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"Dad."
Mav groans, resisting the wake-up call from the lump laying on his chest. He and Bradley fell asleep on the couch last night while watching a recording of a baseball game. It was the third time they started it because they kept missing the last inning for some reason or another.
"Dad. Wake up."
"What for, B?" Mav murmurs, taking a deep breath and risking cracking on eye open. It's still dark outside, and while Mav is usually an early riser, Bradley most certainly is not. "What's up?"
Bradley moves, reaching toward the coffee table in the dark. "Your phone's ringing."
Mav blinks a few times, blearily reaching for the offending object to lower the brightness when Bradley turns it over to give it to him. He frowns at the number on the screen, mostly because he can barely read it, and picks it up regardless. His voice comes with a rusty scratch. "Mitchell."
Breaths, far too fast to be normal, echo through the receiver.
"Hello?"
The breaths stop, as though the person on the other end pulled the phone away from their ear. Then, so soft Mav barely hears it, comes a quiet croaked word. "Pops?"
In his sleep-ridden state, it takes Mav a second to connect the term to any one person's vocabulary, but when he does, he taps Bradley's shoulder and starts sitting up. He rubs his eyes and takes another look at the caller ID just to be sure. "Jake? Jake, is that you? Are you okay?"
Jake doesn't speak, but the faint sound of his breathing returns.
"What's he saying?" Bradley whispers.
"Nothing. Go catch the lights and grab my boots, would you?" Mav answers, turning his attention back to the phone. "Jake, I need you to talk to me, kid. What're you doing up at three in the morning?"
"I'm sorry."
Mav shakes his head even though the younger aviator can't see it. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm not mad. I just want to know why you're up and calling so early. Is everything okay?"
"...."
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Mav asks, taking his shoes from Bradley with a light word of gratitude.
Jake says nothing.
Worry prickles in Maverick's gut and he lets Bradley help him slip into his jacket. "All right, kid. Don't worry about it. Just stay on the line, and when you feel like you can talk, go right ahead." Mav quickly mutes his own side of the line and glances at Bradley. "You know his address, right?"
"Yeah. Is he okay? Did he tell you?"
"Not a word. Just said he was sorry." Mav follows Bradley out the door, tossing his son the keys to his Bronco that he forgot in his haste. "I think he must've had a nightmare or something. Whatever it was, it freaked him out enough to call."
There's a muffled thump from the other side of the line and Mav presses his phone to his ear again. "Jake? Are you still there?"
Distant noise, seemingly garbled, crosses the receiver. Mav furrows his brow as he attempts to figure out what it is until he identifies it as Jake crying. Whatever happened, he's either too scared or too ashamed to admit to it. That Jake called at all was improvement on the last time he had nightmares and Mav found him throwing up in the barracks bathroom. It was happenstance that had him on base in the first place, a late-night snack request from Bradley Mav was helpless to resist.
Mav remembers telling Jake to call if he needed anything and being met with surly silence. It's hard for Jake to allow anyone to see him struggle. Mav knew that right from the start. He refused to show weakness or fear to anyone, let alone himself.
Dead or not, he has half a mind to figure out where the kid's parents are and smack them upside the head.
"Hey, Jake? You like baseball, right?"
Bradley glances at him as they get into the Bronco, a small smile on his lips.
Jake doesn't answer, but Mav continues anyway. "I thought so. Let me tell you about this game Bradley and I keep trying to watch...."
The entire first half of the ride over to Jake's apartment, Mav chatters about the game, about how funny it is that he's seen the first three innings enough times to remember who was at the plate and when but can't seem to get through the end of it. Both he and Bradley know who won because Bradley keeps track of the seasons closely, but it'd be nice to see it.
Bradley pulls over at a gas station at Mav's request, hunting down a box of Ritz crackers and a fresh breakfast pizza. Mav stays on the phone the whole time, pointing out a few comfort food items while he recounts a spat between himself and a Karen while he was buying supplies the other day.
He was looking for tampons for Phoenix, but apparently, it's illegal for a father to shop for his daughter's 'sensitive time' as the lady called it.
Completely ridiculous. Every other woman Bradley knows would be thrilled to have someone else do the legwork while their uterus rips itself apart. At Top Gun the first time, Bradley remembers Payback meekly asking Phoenix if she could hold it. His education was both swift and hilarious. For Rooster, that is. Honestly, she was just impressed that only-child Bradley Bradshaw knew anything about it. Carole may have died before they got around to having 'The Talk,' but Mav was thorough.
So, so thorough.
"Bradley. Come on, kiddo."
Bradley jolts, shaking himself and paying for thirty bucks worth of food and junk without a second thought. He and Mav make the rest of the trip without any other holdups; although, it was necessary. Jake is a lot like Mav, whether he knows it or not, and if you're not a Bradshaw, food is the way to Maverick's heart.
Actually, just existing is a lot of times good enough. It's not like the rest of the team was expecting to be served adoption papers mere days after the mission was over.
"All right, kiddo. I know you're probably getting tired of listening to me ramble, but could you do me a favor and answer the door?"
"What?"
Bradley smirks and knocks for Maverick. The plain shock in Jake's voice means he didn't think for a moment what Mav might've been up to this whole time. Granted, Mav did keep him pretty distracted. Bradley knocks a second time when silence greets him from the other side of the door.
The knob turns and Jake pulls the door open, swallowing hard and staring at the floor.
"Well, you look like shit."
Mav rolls his eyes at Bradley and takes two steps forward to give Jake a hug. The younger aviator freezes, not even breathing as his gaze flicks from Bradley to Mav. At first, he looks angry, and Bradley shifts his weight to be ready in case he lashes out. Jake swallows hard, resisting any show of emotion. His arms sink down to his sides. If Mav is disappointed that he doesn't reciprocate, he doesn't show it, instead stepping back and tilting his head in that stupidly charming way of his.
The only people that damn smile doesn't work on are admirals, and that's because they deal with way too many shenanigans to be swayed by it.
Except Warlock. The guy's a softie.
"Come in," Jake croaks, his voice cracked and small.
Bradley adjusts his grip on his plastic bag full of goodies and steps inside after Mav. He gingerly lifts the pizza box off the top where it was precariously balanced and turns around to flick on the oven. Mav tiptoes around him and digs through the bag for the crackers. He rattles them enticingly at Jake, who stands in the doorway to the kitchen looking completely and utterly lost.
He stays quiet as Mav places crackers directly into his hand. "... Sir?"
Mav cocks a brow. "It is way too early in the morning to be calling anybody 'sir,' kid. Captain, if you must, but Mav is perfectly fine. Come on."
Bradley watches Mav steer the younger pilot out to his couch. They obviously caught him at an interesting time, because Jake doesn't seem to know what to do right now. He wouldn't be letting Mav nudge him around his own apartment otherwise.
Come to think of it, he wouldn't be teetering on the edge of nonverbal, either.
"Here you go, kid," Mav says. "Nice and cozy."
Jake frowns hard at the blanket Mav tucked around him, not moving to take it off or argue. Bradley wonders if he even understands what's going on right now—if he understands why they came at all. Rooster would never say it to his face, but Jake is incredibly smart under all that arrogance and swagger. Smart in all things except emotions. Does he even know they care about him?
Did he understand Maverick was serious about those adoption forms?
Bradley doubts it.
Jake stares at Bradley as though trying to read his mind as Maverick putters around him. Bradley stares back, cocking a challenging brow. You figure it out. The old man frets over the blond seventy different ways in the span of two minutes, even going so far as to scrounge up a thermometer out of nowhere to make sure he doesn't have a fever.
"Eat those, kid," Mav coaxes. "You'll feel better with something in your stomach."
The younger aviator works his jaw, peering at the crackers in his palm in confusion. He blinks several times. Rooster suddenly realizes he's holding back tears, not thinking as he'd assumed.
Mav notices, too. He crouches in front of the couch, resting one hand on Jake's knee and using the other to tip his chin up. "It's okay to be scared, Jake. You're not going to be in trouble for it with us, and we're not going to hold it against you. You know that, right?"
Jake clenches his teeth and purses his lips, but in the end, a sob pops out anyway. Rooster gives the two some privacy by turning around and cutting open the bags of junk food Mav recommended earlier. Jake's crying muffles, meaning he's safe in Mav's arms for the time being. Bradley busies himself with the coffee maker, fiddling with the lacking settings and sniffing at the cheap coffee grounds with mild disdain. Bradley grates up a mini chocolate bar and mixes it into the filter. It's not a grand solution, but it's certainly not the worst.
The oven dings, signaling its readiness for the pizza to go in. Bradley catches a snippet of conversation from the living room as he turns to grab it off the table.
"-nothing left. You were both-" Jake's voice catches somewhere in the middle, creating a choked whisper for Maverick's ears only. "-my fault."
Well, that explains why Jake was so upset.
Rooster starts the coffee and moves to lean in the kitchen doorway. Jake looks a little calmer now, though tears silently roll down his face while he eats the crackers Mav gave him. He never meets Mav's eye, always keeping his own firmly on his lap. Mav's voice, too low for Bradley to hear, rises in a murmur. It's obvious they've had this part of the conversation before based on the defensive hunch of Jake's shoulders.
It's so un-Jake, Bradley has no words for it, but at least he's not arguing with Mav just yet.
When the coffee pot is full enough to take a cup, Bradley fills one for Jake. It's too early for Mav to be having caffeine and Bradley doesn't like putting coffee in his stomach before the sun is up. It makes him more irritable than anything else. He'll just wait for the pizza.
Jake looks up when Bradley walks into the living room. His eyes widen in surprise when Bradley hands him the mug and Jake takes it in one shaking hand. Mav steadies him, ensuring he doesn't spill with gentle patience. The younger aviator clearly isn't used to being handled so delicately. Bradley sits down on his opposite side, kicks his feet up onto the ottoman, and brackets him between their combined warmth, happily munching away at the remaining mini chocolate bars.
Eventually, after finishing his mug of coffee and eating a slice of breakfast pizza, Jake ends up tipped against Maverick's shoulder. He may not be ready to accept how much they care about him, but Bradley knows he trusts them. Mav lays him down in his lap while Rooster arranges his legs to be more comfortable.
"Think he'll be okay?" Bradley murmurs.
Mav tips his head against the back of the couch and closes his eyes, drawing nonsensical shapes into Jake's hair. "He'll get there. Just might take him a little while."
A low hum leaves Bradley's throat and he settles in to scroll his phone for a little while. Mav might be able to go back to sleep after such a harried morning, but now that Bradley's awake, he'll stay that way no matter what he does. It's one of the main reasons he usually doesn't like being up early. "Guess we'll just have to be here for him while he figures it out, then."
Maverick's lips twist up into a smile. "Yeah, kiddo. We've got him."