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Birthday Cakes
For most, birthdays are a magical time. A time for celebration and love. For Bradley, birthdays are difficult. Little pesky reminders each year that the two incredible people who brought him into this world are gone. It’s a day filled with loneliness and longing. So, since around age 18, he stopped celebrating them altogether. What’s the point?
Until Nat, that is. Each year since they’d met, she’d show up at midnight, whether it was allowed or not (he’s still not sure how she managed to pull it off) with a birthday cake and a candle. She’d whisper or shout, depending on the audience and location, happy birthday with her smirky smile glowing in the soft candlelight, patiently waiting for him to blow out the flame and make a wish. A wish he used to carelessly waste.
At first, her visits were innocent. Unexpected. As if he couldn’t yet trust she’d always return. Scared to trust these little rays of light and hope peeking through on an otherwise dark day. As the years and their relationship progressed, shifted, so did his feelings about his birthday. It soon became one of his favorite days he looked forward to each year, if not just for the distinct privilege of knowing he was the single focus of her entire universe at that moment.
Even now, some 10 plus years later, married and with a baby on the way, she’s holding a cake at midnight, candle and all. Her radiant smile and rounded belly on full display, making him feel like that lonely Academy boy who opened the door for the first time, blinded by electric light and fulfilled wishes. He places his hands on her stomach. A wish, one of many, granted.
Happy Birthday to him. Every. Single. Day.
Grief
Switching off his desk lamp, Bradley notes the time. Damn it’s late. He’d been up way too long studying. Rubbing his eyes and trying to work the kinks out of his back, he hears a knock at the door. Wondering who could be stopping by when it was lights out hours ago, he opens his door to a visibly distraught Nat.
Tears silently track down her face and her lips quiver, as if frozen on words she can’t bring herself to utter. Refuses to, with that steely hardness she possesses behind her pain.
“Nat?”
Façade cracking, Nat rushes into his arms and Bradley catches her before she goes boneless.
Alarm bells go off in his head. He’s never seen her this deeply emotional, clearly effected and haunted by something. Nat’s usually the rock, the stoic one between the two. Bradley knows whatever the reason, it must be grave, and a massive pit forms in his stomach. No matter, though, he’s honored she chose him. Despite the circumstances that brought her here, he knows this is a whole new level to their relationship, as she’s letting him in. Her vulnerability and sadness, the most delicate and bittersweet of gifts.
Bradley quickly scoops her little body into his arms and closes the door behind him. Cradling her, he sits back on his bed and lets her sob into his shirt. Hoping like hell she’ll steal strength and fortitude from him. Shit. She could take anything and everything he had. Take it all, if it meant he could hold her like this.
He’s not sure how long they sit like that, time irrelevant, his shirt completely soaked and his arms going numb, but he’ll wait for eternity and suffer endless pain for her. If it means he can be here for her like she’s been countless times for him. More than he can ever repay her for.
Slowly Nat raises her head and the sadness reflected in her dark bottomless eyes makes his breath halt in his chest.
Wiping her tears with his thumbs, he tries to infuse comfort into her with his touch.
“My grandpa died,” she quietly whispers. As if saying it out loud will unleash new pain at this cruelest of life’s lessons.
“I’m so sorry,” he softly says. Knowing the uselessness of those words, how feeble yet commonly said. Words he’s heard countless times over the years.
Nat nods and closes her eyes, as if trying to escape from reality. A reality he knows all too well. An escape he’s tried and failed at, many times.
Tightening his hold on her, she turns and buries her head into his neck.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just hold me,” she says and digs in deeper.
“Always,” he whispers back.
Always.
Learning to Surf
“This is where you live?” Nat says with more than a hint of wonder and excitement. Contagious even, seeing it through her eyes.
Amazing how something old. Mundane. Expected. Sad. Can suddenly become New. Extraordinary. Exciting. Happy. And shiny again when someone else casts a new glow upon it.
That’s Nat. Always casting light on all the dark corners of his life. Even on the ones with ugly cobwebs and sinister ghosts. But she’s Nat. Incandescent.
Terrifying really. He’s used to the dark. The light is so bright. So unfamiliar.
“It’s one of two houses I have from my mom’s estate. There’s my childhood home in Texas and this was our vacation spot. Our Texas home has been in her family for years, but this place.” He stops and looks around. “It was a little slice of heaven for her. Funny. It’s really the gateway to heaven now, as it’s the only place I feel closest to her,” he ends on a shrug.
Nat walks up and takes his hands in hers, “Thank you for bringing me here.”
The honesty in her eyes is slightly unsettling. He’s not used to letting someone in.
They’ve been trying this dating thing for the last few weeks since graduating the Academy. They are on break before heading to flight school, and he wanted to share his favorite place with her. Stupid, knowing it’s not the most interesting place, but it really meant something to him to bring her to a place where he truly felt like she was meeting his mom. The two most important ladies in his life getting acquainted.
Selfishly, and because he’s a red-blooded man, he was also hoping to spend some uninterrupted time with her. A rare commodity.
Nat walks out the back doors and takes in the ocean. The waves strong and showing off today. Even the ocean likes her, he thinks.
Nat’s hair whips in the wind, and she tilts her face up into the sunlight. She raises her arms and spins in a little circle, her smile brighter than any light from Mother Nature. Damn, she’s beautiful echoes in his head not for the first time, and he becomes lost in the sight of her unencumbered joy.
“This is incredible!” She turns and beams at him. Unleashing all kinds of unexpected and unnerving full-body emotions from him.
Nat spots something in the distance and asks with a raised eyebrow, “Is that a surfboard?!”
“Sure is,” he says, treating her to his Texas drawl.
Hey now. A reminder of a long forgotten fantasy of his coming to the forefront.
Cocking her head as if reading his thoughts, Nat asks, “Teach me?”
Shaking his head, he smiles. One he’s sure could rival hers.
How about that, Mom?
Perfect. She is perfect, he swears he hears whispered in his ear.
Mustache Ask You
Bradley started to grow the infamous mustache during flight school.
He’s not sure of its origin, to be completely honest. Many think it’s an ode to his dad, a Goose salute, but truth be told, he actually likes it. Either way, it’s been a staple for years now.
Nat wasn’t the biggest fan at first, knowing him as the fresh baby-faced cadet he was. In its infancy, she’d stare at it like it was an interloper, clearly conflicted by its presence, and furrow her brow like it would scamper away like most do when caught in her missile lock. As it grew, it morphed into an annoying tickle machine that would often come between them when they’d kiss, her laugh sometimes dampening the mood. But over the years she’s come to love it and, dare he say, enjoys it?
Bradley’s never really placed much stock in his looks. He knows he’s an attractive guy, and he’s confident enough to know his worth. He puts many hours in at the gym or logs miles on his running shoes, working hard to maintain his body, as the job demands they stay in peak physical health. So, he knows he’s doing okay. More than okay if his girlfriend’s satisfied smile in anything to go by.
But lately, there have been moments. Moments of doubt.
Since being at TOPGUN he’s been endlessly bagged on by the Bagman himself, Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Every chance he gets, Seresin is poking fun at him. The common theme? His “grandpa style” as he so cleverly dubbed it. At least Jake thinks it’s clever. Bradley just wants to cold-clock him.
Normally, he’d let his dipshit childish antics roll off his back. But lately, they aren’t rolling, and they’re sticking like annoying prickly burrs. The kind that no matter how hard you try, they break off into a million little pieces. Jake’s like that. A million little pricks.
And Bradley knows exactly why. It’s all because of her. His girlfriend. Secret girlfriend to be exact. She’s here at flight school with him, and it’s getting increasingly harder to ignore her as such, and witness Jake’s incessant flirting.
How Bradley would love to walk up and lay one on Nat, just to see Jake’s smug face fall. Poetic justice.
Listen, he trusts Nat. Make no mistake. It’s just he sees how clean cut and, he’ll never admit it out loud, how perfect Seresin’s conceited face is. And he wonders if maybe, just perhaps Nat, might prefer it too. You’d have to be blind not to notice how attractive the prick is.
So, after a day of not so great flying and exiting his plane to see Jake making Nat laugh in the distance, Bradley does something drastic that night.
He shaves.
When he walks into the classroom the following morning, Nat’s pen drops from her hand with a deafening, thunk. Her eyes wide as saucers. Her silent reaction, louder than the jet engines roaring outside.
“Holy. Shit. Rooster plucked his feathers,” he hears. Fucking Jake. Of course, he’s got something to say.
Before Bradley can say anything to retaliate, their instructor calls them to attention, thankfully extinguishing the uncomfortable spotlight. But he can still feel all eyes on him throughout the day. It’s like the lack of mustache is a bigger eyesore and source of gossip than the actual former hairy appendage itself. Go figure.
Truth be told, he does feel a little naked. Insecure. When Nat approaches him during lunch, she cocks her head to the side, silently asking him to meet her outside the mess hall by the bathrooms.
“Bradley. What the hell,” she whisper yells once he meets her, waving a hand at his face. Uh oh. She doesn’t look happy.
Nat looks over her shoulder and pulls him into an empty classroom away from prying eyes. Namely, Jake.
Her eyes track his face as if trying to reconcile the stranger standing before her. She even barks out a laugh when she notices his upper lip is whiter than the rest of his face. An unfortunate discovery he made after it was halfway off.
“I’m…I’m not sure what to say,” she admits. He can tell Nat’s trying to tread carefully here. Girlfriend mode activated. He knows Phoenix mode would just blaze into him. He almost wishes she would. This all feels incredibly foolish.
“I just wanted a change, I guess,” he shrugs. No way is he confessing the truth.
Nat narrows her eyes.
“I don’t buy it.”
And points to his face again.
”And I don’t like it. I want it back.”
She crosses her arms. Oh. She’s pissed alright.
“You do?” flies out of his mouth unchecked, and unable to camouflage the tone of insecurity better.
Nat’s body language softens. She totally caught it. Shit.
“Oh Bradley. Is this because of Jake?”
“No…Yes. I don’t know,” he mumbles, looking away embarrassed.
Reaching up and grabbing his chin, her determined browns meet his, “You have NOTHING to worry about. I’m not stupid. I know he’s flirting, but I also know he’s doing it to push your buttons. He thinks you have a “crush” on me – his words, not mine because we both know the truth – and enjoys getting under your skin. It’s a freaking sport to him.”
“Ya, well, he’s damn good at it. And fuck, Nat. Am I that obvious around you?”
“Eh. You do like to stare at my ass a lot,” she smirks.
Fair point. He can’t help it.
“But in all seriousness – I love you. Only you. No annoying amount of flirting from Captain America is ever going to change that.”
“I know,” he says, feeling stupid. “I just thought maybe you’d prefer less grandpa style. Less lip toupee,” he smirks.
Nat leans up and kisses him. Pulling back, she wrinkles her nose.
“Nope. No. No. This feels all kinds of wrong. It’s coming back, you hear me?” she threatens.
“Now come on before someone comes looking for us.”
That night at the Hard Deck he arrives later than the rest, having had the last flight of the day. He spots Nat lining up a shot and heads towards the pool table. When she straightens and turns to face him, he can’t help but double over in laughter.
Nat’s wearing a mustache.
It’s then that he looks around and notices quite a few of his classmates and friends are sporting the ridiculous things too.
Bewildered, he looks back to his girlfriend.
She shrugs. “We mustache you grow it back,” she says, sending him a wink.
God, he loves her.
Childhood Home
“Holy shit. This is your childhood “house?!”” Nat says in air quotes.
“Really? You needed to put “house” in air quotes,” he teases.
“Absolutely, you big snob imposter,” she says on a laugh.
“It’s a family home. I don’t really use it much, but my grandparents left it to my mom and my mom to me. I thought maybe my long-lost relatives would rise from whatever rocks they crawled under during my mom's sickness, and eventually show up, but nope. It’s still mine. Uncontested, and I can’t bring myself to sell it just yet. Hell if I know why.”
Actually, he does. It’s where all the memories he has left of his mom and dad are locked up.
Nat just reaches over and squeezes his hand. She knows he doesn’t like to mention the fact that his mom came from old money. It’s always made him feel uncomfortable, knowing her family practically disowned her when she got married so young to a boy who made a career out of the military. Goose wasn’t the tycoon millionaire her parents had hoped she’d secure. Bradley never really knew his grandparents, both having died when he was a baby. And he’s kind of glad he didn’t have to if they weren’t accepting of his dad.
“It’s beautiful. Even if it’s a freaking mansion, Bradley.”
She punches his shoulder as she gets out of the car, a silent reminder to not get lost down that dark path. Nat’s good for reminding him to focus on the present and not get suckered into a past he can’t change. The present is the only thing he can control. He’s learning. Trusting. Her.
Bradley follows Nat out of the truck and walks up the front steps with his hands in his pockets, scanning as he goes. He had one of the property caretakers open up the house for them, to make it seem a little more like a home and less of a mausoleum.
Bradley opens the door to silence, but the rush of memories, from his moms tinkering voice to his dads boisterous laugh, almost bowls him over. The nostalgia so deep, he always forgets until he walks in. It’s like being visited by Bob Cratchit and ghosts of Christmas past.
He follows Nat as she wanders and takes in each room. Her silent reverence, what he needs to tamper down his conflicting emotions. He’s not really been back much since his mom's death. Its location and significance tough to visit.
They pause once they reach the kitchen, his favorite room.
Nat turns to him, “What’s your favorite memory of this place?” Her eyes alight and wandering all over.
Pausing, he smiles over all the memories that come flooding in. But one in particular stands out. Always has. It was his mom’s favorite one to tell.
“Watching my parents dancing in the kitchen. My mom would be doing the dishes and my dad would come up behind her and take her in his arms. My mom told me I’d spy on them from the stairs there.” He points to the set coming down behind her.
“My dad would play Chicago's, “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” when he’d come home from long leaves.”
The memory becoming hazy after all this time, but the wonder and fascination of witnessing a love so all consuming remains. A love never given the time it deserved.
Nat nods and reaches for his phone in his back pocket. She plucks it out with a wink, and gets to work typing away. Finding her mark, she hits play, and looks up as the sound of Chicago fills the air. She props his phone on the counter with a self-satisfied smile.
Everybody needs a little time away
I've heard her say, from each other
Even lovers need a holiday
Far away from each other
Hold me now, it's hard for me to say I'm sorry
I just want you to stay
After all that you've been through
I will make it up to you, I promise to
And after all that's been said and done
You're just the part of me, I can't let go
Ooh-ooh
“Seriously?” he smirks, looking down at her with a mixture of skepticism and adoration. The lyrics and melody calling forth stolen moments between his two biggest heroes.
“Come on. Dance with me, Bradley. Relive a memory,” Nat says as she closes the distance between them. Chest to chest, she peers up into his eyes with love shining in a way this house hasn’t seen in decades.
“Make a new one,” she whispers as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close.
Securing her hand over his rapidly beating heart, they softly move to the music.
Couldn't stand to be kept away
Just for a day, from your body
Wouldn't want to be swept away
Far away from the one that I love
Hold me now, it's hard for me to say I'm sorry
I just want you to know
Hold me now, I really want to tell you I'm sorry
I could never let you go
Swaying, they let the past and present twist and bend around them, until it is one. Bradley closes his eyes and lays his head on top of Nat’s, truly hearing and feeling the words he never gave much thought to. Realizing with an overwhelming sense of urgency what his dad must’ve felt. Never wanting to let her go. Understanding.
After all that we've been through
I will make it up to you, I promise to
And after all that's been said and done
You're just a part of me, I can't let go
After all that we've been through
I will make it up to you, I promise to
You're gonna be the lucky one
“I’m the lucky one,” he whispers into her hair.
He’s going to marry her.