulls his phone from his ear and checks the caller ID, then frowns at the clock in the upper corner. "Bob? What're you doin' calling me at two in the morning, kid?"
"I think.... I think I need someone to come pick me up."
The older pilot is already putting on his boots by the time he asks Bob why. "You think you need someone to pick you up, or you do need someone? You sound a bit tipsy. Did you and the rest of the team go out drinking somewhere?"
"No. Me... an' a couple... buddies from my old detachment. Our team prefers the Hard Deck, but my friends took me somewhere else."
Maverick struggles into his coat, grabbing one of Bradley's hoodies from the hook by the door. He slides into the seat of his car. "Why do you need a ride?"
"They.... Sir, I don't want to get them in trouble."
So, drinking irresponsibly, then. "It's okay, Bob. You don't have to implicate anyone or name names. I just want to know why you need a ride, and where you need me to go to pick you up."
Bob sniffles on the other end of the line. "They wanted me to ride back with them, but they'd had more to drink than I did. One of them insisted on driving, so I didn't want to go. They tried to make me, an' when I refused, they left. I don't really know where I am, but I'm still in our booth at the bar. The town's... west of the base, I think."
Well, at least there's really only one bar worth going to a town over. "I know where you're at, kid. Just hang tight."
If Bob wasn't so introverted, Mav would just tell him to ask the bartender where he was. Tipsy and nervous like he is, the chances of that going well are slim to none. That, and if he's more than a little drunk, standing might be an issue. He'd rather Bob didn't knock himself out, even if he did say he hadn't had as much to drink as his supposed buddies.
It takes Maverick an hour to reach the bar. He steps inside and glances around, finding the young aviator moping over his table in the back corner of the bar. His hair is disheveled as though he ran his hands through it several dozen times, and his cheeks appear flushed. The tell-tale sheen of a bruise lines his right cheekbone. Mild anger flares in Maverick's chest, but he pushes it down for the time being. Fortunately, it doesn't look like he passed the time with anymore drinking. Mav steps up to the table and lays a hand on the WSO's shoulder. Bob's gaze snaps up to him, melting into the picture of relief.
"Sir."
He and all the others are very stubborn about calling him sir. "Just call me Maverick, kid. How're you feeling?"
Bob shrugs, rubbing under his eyes and adjusting his glasses. "Headachy. It felt like forever, an' I got a little nervous when it took you longer than half an hour, but I didn't want to call again and be a nuisance."
Maverick helps him up and loops the kid's arm over his shoulder. "You're not a nuisance, Bob. I'm glad you called."
"Yeah?"
"You did the right thing. Even if they made it back onto base without getting caught by the guards, which I doubt, driving while drunk enough to make an aviator nervous is a terrible idea. I would much rather you call me at any hour than get into a car with a pack of idiots. Speaking of, I know it's not my business, but I think your current friends are a healthier life decision than your old ones."
Bob fumbles slipping out the door with Mav. "Agreed."
Maverick smiles.
"M' cold."
"I brought a coat for you. It's in the passenger seat, and I made sure to turn the heat on before I came in and got you." He opens the door with his free hand and settles Bob into the car. "Nice and easy."
Once inside, Bob wriggles into the large hoodie Mav brought and nestles into the seat. Mav watches him out of the corner of his eye while he drives.
"Hoodie's really big."
"It's Bradley's."
Bob casts Maverick an uncertain glance, sniffling again. Apparently, he's one of the people who get congested when they drink, because he certainly doesn't look like he's about to start crying. "You're sure he doesn't mind?"
"He'll understand."
No further protests arise from the other side of the car. Mav drives onward, peering intently at the road in the dark of early morning. Mav's presence seems to comfort the younger aviator, enough so that he's content enough to drift into a light doze throughout the majority of the drive. When they arrive at Maverick's house, he wakes, peering at the building with nervousness in his gaze.
"You can just take me back to base."
"Nah. You'll be more comfortable here." Mav notices the kitchen light is on, meaning Bradley must be awake. "Don't worry. The guest room is furnished, and it's only a couple doors down from the bathroom if you think you'll need it."
Bob shakes his head. "I don't think so."
Maverick shuts the vehicle down and walks around it to help Bob out. He gladly takes the help, which is nice. "A set of stairs, and then we're all set, okay?"
"Mmhm."
As Mav enters the house, he spots Bradley leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with a mug in his hand. "Could you get the door to the guest room? And probably a glass of water."
Bradley moves into the hall ahead of them without asking any questions.
"Rooster," Bob mutters. "I am wearing your coat."
A smile tips Bradley's lips when he opens the door and slips inside to pull back the bedsheets for his friend. "I see that."
"Sorry."
"You don't need to be."
Bradley scampers off for the glass of water Mav asked for while the older aviator settles Bob into the bed. The bedframe creaks with disuse. Tugging the sheets up around his hips takes a little doing. Bob lacks the coordination to be of much help. Mav hums lightly, wondering what exactly it was Bob and his friends were drinking.
"Okay, buddy," Rooster says, offering his friend the glass of water. "You drink this and then you can go to sleep."
Bob does as he's told.
When the glass sits empty on the nightstand, Maverick and Rooster leave the younger aviator to his devices. The cup of coffee Rooster made still steams on the kitchen table when they reach it.
"So, what're you doing up, Roo?"
"Heard you leave." Bradley settles at the island and sips from his mug.
Mav hums and pours his own cup of coffee, sitting across from his son with a contented sigh. It always tastes better when Bradley makes it, although it definitely doesn't taste like decaf. "You didn't have to wait up."
"Wanted to."
Silence falls between them, companionable, as they sip their drinks. The shadows under Bradley's eyes speak to a different kind of restlessness as well as the early wake-up call this morning. They've been getting a bit deeper, but Mav didn't want to mention them on the off chance Bradley took it as an insinuation he couldn't take care of himself.
"You're staring at me."
Maverick slurps his coffee. "Yup."
Bradley sniffs and runs a hand through his curls. "I look like shit, huh?"
"I didn't say that."
The boy Mav raised rolls his eyes. "You didn't have to. Been shooting me awkward glances for a few days now." When Mav doesn't deny it, Bradley chuckles. "Guess I should've known better than to think you wouldn't notice now that I'm living here again."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Not yet."
Maverick nods. "Well, if you were planning to get any sleep after this, I wouldn't drink the rest of that."
A laugh huffs from Bradley's throat and he rubs his eyes. "It's a little late for that. This is my second cup." He hunches his shoulders at the scolding look Mav shoots him. "Don't look at me like that. You left without telling me at two in the morning, and I didn't know what happened or when you'd be back. The last time I did that shit, you grounded me for a week."
Mav opens his mouth in protest only to fall short. "That's fair."
The look Bradley throws his way says a deeply sarcastic 'oh, really?' Mav smiles and demurely sips his coffee, a smirk pulling at his lips. It's been a long time since he and Bradley were able to gently rib one another like this. He missed it.
"Sunrise is in a couple hours. You want to sit out on the porch for a while?"
The younger aviator nods and follows Maverick when he heads outside. The old swing rocks smoothly on its chains. Bradley pulls his knees up to his chest and props his chin on one.
"So, why'd you have to go pick up Bob?"
"He went out drinking with some old friends a town over from the base. They apparently thought it was a good idea to get wasted, and he wouldn't go with them when they wanted to leave. He didn't say so, but I'm pretty sure they're the ones that gave him that shiner. My guess is that Bob tried to take their keys away. Idiots, the lot of them."
Rooster sighs. "Yeah, some guys aren't the brightest. I'm glad he's okay."
A soft noise of agreement leaves Mav and he closes his eyes for a few seconds. The cool breeze of the desert night soothes his worries. "I was a little surprised he called, but yeah. Me, too."
"Did he not want to go back to base?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure. He slept almost the whole way, and I brought him here without thinking."
Bradley purses his lips, holding back a wider smile. He looks so much like Carole with that knowing gleam in his eye and restrained amusement on his face. Mav can't fathom what's so incredibly entertaining about bringing Bob home from a bar, but he likes that he somehow managed a smile from his kid. In an effort to keep it there, Mav doesn't ask.