Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Emotions are high, people are partying and drinking, but somehow Bradley doesn’t really feel like celebrating. While all of his fellow pilots have all had the pleasure of calling their loved ones to tell them all about successfully doing their first carrier landing, he has no one to tell. No one to call to be proud of him.

Bradley had hesitated for a moment, reaching for his phone and pulled up Maverick’s number, but it wasn’t to call him to celebrate. No, his intention had been to gloat, to tell Maverick that he was ready to be a naval aviator and that he was following in his father’s footstep. Then he had figured that it meant he needed to break the no contact rule he had imposed himself in the last years and completely changed his mind. He’s not going to be the first to break.

That’s how he ended up sitting alone at the bar, nursing a warm beer, while the rest of his classmates are celebrating loudly.

Well, almost all of his classmates.

For some reason that Bradley can’t quite put his finger on, it doesn’t feel like Jake Seresin, the bane of his existence, is celebrating. Sure, he’s drinking and playing pool like there’s no tomorrow, making outrageous bets and somehow never losing a single penny, but there something about his smile that just doesn’t reach his eyes.

As the only one who as managed to land his F-18 on the carrier on his first run, he surely isn’t gloating as much as Bradley had expected him to.

When Bradley makes eye contact with Jake, he realizes that he’s been starring at the other pilot for an inappropriate amount of time. He quickly looks away, focusing his gaze on the drop of condensation trickling down the neck of his beer bottle. He hopes Jake doesn’t come over or single him out again, he doesn’t think he can handle any teasing at the moment, especially if it’s from Jake.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin is somehow the only person that manages to pin down exactly what makes him tick and not in a good way. They’d both almost gotten severely reprimanded a week after arriving in Meridian for fighting, but somehow it had gotten dismissed.

Bradley decides to get the hell out of that bar before Jake even has the time to come over and start something. He waves the bartender, pays his tab and hurries outside. He doesn’t have a car out here, his beloved Bronco is back home, safe in San Diego, which means he can either walk back to base or try to get a taxi.
He chooses to call a taxi, fine with waiting the fifteen minutes the operator told him it would take to get to the bar.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley can’t stop the fully body cringe that rolls through his body when he hears his last name being called out from Jake’s mouth. He makes the executive decision to ignore Jake, not feeling like getting into a fight when he already feels down.

“Come on Rooster, don’t ignore me!” Jake continues and Bradley hears his heavy footsteps on the gravel of the parking lot. Jake doesn’t give him much of a choice, stepping right in front of him with a smug smile on his lips.

“What do you want Hangman?” Bradley bites out, taking a single step back and making some room in between them.

"Can’t a guy just try to bum a ride?" Jake asks, his usual confidence faltering for a moment as Rooster's unexpected aggression clearly catches him off guard.

“You’re leaving? Really? At-” Bradley checks his watch. “ Eleven thirty?”

“Well yeah,” Jake says, putting his hands on his hips. “And since you won’t play pool with me anymore, I don’t have any worthy opponents.”

Bradley snorts, shaking his head. He’s probably one of the only aviators on base that can actually rival Jake’s skills at the pool table. “How much money did you make in the two hours we’ve spent here?”

"Oh, you know, just a casual three hundred and fifty bucks," Jake informs him, practically glowing with smug satisfaction, preening like a peacock.

"Of course you did… so why aren’t you back there making even more money? The drunker your challengers get, the easier it’ll be to clean them out.”

“Got tired of hearing the guys talk about how proud their families are,” Jake admits, taking Bradley by surprise. “Gets old after a while.”

Bradley finally takes his first look at Jake since the other aviator had joined him outside. The smile that Jake had kept on in the bar is completely gone, leaving a version of him that Bradley had never seen before.

Under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, Bradley thinks Jake looks younger than ever. His usually sharp green eyes are softer, dimmed by the night, and his hair remains fluffy from their rushed, post-shower flight, an almost boyish contrast to his usual polished demeanour.

“Why are you staring at me again Rooster? You might give a guy ideas if you keep doin’ it,” Jake says and all of Bradley’s frustration towards the other pilot comes rushing right back. “Maybe you should come over here and do something about it.”

“Don’t say shit like that at a Navy bar Seresin,” Bradley reprimands him, taking an even bigger step back. Out of all of his classmates, Jake is the last person he thought would swing that way. He himself isn’t necessarily in the closet to his close friend, but he doesn’t advertise it per say when he’s close to a military base, that would be far too risky even though DADT has been repealed for a year.

“Sorry,” Jake says, sounding truly genuine, looking down at his shoes and kicking a rock.

The taxi pulls into the parking lot and Bradley waves the driver down. The car comes to a stop in front of them and he pulls the car door open.

“I think I’ll just walk,” Jake says in a quiet voice and for a moment Bradley almost considers letting him do it.

“Get in here, I don’t leave my team mates behind, that’s your thing Hangman,” Bradley calls out as he sits down in the back seat.

Jake looks surprised at the offer, but takes it, sliding into the cab next to Bradley. “Thanks.”

Bradley gives the driver the direction and after ten minutes, they pull up to the security gate outside the Meridian base.

“Hangman you’re paying,” Rooster says, getting out of the car immediately.

“Why me? This is your cab?” Jake retorts, but still pulls out his wallet.

“You made all that money, you can spare a few dollars,” Brad counters, lifting an eyebrow and daring Jake to challenge him.

Jake pays the driver, leaving quite a big tip to Bradley’s surprise. They check in at the gate and they are let onto the base, walking shoulder to shoulder in direction of the barracks.

“Is that why you didn’t call your family?” Bradley asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

“Is what why?” Jake asks, as if he is daring Bradley to say it out loud.

“You know…”

“I know what Rooster?”

Bradley lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head.

"Is that why you didn’t call yours either?" Jake concedes, catching Bradley off guard yet again.

“No,” Bradley’s reply is quick and simple, not wanting to tell Jake Seresin out of all people why he can’t call his family. He’s not going to give the other aviator ammunition to make fun of him at a later time.

“Yes,” Jake finally answers Bradley’s question, picking up his pace, almost if he hadn’t expected the other man’s answer.

Bradley is confused at Jake’s answer at first, but then he realizes what he means. Maybe he should say something, tell Jake that it sucks and that his parents are wrong, but they don’t know each other like that. This might be the first time since basic training that they have an actual cordial conversation.

That and Bradley doesn’t know how to deal with homophobic parents, it’s not like he ever had the chance to come out to his mother or father before they died.

The rest of the walk to the barracks is quiet, the halls of their section is pretty much empty as everyone is still out and celebrating at the bar and Jake’s door comes up first.

“So this is me,” Jake says, leaning against the wall.

“I know,” Bradley replies, but for some reason, he feels the need to remain in his spot.

“Well, hell, Rooster, you really ain’t gonna make the first move, are ya?” Jake drawls, a teasing lilt in his voice, his confidence making Rooster jealous.

Before Bradley can even tell him it’s a bad idea, Jake fists his lapel and yanks him into the room. His back barely meets the door before Jake’s lips crash against his, the blonde’s tongue sweeping forward, demanding entry.

Bradley, groans when their hips press together, opening his mouth, unable to resist Jake any longer. If he was a better person, he’d ask him to stop, tell the younger pilot that they really shouldn’t do this, especially not on base, but it just feels so good that it can’t bring himself to voice his concern.

Jake Seresin does everything with the precision of a fighter pilot, and kissing is no exception. The only thought running through Bradley’s mind is that he’s a weak man for not stopping this, but the moment Jake’s right hand brushes his belt buckle, thinking goes right out the window.

After, when Bradley’s laying against Jake’s back in the narrow bed, sweat cooling on their body, fear seizes him.

"We can’t do this again… no one can know," Bradley whispers against the back of Jake’s neck, his breath warm and unsteady, lingering like he doesn’t want to pull away.

“I know… I’m going to go to the top you know,” Jake replies, his voice wavering. “I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to make it.”

Not knowing what to say, Bradley slips out of bed and starts pulling his clothes back on, forcing himself not to look at Jake lying there. He doesn’t understand why it’s so damn hard to leave. Objectively, they don’t even like each other, they fight constantly, and Jake is, without a doubt, one of the rudest people Bradley has ever had the displeasure of knowing.

The next day, they both act like nothing had happened the night before and like Jake hadn’t been whining and begging under Bradley in bed. When Jake takes pleasure in noting how slow Bradley had been on his hop, making their other classmates chuckle, he knows they’re going to be just fine.

Chapter Text

"Well, well, well, if it ain’t Rooster himself," Jake drawls the moment Bradley steps into the bar, his tone dripping with amusement. “I guess they decided to be generous with their invitations this year.”

“Hangman,” Rooster drones, looking at Jake with the most unimpressed expression he can muster. He’s not surprised that Jake’s been called to Top Gun too, not that he would ever admit it out loud to anyone. “You look… good.”

“I am good Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true,” Jake gloats, asserting his dominance in the group. It’s always like this in every single room they end up in. Jake is the centre of attention, using Bradley as a one liner to look superior in front of their peers. It should probably bother him more than it does.

Bradley recognizes few of them by name, but the only one he really knows is Coyote, Jake’s best friend, but that doesn’t mean he’s the last one to arrive at the bar. Maybe he’ll be lucky and someone he knows will arrive in the next hour and he won’t have to face Jake’s attitude alone for the next twelve weeks.

Deciding to be the bigger man, especially since he is the older one, something Jake never fails to point out, Bradley simply rolls his eyes and heads for the bar.

"Still the same old Rooster," Jake calls after him, that ever-present taunt laced with a smirk Bradley doesn’t even have to turn around to see. He’s probably annoyed that his baiting isn’t working at all this time. “Are you gonna give me a challenge or am I gonna have to race myself again!” Hangman adds, yelling so Bradley can hear him.

Bradley simply lifts his hand, offering Jake a very clear middle finger over his shoulder, the gesture the only reply he’s willing to give to a clear bait as he keeps on walking towards the bar.

***

As much as Bradley hates to admit it, really truly hates it, Jake is probably the best pilot in their class. He crushes every flight course like it’s child’s play, wins over their instructors without even trying, and lords over their classmates like he was crowned king of naval aviation. It’s infuriating, but at least he has Natasha with him to knock Jake down a peg a few times

And to rant.

There’s been been a lot of that going in the last weeks.

So when Jake graduates at the top of their class and gets the Top Gun trophy, it doesn’t surprise him. Nat had almost managed to snag that first place from Jake, but in the end, combat is where Jake thrives and that top spot is his.

If only Hangman wasn’t such a prick about being the winner, maybe Rooster would actually consider congratulating him. But the smug look on Jake’s face when he had been named the winner makes it impossible to feel anything but irritation.

When the ceremony ends and the last award is handed out, Bradley finds himself standing alone as his classmates drift off to celebrate with their families. His jaw tightens when his eyes lock with Ice’s, resentment curling hot in his chest. He holds the gaze for a few tense seconds, daring his uncle to say something or do something before turning sharply on his heel and walking out of the venue without a word.

To his surprise, Bradley bumps into Jake in the hall leading out of the auditorium. Jake is leaning against the wall, his fingers absently thumbing his newly awarded Top Gun patch, a small frown on his face, as if he still couldn’t quite believe he’d actually earned it.

“No one showed up for you either?” Bradley calls out, making Jake’s head snap up in surprise. “Not even when you win the whole thing?”

Jake looks both direction as if he is looking to make sure they’re alone. “Look who’s talkin’, you seem pretty lonely too, Rooster.” It’s a mean thing to point out. Jake knows his parents are dead, but Bradley lets it go this time.

They seem to be standing at a standstill, both pilots waiting for the other to make the next move. Jake pushes off the wall coming to stand closer to him, a parallel to a few years ago in the parking lot all those years ago.

“We doin’ this again?” Jake asks, his usual question but with a sharp edge to it, irritation threading through his tone as he’s the first to break the silence as always.

It’s always been like this for them, wherever and whenever they end up deployed on the same base or even the same carrier when they are feeling bold. They’ll fight, throw insults, maybe even come to blows if Jake knows how to push the right buttons. But no matter what, they always end up right here, standing face-to-face, with Jake asking the same damn question.

Jake looks down at Bradley’s lips, and for a moment, Bradley can’t help but want to push him up against the nearest wall and kiss him hard. The thought lingers, running through his brain, even though he knows any of their most decorated superiors could walk through those doors and catch them in the act. He’s smarter than that, they both are really, so he keeps his distance.

“I’ll text you an address, meet me there in an hour,” Bradley says, almost regretting his decision when Jake smirks proudly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Whatever you say Rooster,” Jake says, putting his hands up in the most fake surrender Bradley has ever seen. “See y’a later.”

***

“Whose house even is this?” Jake asks, turning his head on the pillow to look at Bradley properly. He’s lying on his stomach, the covers pooled low on his waist, leaving Bradley with a clear view of the curve of his ass.

“Mine,” Bradley replies, looking away from Jake and at the ceiling of the bedroom.

“You own a house?” Jake questions, clearly not believing him.

“Belonged to my parents,” the brown haired pilot replies. Since the beginning of their little thing, they’ve both offered each other glimpses of their personal lives with the unwritten rule than none of it can ever be used as ammunition during their famous fights.

It’s one thing that Jake seems to accept as sacred, that he won’t bring up when they fight, but Bradley fears it’s because Jake thinks he’ll out him to their peers if he crosses that line.

“So this is why you spend all of your leave in California,” Jake notes, rolling to lay on his side. His hair is tousled from the way Brad had run his hands through it as he pressed him into the mattress and if he had the energy, he would start round three.

“It’s home.” Bradley turns, mirroring Jake’s position on the bed. “What about you, where does the famous Jake Seresin go when he’s on leave?”

“Texas,” the blonde replies, his expression dripping with insult as if the answer should’ve been obvious.

“You go back home?” Bradley asks, his hand tracing the bruises he left with his lips on Jake’s chest, the motion slow and almost reluctant, as if he is trying to erase the evidence of what they did.

“I go to Javy’s, his parents are the best,” Jake corrects, catching Bradley’s hand and putting it down on the mattress. There’s a lingering sadness to the younger man’s eyes and for some reason Bradley finds himself wanting to bring him comfort.

“Congratulations for winning Jake. Your parents should be ashamed of not being proud of their son.” It’s hard enough for him to not have his own parents at his graduation, but it’s not because they didn’t want to be there.

Jake’s parents are alive and still chose not to come support their son which just has to be painful. Bradley knows, deep in his heart, that if his mom and dad had been alive, they would have fought to sit front row at his Top Gun graduation.

Jake looks like he’s about to cry, hiding his face in his pillow for a moment. “You can’t just say shit like that to me Rooster.” He gets out of bed before Bradley can stop him, gathering his jeans and t-shirt, not even giving the bed a single glance back. “No one can know about this,” he says, grabbing his phone from the night stand.

It’s basically their mantra at this point, one of them always says it when it’s time to get out of bed, reminding each other that while they won’t lose their jobs for this anymore, it could make their career a lot harder.

“Still aiming for the top Hangman?”

“I always am Rooster.”

With that, Jake exits the room, leaving Bradley in his house, his home, which for a few hours hadn’t felt so lonely.

Now, the silence presses in on him, suffocating, as the weight of the emptiness of his house settles on his chest. Bradley decides that he’ll wash the sheets tomorrow, hoping that the lingering smell of Jake’s cologne on the pillow might just keep the ghosts away for a night.

Chapter Text

“So, where’s Hangman?” Rooster asks Coyote, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. They’re standing next to the pool table and Jake’s absence is notable.

“Since when do you care about where Hangman is?” Coyote retorts, not taking his eyes off the pool game.

“I don’t care,” Rooster is quick to reply, not wanting anyone to think that he does actually care where the other pilot is. “Just figured he’d be here since you are.”

“Hangman’s at his housing,” Javy says simply, taking a sip of his beer, still refusing to look at Rooster.

Bradley hums in acknowledgment, watching the purple four-ball drop smoothly into the pocket. He expected Jake to be here. After all, it’s not every day a squadron from the Pacific Fleet visits Oceana. And if there’s one thing Jake Seresin never passes up, it’s an opportunity to flex. Especially after securing the first and only air-to-air kill of their generation.

“You want the address?” Coyote asks him, finally turning slightly to look at Rooster.

Bradley’s entire body seizes up.

“Why would I want that?,” Rooster counters, taking a step back from the pool table.

“It’s alright Bradshaw,” Javy insists softly. “Jake’s my best friend, you know that.”

“He talked?” Bradley asks, feeling anger bubbling under his skin.

“He didn’t have to, just like you don’t.” Javy sounds completely relaxed, as if he didn’t just casually mention one of Bradley’s biggest secret in public. Bradley quickly looks around, making sure no one heard.

Bradley relaxed at the fact that Jake hasn’t talked, relieved to know that their secret is still their secret, but he is still conflicted at the whole thing. Does he want Jake’s address? Is this something that they’re doing now? Is this something he wants to do now?

“Well, I guess that means I’m making some money tonight,” Bradley chooses his words carefully, finishing his whiskey in one gulp and heading for the wall with all the pool cues.

Bradley plays a few mean games of pool and without Jake here to compete with him, he ends up making a fair amount of money and getting a few free rounds of drinks. He’s pleasantly buzzed as he counts his money, wondering if that’s how Jake feels every single time he goes out to a bar.

Bradley frowns when he spots a folded piece of paper tucked between the bills. He pockets the cash before unfolding the note, turning it right side up to make sense of the scrawled handwriting.

Please go check up on him, I’ll owe you one.

There’s no name, just an address after that, but Rooster knows it’s from Javy. He isn’t exactly sure why he shouldn’t be the one to go check up on Hangman, but when he makes eye contact with Javy, who is waiting to pay his tab, he decides that maybe he should go.

Bradley takes out his phone and types in the address, pleased to see that it’s just a few streets over from where he lives himself. How bad could it be to go check out if Jake’s alright? If someone asks, he can just say that he was walking in the neighbourhood.

***

Thirty minutes later, Bradley knocks on the front door of the housing unit that Coyote had indicated. There isn’t an answer after a minute, so he knocks again, this time a bit louder. Maybe Jake’s sleeping already, he thinks at first. Then, here’s some noises on the other side of the door, as if the person coming towards him is angry.

The door swings open, crashing against the frame, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a pair of low-hanging sweatpants. “Javy, I fucking told you I was alright!” Then, his gaze softens when he realizes it’s not his best friend standing on his porch, trying to get him to go out again. “Rooster?”

“Hangman… you look…?” Bradley hesitates, unsure how to put it into words. Of course, Jake looks good, he always does, but there’s something different this time. The dark circles under his eyes, the slight scruff on his jaw… it’s not that he’s trying to hide it. If anything, it feels like he doesn’t care enough to.

“How do I look Bradley?” Hangman asks, in a warning voice, daring Rooster to point it out.

“I’m not here to get in a fight with you, we don’t have an audience Jake,” the older pilot counters, already regretting coming over here.

“Then why are you here?” Hangman, leans against the door frame, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Now that’s a great question, Bradley realizes. Why did he come here? Did he come here for sex? Not specifically. Did he come because he’s worried? That’s a strange thought to have, especially for a man that, than apart from their nights together, annoys the hell out of him.

“Get off your perch Rooster or get out of my face,” Jake says, annoyed. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Is that what you want?” Bradley avoids the question by asking another one. He can give Jake that, comfort for a few hours. Jake can decide for them.

Jake looks him up and down, like he’s assessing whether Bradley is what he wants tonight. Rooster tries not to be insulted by that, if his memory serves him right, Jake has never once been dissatisfied with his performance in the past.

Instead of saying anything, Jake simply turns to the side, silently telling Rooster to come inside. With one last glance over his shoulder, Bradley complies.

The tension drains from Jake’s body as he does, relief flickering across his face. For a moment, Bradley wonders if he’s ever actually made Jake fight for his attention, or if he’s always just given in too easily.

***

“It’s not has great as everybody says it is you know?” Jake says after a while, his head still pillowed on Bradley’s chest. “People keep congratulating me, but I don’t think they understand it. Not really.”

"From what I hear, it was pretty impressive flying," Bradley murmurs, scratching Jake’s scalp with the tips of his fingers. They’re still tangled in the aftermath of their time together. If he were a better person, he’d drag Jake into the shower to clean up, but right now, he just wants to be selfish and stay in bed a little longer. “The maneuver you pulled was apparently really cool.”

“My parents came to the medal ceremony,” Jake says, changing the subject, but his voice is tight, almost pained. “I had to kill someone for them to even consider me their son again.”

Bradley’s hand stills in the blonde’s hair, anger flaring underneath his ribcage. If he ever had the displeasure of running into the Seresins one day, Bradley isn’t exactly sure he wouldn’t get into a screaming match with them. Don’t they understand what they’re doing to their son? The toll it takes on a person to constantly be seeking approval and love?

“I’m going back home next week… Actually home, not with Javy this time. I’ll get to meet my nieces, my sister had another girl.”

“Jake…” Bradley doesn’t know what to say. He surely thinks that he shouldn’t do that, that going home under these conditions are not going to help him feel better, but that’s not his place. He’s not Jake’s boyfriend, he’s just the guy with who Jake falls into bed from time to time. He shouldn’t say anything, it’s better that way. “No one can know right? You’re going to make it to the top.”

Bradley hates himself for saying it now, hates that he’s implying that Jake is keeping this part of himself hidden just to please the people around him, but it’s the only thing that comes to his mind.

Jake tenses up on him and rolls back to his side of the mattress. “I’m already one step closer, I’m going to make it,” he echoes the sentiment and whatever calmness had settled over both of them has vanished.

Bradley doesn’t say anything in response. He just focuses on getting dressed again, moving through the motions. It’s part of their routine. They don’t stay the night, they never do. They fuck, maybe shower if it’s needed, exchange a few words until they hit another stalemate, and then one of them leaves. It’s simple, familiar, and somehow, it’s just enough.

Or at least they tell themselves it is.

Bradley tries not to think too much about how Jake looks so lost in that big bed, the emptiness in his posture pulling at him. For a moment, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, if he stayed, he could try to convince Jake that he doesn’t need his parents’ approval to be happy. That he’s worth it, no matter who’s in his bed, even if that’s something his parents could never understand. But he knows better than to stay.

That’s not who they are, Bradley reminds himself, even if, lately, he’s starting to wish they could be. But that would require him to stay and make the first move, something he knows Jake won’t do.

It’s the line Jake won’t cross, even though he’s usually the one to initiate everything between them. Bradley can feel the weight of it, the quiet hesitation that hangs in the air as he ties his shoes, thick with everything neither of them wants to admit.

Maybe one day he’ll be ready to get off his perch, but today is not that day.

Chapter Text

Rooster finishes his piano set, pleased when half a dozen people volunteer to buy him a drink as he stands up. It’s a success as usual. Jake might run the pool tables and dart boards, but the piano makes the bar his entire arena. For a few minutes, everyone is looking at him. Jake can look at him without anyone making assumptions.

He likes it here, likes San Diego more than he ever did being in Oceana, even though his parents’ presence lurks around every corner. Every few streets, a memory hits him, a reminder of what they’ve always been, a reminder of what he’s always tried to outrun. But it hurts less as he gets older, these little ghosts of them scattered throughout the town.

That’s why he’s always kept a moustache, why he wears his dad’s old Hawaiian shirts and drives his mom’s old Bronco. Why he can’t bring himself to sell the house, even though he hasn’t lived in it for the last seven years, only coming back when his leave’s long enough to justify the trip.

Bradley enjoys the mornings here, walking along the beach behind the house, watching the sun rise over the water while surfers catch their waves before the workday starts. He loves being able to grab great Mexican food just around the corner, the flavours bringing back memories of taco nights with his mother, Maverick, and Ice. Even if those nights were a lifetime ago, it’s the closest he gets to feeling something real, something that reminds him of when life was simpler.

Bradley’s finally gotten around to some much-needed renovations on the house, spending his last leave fixing up the porch, repainting a few rooms, and taking care of some plumbing issues. But the master bedroom and kitchen remain untouched.

There’s something about them that keeps him from making any progress. The ghost of his mother, packing his lunch for baseball practice, lingers in the kitchen, while his father’s humming as he makes breakfast still echoes in the space.

Sometimes, when Bradley lets himself get a little delusional, he can almost feel Jake’s presence here, the ghost of that single time they’d spent together in this house all those years ago. It tugs at him, pulling him deeper into the past, and adding to the reasons he just can’t bring himself to let the place go.

That’s exactly why he’s not surprised when there’s a knock at his door twenty minutes after they’ve left the Hard Deck. Bradley doesn’t even pretend to make Jake wait. He’d come home, sat on the couch, and settled in, knowing exactly what was going to happen. It’s always like this between them, and Bradley knew from the moment Jake had put Slow Ride on the jukebox that they’d end up in bed again.

“Hangman,” Bradley says as he opens the door.

“Rooster,” Jake says. “Are we doing this?”

“Slow Ride? Really? Is that what you want tonight?” Rooster teases, a bit bolder than usual, letting a smirk tug at his lips as he eyes Jake. The usual tension between them is thick in the air, but tonight, it feels different, like the rules might just be getting blurred a little more than before.

They never ask what the other wants, it’s always a blur, a series of movements that lead them to a bed, or whatever surface happens to get them where they need to be. There’s no conversation about desires, no negotiation. As long as they both get to come, it’s a success.

“You think you can handle that Rooster?” Jake looks surprised at his offer, but also very interested.

“You’re the one always calling me slow Hangman,” Bradley says. “Maybe I should live up to your expectations this time.”

“Show me what y’a got then.”

***

It’s probably the longest stretch of time they’ve spent together since this all began. Jake is leaning against the shower wall, letting the water cascade down his back and soothe his sore muscles. Bradley watches him out of the corner of his eyes as he cleans his face, wondering what’s going through the younger pilots mind.

It’s the middle of the night, and usually, whoever needs to leave is already gone, but Jake had been so unstable on his legs that Bradley had insisted he at least take a shower before going. It’s a small concession, but it gives Bradley a little peace of mind, knowing he can keep an eye on Jake for just a bit longer.

Even if he’s not sure why he’d insisted Jake stay longer, whether it’s out of some lingering need to take care of him, or just to delay the inevitable moment where he left. Jake hadn’t fought back either, even smiling when Bradley had brought up a shower, so Bradley figures that it’s okay.

“No one can know about this, especially right now,” Jake’s voice bounces off the shower tiles, somehow sounding even louder in the steamy space. “I’m gonna lead that mission, Rooster.”

Bradley doesn’t say anything, he keeps his face under the spray of water, knowing that if he says something, it might be something stupid like “Of course you are, you’re the best one of us here” or ”Would you even trust me to lead it?”.

Bradley hears the shower door open, feels the cold air hit his heated skin, but he stays in his spot, keeping his eyes closed just so he doesn’t have to watch Jake leave again. He lingers in the shower until the water starts to get cold enough to bother him.

When he steps out of the bathroom, Jake’s things are gone and to his dismay, the sheets on the bed have been changed. Bradley tries to tell himself that it doesn’t bother him to be alone in bed tonight.

A few days later, when Hangman breaks their cardinal rule and brings up Bradley’s father for his flying being so slow, pulling Maverick into it and emptying his secrets in front of everyone, Bradley sleeps on the couch. The sting of the public exposure, the fact that Jake just revealed his deepest secret in front of everyone burns him more than he wants to admit.

He’s convinced that the sheets on his bed still smell like Jake. It’s a ridiculous thought, but he just can’t shake it. The couch is impersonal, doesn’t hold any memories of their time together.

Maybe it’s a good thing he stayed on his perch after all.

Chapter Text

Everything hurts, Bradley thinks as he is lead through the narrow corridor of the carrier towards the medical bay. They’re all still on high alert after mission success, the rogue bandits having seemingly come out of nowhere, so he isn’t exactly sure what’s going on, but he’s got Maverick next to him, they’re both alive and that’s all that matters. That and the fact that he’s still in one piece.

Everyone made it back to the ship and that’s a damn miracle.

Bradley sits anxiously on his hospital bed, prodded and examined by the doctors, trying to focus through the haze of adrenaline coursing through his body. He can barely feel a thing, the pain numbed by the rush of medications in his bloodstream and the uncertainty gnawing at him. He knows he’s bleeding, he can see the blood on his torn flight suit, and his shoulder is fucked up, but he’s only aware of that because the nurse patching him up is detailing every movement she makes as if he’s a spooked animal.

The only thing that Bradley feels is the lingering warmth of Jake’s hand in his own.

Jake.

Bradley moves to stand up, realizing that Jake isn’t in medical with him, but the nurse puts a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t let you leave Lieutenant Bradshaw,” she orders him. “You’re alright, you are back on the carrier.” Her answer doesn’t satisfy him, he doesn’t understand why Jake isn’t there too, he’d just been in combat, he should be getting checked out just in case. It’s not required, but they should be making sure Jake is alright. He needs Jake to be alright.

“Bradley, look at me,” Maverick says, from the other side of the room. His godfather is sitting on a bed opposite to his, getting similarly looked at by another team of nurses. “We’re okay, breathe. We’re going home.”

Bradley wants to tell him that breathing is not the problem, it’s that he doesn’t know where Jake is. He won’t be heading home if Jake isn’t with him, he’ll just be heading to San Diego.

But that would open up a box that shouldn’t be opened right now, especially not in front of a bunch of strangers and his godfather who hasn’t been in his life in years.

Did they send Jake out again just in case there’s more bandits circling around? Is Jake in trouble?

The universe seems to be on his side once more today and when he’s about to push himself up again, Jake walks into the medical bay, accompanied by Hondo.

“I swear I’m fine, I don’t need to be here,” Jake argues, but Hondo still pushes him towards the waiting medical team.

“They just want to make sure you’re alright Hangman, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Maverick says, using his commanding officer voice.

"I know I’m a prized Naval possession, but this is a bit much, Pops," Jake huffs, clearly intending to fight himself out of being checked out by the doctor. “I’m not the one that ejected from my plane.”

“Hangman, please just sit down,” Bradley says and to everyone’s wonder Jake does comply after a few seconds. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, arms crossed, glaring at the medical staff fussing over him like he’s on his deathbed instead of walking in on his two feet.

“Thank you,” Bradley says, watching the other pilot more than the nurse taking care of the cut on his face.

"So what’s the prognosis, Doc? Is Rooster gonna live another day? Am I gonna have the honour of saving his hide again?" Jake drawls, as the nurse takes his blood pressure.

To anyone else, it sounds like he’s being his usual insufferable self, poking at Bradley just to start one of their famous fights. But Bradley knows better. He hears the tightness in Jake’s voice, the way his cockiness doesn’t quite hide the genuine concern underneath.

Jake won’t ask outright. He won’t let anyone see how much he actually cares, not when they’ve spent years making sure no one ever looks too closely at what’s between them.

“Lieutenant Seresin, not here, please,” Maverick sighs, ready to step in again, assuming that he’s going to witness another explosive fight.

“Pretty sure today is going to get you to the top Hangman,” Rooster replies before anyone else has the time to try to actually interfere.

“You really think so Bradshaw?” It’s the first time Bradley has ever mentioned that wish of his, the long standing excuse why they can’t really be together, out in public especially. There’s something in Jakes eyes, realizing that maybe Rooster is taking a tentative step of his perch.

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see,” Bradley says, giving an answer to the silent question.

The doctors finish clearing all three of them, there’s not much to watch out for except the the cuts, Bradley’s shoulder injury and they fact that Maverick and him have to watch out for a potential concussion. Jake is more than fine as he walks beside Maverick clearly irked that their captain is remaining between Bradley and him.

"Alright, boys, I have to go debrief with Cyclone. Do I need to get Phoenix and Coyote to babysit you two so you don’t get yourselves court-martialed after surviving this insane mission?" Maverick asks, stopping at the intersection of the corridor leading to the barracks.

“We’re fine Mav, I just need to sleep this off,” Rooster insists, giving Jake a glance and almost daring him to do something about it, but Jake seemingly takes pity on him and just nods.

“I’ll make sure your baby bird gets to his bed Pops, don’t worry.” Maybe Rooster should have expected Jake to at least try something, but he is exhausted after all.

Maverick looks at Rooster, checking in with his godson one last time that he is alright.

“Go ahead Mav, we’ll talk in the morning,” Bradley insists, itching to be alone with Jake.

“Okay then, knock on my door if you need anything,” Maverick says before walking away.

Jake keeps his hands in the pockets of his flight suit as they slowly walk towards their room. It’s the first time in their career that they are technically in the same squadron so they actually don’t have to sneak around and pretend they aren’t heading into the same room.

“What do you need?” Jake asks once the door is closed.

Bradley doesn’t know where to start, so he slowly walks towards Jake and wraps his good arm around his neck. The blonde tenses up for half a second, but then responds by wrapping his own arms around Bradley’s waist and tucking his face in his neck.

They stand like that for what feels like few minutes, Rooster can’t really tell, his brain is a bit fuzzy with all the pain killers coursing through his veins, but he doesn’t want to step away, not yet. Maybe Bob will walk in, also needing to go to sleep, yet he doesn’t care about being found out right now.

“I’m sorry for what I said about your dad and Maverick, I was so out of line,” Jake says, his voice soft, but also laced with regret. “I needed you fly faster, you were always the one getting picked for this mission and I needed you to come home Bradley, but I never should have said that in front of everyone.”

“We were both stressed out and on edge, I know why you did it, but it really did hurt Jake,” Bradley says, leaning back to look at the man in front of him properly. “Out of all the times you could have picked to break our rule, you clearly made sure it was worth it.”

“I’m just glad it pushed you enough to come home,” Jake admits, one of his hands coming up to Bradley’s face.

Jake's fingers are warm against his skin, tracing the edges of the cut with an uncharacteristic gentleness. Bradley leans into it, chasing the warmth like it’s the only thing tethering him to solid ground. A few hours ago, he thought he’d never get to feel this again, thought he’d never get the chance to feel Jake’s skin against his own.

Bradley needs to tell Jake that he was almost forgiven the moment he called him out, that nothing could really make him reject Jake. That they’ve been doing this for way to long for it to just be sleeping together and chasing a high, but the words stay stuck in his throat.

Jake watches him carefully, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found. "What do you want, Bradley?" he asks again, quieter this time, like he’s afraid of the answer.

Bradley swallows, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent so long pretending this thing between them isn’t real, pushing it down, refusing to give it a name. But after today, after nearly losing everything, he’s done pretending.

He’s never been good at this, at saying what he wants, at admitting what’s been there all along. But now, with Jake’s hand still warm against his skin, with the adrenaline still thrumming in his veins, he knows there’s no going back. He’s never been good at putting himself out there, but today? Today he needs to.

“I want to do this. Properly,” he says, completely jumping off his perch. “You’re going to make it to the top, Jake. They can’t stop you. Not now.”

Jake’s grip tightens, his thumb brushing over the bruise forming along Bradley’s jaw. He looks at him like he’s memorizing every inch of his face, like he’s making sure he’s really here, still breathing, still his.

“I’m going to make it," Jake says, voice steady. "With you right beside me.”

For the first time, they both believe it.

Chapter Text

When they get back to Miramar, Jake doesn’t go back to his housing unit. Instead, he gets into Bradley’s Bronco like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No one questions it. Or at least, no one dares to.

That day, they spend their first real night together. Bradley’s neck and shoulder hurt too much to do anything too strenuous so they take each other apart so slowly, so sweetly that they both end up crying in each other’s arms. Neither of them are leaving this time and it feels surreal.

In the morning, when Bradley wakes up to the sight of Jake’s face, green eyes watching him, it’s officially the best morning he’s ever had in more than a decade.

The next few weeks pass in a blur. There are endless debriefs, mission reports to comb through, and meetings with commanding officers. Everyone wants a piece of them, to know what went wrong and what went right during the Mission.

But no matter how chaotic the days get, no matter how many conversations they have to endure, it always ends the same way.

Jake gets into Bradley’s car.

When the brass is finally satisfied with their answers, the whole squadron gets put on leave for at least a month. Maverick won’t tell them anything, but Bradley has a feeling it’s because they don’t know what to do with the Daggers now. There’s been rumours of Ice showing up to base, only a few week after his major health scare, calling for meetings with some of the higher ranking officers in the fleet.

The Daggers decide to worry about that later, they’ve got a whole month to get back on their feet. Bradley and Jake are very happy about it. It’s like the world has decided to give them time to settle in this new reality.

“So, what do you want to do?” Jake asks one evening as he mans the grill in Bradley’s backyard. Bradley’s been eating some of the best barbecue he’s ever had in his life in the last weeks. “We’ve got a whole month.”

Bradley turns around, setting his paintbrush down on the paint can with a soft clink. The late afternoon sun is warm on his back as he takes a moment to stretch, the slight ache in his shoulder a reminder of what had happened to them. They’re repainting the back deck a similar shade of blue to the Bronco, figuring that they need a nice spot to hang out while they’re on leave.

For now they have a little set up that consists of two beach chairs and a plastic table in the grass next to the deck. They eat there most evenings, when none of their friends attempt to drag them to some activity. Jake wants to fix up the shed too, so Bradley can finally get the surf board he’s been talking about and so he has a place to store the fancy lawnmower he bought that’s currently being stored in the garage. Maybe they’ll even get Jake a surf board just to see if he really is good at everything he tries like he claims he is.

“I was thinking of renovating the master bedroom,” Rooster says, scratching the dried paint off of his fingers.

“I see,” Jake answers simply, leaving room for Bradley to keep talking. They’re getting better at talking, they have to now that they live together.

“Figured we could use more space.” They’ve always slept in one of the guest rooms and Jake never really asked him why, something Bradley is thankful for. Maybe he’ll feel strong enough to talk about it tonight. “We could go shopping for a new mattress tomorrow now that we have your truck.” They’d driven down to Lemoore to get Jake’s thing from his housing and of course, bring back Jake’s annoyingly bright red Ram pick up truck.

Jake wipes his hands on a rag, tossing it aside as he nods. “We’re getting a California king-sized mattress then. You spread out way too much at night,” he says with a grin, the teasing tone in his voice evident.

Bradley raises an eyebrow, his smile playful. “If you’d let me cuddle you at night, you wouldn’t have that issue,” he points out, the words coming out smooth, almost teasing. They can tease each other about their sleeping habits now.

Jake laughs, shaking his head, clearly not swayed by the suggestion. “You’re a furnace, Bradley. I’m just trying to survive over here… you’re like an oven at night."

“Can’t wait for winter then,” Bradley quips, implying that in his head, he’s not going back to Oceana when their leave ends. “I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you then.”

“Brad, we live in California, I’m not gonna be cold even when winter arrives.”

“I’ll get us cooling sheets then,” Bradley continues, coming up behind Jake and wrapping his arms around the younger pilots waist, dropping a kiss to the side of his neck. He knows he’s probably going to get paint on Jake, he’s almost counting on it so he can convince him to go for a night swim together.

“Keep on talkin’… we’re getting somewhere now.”

***

So much changes in that single month of leave. The daggers all get summoned to base for a meeting, where Ice himself informs all the pilots that were called back have the chance to form an elite squadron if they want to. The final decision comes back to them and if they just want to return to their own squadrons, it’s completely up to them. They are given a week to make their decision, the war machine needing things done quickly. Jake and Bradley try to not look to excited at the news, but they end up accepting the offer on the spot.

“There’s going to be a medal ceremony,” Ice announces, his voice steady, clearly needing everyone’s full attention. “All of the pilots that participated in the mission will be receiving a Distinguished Flying Cross, but... Maverick, Rooster, and Hangman, you’ll also be getting a Navy Cross for the heroic acts you pulled. For saving each other’s lives, not for the lives you took.”

Ice looks directly in Jake’s eyes when he says why they are getting the medals, willing the younger pilot to understand. Jake turns slightly to look at Rooster once Ice breaks eye contact, but Bradley reveals nothing.

Maybe Bradley had been given a little insight on the news that they would be getting medals and had asked his godfather to make sure that Jake knows he’s not getting a medal for shooting down another plane and taking a life, but because he saved two lives.

***

The ceremony is much more grand than any of the pilot expected. Dressed in their Navy Blues, they get their medals pinned to their chests by Secretary of the Navy in front of their friends and family. There are speeches from a few people, even one from Maverick himself to everyone’s surprise. Everyone knows he won’t escape a promotion this time, even if he tries to do it again.

The ceremony ends and Jake has an out of body experience when the SecNav comes over to shake his hand, telling him how proud the Navy is to have a man like him serving in their ranks.

For both Jake and Bradley, it’s the first time they have their families at a medal ceremony. Maverick hugs Bradley tightly, whispering in his ear about how proud his parents would be to see the man and aviator he has become.

Ice even beams proudly at both boys as he stands next to Maverick, as much as the stoic admiral is able to be. It’s a strange experience to have people to celebrate with. People who know him and cares for Hangman, the aviator, but also for Jake, the person.

“Jake,” a gruff voice says and all four pilots turn to look at who is trying to get his attention.

Jake tenses the moment the voice hits his ears, his posture stiffening instinctively. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in years, a voice that, despite its gruffness, still carries the weight of authority, of disappointment, of judgment.

“Jake,” his father repeats, his tone colder, with a slight crack in the usual hardness. He stands just a few feet from the group, with Jake’s mother by his side. Things had improved briefly between Jake and his parents, but that was before his mother tried to set him up with a girl from church. He had to remind them once again that he’s still gay, no matter what medals he earns or how many accolades he receives. He can and will be both.

And just like that, the cycle had started again, back to the way it was when he was seventeen, caught in the back of his truck, kissing a football teammate, only for his father to find him and shatter everything. He hasn’t talked to his parent since that disastrous trip back home.

Bradley notices the subtle shift in Jake, the way his body pulls slightly back, like he's bracing for something. There’s a flash of something unreadable in Jake’s eyes before his usual Hangman mask comes back, but it doesn’t hide the tension that suddenly coats him.

“Dad,” Jake manages to get out. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s not every day your oldest son gets awarded the Navy Cross, of course we made the trip,” his father replies, trying to maintain face in front of the two older heavily decorated officers.

“Well thank you for coming,” Jake says, remaining polite, remembering that they are in fact in front of important people.

“Your son is an amazing naval aviator, but he’s an even better man,” Bradley says, the words coming out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s a revealing statement, probably more than is appropriate considering who is attending the event, but Bradley doesn’t regret it at all. Seeing Jake smile softly makes it worth it.

Jake’s mother seems to sense the shift, her polite smile slipping away as she watches the tension build. Bradley almost hopes she’ll speak up, do something, anything to break the silence. But before she can, Ice steps in.

“Your son is going to change the Navy, already has, in fact. Maybe it’s time for you to change too.”

Bradley shifts just slightly closer to Jake, their hands brushing together for a moment. His uncles have their backs. He doesn’t mind some people figuring out, but they aren’t going to make their big coming out in front of all the brass at a medal ceremony.

“I hope y’all have a nice stay in San Diego,” Jake says, his statement clear. He’s not going to beg for their approval ever again, he’s got a squadron that cares for him, superiors that knows his worth and a man that he loves even if he hasn’t said the words out loud just yet.

Jake watches his parents walk away and for the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s losing anything.

No, he feels like he’s gained his freedom.

***

“We’re doing this,” Jake states as they start walking down the path that leads to Ice’s backyard. They’re the last to arrive, Bradley insisting on worshipping Jake when they went back home to technically just change out of their uniforms.

“Hell yeah we’re doing this,” Bradley confirms, reaching for Jake’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. “To the top together baby, that’s what we said.”

When they step into the yard hand in hand, a few people glance over, doing a double take before a smile spreads across their faces. It’s not that they’ve been hiding, not really, but they haven’t really announced it to their friends either.

“Fucking finally,” Javy mutters under his breath as he hands Jake and Bradley beers.

“Say that again,” Nat quips, flashing a smirk before taking a sip of her drink.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bradley defends, choosing a chair to sit by the fire pit. Jake doesn’t get the chance to sit down, though, before Bradley grabs him by the back of his belt and tugs him into his lap.

Jake goes along with it, catching himself on the armrests so he doesn’t fall all the way onto Bradley. “No, we were definitely that bad, Roo,” he jokes, making Bradley pinch his side in retaliation.

“I wouldn’t call us bad, Jake,” Bradley teases, resting his chin on Jake’s shoulder. “I think we’re pretty good darlin’.”

“Oh my god, they’re going to be even worse now,” Natasha groans, but Bradley can tell she’s happy for them.

In the other corner of the yard Maverick and Iceman watch the scene in amusement.

“Did you know about this Tom?” Maverick asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d known the two boys were living together, but for some reason hadn’t made the connection.

“Of course I did Pete, nothing happens in the Navy without me knowing,” Iceman laughs, smiling at the sight of the happy pilots. “Who do you think made their little fight disappear all those years ago?”