Chapter Text
"Thanks for coming, guys" Bradley says as he shuts the door, then turns to give both his uncles a hug.
"Of course." Iceman frowns like it was never a question.
Slider nods, agreeing. "We couldn't leave you and Trouble all by yourselves."
Bradley's smile is lopsided. It's not surprising that his uncles dropped everything and drove over when he told them Mav is sick. The three of them have been taking care of each other for as long as Bradley's known them. It used to extend to him but Bradley was sure he'd lost that privilege when he slammed the door in Maverick's face and refused to acknowledge his and his uncles' existence for fifteen years. Yet, Ice and Slider are here, offering to help if he lets them.
Not for the first time since Maverick and he made up, Bradley curses his younger self for being so stupid so as to push away what little of his family he has left. He's got to make it up to them but he doesn't even know where to start.
Ice, perceptive as always, notices Bradley's expression has turned sour. He motions at the ceramic bowl he's got tucked under one arm, passing it to Bradley. "Sarah made you two some soup. So you don't have to worry about cooking, at least."
Bradley accepts the bowl of soup gratefully. "That's very thoughtful of her."
Ice and Slider go in search of Maverick in the living room while Bradley ducks into the kitchen to safely stow away the food. The bowl is so heavy there's probably enough soup to feed a squadron, and when he lifts the lid, it smells heavenly. Bradley hadn't realized until now how much he's missed Aunt Sarah's cooking. He puts the lid back on, places the bowl into the oven to keep warm, and goes to join the others.
In the living room, Ice and Slider have managed to rouse Maverick and are helping him sit up. The throw blanket must've slipped off his lap during his nap, and Ice is now readjusting it over Maverick, tucking it under his legs, while Slider fluffs up his pillows. For all that Maverick usually complains about their fussing, he doesn't seem to mind now, although Bradley suspects his half-awake state must be somewhat to blame for that. He's blinking groggily, humming along to whatever Ice and Slider are telling him. He keeps glancing between his two friends as if wondering where they came from; he looks adorable, not that Bradley would ever let Maverick hear him say that. More worryingly, his face is flushed, so his fever must be spiking again. Unfortunately, his last dose was only two hours ago so he'll have to grin and bear it for a while.
"How're you feeling, Mav?" Iceman asks once they've all settled down and Maverick's managed to get his bearings.
Maverick shrugs a shoulder. "I've seen better days."
"How did you manage to make yourself ill this time?" Slider teases, earning a glare from Maverick.
Bradley should probably answer that. "It's my fault" he says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck guiltily. "There was a bug going around base the other day. I thought I wasn't contagious anymore but well..." He gestures at Maverick, who's sniffling miserably.
In hindsight, he should've pushed his leave a few days back but he was so excited about being home again and spending time with Mav that changing his plans last minute seemed like too much of a hassle. And now Mav is sick because of him.
"Bradley" Maverick says in a fondly exasperated tone, as if knowing exactly what Bradley's thinking. He holds out a hand, which Bradley rushes to take, clutching at it like a lifeline. Maverick smiles softly, then gives Bradley's hand a light squeeze. "I've told you so many times and you still won't believe me. I'd rather be sick with you than healthy without you."
Ice and Slider break into a chorus of aww, and Bradley buries his head in the crook of Maverick's shoulder to hide his embarrassment. Thankfully, Mav doesn't push him away, only snorts out a chuckle and combs his fingers through Bradley's hair. He used to do that when Bradley was little and ran to him with a scraped knee and a wobbling bottom lip. Almost three decades later, there's nothing in the world that makes Bradley feel safer.
"Hope he's not being too difficult, Bradley" Ice says, staring pointedly at his wingman. Mav scoffs at Ice's apparent lack of faith in him, and even Bradley struggles to hold back his smirk. Uncle Ice's stern voice is usually reserved for putting cocky ensigns or snobbish Admirals in their places; one can only wonder what Maverick's done to earn that honor.
"Not at all" Bradley replies honestly, angling his body so that he can better look at his uncles while remaining pressed close to Maverick. "He's been an exemplary patient."
Slider's eyebrows rocket up into his silver hairline. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person, kid?"
Even Ice sounds suspicious. "He hasn't tried to talk his way out of taking his meds, or insist the thermometer must've broken because he definitely doesn't have a fever?"
"Nope" Bradley shakes his head. Beside him, Maverick looks smug as a peacock, so he's definitely pulled some of these stunts on them through the years.
"Damn" Slider breathes out, impressed. "Bradley, you're officially the Maverick whisperer. Whenever we've tried to look after him, he's made our lives an absolute hell." He nudges Ice's side, "You remember that time he took a tumble down the stairs and pulled his back?"
"Don't remind me" Ice winces as if the sheer memory of it is enough to cause him physical pain. "I’ve gotten more honesty from people trying to shoot me down than I got from him during his recovery."
"Okay, first of all, you two weren't supposed to bring that up ever again" Maverick protests, narrowing his eyes at his friends. "And second of all, don't act like you got the short end of the stick, Ice. You're not the one that had to go to work with a glittery Vespa and an injured back."
"I warned you, didn't I?" Iceman shrugs, composed as ever.
"And you!" Maverick turns to Slider next, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I still can't believe you threw away my favorite slippers!"
"I should've done that way sooner. Would've saved us a hell lot of trouble" Slider retorts, obviously not regretting it one bit, and Maverick lets out a dramatic gasp, as if he's personally offended on the slippers' behalf.
Bradley seems to be only one that has no idea what they're talking about. Maverick having an accident isn't news in itself; the man's been getting into trouble one way or another for as long as Bradley's known him. Nothing he recalls fits that particular description, though.
He demands, "When did all of that happen?"
The silence that fills the room is louder than an F-18 taking off in full afterburner. The other three turn to look at him slowly as if they'd forgotten he was still in the room.
"It was, uh..." Maverick hesitates, unable to meet Bradley's eyes all of a sudden. He clears his throat, then tries again, "We weren't really talking back then."
Bradley is sure a slap in the face would hurt less. Maverick was kind enough not to make it sound like it was his fault but it doesn't take a genius to understand what we weren't really talking means.
Somehow, the thought of something happening to Maverick while he was stewing in anger hadn't crossed Bradley's mind once. He wonders how many more times Maverick landed himself in the hospital in the fifteen years it took Bradley to get his head out of his butt. He's probably had a few close calls while flying, too.
"Bradley?" Ice says softly, voice laced with concern. "Are you with us, kid?"
Bradley looks up after a moment. All three of them are watching him carefully, like he's a cornered animal that may spook if they make a wrong move. He wants to ask why nobody thought to call him but that, too, is his fault. Despite everything, Maverick, Iceman, Slider and the rest of his uncles had tried to stay in touch with him but Bradley would either hang up or ignore their calls and texts altogether. Eventually, they'd got the hint and stopped contacting him.
He meets Mav's worried eyes. "You fell down the stairs, and I had no idea."
"You had a lot on your plate, it wouldn't be fair of me to put that on you, too" Maverick shrugs a shoulder, and Bradley hates that he considers himself an inconvenience. "There's nothing you could've done about it, anyway."
Bradley opens his mouth to argue some more but Ice beats him to it. "There's no point in stressing yourself out with all the what-ifs. He survived. You two sorted things out. Everything worked out."
"He'll definitely do something dumb in the future" Slider adds, prompting an indignant huff out of Maverick. "We'll make sure you're the first to hear about it next time."
Bradley is mostly certain Uncle Slider is joking but it's nice to know he won't be kept in the dark if anything happens to Maverick again.
There's still one detail about the incident, though, that's not making sense to Bradley.
He turns to Maverick with a deep frown between his brows. "What was that about you riding to work on a glittery Vespa?"
Maverick groans, while Ice and Slider's faces split with the biggest smirks Bradley has seen on them. Instantly, he knows the story will be a treat to listen to.
Later...
Bradley breathes out a relieved sigh as he props the last plate in the drying rack, then shuts the faucet off and wipes his hands on a dish towel that smells faintly of the laundry detergent Mav uses. He glances one last time at the countertop to make sure he didn't forget anything, hooks the towel back in place, and turns on his heel to head to the living room, flicking the light switch off on his way out.
The house is quiet and dark, save for the hallway light, which isn't too harsh on Maverick's eyes. Uncle Ice and Uncle Slider stayed for dinner but it's been hours since they left. They'd made Bradley promise he'd keep them updated and both of them have texted to ask how the patient is doing but Bradley really doesn't have much to tell them. Maverick's been napping all afternoon, and only woke up once when Bradley said it was time for his meds. Being sick has wore him down but Aunt Sarah's hearty soup seems to have helped and Bradley is going to make sure he gets all the rest he needs. Hopefully, the fever will start to break soon.
Maverick is curled up on the couch, sound asleep, one arm sprawled over the armrest and the throw blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. He looks weak and small, so unlike his usual self, his skin is clammy and his hair is slick with sweat, and Bradley has the sudden urge to tuck himself into Mav's side and never leave again. He debates if the couch is big enough for both of them; it'll be a tight squeeze but he reckons he can make it work without disturbing Mav.
As gently as he can, he lifts one corner of the blanket and lowers himself onto the couch, snuggling as close to Maverick as possible without actually touching him. The older man's body is warm and familiar, and Bradley sighs blissfully.
Immediately, an arm loops around his waist, pulling him closer. Maverick mustn't've been so heavily asleep, after all.
"You're still here" he slurs, with his eyes still closed.
That draws a surprised laugh out of Bradley. "Where was I supposed to go, Mav?"
Maverick shrugs a shoulder, shuffling under the blanket to make more room for Bradley. "Don't know. It just doesn't seem fair that you have to spend your leave looking after me."
Bradley feels guilt prickle under his skin again. He knew he had a lot to make up for but he must've messed up even worse than he thought if Maverick expects him to leave him alone when he's sick and clearly can't manage alone.
He sighs, "First of all, I'm the one that got you sick in the first place, and second of all, I'm not going anywhere until you feel better, Mav. You wouldn't just up and leave if I was the one burning up, so let me take care of you."
Maverick doesn't even try to argue, only nestles a little deeper into the couch and ridiculous amount of pillows. "Okay, sweetheart."
Bradley shoots him a quizzical look. It's not like Maverick to agree so easily to things, especially when it involves other people fussing over him, but he must be too exhausted to put up a fight.
A vivid picture flashes in Bradley's mind; Maverick weak, tired, pushing through his pain and illness alone because Ice and Slider were deployed or stuck in meetings, and Bradley refused to acknowledge him. He swallows heavily, "Hey, Mav?"
Maverick hums, and Bradley takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you hurt your back."
Maverick blinks one eye open and leans back to better look at him. "Bradley, that was almost a decade ago!"
"I know" Bradley says, too ashamed to look Maverick directly in the eye, "but I'm guessing it wasn't the only time."
Maverick's answering silence tells Bradley all he needs to know.
"I'd have come home if you'd told me what happened, you know" he says, even though he can't really promise that. After all, he had no qualms telling Maverick no one would've cared if he'd burn in only a few months ago; who's to say his younger self would've dropped everything and flown half across the country simply because Mav was hurt?
Still, Maverick nods. "I know." Then, ruefully, he adds, "But you wouldn't be happy about it."
Bradley's first instinct is to deny it but he knows Maverick is right. He was blind with rage when Mav pulled his papers, and even though it gradually cooled to a simmering frustration as the years went by, the resentment and feel of betrayal never really went away. Sure, there's a chance Mav and him would've smoothed things down sooner if they'd been forced to confront each other, but it's far more likely that it wouldn't have worked out, causing more damage instead.
"Look, Bradley" Maverick says seriously, bringing him back to the present. "I appreciate the sentiment but there's no point in beating yourself up about it. I was in good hands; Ice and Slider made sure of that. And you're here now. That's all that matters to me."
"I'm not leaving again" Bradley firmly promises.
Maverick beams, bright as the morning sun. "Good, because I'm not letting you."
Bradley swallows down the lump that's suddenly lodged itself in the back of his throat, and holds Maverick a little tighter. "Get some sleep, Mav. You need it."
Maverick looks at him fondly. "If you say so, baby goose." He shifts again, trying to get his limbs into a comfier position, and ends up with his head in the crook of Bradley's shoulder. "You must rest, too, you know" he says pointedly, and squeezes his eyes shut.
Bradley could never say no to Mav. Once Maverick's breathing evens out, he closes his eyes, too, and he's peacefully asleep at no time.