Archive of Our Own

Life, Bradley thought, did not get any better than this. He was off-duty for the weekend, it was a gorgeous day at the ballpark, the Padres were up by four runs in the 6th, and he was with three of his favorite people on the planet. He looked down the row at Phoenix and Amelia, who had their heads bent together, whispering like they were already the best of friends (which was more than a little bit terrifying, but he was trying hard not to think about it), and then at Mav, sprawled in his seat and popping shelled peanuts into his mouth like they were candy.

It reminded him of all the Padres games at The Murph he and Mav and Mom had gone to, of watching Tony Gwynn and Trevor Hoffman work their magic on the field, with Mav patiently explaining the plays and rules of the game. So many great memories — and now he had the luxury of remembering those days without the menacing undercurrent of anger and betrayal dragging him down.

"Having a good time?" he asked, a clear invite for Mav to share in his joy.

Mav gave him a toothy grin. "Can't complain. You?"

Bradley nodded at the field, and adjusted his baseball cap a little tighter on his head. "The only thing that could make this day better would be if I had another beer and a —"

Phoenix reached around Amelia to smack the back of his head. "There's a minor present, Rooster. For fuck's sake."

Bradley glared back, affronted. "Jesus, Nat, I wasn't going there, you fucking pervert."

She didn't look convinced. "Uh huh."

The lack of faith she had in him...honestly. Why was he even friends with her? (Okay, he knew why — she knew where all the bodies were buried, and had always, always had his back in the air and on the ground. But still.)

"What I was going to say was the only thing that could make this day better would be some Dippin' Dots."

Amelia wrinkled her nose. "You've already had, like, two loaded dogs and a box of popcorn. And half of Mav's peanuts."

Bradley patted his flat stomach. "I burn a lot of calories in the air fighting all those Gs."

"Good thing, since you still eat like you're a teenager," Mav observed, chuckling. "At least you don't feed your veggies to the dog anymore."

"What can I say, Ziggy loved broccoli." Christ, Bradley had loved that derp of a dog more than anything. Another great memory he'd repressed.

Phoenix took a sip of her beer. "Yeah, still not over the fact that you two've known each other all Rooster's life."

"Third person to hold him after he was born." Even with his shades on, it was easy to see the way Mav's eyes went all gooey and nostalgic. "I'll never forget, right after I got him in my arms, he looked right up at me and —"

"Mav, do not," Bradley warned. He knew exactly the story Mav was getting ready to tell — God knew he'd heard it enough times from his mom and Mav growing up — and there was no fucking way he wanted Phoenix having that kind of ammo against him. She knew way too many embarrassing stories as it was.

"Y'all are weird," Amelia stated, leaning forward to watch the action on the field, as the Padres came up to bat in the bottom of the inning.

They managed to get a hit and a walk, but couldn't get either player to the plate, and the inning ended on a flyout to the Reds' shortstop.

Amelia sighed in disappointment. "Wasted opportunity."

"We're still up by four, Melly," Mav reminded her.

"But there's still plenty of game left for the Reds to come back."

"If they weren't the Reds, your argument would hold more weight."

Mav had a point. The Reds had been categorically awful this year, even for them.

"How's your summer been, Amelia?" Phoenix asked. "Done anything fun, or has it all been helping your mom keep watch over these two cornballs?"

"Are you implying I need a babysitter?"

Phoenix flashed him a sunny smirk. "If the shoe fits, Rooster."

"It's been okay." Amelia squinted under the brim of her hat. "Mostly, Bradley and me are either helping Mav fix all his ancient equipment he hauled with him from his weird desert bunker —"

"It was an airplane hangar, and those are vintage bikes and aircraft, young lady," Mav cut in, with a huge grin.

"Whatever." She shrugged, but smiled back. "But sometimes I can talk them into a poker game, and that's a lot of fun."

Bradley could practically see the radar pinging in Phoenix's brain. "Poker? You play poker?"

"Sometimes," Amelia replied. (Understatement of the friggin' century.)

"Sometimes, she says." Bradley shuddered, exaggerated for Phoenix's benefit. "Don't let her con you, she can kick my ass."

"She can kick anyone's ass," Mav agreed, raising his beer. He sounded every inch the proud parent.

Phoenix turned to Bradley, those big brown eyes feverishly bright. "Can she kick Seresin's ass?"

Jake was a pretty damn good player, but Bradley didn't even hesitate in answering. "Definitely."

Amelia snorted, disdain practically vibrating off of her in waves. "Please, I bet he bluffs more than he has good hands. Taking him down would be, like, embarrassingly easy."

"I love you," Phoenix stated, then twisted to face Bradley. "I love her. Let's get a game going."

Bradley exchanged a helpless glance with Mav. When Phoenix got an idea in her head, it was best to either strap in for the ride or get the fuck out of range. Not that it stopped Bradley from trying to talk some sense into her. "You said it yourself, Nat, she's a kid —"

"So we won't play for money." She shrugged. "We can play for toothpicks for all I care, as long as Bagman goes down in flames."

"We could play for truths," Amelia suggested, as the top of the 7th started, with the Reds coming up to bat.

"Truths?"

"You win the hand, you ask whatever question you want to the person or persons you won against. You lose the hand, you have to answer a question truthfully," Mav explained to Phoenix.

"Oh, I'm all the way in now, if it means Seresin spilling his guts." She slapped her knee, her glee a palpable thing. "We gotta make it happen."

"I don't think Penny'll go for it," Bradley drawled. And the last thing he wanted was to get on Penny's bad side. He knew better than anyone just how well she could hold a grudge. He was pretty sure she was still biding her time to get back at him for the String Cheese Incident of '94.

"Leave Penny to me," Mav replied, with a reassuring look that Bradley didn't find reassuring in the slightest.

***

"Absolutely not," Penny stated, thumping the case of Bud on the bar countertop in emphasis. Theo jerked his head up and barked softly at the sound. Bradley scratched his ears in commiseration.

"Mooooom..." Amelia started, but trailed off when Bradley shook his head at her. Not now, he mouthed, and jerked his head meaningfully at Mav. Who was supposed to be using that famous Mitchell charm of his to get Penny to say yes — but was FUBARing it all to hell so far.

"Don't 'Mom' me. And you, don't give me that look, Pete."

"What look?" Mav asked, with an innocent smile that fooled exactly no one.

"That look." Penny sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It's bad enough you and Ice taught her to play like a pro, but a game with your squad? Out of the question."

"Not the whole squad, just a few of the pilots —"

"If you think I'm letting my daughter go to some off-base bachelor pad —"

"The game would be here at the Deck," Bradley said, choosing his moment to step in and save his wingman's incredibly dumb ass before he flamed completely out. (It was amazing that Mav had ever had success with any woman, let alone one as smart as Penny. He either had to be packing or had the oral skills of a god — not that Bradley wanted to think too hard about either one, because nope — but those were the only explanations that made sense.)

"At a crowded bar?" Penny asked, with a you've got to be kidding me look. "That's better?"

"Bar's closed on Mondays," Bradley countered. "We'd do it then. And it would just be us and Phoenix and Bob and Jake. Just a friendly game between friends."

"Rooster —"

"Look, just hear me out, okay." He leaned his elbows on the counter and gave her his most persuasive smile. The one that had always gotten her to cave and let him stay up another hour back when she'd been his babysitter. "Mav and me'll be keeping an eye on her, we're not playing for any sort of monetary stakes — you have my word — and come on, don't you want to see Lindy take Jake down a few notches?"

Penny pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, and let out a slow, measured breath. "You really want to do this, don't you?" she asked Amelia, without lowering her hand.

"Uh, yeah. Pretty sure I made that clear."

Penny sighed again, and slowly blinked her eyes open. She waved her finger between Bradley and Mav. "You will have her home by midnight —" she ignored Amelia's victory whoop "— one of you will be at the table at all times, and everyone will conduct themselves like the officers and gentlemen they are. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mav replied, his smile softening the crinkles around his eyes. Bradley could practically see the hearts swimming around his head. "Thank you, Penny."

She waved him off. "Don't thank me, I'm only saying yes because Bradley mentioned fleecing Jake."

"A woman after my own heart," Bradley stated. Whenever anyone managed to bring Jake Seresin down to earth, it was a good time. Especially since it didn't happen too often. The slick bastard was annoyingly excellent at just about everything.

"Thanks, Mom." Amelia raced around the bar to give Penny a big hug.

"Do not make me regret this."

"Best behavior all night, I swear," Amelia promised, then cocked her head at Bradley. "We should get in some practice."

"Fine, but we're playing for pretzels today." He wasn't in the mood to spill any secrets — she knew too many already.

"Lame," Amelia countered. "But I guess it'll do."

Penny started unpacking the case of Bud into the cooler. "I swear, if she winds up becoming a professional poker player —"

Mav closed a hand over one of hers and gently squeezed. "You'll love and support her, just like you do now."

"I hate that you're right," Penny sighed.

"But you love me," Mav stated, although Bradley could hear the question under it. It still amazed him sometimes, that someone as cocksure and confident as Mav was up in the air could be so insecure when it came to people. Uncle Ice was probably the least complicated relationship Mav had ever had, and even their friendship had — to hear them tell it — started off contentiously.

"Oh, Pete, like I could ever do anything else." Penny cupped Mav's cheek and leaned across the bar, meeting Mav's smiling kiss halfway. And, well, if anyone had earned the right to a little bit of sappiness, it was the two of them.

Bradley and Amelia watched the display for a moment. "So gross," Amelia sighed, fondly.

"The grossest," Bradley agreed, and pulled her in for a one-armed squeeze.

***

The night of the game, Phoenix and Bob were the first to arrive at The Hard Deck, Bob trailing in Phoenix's shadow the way he always did (not that Bradley blamed him — Phoenix was a force of nature with the gravitational pull of a hurricane). Phoenix gave Bradley and Amelia a hug, while Bob hung back and waved at the group.

Bradley nodded his way. "Good to see you, Bob."

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose, and ducked his head. "I, uh, didn't exactly have a choice."

"Don't listen to him." Phoenix bumped her shoulder against Bob's. "He wants to see Hangman's humiliation as much as the rest of us."

"Wow, no pressure on the kid or anything." Bradley glanced at Amelia. "You know, you can still call it a night and go home with your mom, if you want."

The look she gave him in return was a masterclass in both disappointment and derision. "Are you kidding? I've trained my entire life for this moment."

Phoenix beamed at her. "I knew I liked you best for a reason."

Penny and Mav walked in from the back room. She tossed Mav the bar keys; he caught them effortlessly. "Clean up before you lock up, and you will have Amelia home by midnight on the dot, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mav agreed. "Everyone good with pizza while we wait for Seresin?"

"Mushroom and cheese only, please," Amelia requested.

"You got it," Mav told her. "Anyone else?"

Phoenix and Bob exchanged a glance. "Pepperoni and sausage for us."

Mav looked at Bradley. "Wanna split a Hawaiian with jalapeno?"

Suddenly, Bradley was back at the tiny living area of Mav's old studio apartment in Balboa Park, a half-eaten pizza from Luigi's between them on the floor as they played Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat until the wee hours of the morning. He hadn't allowed himself to think about those nights in a long long time, but they were some of the best memories he had from his childhood.

Maybe it was time for a rematch — there had to be an old-school arcade around that had either game, right? Or maybe he could bring his PS5 to Mav's some night and throw down the proverbial gauntlet.

"Absolutely," he replied.

Phoenix made a face at Mav. "And you complain about Rooster's terrible taste in food? Really, sir?"

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Bradley said, bumping her shoulder.

"No thank you."

"Order a salad, too," Penny called out, as Mav stepped away from the group to phone in the order. He gave a thumbs up in reply.

"Game of nine-ball while we wait?" Phoenix asked.

"Sure," Bradley said. He was in for a long night of humiliation anyway. May as well get started early.

***

The pizza had just arrived when Jake strolled in, wearing a white polo that offset his tan and a pair of black jeans that hugged his thighs and ass. He looked, as he always did, like every wet dream Bradley'd had during puberty. A modern-day Adonis, radiant and flawless and far too beautiful to be a mere mortal.

Of course, the illusion of perfection — and Bradley's attraction to those thighs and that ass — tended to last only as long as it took for Jake to open his mouth and ruin it. But Jake wouldn't be the first person Bradley had ever wanted to simultaneously strangle with their own dog tags and fuck into the mattress so hard they forgot their own name. And honestly, what did it say about him, that cocky, mouthy, athletic types were his kink? If he ever went in for therapy, he was sure his shrink would have a fucking field day.

"Evening," Jake drawled. He nodded politely at everyone, but the smile he gave Penny was crooked and genuine. "Penny, my love, thank you for the invite."

"Don't thank me." She jerked her thumb Bradley's way. "It was Rooster's idea."

"Was it, now." Jake raked his gaze over Bradley; he smiled again, slow and wide, but now it had a tenor to it Bradley couldn't quite place. "I didn't know we were at the hanging-out part of our relationship yet."

Bradley, for once, was in too good of a mood to rise to the obvious bait. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I can still surprise you." He jerked a thumb at the table with the pizza. "Wanna slice?"

Jake gave him another inscrutable look, but shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Penny stuck around for dinner (mostly, Bradley was sure, to make sure Amelia ate some of the salad), then left, kissing everyone on the cheek (Nat in particular was delighted by Bob's blushing reaction to it) and admonishing them to behave. Mav waited until the front door was closed and locked behind her before motioning to everyone to take their seats at the table, which was already set up with two decks of cards and a case filled with red and green poker chips.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the rules for the evening are as follows." Mav waited a beat to make sure he had everyone's undivided attention before continuing. "We're playing basic draw poker, deuces wild, with a truth or dare ante. Everyone will receive five of each chip to start, with red chips representing a truth, and green chips a dare."

"A what now?" Jake asked, the space between his brows wrinkling. (He managed to make it look attractive, too, which was blatant cheating.)

"Think truth or dare, but with poker," Bradley told him. "We promised Penny no money bets, and this is what Amelia came up with as an alternative."

Jake frowned at Amelia, like he was trying to figure her out. (Good luck with that, Bradley thought — all women were riddles, but there was a special layer of mystery when it came to teenage girls.) She just smiled benignly back at Jake in classic Mona Lisa fashion. "You in or not?" she asked, a shade too sweetly.

"Oh, I'm in," Jake replied. "In fact, I'm looking forward to making everyone tell me their deepest, darkest secrets."

Phoenix scoffed. "Your arrogance hasn't changed a bit."

"And why would it?" Jake spread his hands out wide and leaned back in his seat. "What good's modesty when you're me?"

Bradley shook his head, even though he privately agreed. If he looked like Jake, he'd probably be an egotistical dickhead too.

Even though Bradley had to admit, just to himself, that Jake had been better of late — more open, not quite as abrasive, not trying so hard to make himself the center of attention. He hadn't even tried to use saving Bradley and Mav's lives as an excuse to be an insufferable asshole. And maybe the two of them would never be what anyone would call friends, but it was nice that they could at least be around each other now without Bradley wanting to punch Jake's stupidly attractive face.

Although, a little bit of friendly ribbing was still to be expected.

"As my mom used to say, your ego keeps writing checks your body can't cash," Bradley told him.

Jake put a hand to his heart and honest-to-fucking-God fluttered his eyelashes. "Well, son, I'm just flattered you've been paying attention to my body."

You make it hard not to — the words were on the tip of his tongue, but by some miracle, Bradley managed to keep them to himself.

"Wow," Phoenix muttered; Bradley couldn't tell if she was horrified or annoyed, although it was probably a mixture of both, knowing her.

"Why don't we all focus on the game instead," Mav suggested, drawing everyone's attention, thankfully, back to him. "After the draw, there will be one more round of betting, where you can raise a truth or a dare, and then we will proceed directly to the showdown. The person with the winning hand collects all the chips in the pot and gets to ask the questions or request the dares.

"All questions must be answered honestly, and all dares must be given immediately. You cannot dare anyone to do anything that would get them arrested or in trouble with their CO or chain of command. You also cannot dare anyone to do anything that would be inappropriate for a fifteen-year-old to witness. If any of these rules are broken, you will be permanently banned from The Hard Deck and I will make it my personal mission to see to it that you are stationed at Great Mistakes for your next rotation, and that the only thing you will be flying is a simulator. Are we understood?"

"Yessir," everyone answered, more or less in unison.

"Good." Then Mav grinned. "And since this was Phoenix's idea, she gets to deal first."

She rubbed her hands together. "One final note. What's said or done here stays here. We agreed?"

The group nodded. She quickly shuffled and dealt, and everyone ante'd in — Bob and Jake with a dare, Bradley, Amelia, Mav and Phoenix with a truth. They called and each discard and drew more cards — not that it helped Bradley at all. He couldn't even pretend like he had a decent hand. Which was just his luck. He'd been hoping for a chance to break the ice by asking Jake something dumb and embarrasing.

"Check," Phoenix said.

"Fold," Bob said, and Bradley also folded, tossing his cards into the pile.

"Check," Mav said.

"Check," Jake said.

"Check," Amelia said.

"Alright, let's see 'em." Phoenix laid down her cards. "Pair of aces."

Jake just tsked. "Sorry, ma'am, much as I hate beating a lady — "

"Bullshit —"

"Gonna have to take you down," Jake said, turning his cards over. Two pair, fours and sevens.

Mav made a thoughtful noise. "I wouldn't count your winnings just yet," he said, and fanned his cards out. Three fives.

"Not bad," Amelia admitted. (Bradley knew that tone, but kept his mirth to himself.) Then she laid down her hand — nine, ten, a deuce for the jack, queen, king — and smirked.

Mav leaned back, snagging his glass of rye on the way. He held it up in a toast. "Well played, Melly."

He sounded more than a little smug, especially for someone who'd lost the hand. But, of course, it still made sense, since he and Uncle Ice had been the ones to teach Amelia the game, and was probably basking in his mentorship or whatever. (Bradley also remembered that Mav and Uncle Ice had taught him to play poker, too; but clearly something hadn't stuck, because Bradley wasn't nearly as good as Amelia, and he was man enough to admit it.)

"I thought this was supposed to be a friendly game," Bob said, glancing around at everyone in confusion.

Jake snorted. "Bob, there isn't a more competitive bunch in the world than naval aviators."

"Amen to that," Phoenix said, and knocked her bottle of Miller Lite against Jake's.

"So, first things first." Amelia cleared her throat. "Jake, I dare you to not talk about yourself for the rest of the night."

Phoenix high-fived Amelia as Jake rolled his eyes. "Very funny," he said. "But fine, I accept your terms."

"Great. Nat, what's your favorite flower?"

"Seriously?" Bradley asked. "You're freaking giving her a softball?"

Amelia shrugged. "If you don't like my questions, try winning a hand."

Jake chuckled as Phoenix patted Bradley on the back. "Have I mentioned I love this kid?" she said. "And sunflowers are nice. Very cheerful."

Amelia then cast a sidelong glance at Mav. "You and Ice totally boned at least once, didn't you?"

Mav coughed up his mouthful of whiskey. "I'm sorry?"

Amelia didn't so much as blink. "You heard me."

Bradley narrowed his eyes, and studied Mav. Studied the way he had gone completely still, except for the telltale tic in his jaw. "Oh my God, she's right, isn't she?" he breathed, stunned to his core. "Does Aunt Sarah know? Does Penny?"

"Jesus." Mav tilted his head back like he was praying, then let out a long breath. "This does not leave this table," he stated, quiet, but everyone could hear the steel underneath it. "I may not be your commanding officer anymore, but trust me, my retribution will be swift and merciless if I even think any of you have said anything."

He waited for everyone at the table to verbally agree before he looked across the table at Amelia. "I want to make a few things very clear," he started. "I love your mother, very much, and have for a very long time. And Ice loved Sarah — from the moment he met her until the day he died."

"I know he did," Amelia quietly replied. "And I know you love Mom. But you and Ice loved each other, too, didn't you?"

Mav's smile was heart-breakingly gentle. "Yeah, Melly, we did."

"Hol-ee shit," Jake muttered, then grunted when Phoenix elbowed him in the ribs. Bradley kept his mouth shut, but he agreed with Jake. Holy shit, indeed.

Although, man, this explained so much about how Mav had been able to get away with some of the stunts he'd pulled over the years. And why he'd never been drummed out of the Navy in spite of them. Banging a four-star admiral had to have its privileges (and, nope nope nope, not thinking about that either).

"Look, things were different back when Ice and I met." Mav spun his glass in circles, but didn't pick it up. "This was even before Don't Ask Don't Tell. This was back when you could get court-martialed for any sort of same-sex relations. Even the rumor of it could derail your career or get you dishonorably discharged. And Ice had ambitions. And I wanted to keep flying fighter jets. So we kept it quiet."

"So, wait, you two essentially Brokeback'd it for decades?" Jake asked.

Mav's brows furrowed. "Not following."

"The lead characters were both closeted and married, and snuck away from their wives once or twice a year to go on camping trips with each other. It was the only time they could let themselves be together," Phoenix explained.

Mav's back snapped ramrod straight. "We didn't sneak," he retorted, insulted. "And we weren't closeted. Well, not to our loved ones. Penny and Sarah knew. So did Carole."

"You never told me," Bradley reminded him.

"I was going to when you turned eighteen. And then, well, you know what happened." Mav shrugged. "I never got the chance."

Bradley hummed, but conceded the point. "Fair enough."

"Anyway, all I'm trying to say is, what Ice and I had together — our arrangement — it was enough for us. And I don't regret anything about our relationship or the time I had with him."

"That's all that matters," Bob said, softly.

"Well, I think it's beautiful," Jake added. "You both found a way to make things work — not everyone can say that."

Bradley narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't find any trace of sarcasm in Jake's tone or body language. In fact, if he had to put a name to it, he could swear Jake sounded almost envious. Which was absurd — Jake had always been the type to pride himself on not needing anyone.

"Thank you, Jake," Mav replied, with a wistful smile, and Bradley made a note to himself to ask about the relationship again when he and Mav were alone. Mav clearly had stories about Uncle Ice he wanted to share, and Bradley wanted to hear every single one of them.

They'd wasted enough time.

Phoenix won the next hand (Bob was the only one dumb enough to not fold — she dared him to say something mean about someone, and the best the poor guy could manage was that Cyclone had a giant stick up his ass, which was more the plain truth than anything else), then Mav won the next hand after everyone folded except Jake and Bradley.

(He'd been so sure he'd gotten the better of Mav, too, but that's what he got for thinking.)

"Hangman."

Jake's shoulders straightened to parade rest. "Yessir."

Mav tilted his head and studied Jake for the longest time in that intense way he had, like he could see right into your core. (To his credit, Jake didn't flinch.) "I think you already know what I'm going to ask you to do," he finally said.

"Yessir, I do," Jake replied, tipping his bottle Mav's way. Then he twisted in his seat and looked at Bradley, so attentively it was like they were the only two people in all of existence. "I am truly sorry for what I said about your dad that day, Rooster. It was a dick move, and I have no excuse for it, and I regret saying it."

Bradley blinked. Blinked again. He felt like he was having some sort of out-of-body experience or something, because there was no way this was real. Hangman offering up a well-spoken and sincere apology? There had to be a catch.

But those too-pretty green eyes didn't waver, and Jake didn't so much as shift in his seat; belatedly, Bradley realized the other man was waiting for a response. "I, uh...apology accepted?" he offered, still confused as fuck, but willing to give Jake the benefit of the doubt.

Jake's shoulders relaxed, so he must have said the right thing. But Bradley still couldn't figure out why Mav had wanted Jake to apologize in the first place, and how Jake had known that was what Mav had meant. Clearly the two of them must've had some sort of private talk in the last few weeks.

"You ready for your truth, Bradley?"

Bradley put Jake's puzzling behavior out of his mind and made a c'mon motion with his hands. "Spit it out, old man."

The grooves around Mav's mouth deepened. "Tell me what really happened the day you totaled your mom's Corolla."

Bradley's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Of all the goddamn questions Mav could have picked, he just had to go for one of the most mortifying moments of Bradley's life.

"Well, this sounds like a story," Phoenix said, looking delighted. Jake just cupped his chin in his hands and gave Bradley an expectant look.

"How old were you?" Bob asked, curious.

"Seventeen," Bradley answered, glaring daggers at Mav. Who just winked at him, like the bastard he was.

"You totaled your mom's car?" Amelia asked, sounding scandalized and intrigued in equal measure.

"I sure did, Lindy," Bradley told her, then sighed. "I can't believe you want to rehash this, Mav. It's been close to sixteen years."

"Confession is good for the soul. Or so I've heard," Mav replied, and took another sip of his drink.

"Fine," Bradley muttered. He could already feel the blush creep across the back of his neck. He took a large swig from his beer bottle to give himself a moment. "But I'm getting my revenge one way or another."

"I expect nothing less."

Phoenix lifted an eyebrow. "You're stalling."

That he was, and damn her for calling him out on it.

"What'd you tell your mom and Captain Mitchell?" Bob asked. "About what happened to the car, I mean."

Mav swallowed another mouthful of rye. "What he told us was, he was dropping a friend off after football practice, and the person in front of him slammed on their brakes, so he tried to swerve and wound up in a ditch. But I never bought it. The accident report never mentioned another car."

Jake cocked his head. "So what really happened?"

Bradley continued to scowl at Mav, who just patiently stared back at him like he'd be content to wait all night — and honestly, this was what he got for playing cards with Mav and Amelia, when he'd known better. This was his own fault.

He groaned, then caved. Total honesty, right? "Shannon Moseley was giving me a blowjob and I swerved off the road and plowed right into the ditch when I came."

The silence that followed was the longest ten seconds Bradley could remember.

Then Jake started clapping, over Phoenix's bright burst of laughter and Bob's embarrassed chuckle. "Bravo, son, bravo."

"Fuck off, Seresin."

Jake just grinned that much wider. "I'm serious, totaling your mom's car because some chick was wetting your wick is not what I would have expected from studious, follow-the-rules, Rooster Bradshaw."

"Shannon was a guy," Bradley mumbled, his face completely aflame now.

"I'm sorry?"

Well, this wasn't how he'd planned on coming out to his squad, but he'd already dug himself in this deep. What was a little more humiliation? "Shannon was a guy. My high school's star wide receiver, in fact." Cocky, mouthy, and athletic — Bradley's type to a tee.

"Huh," Jake mused, his brows drawn tight together.

For some reason, seeing it riled Bradley right back up. "You got a problem with that?"

Jake held his hands up. "No problem."

Phoenix pointed her beer at Mav. "What happened to keeping things age-appropriate for Amelia?"

"If I'd known that the real story involved blowjobs, I wouldn't have asked, trust me," Mav replied, with a rueful twist of his lips.

"Serves you right for asking," Bradley retorted.

"Please," Amelia scoffed, "that's not even the worst story Gallo's told me himself about his high school days."

"Oh." Jake put his elbows on the table and leveled his most charming smile Amelia's way. (It was a very charming smile.) "Do tell."

Amelia handed him the deck of cards. "Win a hand, and I just might."

"Sounds like a challenge to me," Bob commented, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Well, shit, now I want Jake to win," Phoenix huffed.

"I'll try not to let it go to my head," Jake drawled, with a wink.

By tacit agreement, everyone sat out the next hand except Jake and Amelia. Jake concentrated on his cards with the sort of intensity Bradley had only ever seen him employ while flying, and Amelia looked as studious as she always did. And even though Bradley wasn't looking forward to more of his secrets getting spilled to the group, familial obligation had him rooting for Amelia anyway.

Which was why, when Jake laid down three queens, Bradley groaned in disappointment.

(In retrospect, he should have known Amelia had the proverbial ace up her sleeve.)

"Read 'em and weep," Jake said.

"That's cute, but no," Amelia replied, and fanned out her cards — three kings.

"Son of a bitch," Jake whistled, half-admiration, half-annoyed. (Bradley knew how he felt.)

Amelia set her chin in her hands, gazing at Jake. "You ready for your question?"

Jake tipped his chair back on two legs and gave her a frankly (if anyone was to ask Bradley) condescending smirk. "Lay it on me, little lady."

The corners of Amelia's mouth turned up. Poor Jake, Bradley thought. He was in for it. But not even Bradley was prepared for her question.

"When did you realize you were in love with Bradley?"

"What?!" Bradley exclaimed —

— at the same moment Jake lost his balance and tipped over, toppling on his ass.

Phoenix and Bob waited a beat to make sure Jake was okay, then started laughing. Amelia sat back with a very smug look on her face, Mav stood and offered Jake a hand up to his feet, and Bradley? Well, he didn't think he could move if the bar was on fucking fire.

What the hell was Amelia even talking about? The very idea that Jake was in love with him was laughable.

Wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Amelia waited until Jake was back in his chair before speaking. "That wasn't an answer, you know."

Jake chuckled weakly, his eyes darting around the table. "Come on, you don't really expect —"

"I just told everyone about my secret relationship with the COMPACFLT of the fucking Navy, Jake," Mav quietly said. "I think you can answer the question."

"Last hand you won, you dared me not to talk about myself for the rest of the night," Jake argued, crossing his arms.

"Truths always trump dares, I thought you knew that." Amelia rolled her eyes. "But fine, if you want to get technical about it, I'll make an exception to my dare so you can answer."

"And you did promise to answer honestly," Phoenix added, with what was far too much glee for any one person.

Jake's gaze flickered to Bradley, then skittered away. "Fine, but the only person I'm telling is Bradshaw."

Amelia shrugged. "Okay."

None of this, Bradley realized, was a denial. He swallowed, his throat bone dry, his pulse fluttering wildly, his breathing shallow and way too fast.

No one said anything for a moment. "Wait, you mean now? I have to do it now?" Jake asked, when Amelia made no move to pick up the deck of cards.

"You agreed to the rules of the game," Amelia reminded him. "So yeah, hotshot. Chop chop." She clapped her hands to drive the point home.

Jake sighed, then stood, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "Are you coming or not?"

Belatedly, Bradley realized Jake was actually talking to him. "Uh, yeah, uh..."

He wobbled up on legs he couldn't even feel, and followed Jake outside to the empty stretch of beach. It was a beautiful night, clear and cool, with the moon shining down on the ocean and the waves washing gently onto the shore. But Bradley couldn't concentrate on any of it.

He coughed, his voice coming out as a croak. "You know, uh, you don't have to say any —"

"Just shut up, alright. Shut up," Jake repeated, even though Bradley hadn't argued.

Instead, he watched Jake watching the waves, and waited. Studied Jake's sharp cheekbones and strong jawline, and tried to figure out just what the hell he was feeling. He felt like he had climbing out of that mountain of the enemy camp, all light-headed and foggy from the lack of oxygen to his brain.

"That girl of yours is way too smart for her own good."

Bradley nodded, but kept quiet.

"The truth is, Bradley, I've been in love with you since OCS," Jake said, and Bradley didn't even have time to process the enormity of that statement before Jake continued: "You were so serious, so determined to prove yourself, and that kind of drive fueled me on, made me want to show what I could do, show off to you and our COs and the entire fucking Navy."

He huffed out a quiet laugh. "And then I got to see you in action. And the way you flew — it was like you had an entire mountain on your shoulder you were trying to shake loose with some of the maneuvers you pulled. But you were also so goddamn cautious, like you were scared of all the power you had up there. And man, it used to piss me off so much, because when you forgot to be careful, you owned the skies like a goddamn god."

Jake finally twisted his head so he was looking right at Bradley. For the first time Bradley could remember, there was no barrier of arrogance or contempt between them. "I used to wonder why it made me so mad, because what the fuck did I care if you were up there wasting your potential — more glory for me, right? And then it hit me one day that I wanted to see you soar because I'd finally found someone who could match me on the ground and up in the air. And I'd been looking for that my whole fucking life."

"Jake..." Bradley trailed off. He had no idea what to say. How to act. It was almost like he was back in his F-18 again, with Phoenix's voice in his ear (I repeat, Dagger One is hit! Maverick is down), wrestling with himself over whether to go back to the carrier or circle around to search for Mav. Like any move he made would be the wrong one.

"It was easier to push you away than sit with that," Jake was saying. "So that's what I did. And I probably would have kept on doing it if that little card shark of yours back there hadn't thrown down the gauntlet."

Suddenly, Bradley knew his next step. Could see it as clear as day. If this was the universe giving him a sign to get off his perch and act, then Bradley was listening. He was more grateful to Amelia than he could articulate, even in his head. God, he owed her for a lifetime.

From his pocket, he drew out one of the red chips. "I'm gonna go ahead and call it," he said, and folded the chip into Jake's hand, closing his fingers over it. "You won the hand. Ask me anything."

Jake swallowed. "I don't need your pity —"

"Jake. Ask me."

"Shit." Jake let out a shaky breath. "Alright, yeah, fine. Here goes nothing. Do you think, I don't know, maybe, that you might want to go out sometime? On a date? I know I've been an asshole and I know you've got no reason to trust me, but I'm taking my shot anyway."

"Thank you for being honest," Bradley replied, solemnly. "That took balls."

Jake's shoulders drooped. "But you're not interested, I get it."

"I didn't say that." Bradley stepped in closer to cradle both sides of Jake's stupid, beautiful, perfectly chiseled face. He took a second to savor the surprise and uncertainty in Jake's eyes, then closed the distance and kissed him with every bit of pent-up passion and pique he had in his system, exactly the way he'd been dying to for the past ten years.

Jake grabbed Bradley's shoulders with a low groan that went right to Bradley's dick, and pulled them so close a molecule couldn't fit between them. He returned the kiss with total enthusiasm and an unholy amount of skill. Within seconds, Bradley was so hard he was light-headed. Goddamn, Jake's tongue.

If Jake was this good at just kissing, Bradley was never letting him leave the fucking bed.

"That answer your question?" he asked, when they broke apart for much-needed air.

Jake grinned, his lips reddened and slick; Bradley couldn't stop staring. "About whether you want to date me, no," he said, grinding his hips obscenely against Bradley's. "About whether you want a piece of me, well, I got the memo on that loud and clear."

And, well, Jake was always going to be Jake — arrogant and fearless and mouthy as shit. Lucky for him, Bradley still had a weakness for cocky assholes with a (very well-hidden) heart of gold.

"You're such a dick," Bradley groaned, diving back in for another hard, heartfelt kiss.

"And it is an excellent dick, if I do say so myself," Jake murmured, breathless and way too much temptation for anyone to resist. (Not that Bradley was trying.) "I can't wait to introduce you to it properly."

"I can't either." Bradley shifted a little so they were slotted perfectly together. "And the answer's yes to both, by the way. To the date and the sex."

"Glad to hear it," Jake answered, then pulled Bradley back to him, their lips meeting yet again.

***

Twenty minutes later, when Bradley and Jake walked back into the bar, grinning like loons and both of them sporting stubble burn, it was to find Phoenix and Bob playing darts, Amelia grabbing a soft drink from behind the bar, and Mav still sitting at the table, checking his phone. Everyone looked up when they stepped inside.

"You two get everything talked out?" Mav asked, his voice light enough, but Bradley still heard the concern under it. Still protective, still looking out, no matter that Bradley was a grown-ass adult. But these days, Bradley found it comforting. There was someone in the world who knew him at his best and worst, and loved him anyway.

"You could say that," he replied, with a small shrug.

"Not sure how much talking was involved —"

"Jake, come on, Rooster's like my brother," Phoenix groaned.

Amelia wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, don't make this weird."

"No details, I promise." Jake held his hands up placatingly. "Just wanted to let you know I honored my end of the bet."

Amelia gave a solemn nod in return, like she was giving her blessing. Bradley let out an inward sigh of relief at seeing it. Logically, he knew Amelia never would have brought the subject up if she hated the idea of him and Jake getting together, but — as he was well aware — logic and emotions tended to be strangers where he was concerned.

"You want anything to drink?" Bradley asked. He didn't know about Jake, but all that making out had left him dehydrated as hell.

Jake grinned, like he could sense Bradley's thoughts. "Sure, I'll have another beer."

Bradley headed behind the bar, and nudged Amelia's shoulder as he fished two more Miller Lites from the ice.

"That was low of you, by the way," he muttered, quiet enough only she could hear.

"You're welcome, by the way," Amelia smugly replied, and he couldn't say she hadn't earned it.

"How'd you even know?"

"Please, anyone who's seen Jake around you knows he's been trying every trick in the book to get you to notice him."

"By being an arrogant prick?"

"Never said he was smart about it, but that's men for you," she replied, with a long-suffering sigh that belied her tender years.

He let out a low laugh. "So how'd you guess about Mav and Uncle Ice?"

She finished filling her glass, nose wrinkling as she studied Mav. "Maybe they hid it better around you when you were a kid, but as long as I can remember, it was pretty obvious that they were more than friends."

"I guess I missed a lot," Bradley mused, regretting, yet again, how much time his and Mav's estrangement had cost them.

She patted his arm. "You had your reasons," she said. "I'd toss my dad out of an airlock if he tried to pull that crap with my college applications."

"You'd do that anyway," Bradley pointed out.

"True, but beside the point," she chuckled.

Jake came up between them and put his arms around their shoulders. "And just what mischief are you two plotting?"

Bradley and Amelia exchanged a glance — a question on Amelia's part, an answer on Bradley's. (And man, did he love that he and Amelia could have these silent conversations now.) "Nothing much," Bradley answered, taking the opportunity to breathe Jake in. High-octane fuel and sea salt and sweat — one helluva combo. Bradley was already addicted. "Just trying to decide what song we were gonna make you sing at the next family cookout."

"The...wait, what?" Jake looked between them, confused. "What cookout? What song?"

"Bradshaw-Mitchell-Benjamin family tradition, Jake," Amelia continued, with a sunny smile. "If it's your first time at the family cookout, you have to serenade us with a song."

"That's not...you're just making that up. Captain Mitchell," Jake called, over his shoulder, "they're making this up, right? Sir?"

Mav didn't even look up from his phone. "What they failed to mention is we get to pick the song. I'm thinking Bowie. What do you think, Bradley?"

"Rebel Rebel would be just the ticket."

Bob cleared his throat. "How would one get invited to that family cookout? Asking for a friend."

Phoenix patted his arm. "Don't worry, I think we're already on the list."

Mav just looked up and winked at both of them.

"Bradley, babe, you do not want me to sing."

Mav chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about your ego taking a beating, Jake. There's no way you're a worse singer than I am."

God, Bradley couldn't love the old man more if he tried. Thank you, he mouthed, and was rewarded with one of Mav's soft, private smiles.

Amelia clapped Jake on the chest. "I'll text you the dance routine, too," she said, and walked back to the table.

"Dance routine?" Jake's eyes went as round as saucers. "She's kidding. Please tell me she's kidding."

Bradley pressed a kiss to Jake's lips, just because he could. He got to kiss Jake whenever he wanted, and wasn't that the biggest trip and a half. "Welcome to the family," he said, and laughed at Jake's answering blush.

***