Work Text:
Week 0: Pre-Season
August 2023, a Sunday morning
Bradley: not gonna make it to lunch today, see you at fam dinner instead
“Honey, is that your phone or mine?” Nick calls out, as the shrill ding of a new message rings across their Long Island home.
“It’s mine,” Carole responds, balancing the laundry basket around her hip as she grabs her phone off its charger in the middle of their kitchen. She glances at the message, humming to herself, and calls out to her husband in the adjoining dining room: “Bradley can’t make lunch.”
She sets her phone back down and turns around in time to see Nick’s head peek out of the door frame.
“Oh? Did he say why? That’s odd, he was excited about it yesterday—the kid loves Bacaro.”
Carole laughs warmly to herself, shrugging. “I don’t know, he didn’t say more. He’ll see us at family dinner—I’m sure we can ask but you know, Nicky, he’s an adult. Maybe he doesn’t want to spend all his time getting lunch with his parents.”
Nick snorts, sounding too insulted than he really should for a grown man being told his grown son doesn’t necessarily think he’s cool.
“I don’t see what else he’d have to do,” Nick huffs, before he blinks, and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Unless… Maybe he’s met someone?”
Carole laughs again—she loves these mornings with Nick, she laughs so much—and shrugs. “Who knows, maybe. Maybe he’s just busy.”
Nick hums. “Yeah. Or maybe he’s met someone. I bet he’s met someone.” His face stretches in a grin, and Carole makes her way over to him so that she can reach up and cup his cheek.
“Don’t say the B-word, dear. I don’t want you calling Maverick already to place yet another wager on our son’s love life,” she says, eyes narrowing until he finally nods. “Thank you.”
Carole leans up, Nick tilting his head down to meet her halfway for a soft kiss.
“I’m still going to ask him at family dinner,” he says, and she laughs, pecking him again before she pats his chest.
“Sure thing. I wouldn’t expect anything else of you.” Nick grins, even more when Carole teasingly pats his butt on her way to their laundry room.
Carole is halfway through her ossobuco when a chair pulls up to the side of the table, Bradley sitting down on it, shoulders slumped and legs stretched out in front of him.
“Bradley!” Nick exclaims, surprise evident in his tone and the angle of his eyebrows. Bradley grunts, reaching out to grab an arancini from the middle over the table, and doesn’t meet either of their eyes. Nick glances over at Carole, who just shrugs before turning her attention back to her son.
“Hi, honey. Change your mind about lunch?” she asks gently, and Bradley grunts again. Both she and Nick wait to see if their son is going to elaborate and, when it becomes clear that he doesn’t plan to, Carole picks her fork back up. Nick whistles.
“O… kay then.” Bradley shoots him an unimpressed look, and Nick stares back, confused.
“What your father’s trying to say, sweetheart, is we weren’t expecting you here,” Carole tries.
“Am I not allowed to join my own parents for lunch?” Bradley snaps, voice tighter than either of them had expected. Nick waves his fork in Bradley's direction, eyes narrowing.
“For your sake, I’m just gonna move past that attitude,” Nick says, and Bradley grunts, then sighs.
“Sorry,” he mutters, reaching out to grab a piece of bread. “My plans changed, yeah. Not in the best mood about it.”
“That much is clear.”
“Nick!” Carole admonishes, shooting him a look before she reaches over the table next to them to grab a menu, handing it over to Bradley despite knowing that her son probably has it memorized at this point after their numerous family lunches here.
Bradley takes it gratefully, at least, even if he opens the menu and uses it as an excuse to slump even further down the chair, practically hiding behind the plastic pages.
“The soup of the day is a bean and sausage minestrone,” she offers gently, and Bradley hums. Nick has resumed eating, watching their son carefully.
Bradley seems to be leaning more into his decision to use the menu as a prop, because his eyebrows furrow and he bites his lip as he stares a hole into what Carole thinks is the dessert section.
Finally, when Nick looks like the silence is getting to him, Bradley speaks.
“The Giants don’t train today, do they? With the whole team?”
Whatever question Carole would have expected, this one is nowhere near the top of her list. Nick seems to agree, because his eyebrows shoot up; Bradley pointedly does not look away from his menu.
“No… It’s pre-season, so not a full practice,” Nick says, slowly. Bradley doesn’t make to react. “Is there…” Nick starts, shooting Carole a glance as if to confirm whether or not to continue (she shrugs her shoulders, so he does), “a reason why you’re asking?”
“Just curious,” Bradley blurts out, somehow sliding further down in his seat and hiding more behind the menu. Silence blankets their table again.
“Why are y—”
“I’m going to go and order,” Bradley blurts out, quickly standing up and almost tripping over the chair leg while he does so. He flushes, menu in hand, and goes to find Vince, the owner. Nick stares over at Carole.
“Did I say something?” he asks. Carole shakes her head.
“I think something’s going on that only Bradley knows,” she says. They watch as Bradley makes small talk with Vince, giving the man a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes before making his way back to the table. Nick waits a few minutes before he brings up a new remodel plan for the beach house.
Nobody mentions the Giants for the rest of the day.
Week 3: Away Game v. San Francisco 49ers
“Mom, which of my shirts would you say is the nicest?”
Of all the things Carole expected to hear on the other side of the phone, this one isn’t it. It’s been years since Bradley asked her advice about anything fashion related, other than having her weigh in on a tie color for a cousin’s wedding last year (and her son still chose the one option she had deemed as the worst).
She knows to tread lightly here.
“Do you have any options for me to choose from?” Carole asks, swallowing the instinct to say, any of your shirts that your father didn’t gift you. Bradley huffs, and now—this is interesting. It’s also been a while since her adult son tried to give her an attitude like this, especially over the phone.
“Just… out of any of my shirts, is there one that you think is nicer than the others?” Bradley tries again.
Carole hums.
“Is this for something specific?” she asks. Bradley’s quiet for long enough that Carole almost speaks again, either to repeat her question or tell him to forget it, but he manages to pull together a response before she has to pick an option.
“It’s just this date with Jake. This, um, PR date.”
Oh.
Carole’s eyebrows shoot up—this isn’t what she was expecting, not in the slightest, and she fights the smile tugging at the corner of her lips even if Bradley won’t be able to see it over the phone. If he hears it in her voice, she knows he’ll be even more embarrassed, might hang up altogether.
“Is there something you’re doing in particular for this date, honey?” she asks.
Bradley sighs. “I don’t… I just need to know which is my nicest shirt. Mav’s planning… something , but I want to…” Bradley trails off, phone jostling as he changes which shoulder he has it wedged against, and Carole can imagine her son running a hand through his hair while he speaks. He may be a man now, but she knows her boy.
“I think your green shirt with the mountain print is nice,” she offers, “it really brings out the hazel in your eyes.”
Bradley pauses, and Carole can hear a drawer opening, the rifling of clothing in the background.
“It’s… I need something black,” Bradley explains, “something basic.”
Now that’s surprising—Carole has never known her son to try to blend in. Her surprise must be audible through the phone, because Bradley’s answering groan into the receiver is one of an embarrassed son, not wanting his mother to make anything worse. Carole’s one more huff away from reminding Bradley just how embarrassing she can be if he doesn’t stop—hell, she could call out for Nick and put this call on speaker.
“He mentioned something about me wearing just a black shirt,” Bradley explains, and Carole definitely can’t fight the smile in her tone this time—she swallows her answering coo of oh, honey right on time.
“I think that’s a great idea. You have that shirt that you wore to the Rooster’s holiday party?” she suggests, then adds, “Or, why don’t you go out shopping for a new shirt? I’m sure you could find something nice.”
“Yeah? That’s not too much, buyin’ a shirt for this?” Bradley asks, shy, and Carole’s heart squeezes for the way he sounds sixteen again, young and seeking his mother’s advice, not afraid of it making him seem vulnerable.
“Not at all, honey,” she says earnestly. “Go shopping. Send me pictures of your options, I’m sure we’ll find you something.”
Bradley thanks her and hangs up. Two hours later, when Carole’s phone can’t stop buzzing with text messages and Nick’s interest is piqued, Carole is quick to wave her husband off to take the trash out so that she can focus. She spends nine minutes zooming into photos of the six shirts Bradley has picked out before reacting with a heart on her favorite.
Bradley: thanks, mom :)
Week 6: Away Game v. the Buffalo Bills
“Hey, everyone!” Bradley calls out.
Nick barely gets the chance to look over when Carole detaches herself from under his arm and pushes through the small throng of guests separating the bar and the door, where Bradley’s arrived.
“She moves so fast,” Maverick muses, Nick throwing his head back to laugh. “Wasn’t the kid just with you guys? She miss him that much?”
Nick grins, elbowing Mav. “Nah, not at all. She’s just looking for—”
“Where is he? Oh, Bradley, you didn’t forget to invite him again, did you?” Carole’s voice rings out. Mav’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, his lips exaggeratedly mouthing ‘Oh’, and Nick nods.
“Yep,” he says.
Together, the two men watch as Nick’s son flushes, shrugging his shoulders as he tries to brush his mother off.
“He’s busy, Mom, it’s not like he can just drop everything to come to these family dinners.”
Carole’s huff is discernible from here, even over the chatter of the bar.
“Did you even remember to invite him? I hope so,” she admonishes, lopping her arm around Bradley’s as he walks her back.
“I did. He’s just busy,” Bradley repeats with a sigh, and Nick hears Mav make a humming sound next to him.
“She’s really adopted Seresin into the family, hasn’t she?” he notes to Nick, who laughs and shrugs.
“Are we surprised?” he asks.
Mav grins. “Not at all. It’s kind of your move.”
“You betcha,” Nick replies, throwing an arm around Mav’s shoulders and jostling him, both men stepping apart when Bradley and Carole finally make their way over.
“Hey, sorry I’m a bit late,” Bradley greets. “I’m here alone,” he adds unnecessarily.
“We can see that,” Nick teases.
“You know, Seresin could probably be convinced to come to another one of these,” Mav offers, Nick trying to hide his grin behind his beer as he watches the flush creep up on Bradley’s cheeks.
“No, it’s fine. Please don’t tell him he has to come,” Bradley says, giving Mav a look. To his credit, Mav simply shrugs and shoves his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket.
“I’m just saying.”
Week 8: Home Game v. the New York Jets
Halloween
“Well you’ll just have to come by next time you’re in Long Island. And definitely try out the punch!” Carole exclaims to an old teammate of Nick’s and his new girlfriend, waving them off as they excuse themselves towards the bar.
Carole smiles, taking a sip of her own drink and glancing around the room. The Halloween party is in full swing, and she doesn’t think she’s seen this many new faces at one of these events in a while—the invite list rarely changes too much. This year, though, half the modern roster of the New York Giants has made an appearance, and Carole can’t say she’s unhappy about so much new energy in the space.
She certainly has no qualms over how happy Bradley’s been all evening, either. While he normally does his best to be social with the crowd, her son typically retreats back into the kitchen after a while, citing quality control and lending a helping hand when Carole knows it’s mostly to gain a hand of control through the event again. This time, however, she’d noticed him mingling more, laughing more with his friends, making conversation with new friends. It’s a nice look on him, Carolemuses, scanning the room to look for the man in question—it suits him well.
When Carole finds her son, it immediately becomes clear why she wasn’t able to find him sooner: instead of the happy, smiling, social Bradley she’s been seeing all night, Bradley looks withdrawn, sulking in the corner.
She frowns as she makes her way through the crowd to reach him.
“Hey, kiddo,” she greets, reaching over to squeeze his arm. Her frown deepens when Bradley just grunts in response, swirling what looks to be a glass of whiskey, neat. “Is everything okay? Where’s Jake?”
Mentioning the blond has the opposite effect of what Carole intends, and Bradley’s mood seems to drop even lower.
“Left,” he mumbles, gulping down his glass in half a swig. “Wasn’t feeling well.”
Oh. Well, that explains it.
Carole pats Bradley on the arm and reaches up to take his chin in her hand gently.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to leave with him? I’m sure nobody would mind if you went to go check up on your ‘boyfriend’.” Bradley huffs out a sarcastic laugh, fortunately too distracted to note the way Carole’s eyebrows shoot up.
That was unexpected.
Before she can ask, Bradley is finishing the rest of his glass and setting it down. “It’s fine, whatever, he wasn’t feeling like sticking around, he doesn’t have to stick around,” he says, more to himself than anything. “Don’t worry about it, Mom, enjoy the rest of the party.”
Carole wants to tell him to heed his own advice, but he’s slinking back into the kitchens before she can try.
Bradley: [picture of himself with his arm around Pete Alonso at a charity party, smiling]
Nick: Looking sharp! Do the kids still say that?
Bradley: Did they ever?
Carole: Looking great, honey! Say hi to Jake for us!
Bradley: He says hi.
Bradley: [picture of Jake and Bradley, smiling]
Week 10: Away Game v. the Dallas Cowboys
“I’m going to the Dallas game,” Bradley announces.
Nick and Mav immediately turn their attention over to him, abandoning their game of paper football. The folded up triangle Nick had flicked flies through the air, and smacks Mav in the forehead as he stares at his godson.
“The Dallas game? Is that planned?” Mav asks, and Carole picks up a second paper football to flick at him as well.
Bradley squirms in his seat, but Carole knows her son. Knows the stubborn set of his shoulders, the determined frown that creases between his eyebrows.
“It’s not planned, but Jake asked me to go, so I’m going. Reuben and Callie have already agreed to keep an eye on the restaurant for the weekend, and I bought a ticket—so you don’t have to do anything,” Bradley adds, watching as Mav’s fingers twitch for his phone, a habit or spark of action, “I’m just letting you know as a courtesy.”
“As a courtesy,” Mav mutters under his breath. Thankfully, Carole knows Bradley is well-versed in the art of ignoring Mav when he’s being petulant.
“That’s nice that you’re going,” she says instead, ignoring Mav as well. Bradley shoots her a smile that’s two notches shyer than she’d been expecting.
“Yeah?” Bradley asks, hesitantly. Carole offers him a small smile and nods.
“Yeah, honey. I think Jake would really like it if you were there—that’s his home game, right?”
Bradley and Maverick frown at the same time, but Bradley’s the one to speak: “Not really. I mean, technically, but I don’t think he’s very… Home isn’t the same for him as it is for me,” he says. “That’s why I want to go with him, I think it’s kind of a hard one for him.”
Mav hums and sits up in his seat, and Bradley’s eyes narrow.
“I don’t like that look you’ve got, Mav,” he warns.
“Too bad,” Mav grins, “It’s the only one I’ve got. I’m coming too.” Bradley groans as Nick immediately looks between the two of them and nods.
“Me too.”
“No, guys,” Bradley starts, shaking his head, “You don’t have to—”
“We’re coming along,” Mav repeats, a bit sterner, and Carole hides her smile behind her cup of coffee. Maverick’s always played up his lone wolf persona, but she knows how much he appreciates his place in their family—it’s heartwarming to see him open his metaphorical arms to Jake. He’s a good kid. She looks over and shrugs at Bradley, the both of them knowing there’s no argument with Maverick when he’s got the look.
“We’ll make a family trip out of it,” she suggests.
“Besides, it would probably be good for me to take a look at how the team plays without a home-field advantage,” Nick adds, “Study up on the job a little bit.”
Carole clocks the exact moment that Bradley gives in (not that it’s in his hands anymore, Mav’s already pulled his phone out and Carole would be surprised if he wasn’t already searching for hotels).
“Fine,” Bradley finally settles on, “I guess there’s no arguing here.”
“There’s not,” the two men agree.
“Oh, honey,” Carole adds, grinning a bit wider when Bradley rolls his eyes good naturedly, the way he does whenever she takes this tone.
“I’ll send you guys my flight plan,” Bradley adds, acquiescing. He pauses for a moment, peering over at the three of them. “You’re not…” he starts, and Nick raises an eyebrow. Bradley seems to hesitate before he sighs. “You guys aren’t going to embarrass me or anything, are you?”
It’s silent for a beat, and then—
“Embarrass you?!” Nick exclaims, gasping.
“Who do you think we are?” Mav asks, crossing his arms.
“Who do you think you are?!”
“I’ll have you know, I know the kid better than you do!”
“Well, maybe not better,” Bradley grins.
“Ew. I’ve known him longer than you have!”
Nick’s had his fair share of football injuries during his professional career. A few concussions over the years, his left middle finger is still crooked, and his right knee clicks more often than not, to name a few.
He knows Carole has always been supportive of his career, just like Carole was supportive when he chose to retire. She’s been there through every physical therapy appointment, every concussion protocol, and the handful of surgeries he’s had to undergo. However, he’s ashamed to admit he never thought of what it would be like for her, not to be there for the aftermath of his injury, but to watch it happen in real-time.
When Carmichael gets Jake, and Nick watches Bradley jump to his feet and shout, fear apparent in his face. His heart aches, watching his son visibly stressed like that, and Nick can’t help but reach out and pull Carole closer to him. She’s watching the field with wide eyes, immediately melting into his side, and Nick kisses her cheek.
“I love you,” he whispers to her, eyes never leaving Bradley, who’s now chewing on his thumbnail nervously. I’m sorry for ever putting you through that , he wants to say.
Carole seems to understand, because she always understands in the end, and she slides her hand on top of his, squeezing his wrist.
“You were always okay in the end,” she murmurs. Jake will be too.
Week 11: Away Game v. Washington Commanders
Bradley: I can’t believe you
Carole: What are you talking about?
Bradley: don’t you dare
[Missed call from Bradley Bradshaw]
Bradley: stop ignoring your phone calls
[Missed call from Bradley Bradshaw]
Bradley: ugh, fine
Carole: Bradley, I have no idea what you’re talking about
Bradley: I can’t believe you got him a dog
Carole: I didn’t, he got himself one
Bradley: this isn’t what I meant when I asked you to go keep him company
Carole: Don’t be jealous, Bradley, I’m sure Jake can split his attention evenly between you and the dog
Carole: What did he name the sweet thing?
Bradley: I’m not jealous!
Carole: Did he let you name it?
[Missed call from Bradley Bradshaw]
Bradley: answer your phone
Bradley: you can’t ignore me forever
Bradley: fine, yes. I named him
Bradley: brisket
Week 13: Bye Week
Long Island
“Where’d the kid go?” Nick asks as he comes downstairs. He looks around the living room, frowning. “Thought I heard him, and his car?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it, Goosey,” Carole teases, and Nick grins, puffing his chest out proudly.
“Not at all, sweetheart. I’m like a guard dog, I can smell change a mile away,” he winks. Carole laughs, and Nick gravitates back into her orbit—her laugh has always been a grounding call for him, their decades of marriage hasn’t changed that.
“Bradley and then took Jake to the cages,” Carole explains, and Nick pauses. Blinks.
“The cages. The batting cages?” he repeats, watching his wife, who is trying her best to act nonchalant about this revelation.
“The batting cages,” she confirms, and Nick stares out of the window towards their driveway, as if Bradley will be standing there holding a sign boasting Got ya! and laughing at Nick’s gullibility.
But there’s no Bradley. No sign.
“I…” Nick starts, not quite sure how to finish, but Carole smiles knowingly at him. She reaches out to wrap a hand around his forearm, and he steps over, opening his arms to fold himself around her as she curls up to him.
“I know,” she murmurs against his chest, voice wet.
If Nick has to clear his throat and blink out the start of a tear before they pull away, Carole and her red-rimmed eyes don’t mention it. And Bradley? Bradley’s at the batting cages.
It’s been five minutes of staring at the photo on her phone, and Carole can’t stop smiling. She’s not usually one to pander to the paparazzi, thinking they should spend more of their time minding their own business, but this photo was sent to her by a girlfriend from the farmer’s market, and she hasn’t been able to look away.
It’s a rather basic shot, Bradley and Jake outside of Rooster’s, Jake in the middle of some kind of debate if the waving of his hands and his frown are anything to go by, but that’s not what’s got Carole saving a godforsaken paparazzi shot. No, what she can’t look away from is the look on Bradley’s face—so open, happy, fond. It’s a look she never thought she’d see; she’s spent too many years watching her son slip away from her, his family, his friends, and she’d always held out hope that he wouldn’t be closed off forever.
Turns out, she was right. There’s nothing closed off about the look on Bradley’s face, pixelated on her phone, nothing closed off about the warmth that floods her heart when she thinks: this is something real .
Her son’s let himself fall in love, and she couldn’t be happier.
Week 14: Home Game v. the Green Bay Packers
Key West
“Jake and Bradley made out in the rental shack earlier,” Nick boasts proudly as he watches Carole pick between two different pairs of earrings for dinner.
She looks up, beaming at him.
“Did they, now? Did you see them?”
“Not exactly—you should go for the blue ones—but they walked out flustered together and being a connoisseur of clandestine make outs myself,” Nick says with a wink. She blows him a kiss, he falls further in love, “I have a sense for these kinds of things.”
Carole grins, leaning against the vanity in their room. “You’ve got a sense, huh?”
“That I do, baby. Don’t believe me?”
“Hm. I might need a refresher course on your secret make out prowess.”
Nick throws his head back and laughs as Carole puts on the blue earrings.
“Anytime, baby. I’ve got you.”
Week 16: Away Game v. Philadelphia Eagles
Christmas
“Oh, well if that’s not the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life.”
Carole laughs when her friend, Diana, speaks, and glances at Bradley. His cheeks are pink, from the comment or the cold wind, she doesn’t know, but figures it’s a sixty-forty. His coat is zipped up all the way and he’s not wearing a beanie—claiming that Carole had been the one to give Jake his back up hat when she’d pointed it out earlier. She had done him the courtesy of not mentioning he could have easily asked for it back.
Carole knows her son is handsome, but she also knows that Diana isn’t complimenting him—she’s fawning over Brisket, who is currently snuggled up in a sling across Bradley’s chest, wrapped up in his winter scarf.
“He has his moments,” Bradley says, reaching down to tug the corners of the scarf higher around the dog’s head, and Carole smiles at the soft look on her son’s face. When Carole had invited him to join her at the farmer’s market after a late-diner-turned-overnighter, he’d been surprisingly eager to join. Now, as she watches him peer over the dog sweaters her friend Diana sells, she gets it.
“Are you looking for anything specific?” Diana asks, eyes twinkling over her glasses, “A little Giants jersey, maybe?”
Bradley’s cheeks flush, and Carole grins—the temperature hasn’t dropped in the last few minutes.
“Something like that,” he says under his breath, reaching out to hold up a dog-sized Giants sweater. Carole makes eye contact with Diana over Bradley’s shoulder, and winks.
“Anything you want, it’s half off,” Diana adds.
“You don’t have to do that for him,” Carole admonishes—Diana is too generous for her own good, proven by the three crates of pears from her tree she dropped off earlier in the week. Her friend winks at her and glances at Bradley, who has two different sweaters in hand and seems to be showing them to Brisket, waiting for his input.
“I like seeing him like this, it’s worth every penny.”
Carole can’t help but agree.
“So, do we think they’re going to try to make an excuse for their little sleepover?” Nick asks, glancing over at where Carole sits in the passenger seat. She’s got Brisket on her lap, the pup glancing up when she throws her head back and laughs.
“I sure hope not,” she says, honestly. “I don’t think they could come up with a good one if they tried.”
“I almost asked the kid if he was gonna catch a ride back with us,” Nick admits with a grin. Carole rolls her eyes good naturedly.
“I’m glad you didn’t, he doesn’t need his dad trying to embarrass him in front of his hunky NFL crush.”
“Please, I’m the furthest thing from embarrassing. Besides, something tells me Jake would be just as embarrassed.”
“Even better that you didn’t tease, Goosey.”
Nick laughs, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “I wonder if he’ll say anything tomorrow. Maybe tell us he planned on Ubering home and got too drunk. Or he’ll tell us the whole team invited him to a slumber party in Simpson’s suite.”
“Or maybe he’s having sex with his crush.”
Nick slams on the breaks, the car skidding to a stop as Carole screams in surprise and pulls Brisket closer.
“What the hell was that?!” she exclaims, right as Nick turns to her and shouts, equally as stressed: “Our son is having sex?!”
Nick gets about two seconds of silence before Carole is swatting him in the arm, furious.
“Nicolas Anthony Bradshaw, I cannot believe you almost killed us for the sake of a stupid joke! Are you kidding me! I should have let Maverick drive me home!”
Nick laughs, starting the car back up again, shrugging away from his wife’s terror. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he says, batting her hand away, “Ow, don’t hit me, I’m going to actually lose control of the car.”
Carole huffs, pulling Brisket closer towards her to console his barking. “It would serve you right. I should make you get out of this car and walk.”
She doesn’t, and Nick behaves the rest of the drive, until they’re pulling into their rental and he breaks the silence.
“Do you think Maverick and I should give Bradley the birds and the bees conversation tomorrow, or should we just call him right now? It’s a pretty time-sensitive matter.”
When Nick answers the door to find Jake, he’s not surprised. He thinks, suddenly, of Mav, all those holidays with no calls, no gifts, of the first time Carole ever made Maverick wear a pair of matching pajamas with them and watch a movie on Christmas. Something blossoms in Nick’s heart every time he’s reminded what it’s like to be able to build a family for other people, and he barely resists the urge to tell Jake, welcome home.
He nods in understanding and steps out of the way and watches as Carole and Maverick’s faces light up when they see Jake, and watches as Bradley’s own face pulls into a shy, fond smile.
“Jake sweetie, come sit. Have you seen this?” Carole says.
“Can’t say I have. Mind if I join?”
Nick smiles to himself, to his family, as Mav joins in as well, and he and Jake make their way towards the couch. Nick settles himself back against his wife, watching as Jake pets Brisket and exchanges a look with Bradley, and he wraps his own arm around Carole.
When he, Carole, and Maverick make their way to their respective rooms, Nick pulls Maverick aside.
“Talk to me, Goose,” Mav teases; Nick laughs, pulling his best friend in for a hug.
“Nothing, brother. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Carole, the kid, all of us. We’re always happy to have you.”
If Maverick is surprised, he doesn’t mention it. Just hugs Nick tighter and pats his back. They’re both a little teary-eyed when they pull away, but hey—that’s Christmas.
Week 17: Home Game v. the LA Rams
New Year's Eve
Carole is ironing Nick’s shirt for their New Year’s Eve dinner when her phone rings. She’s a little surprised when she sees the caller ID, but sets the iron down to answer.
“Hey, can I bug you about something?” Jake asks on the other line.
“Jake! Of course, dear, is everything okay?”
Jake hums, and Carole can hear the idle locker room chatter behind him.
“Congrats on the win, by the way,” she adds, “You were great!”
“Yeah? Thank you,” Jake responds, honest and open. He pauses for a moment, and Carole is about to prompt him when he speaks again.
“Is Bradley still there with you?”
“No, left right after. Poor thing is sick as a dog, we offered to let him crash here but he wanted to head back to his place—he’s bummed to miss tonight.”
“Yeah, about that… Um, hey, Bradley mentioned to me that you used to make him chicken noodle soup when he wasn’t feeling great?”
“Did he now? That’s true.”
“D'you think you could give me your recipe?”
Carole’s world stops, smile tugging at her lips as she closes her eyes, hand pressed against her heart.
“Oh, honey,” she breathes out, trying to keep her voice level. “Of course I’ll give you the recipe. You’re in the locker room now, yeah? Why don’t I text you everything, and you can call me while you’re making it if you have any questions, if you want?”
Jake lets out a relieved sigh: “Yeah, you’d do that?"
“Of course I would,” she says, voice firm, like Carole Bradshaw wouldn’t move heaven and hell for the man on the other line—this wonderful, caring man, who wants to make soup for her sick son, who is treating Bradley the way Carole could only hope for after everything Bradley’s gone through.
“Thank you, that would be great. I’m awful in the kitchen, I’m sure Bradley has told you, so… Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Worst case, I can always pick him up some from Olive Garden or whatever.”
“Now, you know that would make things worse, I’ll text you everything, don’t worry,” she assures him, “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, thank you, Carole.”
Jake hangs up, and Carole’s left to wipe a tear away from her face, smiling into an empty room. She glances over to the mantel, to a childhood photo of Bradley—baseball cap on, missing two teeth—and she nods at it. “Thank you , Jake Seresin,” she whispers. “Thank you for loving him.”
Carole: How did it go?
Jake: terrible, but that's more my fault than anything
Jake: [photo of a Bradley-shaped mound under blankets]
Jake: thanks for your help!
Carole: Happy New Year to the two of you :)
Week 19: Wildcard Round
When Bradley shows up three hours late to family dinner, Carole and Nick immediately know something’s wrong.
He’s never been good at hiding his emotions, the negative ones in particularly the negative ones, and Bradley storms in sulking.
Carole and Nick take a step back, exchanging knowing looks. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of Carole’s stomach as Bradley all-but throws himself onto the couch, legs spread out in front of him, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweater. It’s a mirror image of a lunch at Bacaro at the start of the season, and immediately, Carole knows.
“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, hurrying over to sit next to him. He doesn’t say a word, just leans against her arm until his head rests on her shoulder. Carole reaches up to pat the side of his head.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Me too,” he says, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.
Later, after Bradley has told everything, about the reporter, Jake finding out about Nick’s position, after he’s rubbed as his tearing face mumbling, “I told him I love him, Mom. I thought he loved me back,” and breaking Carole’s heart in the process, after he’s finally gone to bed in the comfort of his childhood bedroom, needing the consolation compared to an empty apartment, only after all of this, does Carole sit in her bedroom and cry.
“It’s just not fair, Nicky,” she exclaims, sitting down on their bed. “Bradley’s such a good man, and he’s gone through so much! We almost lost him, and we barely got him back in the first place—do you remember how he was after everything? That wasn’t our son.”
“I know,” Nick murmurs, pulling her closer and she leans against him, melting against the familiar comfort that is her husband.
“I thought this was it for him,” Carole admits sadly. Goose hums. “I thought our boy was finally going to be loved like he deserves and love someone else. Nicky, they were so happy together. I’ve never seen Bradley look that happy.”
“I know,” Nick repeats, holding her as she takes a few deep breaths.
She sighs, collecting herself, and finally pulls away to sit up against the headboard, Nick settling in next to her. He reaches over to lace their fingers together, and Carole takes his hand in both of hers.
“After everything…” she starts, watching their intertwined hands, “I thought we’d never get a chance to watch him be happy. To watch him be young and in love, I thought he would never get a chance to do that. Gosh, I’m so selfish for even thinking about myself here,” she adds, laughing bitterly through the thickness in her voice.
“You’re not selfish, honey,” Nick says, because of course he does. He kisses the side of her head, continuing, “I wanted the same for him too. He deserves that, and he’s our kid. Of course we want to watch him fall in love.”
“To fall in love and be giddy,” Carole whispers, sniffling. “I’ve never seen Bradley like this, I really thought this was going to be it for him. For them, oh, gosh. Poor Jake, too. He must be feeling so alone, doing something like this just to try to protect Maverick, to protect Tom.”
“Jake’s got his family,” Nick points out, “He’s got his Giants family. The team loves him. He’s not the same guy he was at the beginning of the season either.”
Carole sighs, leaning closer against her husband. She brings their hands up and kisses Nick’s fingers.
“They both deserve to be happy, it’s just not fair.”
“It’s not. It’s really, really not.”
Bradley: I’ll meet you guys there, gonna drive myself
Nick: Are you going to come?
[Missed call from Nick Bradshaw]
Nick: Have you eaten? You should come by the house before
Nick: Dinner after?
[Missed call from Nick Bradshaw]
Carole: We love you, Bradley
Playoffs: Divisional Round
“Jake seems miserable,” Nick comments, pulling the car out of the MetLife parking lot. Carole sighs next to him.
“They both seem miserable. I just don’t get it, they need to get out of their heads and just,” she waves her hand around, “be together.”
Nick chuckles, glancing over at his wife.
“Are you about to tell me not to meddle, Nick Bradshaw?”
“I know better than to do that. But I don’t know if it would help.”
“I don’t know, that Cassie girl would probably be available to help. Javy’s girl? I should call her.”
Nick laughs, reaching over to squeeze Carole’s forearm.
“I don’t doubt you would, but. I think we just need to let them play this one out. They’ll sort it out, they’re too miserable alone not to.”
“I hope so, I really do. Bradley looks… Terrible. Heartbroken.” Carole sighs, and Nick nods, thinking back to how quiet his son had been during the game, the bags under his eyes—eyes that seemed dull in comparison to how lively they’d been as of late.
“I was surprised he came,” Nick admits.
“Me too. Putting himself through the wringer… He still loves him, you know.”
“Of course he does.”
They both sigh at the same time, silence blanketing the car as both Nick and Carole think of their son, both too afraid to voice their real thoughts: that this is going to be the rest of Bradley’s life.
Super Bowl LVIII
“Our son, in love, who woulda ever thought we’d see the day,” Nick says, grinning as they stand in the middle of the field, confetti still flying in the air following Jake’s Superbowl win.
Bradley groans, muttering quips about adoption, but Carole’s too busy watching how Jake threads their fingers together even as she, Nick, and Maverick, snort at the look both boys share. They’re quickly whisked off to celebrate with the rest of the team, and Carole throws her arms around both Nick and Maverick.
“Well, boys. It all worked out in the end!” She cheers happily.
Nick laughs, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Sure did,” he agrees.
“Kid’s got a Superbowl ring, now we can start bugging Bradley about when Jake’s gonna have a matching wedding ring,” Mav teases, wiping a stray confetti off the shoulder of his jacket.
Carole looks over, watching the besotted look on Bradley’s face as Jake talks to Natasha’s niece.
“I think it’ll be sooner than we all think,” she says, laughing as she bats both Nick and Maverick’s surprised questions away. “We’ll see,” she teases, “Come on, the trophy ceremony is gonna start soon!”
Week 0: Off-Season
“—lo?” Bradley’s voice comes through the speaker of Carole’s phone, his face coming into view. He’s wearing sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap, and the tip of his nose looks sunburnt.
Carole beams. “Hey there, honey! How’s the trip going?”
“It’s great. Did Jake send you a video of the boat?”
“He sure did, sent me a few photos, too. Looks amazing!”
“Yeah, it has been.” Bradley’s grin is wide and easy, and he looks years younger. “The reception isn’t too great, but we promise to send you more updates when we can.”
“Sure thing, honey. Where’s that man of yours?”
There’s movement on Bradley’s side of the screen, as he juggles his phone and changes the camera angle so that Carole can see Jake, floating in the water off the side of the boat.
“It’s my mom!” Bradley calls out, Jake waving his arm exaggeratedly in response. Carole grins, listening to Bradley’s soft, fond chuckle through the phone. “She can’t see you,” he adds, and Carole laughs when she sees Jake wave both arms in response.
“Hey there, Jakey!” she calls out, waving on the screen as well despite knowing Jake definitely can’t see or hear her. “The water looks incredible.”
“It is. Look, I’m gonna go join him in the water in a little bit, and I promise we can call you for a longer chat tomorrow, I just—”
Brisket, seeming to understand when he’s being called, runs up towards Carole and she laughs.
“Bradley Bradshaw, do you really think I’m that incapable of watching a dog that you need to call me from the middle of the Mediterranean Sea?”
“That’s not what I’m doing! But, if he’s there anyway, Jake would love to see him really quick.”
“I thought Jake was floating on the water, you said he couldn’t see me.”
“Just show me our damn dog, Mom.”
Carole laughs, swooping Brisket up to hold him to the camera. Bradley smiles, waving a little bit on the screen, and Brisket barks.
“It’s good to see you too, buddy. Have fun at Grandma’s, we’ll be back soon,” he says. His attention slips away and Carole watches as he smiles over the phone screen, presumably to where Jake is calling for him.
“Go,” she urges, “Brisket and I will be here when you call tomorrow. Have a great time, I love you.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you too.”