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“I still can’t believe that happened,” was all Maverick said to him, turning away from his Kawasaki to look his way. He wasn’t surprised to see Maverick back in jeans and a T-shirt. Wearing his flight suit was one thing—Maverick would happily live in that—but his dress whites? He never wore those longer than he absolutely had to. Unless it was the night before shipping out for a risky mission, wearing their dress uniforms on the eve had become a superstitious tradition for the class of ‘86. One even Maverick followed to the letter.
“Yeah,” Bradley said. “What I can’t believe is that they didn’t do a proper ceremony.”
“I didn’t want one.”
“Yeah but—I just. I think you should have gotten one. It’s not like they offered to throw a shindig and you said no. They didn’t want to do one at all. You deserved something to celebrate your promotion, Mav, that’s all.”
“You and Ice were there, that’s all that matters to me.”
“Yeah, well. You know if mom and dad were around, they’d have steamrolled you into a party.”
Maverick said nothing, just wiped the grease off his hands with an old rag. A motion so familiar it took Bradley back to his childhood, he’d spent many a Sunday hanging out in the garage while Maverick tinkered on one of his bikes or his mom’s car. Bothering him until he cleaned up and devoted all his attention to Bradley. I like knowing how things work, he’d explained to Bradley once, a warm hand resting on his shoulder. Did you know, back in the day, some warriors would learn to forge a sword before they’d wield one? Same concept. I like knowing how the machines I’m operating do their job.
Could you build an F-14? So you could take me up without getting in trouble? He had asked, too young to understand what something like that would cost or the specialized equipment it would require. But Maverick hadn’t laughed. He’d never made him feel silly for asking questions. Maverick had ruffled his hair and said, I like to think I could. Never had the opportunity. Maybe one day, kiddo, but don’t think it would keep us out of trouble. Your mom would skin me alive. I’d rather take on an admiral any day.
He wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but those childhood memories were a big part of why he’d chosen mechanical engineering for his undergrad degree. Even at his angriest, at his most distant—he couldn’t erase how much of his foundation had been carefully built and nurtured by Maverick. In the same way his fondness for Hawaiian shirts went back to his dad and his sunny disposition came from his mom—his healthy respect for his planes and bronco, could be traced directly back to Maverick Mitchell.
Maverick, who had rolled his stool closer, bringing him back to the present. He still hadn’t said anything so Bradley let himself study his face. Examining lines that hadn’t been there when they’d had their falling out. There was grey beginning to show at his temples. All reminders of how much time they’d lost.
“Where’d you go,” Maverick said.
“Took a trip down memory lane, is all.”
“Good one?”
“Yeah. Yes, definitely. . . one of my favorites.”
“Mm. Don’t suppose you feel like sharing.”
“Maybe later. I won’t be distracted, Mav. We should do something for your promotion. Have a get-together with the rest of the team at least. Or call up Slider and your old friends and have a reunion. Something.”
“I don’t want a fuss.” Maverick stood up. “Besides, they were never gonna make a big deal out of it, in their minds, this promotion is a punishment. I’m not supposed to want or celebrate it.”
“Yeah, well,” Bradley said.
The corner of Maverick’s mouth twitched, like he knew what Bradley was thinking. “You can’t blame them for thinking that way, kid. I’m thrilled to keep my wings, but not so much about everything else,” he said.
I can blame them for wanting to punish you at all, Bradley thought but didn’t say. Every admiral except for Iceman seemed set on ignoring the fact that Maverick was the key reason the uranium mission hadn’t killed one or more of their best aviators. Hell, there was a good argument it wouldn’t have succeeded at all without Maverick.
If Maverick wouldn’t begrudge them for their reaction—well, Bradley was happy to do it for him.
“Don’t even think about it,” Maverick said cannily.
“Despite what Hangman thinks, I can be subtle,” Bradley said, and Maverick gave a short laugh.
“Yeah, kid, I know. Still. I don’t want you getting into, or causing, trouble because of me. I can handle myself.”
“Not saying you can’t. Just that you shouldn’t have to.”
“Appreciate that. But I’m asking you to let it go. You don’t want your career to end up like mine, Bradley. I know I brought a lot of it on myself, but I don’t want you to make enemies of the brass. You’ve got so much potential. It was your leadership and teamwork that ultimately got dagger squad to bond and excel. Once you got serious—they all did.“
Bradley considered that quietly. All those years, he’d thought Maverick pulled his papers because he wasn’t good enough for the legendary Maverick; all those years he’d spent angry at the only father figure he had left, so he’d never reveal how hurt he was underneath it. He hadn’t been able to square a childhood learning to love flying at Maverick’s knee with having his papers pulled. All he’d wanted was to be like his dad. Of course, that wasn’t what Maverick had in mind for him at all.
This wasn’t the first time he’d brought up Bradley’s supposed leadership skills or mentioned him taking a different career path in the Navy than he had.
“I’m not sure it was me that made the difference,” he said. “You were Dagger 1, after all. We would have had a hell of a time pulling that mission off without you leading the way.”
“Maybe. Maybe not, you need to have more faith in yourself, Gosling. You would have been Dagger 1 if Cyclone hadn’t decided to let me fly the mission.”
“Don’t tell me, Dagger 2 would have been Hangman.”
The door to the garage swung open, and Bradley turned around to see Iceman stepping through, with Hangman and Phoenix behind him. Bradley raised his eyebrows. “You two would balance each other out in the air, if you could stop sniping long enough,” Maverick murmured, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t overhear. He didn’t know how to react to that, and luckily, didn’t have to.
“Hey Roo, we were looking for you,” Phoenix said, with a grin.
“Nat. Hey Hangman. Ice, did I miss you on my way in? I would have said hi before coming to bug the old man.”
“I just got here,” Iceman said casually.
“Yeah, we found him loitering at the front door. Was looking at his key and not using it for some odd, odd reason,” Hangman said. He was peering into the minifridge on the far side of the garage from the cabinet of tools, making a face at whatever he found there. “All you’ve got in here is water,” he said. “This is no way to celebrate, pops.”
“I wasn’t planning a celebration. In fact—Ice is the only one I invited over today.”
“They’re here now,” Bradley said, seeing an avenue to win their earlier argument.
“And since we are. . . let us take you out for drinks,” Phoenix said, “or dinner.”
Bradley glanced at Iceman. “That is, if Admiral Kazansky doesn’t have anything specific planned? Because I wouldn’t want us to get in the way.”
“It’s just Iceman off duty, Bradley. Or Uncle Ice, don’t forget I taught you to ride a bike, and more besides,” he said, with a rueful smile. “And no, we didn’t have anything specific planned.”
“Well, if you three insist on spending time with us fossils,” Maverick said, moving to stand beside Iceman. “I happen to know a new class of Top Gun has hit the base, and likely the Hard Deck. Penny mentioned it might be good to have some. . . backup on hand. Just in case.”
“You just want to size up your new students,” Bradley said, and Maverick gave another amused smile.
“Getting drinks wasn’t my idea,” Maverick pointed out. He was standing so close to Iceman that their shoulders were brushing. “You three go ahead, scout out a good table. I need to shower and get ready. Ice will make sure I don’t stand you up.”
That was a thin excuse if Bradley had ever heard one, but he let Phoenix loop her arm through his and tug him towards the door. He listened with half an ear as Hangman threatened them with dire consequences if they were more than an hour behind them—marveling a bit at how quickly Dagger Squad had gotten comfortable with two of the Navy’s biggest legends. A month ago, he’d never have believed that even Hangman would have the balls to talk to them that way.
Bradley hesitated at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. Maverick was watching him. You’ve got so much potential, he had told him. Maverick kept bringing up his leadership skills, had always stressed his ability to connect with others, and with Iceman standing beside him it was fairly clear which trajectory Maverick had been guiding him towards his entire life.
He didn’t know how he felt about that. But he did know it felt infinitely better than when he’d thought he’d let Maverick down.
Admiral Bradley Bradshaw. It had a kind of ring to it.
Bradley sat on the steps of the swanky suburban house that looked more like a mini-mansion and fidgeted with his car keys while he waited. It was quiet this time of the day, the sun slowly setting behind the tree line. He spun his key ring around his index finger and didn’t look up as a car pulled into the driveway and parked.
“You weren’t waiting long, I hope,” Iceman said, easing down to sit next to him. Bradley shrugged, stuffing his keys back in his pocket. Iceman knocked their shoulders together, and Bradley smiled.
“Only a few minutes,” he said. “You’ve got a nice place here.”
“Sarah picked it.”
Bradley raised his brows and Iceman laughed. “I offered it to her in the divorce, but she had already found a new dream home to work on. She was always fond of having a project to keep her busy.”
Bradley nodded, taking a moment to examine the pristine lawn and front garden. “Did you think about selling it after? This big house seems like it would get lonely.”
“This is where the kids grew up. We moved a lot, but this is the home we always circled back to. I couldn’t bring myself to sell it.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while, and Bradley screwed up all his courage before turning to face Iceman head on. “Look,” he said. “I’ve been scared to ask all these years. But I’m finally gonna. Did you help him pull my papers?”
“You know better than most that Maverick has his own kind of influence within the Navy.”
“That’s not an answer. Iceman—Uncle Ice, please, just—“ he hesitated.
“Just?”
“Answer the question, please.”
“No, I didn’t help him.”
“Thank fuck. I mean. I’ve forgiven him, but all these years I’ve wondered—“
“But,” Iceman spoke over him, “if he’d asked, I would have.”
“What.”
“You know I love you like you were my own,” Iceman said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“But, at the end of the day, you’re not—” Bradley didn’t know what his face did, but whatever it was, it made Iceman wince and hasten to add, “—wait, let me finish. What I mean is, you were Maverick’s first. You were Goose’s and Carole’s first. Any of my wishes for you? Comes after theirs, kid. Always has.”
“Uh huh, like Maverick never overrode your wishes for your kids.”
“Not once,” Iceman and said, his tone calm and even. “Even when it might have seemed like it. Even when he disagreed with what I or Sarah wanted. Anything he did, he always had my tacit or explicit agreement.”
Bradley snorted and wished he’d waited until Iceman’s sense of hospitality had led them inside and to the parlor that undoubtedly had a fully stocked bar cart. He’d been too hasty, had wanted answers more than he’d wanted something to smooth their way through the conversation.
“You were just a kid,” Iceman said with a sigh. “You know how people call me his guardian angel?”
“Everyone’s heard that one. You can’t deny it’s not that far off from the truth.”
“Mm,” Iceman said. “He was mine too, on the home front. Or did you think it was a coincidence that Sarah and the kids were always near you and Carole? That him staying a Captain let him stay closer to all of you. I never would have made it to my rank as quickly as I did, if I didn’t trust he was there. Looking after you all, watching my back in more than one way. Nothing he did, was without my approval, kiddo. And vice versa.”
Bradley folded his hands together, swallowing his sharp retort to being called kiddo. Like he wasn’t a full-grown man, flying missions more impossible than anything Iceman had seen in his time in combat. As if he hasn’t formed comparable bonds with his wingmen, hadn’t had at least one he trusted on that level. It rankled, that unknowing condescension. But in fairness, it was unknowing. Iceman didn’t know that he’d had a wingman like Maverick, once. Before he’d fucked it up.
Iceman, and Maverick for that matter, didn’t know that at one point he’d thought he’d found a partnership like theirs. At the time, he’d thought it was different, better, because he and Jake were intimate on a level Maverick and Iceman were not. Or had not been.
But now? Now he wondered how much of that was environment. If Iceman and Maverick had been in his generation—if they’d met and served in a time when DADT was in the rearview, would they have gotten together sooner? Raised kids together openly instead of behind a wall of unclehood and plausible deniability? Most likely, they would have.
“I didn’t come over to pick a fight,” he said, finally.
“Could have fooled me,” Iceman joked, knocking his knee against Bradley’s.
Bradley studied his sneakers. “I don’t know what I was hoping to get out of this,” he said. “Except that, I want you in my life again. I’ve got Mav back, but I want you and Slider and everyone else too.”
“Bradley. We never went anywhere. You were the one who stopped answering our calls and coming to barbecues. You want us back around? Say the word and you’ll have more retired aviators popping out of the woodwork than you’ll know what to do with.”
Bradley forced a smile and they fell into silence again.
“You know the story behind Duke Mitchell,” Iceman said after a long moment. “Did Mav ever tell you about how Viper played into all that?”
“Grandpa Mike?”
“Yeah. He was Duke’s wingman back in the day. One of the ones he died saving. Viper tried to do for Maverick, what he did for you. But it was a different time, he wasn’t married yet, and the courts wouldn’t give a kid to a bachelor in the Navy. Especially not a combat aviator on active duty. They put him in the system instead. Even moved him out of the state so that Viper couldn’t keep tabs on him. It’s a wonder they didn’t change his surname. Probably because your old man has always been a stubborn little shit and refused to let them.”
Bradley clenched his hands. He let the anger wash over him, breathed it away in carefully timed inhales, and exhales the way he breathed through g-forces in his jet. Don’t think, just do, Maverick would say, with a warm hand on his shoulder when they were on the ground, or as a murmur over the radio when they were flying. It was a piece of advice that applied in more areas of life than just flying.
“They really thought the foster system was better than a family friend. One who wanted him.”
Iceman hummed and shrugged helplessly.
“Him and Viper,” Bradley said, “they found each other again though? Must have.”
“Not till Top Gun. Way Maverick tells it, he didn’t recognize Viper until much later, when Viper told him the real story behind his dad’s disappearance. He was so young when his mom died. They lost a lot of time, almost twenty years worth. But Viper was able to be a dad to him, in the end. And a grandparent to you.”
“Oh,” Bradley said, this line of conversation suddenly making sense. Of all things to run in the family, it had to be temporary estrangements between fathers and sons? He blamed the Mitchell side of things. No way were the Bradshaws taking the blame for this one.
“Did Grandpa Mike know? About you and Maverick?”
A long pause. Iceman stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I think you have the wrong idea,” he said, finally. “When Viper died—me and Maverick were just wingmen. I was married to Sarah. Happily. And he was with Penny—But. . . well, looking back? I think Viper always suspected we had the. . . potential, maybe, to be more. To reach where we are today. He certainly pushed us together enough to be suspicious in retrospect. I like to think he approved of us.”
Bradley nodded, filing that information away. He stood up, and Iceman rose to stand too, just watching him. “I don’t want to lose time with any of my family like that again,” Bradley said, his eyes as steady as his voice. “Not ever again. I’m sure there will be fights. I might even storm off or ignore some calls. But I’m telling you now, that won’t ever last more than a day or two, tops. We can fight all day long about something important or something petty, I don’t fucking care. But the next day? The day after? We’re gonna be good again. I’m not losing any more time with Mav, or you. Not ever again.”
Iceman said nothing; just continued to watch him. Studied his face like he was reading a mission brief, eyes narrowed and intent. “Your parents would be so proud of you,” he said slowly, “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, when I say me and Maverick are so very proud of you, too, Bradley Bradshaw.”
“Do you think Mav would cry if I added Mitchell to my name?”
Iceman barked a surprised laugh. “Think? I know he would. He’d bawl like a baby. Probably wouldn’t be the only one, either.”
Bradley smiled. “Maybe so.”
“I guess if I want to tie myself to you and him, legally speaking, I better take his name then.”
“Don’t you dare. Kate and Johnny would kill me if I had anything to do with you not being a Kazansky anymore. Aunt Sarah, too, probably.”
“True,” Iceman said. “I’ll hyphenate then. Kazansky-Mitchell. Bit of a mouthful, but at this point, that’s everyone else’s problem.”
Bradley threw his head back and laughed. “Bradshaw-Mitchell-Kazansky, if you really want to drive everyone crazy.”
Iceman stretched and leaned down to pick up his briefcase. “Come on in,” he said, “I’ll make dinner and we can catch up some more.”
“You probably know the highlights,” he said ruefully but followed Iceman into the house. It’d been too long since they’d spent time together, and he knew actions spoke louder than words. He’d start proving he meant to keep Iceman and Maverick in his life now, he could reach out to the rest of his uncles tomorrow.
“You went to Admiral Kazansky’s place for a surprise visit,” Jake said. “And you told him all that instead of Pops?”
“Mm hm,” Bradley said, folding an arm behind his head. “Wasn’t exactly planned. Besides, Ice is the one I needed to convince.”
Maverick had forgiven him for the years of stonewalling before he even asked, and he wasn’t too worried about the others. Slider would be indignant and protective of Iceman at first (and Maverick too, though the retired RIO would never admit it) but he knew the others would just be happy to hear from him.
“If you say so. But don’t you think Maverick needs to hear that you won’t go no-contact again more than the Admiral? And, he might be hurt to hear about it from him instead of you. Because there’s no way Iceman doesn’t tell him.”
“He won’t mind, trust me. He always encouraged us to bond, separate from him. But I’ll try and tell Mav, if Ice doesn’t beat me to it. You won’t say anything?”
“Hell no. I learned my lesson about getting in the middle of you two.”
Bradley huffed a laugh and a hand landed on his side, curling around his hip. Jake shifted over on the bed, so his head was resting on his chest, and Bradley folded his free arm around him. Light from the window—base apartments invariably meant being backed up to too-bright sidewalks and street—slanted across the bed, illuminating the strong lines of Jake’s back.
It would be time to get up soon, if they wanted to catch breakfast at the mess and neither of them had slept much. Being functional on little more than an hour’s sleep was one of the more useful skills being in the Navy had taught him. Didn’t mean he liked how often he used it.
“I think Maverick and Iceman are somehow more and less serious than I thought,” he said, and Jake tucked his head under his chin.
“How so?”
“We only caught them kissing a week ago, but I wasn’t exactly surprised, you know? If you told me they’d been together behind closed doors my entire childhood I’d have believed it. No hesitation. Especially if Sarah and Maverick’s partners knew too, since neither of them are the cheating type.”
“Alright. So you’re saying they weren’t?”
“Nah, apparently they got together right after the mission. And yet, Iceman was at least half serious as he joked about taking the Mitchell name.”
“They move fast for a pair of old geezers.’
“One of those geezers managed to get tone on all of us while never getting caught himself, don’t forget. If my dad was still around he’d have been crowing about—that’s not the point, that’s not important,” he said, pushing past the hollow feeling in his chest that never failed to materialize at the thought of Nick Bradshaw.
“I wish I could have met your dad,” Jake whispered, and Bradley shook his head.
“You have. You might not have met the dad whose DNA I share, but you have met my dad. I might not call him that often but Mav raised me. It sounds awful, but I can’t help but consider the man who did everything for me as a kid, my dad. Maverick’s the one who helped me with my homework, learned piano so he could teach me, and taught me about flirting. He was always there, in my corner, even when I walked away. And I never thanked him for any of it.”
“It’s not awful to consider him your dad, not in my opinion.”
“Yeah? Sounds pretty bad to me. It’s why I don’t say it much, or call him dad.”
“You just sound like a man raised by Maverick. If anyone believes in found family, it’s our favorite new two-star admiral.”
Bradley fell silent, and after a few beats, he raised his head to look back at him. “Roo,” he said. “If Bradshaw senior was half the man the stories paint him as, I don’t think he’d begrudge you loving Maverick as a dad. Really.”
“I know. I’m just. . . I dunno. Feeling guilty I guess. And also not, because it’s Mav and anyone would be lucky to call him their parent.”
Jake shifted up and lay on the pillow beside him. He ran his fingers through Bradley’s hair. “Rooster,” he murmured. “Look at me. Doesn’t matter what you call him, I know whose kid I’m in bed with.”
He wished it was that simple. Because every time he thought of Maverick as his dad, of himself as his son, he felt a stab of guilt for letting Nick Bradshaw fade from his life. The truth was, his memory of his father’s face was more from photographs than any real memory of his. His mom was clear and sharp in his memory, as if he’d just walked out of her hospital room. As if he could go back any second and see her smiling brightly, in spite of the circles under her eyes. But his dad. The one who should have been a pillar in his life. . . those memories were vague and fuzzy. He could never be sure what was a true memory and what he’d reconstructed based on photos and stories from mom and Maverick.
He closed his eyes and leaned into Jake’s hand.
“God, listen to me go on about having enough father figures to feel torn up about it. I’m sorry, you gotta tell me to shut up when I’m being a brat. I know you. . . weren’t as lucky.”
“Maybe not as a kid. But I feel pretty lucky these days, though I don’t always know what to do with it. Maverick is just. . . he’s everything a dad should be you know? And he’s aimed it at me. It’s what I always wanted as a kid. But I don’t know what to. . . I’m very much an orphan, even now. I’m so far out of my depth.”
He wanted to say something comforting about that, but he didn’t know what. Maybe, at the end of the day, they were shaped by how they were raised. He was a kid who’d lost his parents young, but had been spoiled for choice when it came to surrogate parental figures. So spoiled, he’d spurned them too easily. Had taken them for granted. Whereas Jake’s parents were still alive, but had never been active or present in his life in any meaningful way. To the point where he called himself ‘orphan’ with ease, and it rang true.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said.
“Hm, yeah, I’ve realized I got adopted without asking or giving permission.”
“I have no sympathy, you did it to yourself the second you called him ‘Pops’.”
“What, that’s all it took?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Come on, you must have realized by now how seriously Maverick takes being responsible for anyone. And you kept calling him that. You must of had some idea.”
“Part of me knew—but, well.”
“Well, what?”
“I’m not used to anyone sticking around. Even if they said they would at the beginning.”
“Mav’s not like that. I’m not like that.”
“You were.”
“That wasn’t about you,” Bradley said, but he knew that didn’t make it better. Even if Jake believed him. He’d torpedoed their first attempt at a relationship, and it was no one’s fault but his own. “That was entirely because of me and my insecurities.”
Jake was quiet for a moment, the fingers that had been weaving through his hair falling still. “I’m trying to believe that”, he said, finally. “Do you think Mav and Iceman will get married?”
He wasn’t surprised at the subject change, it had been happening a lot since they fell back into bed together. They’d have to talk about it eventually. But he wasn't going to push it.
“I think so,” he said. “Ice is practical enough to want the protection of making it legal.”
“And Maverick?”
“Hides it well, but is a big ole’ romantic softy. I bet he’ll be the one to pop the question.”
Jake gave a small laugh. “I bet you twenty bucks Iceman proposes first and makes a big show of it.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m taking that bet.” They drifted into a comfortable silence, and it lasted long enough, he thought Jake had fallen asleep. “You know,” he murmured, “we could beat them to it.”
“What.”
“Shit, I thought you were sleeping. I was just—I just can’t help but think that if I hadn’t been an idiot, we could have been hitched long before them.”
Jake’s hand left his hair and he rolled onto his back, putting space between them. Motherfucking shit, he thought. He should have kept his fool mouth shut. He’d been so careful to not say shit like this, and here he went, doing it anyway. He opened his mouth, to say something that would fix it, but nothing came out.
Every minute that ticked by where neither of them talked hammered home just how fucked he was.
“Bradley,” he said, at last, his voice wrecked.
“Sorry,” he said. “God, I’m sorry. Can we just forget I said anything?”
“No can do, buckaroo. It’s just. . . I was ready to marry you before. A lot’s happened since then.”
It was his turn to be shocked silent. He rolled to face him, daring to rest a hand over Jake’s heart. Pressed it there, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into his palm. “I never realized,” he murmured.
“I was looking at rings. . . and then you left me, and we weren’t even fighting. It was. . . fuck, Roo. That really messed me up. I want to believe you won’t do that again. But it might be inevitable. I’m not sure I can give you what you really want—” Jake stopped, and took a deep enough breath that he knew he wouldn’t like whatever he said next. “You have options, you know.”
“Options.”
“Come on, let’s not pretend you don’t want a white picket fence and a house full of brats. And you like women too, you could get that much easier with a different partner.”
“Let’s pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“Bradley. You’d be such a good dad. I want that for you, even if it’s not with me.”
“Alright, yeah. I won’t lie. I want kids, but I don’t see why they couldn’t be with you. Unless. . . do you. . .”
“What if I’m no good at it,” Jake said. Bradley sat up abruptly. “What if we can’t afford a surrogate, or get blocked for adoption? We’re active duty military, not exactly the ideal adoptive parents.”
He shifted to sit at the foot of the bed, his toes curling into the carpet. A tentative hand found his back. Jake's hand on his back was enough to make him brave enough, and stupid enough, to keep digging his hole. “We can't get lost in 'what-ifs'. You’d be a good dad, and even if you weren’t a natural right away, I know you’d do the work to make sure you learned how. Same as me. That’s what parenting is. There’s no one I’d rather learn to do it with. And I know you don’t trust that I’m not going to leave yet, but when you do. Marry me?”
He turned back to Jake, who had shifted to sit next to him. There was fear in his face, and love too. Jake looked at him for several beats. Then laid back down, a hand reaching out in invitation.
“Come here,” Jake said.
“We can forget I asked.”
“Not uh, come here, you idiot.”
He reached for that hand, held it in his. Looked at him as Jake looked back. “Unless you want to take it back,” Jake said. “I’d understand.”
“No,” he sighed. “I meant it. I want to marry you, but I never meant to ask like this. You deserve better.”
“Don’t make me ask again, then. Come here.”
He grinned. “I don’t know, you haven’t answered yet.”
‘God, you’re annoying. Yes, okay? I need time, but when I’m ready—I’ll tell you and I’ll say yes when you ask. Your ridiculous mustache is apparently something I want to wake up and look at every day.”
“I knew it,” he crowed, and bent to kiss him. Let Jake wrap his arms around him and pull him down. He settled into him, enfolded in his arms, wrapping around him in return.
“I proposed without telling you I love you,” he murmured against his neck.
“Don’t forget next time.”
“Deal.” He raised his head, and hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, but. Do you think we’ll get down the aisle before Ice and Mav?”
Jake gave a loud laugh, and he rolled them over, so that he was on top. “Play your cards right, and we just might,” he whispered, and Bradley kissed his delicious jawline, down his neck.
“Just imagine the looks on their faces,” he managed, and Jake laughed again, his fingers tangling in his hair and tugging gently.