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Bradley fiddles with his dress whites one more time as he takes a deep breath in the mirror. Today is his promotion ceremony—the Navy makes him a Captain today.
He’s older than Goose ever got to be. He’s older than Carole ever got to be. He’s going to be the same rank as Mav, and that statement alone is enough to whirl his head into orbit.
Years after the mission that brought them back together, they’re closer than ever. Mav is still stubbornly teaching at Top Gun, on the condition that his flying is instructional only; no combat missions. It definitely makes Bradley breathe a little easier, except when his dad still sneaks out for some test pilot runs under his nose without telling him. They always happen when Bradley’s on deployment and can’t stop him, so Bradley makes up for it with some extra coddling of the old man when he gets back.
Thankfully, Mav hasn’t had to eject again since the mission. Bradley’s afraid his back won’t be able to take it.
He hadn’t exactly hidden that he was up for promotion; with a whole host of admiral uncles, there really was no way he could. Mav was the least rank-conscious Navy man he knew; but still, his dad knew what a big deal it was for his career.
1 month before
“Where are you, son?” Mav’s voice came warmly through the phone’s speaker. “All done at base for today?”
“Yeah,” Bradley maneuvered his Bronco into the driveway of his Navy housing. “Already home, dad.”
“How was the promotion board?”
Bradley took a breath as he sat in the Bronco, recalling the events from earlier that day. All things considered, the board had been very generous with their appraisal. Until–
“Bradshaw,” Rear Admiral Johnson said, looking over Bradley’s file with a raised eyebrow. “Son of Nick Bradshaw. Was your father in the Top Gun class of ‘86, son?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I was in the class of ‘87,” Johnson continued conversationally. “Tragic, what happened. The pilot of the accident–what was his name? Ah, yes. Mitchell. I heard he’s still a Captain after all these years.” Johnson shook his head. “With that reputation, I say the bastard deserves it.”
Bradley kept his eyes trained straightforward, silent even as indignation for his dad welled up within him. He knew that outside of their small circle of family and friends, no one really knew how close he and Mav were, although he’s heard rumors here and there on the Navy grapevine; but if Rear Admiral Johnson cared to flip a few more pages and check his next-of-kin list, he might be surprised at what he’d find.
“Anyway—well, you’ve certainly done your old man proud, Bradshaw,” Johnson finally said. “And put that Captain Mitchell to shame too. Keep at it for a few more years, son, and you’ll get your first star, really put him in his place for what he did to your father.”
Bradley bit his tongue.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. This board unanimously recommends your promotion to the rank of Captain in the United States Navy, effective upon your promotion ceremony in one month.”
Bradley barely gritted out a “thank you, sir,” before turning around and walking out of the room as fast as protocol would allow him.
“Brad? Hey kiddo, you still there?”
Bradley jolts in his driver’s seat and puts his forehead in his hand, leaning against the window and grateful that Mav can’t see him now. “Yeah, Mav,” he exhales, taking the phone off speaker and putting it to his ear. “Still here.”
“I was asking about the promotion board, bud, although I really think you’re a shoo-in for the rank. They’re just pushing papers at this point.”
“Oh, yeah,” Bradley chuckles nervously, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dad. I think–I think all’s good,” he says vaguely, nowhere near feeling up to untangling the complicated snarl of emotions stirred by Rear Admiral Johnson’s comments.
He misses Mav. North Island seems so far away from Virginia Beach.
“Good to hear, sweetheart,” Mav still sounds so warm, and Bradley closes his eyes to take it in. “Let me know when the ceremony will be, hm? Got to take leave and book flights, you know how it goes.”
“Uh–yeah, Mav, sure,” Bradley leans his head against the seat, a sinking feeling in his chest. “I’ll let you know.”
“Alright. Have a good rest, kiddo. Good ni–”
“Wait! Dad!”
“Yeah?” Mav’s smile is nearly palpable through the phone. Bradley’s heart aches a little more. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Brad. This certainly isn’t easier than when you were the one waiting up for me,” Mav’s voice says ruefully. “But hey, just a few more weeks, alright?”
Bradley chokes on a laugh. He’s only on month two of a six-month base deployment, but trust Mav to try to shorten time. “Yeah, a few more weeks.”
“And the next time I see you, you’ll be a Captain,” Mav says softly, something tender and so so fond in his voice that Bradley wants to curl up in it. “I get first dibs on a salute, Captain Bradshaw.”
Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. “T-thanks, dad. Love you lots.”
“I love you more than you know, sweetheart. Have a good night, I’ll see you soon.”
Bradley ends the call reluctantly and just sits there, a complicated storm in his head and heart.
Would–would him getting this promotion hurt Mav? Would it be a reminder of the shadow of Goose, of everything Mav had lost? His dad had given up so much early in his career to be able to stay stateside with Bradley and Carole; he knows that Mav’s lack of promotions was largely due to his own stubbornness and propensity for pissing off higher-ups, but his frequent stations stateside and constant deferment of deployment wouldn’t have helped either. Rear Admiral Johnson was sure to be at the ceremony too; the last thing Bradley wanted was to prove him right, and put Mav to shame, no matter how ill-founded the admiral’s assumptions were.
Bradley grips his phone tight. There was nothing for it; he’d just have to power through the ceremony on his own, and say that there was no time for a ceremony when he got back to North Island after this deployment. It was plausible; bases sometimes got so busy that admin would cut out all the ceremonial practices and just hand out ranks via paperwork. That’s what happened the last time, when he got Lieutenant Commander but was too out of it medically and psychologically for a ceremony.
He’ll make up a little white lie and apologize to Mav when he sees him. Top Gun kept his dad busy anyways; there would be precious little time for a trip across the country for a measly one hour ceremony.
Besides, Bradley’s gone through big ceremonies alone before. He’s a grown adult this time; it’s just another day at work.
Later, when he’s trying to sleep, his memories betray him; he remembers being twenty-two and craning his neck around the university auditorium, fighting past his saddened anger and wishing to catch a glimpse of a familiar leather jacket. He remembers being twenty-four and graduating from the naval academy, still stubbornly convincing himself that he needed no one, all the while looking longingly at his friends’ dads that came for them. He remembers being twenty-six, graduating from Top Gun, still looking around even while knowing that it was futile.
He can’t help it; he wants his dad to be there.
But not if the cost was too great. Not if it would hurt Mav, who’s already gone through so much on his behalf.
Bradley pushes his face into the pillows as if he can drive out the thoughts in his head. He wishes this whole thing was over and done with just so he can go back home. He had been excited at first at the prospect of a promotion; but now it’s all just another complicated tangled knot that Bradley wants to cut through and be done with. He has half a mind to just call admin and go for the paperwork route instead.
He checks the time on his phone—2:12 am, damn it—and clicks over to their message thread.
Dad: Good night, baby goose. Love you.
Bradley: Night, dad. Love u too
Bradley shoves his phone under the pillow and sighs as he rolls over in a new attempt to get to sleep. He really does miss his dad. Rear Admiral Johnson’s stupid comments didn’t help.
Just a few more weeks.
The ceremony takes place in a large room on base that’s been repurposed for the occasion, a small stage set up in front of rows of chairs.
“Sit here, please,” the administrative officer tells him, directing him to the left side of the aisle. “All junior officers here.”
Bradley takes his seat, nodding and exchanging a few smiles and congratulatory remarks with his colleagues who are set to be promoted too. He sent a text congratulating Jake too a few days ago; the other aviator was also set to receive his own promotion to Captain in Corpus Christi. He’s seeing all of the Daggers in a few weeks for a joint celebration; Phoenix having already been promoted the year before. She got a kick out of their “yes ma’ams” in the chat for one whole year.
The senior officers and admirals file in on the opposite side of the aisle a few minutes before the program starts. Bradley catches a glimpse of Rear Admiral Johnson and quickly turns away before the man notices him scowling. It was just as well that he hadn’t invited Mav; he wanted his dad as far away from no-good men as much as possible. Ordinary people like Lindsey Anne back in Fightertown were bad enough; Mav got enough shit from the Navy as it is, and Bradley was determined not to add to it.
Still, he’s a little envious seeing the seats fill up with his colleagues’ family members, waving and smiling to their kids in the front seats.
”Got anyone coming, Bradshaw?” his friend Lee asks as he waves back to his own parents.
“Uh, nah,” Bradley forces a smile. “My folks are mostly Navy too, so—you know.”
Lee smiles sympathetically as he pats Bradley’s shoulder. “Aw, that’s too bad. But I bet they’re proud of you, man. Congratulations, you deserve it.”
”Thanks,” Bradley says, not ungratefully but not enthusiastically either. He just wants this to be over and done with, so he can get back to work, so he can finish this deployment, so he can get back home.
The ceremony starts on time with the usual ceremonial speeches from the top brass on base, and then they settle in for each promotion to be awarded individually and alphabetically, with each awardee giving some short remarks.
When the emcee announces Booth and then Bowman and then goes straight to Carter, Bradley sits up straight in his seat and even his friends look concernedly over at him.
“Man, what’s up? They can’t have forgotten you, can they?” Lee asks.
Bradley spots the frazzled administrative officer coming towards their row and meeting his eyes. “I don’t know,” Bradley murmurs.
The admin officer, a junior younger than Bradley, leans over. “I’m really sorry, sir, but there was a last-minute change in the program and the names were printed out in the wrong order on the announcement sheet. You’re still on the list, sir, but going last.”
Bradley groans inwardly as he thanks the man and leans back in his seat. So much for getting this over with. Sure enough, there’s some confusion ensuing as Perry gets announced right after Donovan, but the audience seems to take it in stride. Parents and family members ignore their seating order completely and just stand up when called.
“Save the best for last, huh,” Lee tries to cheer him up, giving him a thumbs-up, to which Bradley can only give a weak smile.
As he watches a teary mom pin the new rank on her daughter, the jealous ache in his heart only grows. This time, he stops himself from craning his head around and searching for someone he knows isn’t there.
“Lastly, we would like to recognize Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, on the occasion of his promotion to Captain.”
Finally. Bradley is so ready for this to be over, and he can feel that the rest of the room is too. Everyone seems to be fidgeting and ready to get to the refreshments in the back. He almost feels sorry for adding to an already-much-too-long program. He stands from his seat and makes his way to the end of the stage behind the emcee.
”Before we begin,” the emcee furrows her forehead as she pauses, reading over her script once more. Bradley shuffles nervously, willing her to just go on and get this over with, keeping his head down so as not to meet the disinterested stares of the audience who already had their moments with their loved ones. He really should have gone for the paperwork route.
“Ahem. Apologies, ladies and gentlemen.” The emcee clears her throat. Bradley keeps his gaze down. “Before we begin, we are pleased to welcome Bradley’s godfather, Captain Pete Mitchell.”
Bradley whips his head up so fast that his neck actually aches, and he finally looks across the stage—
—and there he is, his dad, the Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, dressed in his formal whites too, nothing but love and pride in his eyes as he meets Bradley’s gaze.
For all the angry years, for all the times he stood alone, Bradley had always wanted Mav there. And now he is.
It’s immediately an effort to blink back his tears and swallow a sob, when all he wants to do is run across the stage into his dad’s arms.
The emcee pauses again, to Bradley’s frustration. There’s a note of amazement in her voice that Bradley doesn’t want to get into; he just wants her to speak faster so he can get to his dad.
“Um—ahem. Vice Admiral Ron Kerner will officiate his ceremony.”
Oh, so that’s how this happened. His Uncle Slider suddenly steps into view, entering the stage ahead of Mav and giving Bradley a wink as he takes the mic.
“It is my honor to officiate this ceremony today,” his uncle says formally as Bradley enters the stage, standing at attention in between his dad and uncle, practically vibrating with nervous joy.
Suddenly there’s a calming hand on his back, and Bradley almost jolts until he realizes it’s Mav, and he wants to melt into his comfort. He chances a quick glance to the side and sees the small soft smile on his dad’s face.
“I have had the pleasure of following Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s illustrious and promising career. I think I speak for all of us who know him when I say that he is a credit to his squadron, to the Navy, and to those who raised him.”
Bradley sneaks a satisfied glance at Rear Admiral Johnson, who looks darkly annoyed and confused at the sight of Mav beside Bradley.
The emcee takes over again to read out the attention to orders. “The President of the United States, acting upon the recommendation of the Secretary of the Navy, has placed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, integrity, and abilities of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw. In view of these special qualities, and his demonstrated potential to serve in the higher grade, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is promoted to the grade of Captain, United States Navy, effective the twenty-third day of March, twenty-twenty-seven, by order of the Secretary of the Navy. Captain Mitchell, would you please assist Vice Admiral Kerner in pinning on your godson’s new rank?”
Bradley closes his eyes and tries very hard not to cry as he keeps his stance at attention, looking out over the audience as Mav and his uncle Slider pin his new rank on.
There’s a comforting hand that pats his shoulder before Mav steps back, and Bradley tries very hard to obey protocol and not reach out a hand to pull him back beside him.
There’s a round of applause before his uncle Slider takes back the mic to re-administer the oath of office, but not before he leans in to whisper quickly in Bradley’s ear.
“He gets first salute, kid. Don’t worry about me.”
Bradley can only nod, relieved that he won’t be in trouble for bucking protocol seconds after being promoted.
Then again, he’s a Mitchell-Bradshaw—pissing off admirals as a captain must be in their lineage somehow.
He obediently repeats the oath of office after his uncle Slider, mentally preparing himself for what he’s about to do. “I, Bradley Bradshaw, having been appointed a captain in the United States Navy, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States, against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely, without mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office which I am about to enter, so help me God.”
”Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee finally announces. “Captain Bradley Bradshaw.”
His uncle Slider gives him a little encouraging nod, and Bradley turns smartly on his heel to face Mav.
There’s surprise and dawning recognition in his dad’s face, swiftly overcome by the same gentle and fond tenderness that always makes Bradley feel undone by the magnitude of his dad’s love. He brings one hand up in a salute as he feels the tears come.
“Sir,” he says tearily. “Thank you.”
Mav brings up his own hand in an answering salute for a second, before he quickly drops it and Bradley does too—
—and finally, finally, Bradley’s caught in his dad’s firm embrace, not caring that they’re on stage and being watched.
“I love you, sweetheart,” his dad whispers into his ear before pulling back and looking into his eyes. “I’m so proud of you. Your parents would be too.”
”Thanks, dad,” Bradley barely chokes out.
The emcee remains unflustered by the turn of events and covers the mic as she asks, ”Captain Bradshaw, any remarks?”
Mav drops his arms and motions for him to go on, and Bradley suddenly gets an idea.
“Yeah.” His uncle Slider hands him the mic as they head offstage, taking seats in the senior officers’ section. Mav smiles encouragingly at him to continue.
Bradley takes a deep breath. “Making Captain would be special for any naval aviator’s career, but it’s especially important for me. As some have reminded me recently, my father, Nick Bradshaw, callsign Goose, never made it to Captain. He passed away in a training accident during his time at Top Gun. I wanted to be a naval aviator because of him, and I know that he and my mom would be proud of me if they were here today.”
He looks at Mav now, who looks just as teary-eyed and emotional as Bradley. He smiles at his dad as he launches into the second part.
“Making Captain is also special to me because it remains to be the rank of the best man I know, who you have all seen pin my rank today.” Bradley keeps his eyes on Mav, but he sneaks glances at Rear Admiral Johnson as well, who at least has the decency to look a little ashamed, if unrepentant.
“I grew up with the best man to show me what being a Captain really means.” Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. “It’s more than just the rank. From him, I learned that being Captain means stepping up and taking on responsibilities out of love more than duty. I learned that being Captain means putting others first, and yourself last, even if that means putting your life on the line. I learned that being Captain is as much about serving and caring for those you love, as much as it is about leadership and making sure everyone under your command comes home.”
He takes another deep breath and lets it out. “I wouldn’t have learned any of that if not for Captain Pete Mitchell. He taught me everything I know, and I will be forever grateful.” He catches Mav’s gaze again, and it seems the man has given up on hiding his tears. “I thank the Navy for this promotion, but first and foremost I’d like to thank him.”
Bradley looks directly at Mav as he says his next words, uncaring for the raised eyebrows of some of the top brass. “Thank you, dad. I love you, and I’m so proud of you.”
Bradley sprints across the room as soon as the emcee announces that the program has formally ended, barely avoiding knocking into several senior officers as he runs to his dad.
Mav’s got his arms open even before Bradley reaches him.
Bradley melts into his hold. Even if he’s several inches taller, somehow Mav manages to make him feel like he can curl up small, like he’s a little kid again and Mav has the power to make everything better.
(He still does.)
Tears spill out as Bradley tucks his face in the crook between his dad’s neck and shoulder. One hand comes up to stroke his hair, and Bradley really really wants to keep from breaking down.
”You came,” he murmurs, “you came, you’re here.”
Mav chuckles lightly, although there’s a slight nervousness to his tone. “‘Course I did, baby goose.” He leans his cheek against Bradley’s head. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Bradley pulls back reluctantly and scrubs a hand across his eyes. He’s going to look like shit in the photos. “How—how’d you…”
”Ah,” Mav nods and beckons his uncle Slider over. “Helps to have friends who are admirals.”
”You could be an admiral if you bothered to learn how to fill up a form,” Slider grouses, to which Mav just grins. “And you know I never learned, Sli. I just learned how to fly; no fancy paperwork maneuvers for me.”
Slider rolls his eyes and steps up to shake Bradley’s hand. “Congratulations, gosling. You make us all proud.”
”Us?” Bradley asks.
”Over there,” Slider nudges towards the back of the room, where several uniformed rear and vice admirals are waving at Bradley. Oh, they’re all here. “We didn’t want you to see us at all because the surprise might have been ruined.”
”I hope it was okay, sweetheart,” Mav asks, and Bradley immediately clocks where the nervousness is coming from. Of course—he hadn’t been the only one wrecked by memories of those fifteen years.
“More than okay, dad,” Bradley reassures him. “I really did want you here, I just—“ he clams up and looks around at the crowd still milling around them.
”Talk later?” Mav says understandingly.
”Yeah,” Bradley answers softly. “I’d like that.”
After dinner cooked by Mav in Bradley’s Virginia housing that somehow managed to feed all of his flyboy admiral uncles, they clear the dishes and do the chores before winding down for the night.
Mav pours both of them a glass of the celebratory scotch brought by his uncle Hollywood as they take seats outside—the night’s just right, with a cool breeze blowing.
“Thank you for being there today,” Bradley says sincerely.
”I wouldn’t have missed it,” Mav answers, and it’s just about firm enough for Bradley to catch the second meaning: I would have come even if you didn’t want me here.
His heart aches again to think of how many times his dad had already done that.
”I’m sorry for not inviting you directly,” he says sadly, staring into his drink. “I really did want you there, Mav. It’s just—some things got to my head.” He shrugs as he takes a swig. “Same old Rooster, huh?”
Mav just keeps looking intently at him. Bradley can feel it. “What’s wrong, kiddo? What happened?”
“Nothing,” Bradley answers quickly—and of course that’s what gives it away.
”Something obviously did, bud,” Mav persists. “While I do appreciate your message earlier, it also felt like you were talking to someone else.”
Bradley sniffs as he leans into his dad’s shoulder. “That was the least I could do. You deserve all the promotions and more, Mav.”
Mav chuckles as he shifts and transfers his drink to his other hand so he can wrap an arm around Bradley. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Captain.”
The new title still doesn’t fit quite right. Bradley has spent his whole life idolizing a captain; it doesn’t seem right for he himself to inhabit the title.
It’s also a reminder of Rear Admiral Johnson’s cutting words, and Bradley scowls at the memory.
“Hey,” Mav croons above him. “What’s that face, baby goose?”
Bradley stays quiet, until Mav rubs his shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I can tell something’s bothering you. Today’s a great day, and you deserve to celebrate it properly, not with whatever’s holding you down.”
A few tears fall again as Bradley makes a mournful noise. He doesn’t deserve his dad. The Navy doesn’t deserve his dad. His dad deserves so much better.
He reluctantly straightens, leaving his dad’s warmth for a while and clutching his drink as he downs another swig. “Rear Admiral Johnson sat on my promotion board,” he says numbly. “He—he said some things.”
Mav frowns. “Can’t say I ever met him.”
Bradley gives a dry laugh. “Don’t. Not worth your time. He said—some shit about your reputation being the reason you never made it above Captain, and how me being promoted was…was something to shame you, like I could get back at you for what you did to Goose.” He puts down his drink and hides his face in his hands. “I—I’m so sorry, Mav. What he said got in my head and I just…I wanted you there so badly, but I didn’t want you to get hurt. You went through enough because of me.”
It takes a few seconds of silence for a comforting hand to settle in between his shoulder blades. “Sweetheart?”
Bradley feels undone all over again. The hand starts rubbing comforting circles in his back. “Hey. Think you can look at me, B?”
With much effort, Bradley pulls himself up and turns, eyes still downcast. A gentle hand tips his chin up, and he sees again the relentless love in his dad’s eyes, so powerful that Bradley thinks he might be bowled over if he wasn’t already sitting down.
“There you are, dearest,” Mav says softly, swiping at the tear tracks on Bradley’s cheeks. “Let’s clear some things up, hm? My turn to talk, and maybe these words will settle into your head more than that good-for-nothing admiral’s.”
Bradley snorts, and Mav smiles wider as the insult works to inject some levity in such a hopelessly confused conversation. “First, your promotion today was all you, kiddo. I know you think I taught you everything you know, but all your accomplished missions and awards? That’s all you. I certainly wasn’t Dagger Two and dropping bullseye blind.” Bradley smiles wetly, and Mav grins back as he continues, putting a reassuring hand on his kid’s shoulder.
“Coming back home from being a POW, and getting back in a plane after? That’s all you. Every accomplished mission in the years they evaluated, you were the one flying. You deserve this, Bradley. You do. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, or attach your accomplishments to any one person, you hear me?” Bradley nods slowly, and Mav sighs.
“Second—well, I think I told you this before but I got the best I could’ve had, alright?” Mav repeats, an echo of a conversation already had. “I made my choices, Brad. You know I was never in it for the promotions; if I could have a few more weeks with you and your mom stateside, then my reputation didn’t matter. I always wanted more time with you, and if that meant getting busted down to ensign, well,” he chuckles. “I would have taken it. You don’t hold any responsibility or guilt for my own choices, alright?” Bradley nods slowly as all his dad’s words trickle down into his soul, unsnarling the knot tied there by Johnson’s snide comments.
“Lastly,” Mav swipes at some tears on Bradley’s cheeks again, eyes impossibly soft. “I could never have been hurt or ashamed by coming here today, B. Let them talk; they don’t know any better. All I care about is you, sweetheart—and how proud I am of you. I love you so much, and I will always want to be there for you. Getting to pin your rank and wings—it was the privilege of a lifetime for me.” His dad presses a kiss to his forehead, and Bradley feels warm from head to toe. “Thank you for letting me do that.”
Bradley’s lower lip trembles as he feels another sob coming, tipping forward into his dad’s arms as he cries out another wave of guilt and relief.
“I’ve got you, Bradley,” his dad murmurs above him, pressing a firm kiss into his hair. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
”I’m sorry,” Bradley mumbles. “I’m sorry, dad, I’m so sorry.”
”Somehow I think a promotion isn’t something to apologize for, baby goose,” Mav chuckles lightly as he holds Bradley close. Bradley shakes his head as he burrows in closer. “I’m sorry for not inviting you,” he whispers. “I know I—I’ve done it before, but this time I wasn’t angry, I promise, I was just—“
”You were looking out for me like a good wingman,” his dad cuts him off, and Bradley snorts despite himself. That was certainly one way to put it. “I know, dearest. There’s no need to apologize for that.” Bradley sniffs. “Just for the record, though—I’ll always want to be where my wingman needs me, too.”
“Doesn’t that make you my wingman?”
Mav smirks. “We are the same rank now, Captain Bradshaw. Maybe we’ll take turns, how does that sound?”
Bradley smiles contentedly as he closes his eyes in his dad’s embrace. “I’d like that, Captain Mitchell.”