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He passed out right after looking into Maverick’s eyes and hugging him for the first time in over a decade. His adrenaline kept him up and running but it finally got the better him. He got injured while ejecting from his plane. Leaving him with internal bleeding for hours.
The antiseptic of the med bay stings in his nose. His mouth feels dry, it tastes bitter and a bit like blood. He groans.
He can hear people shuffling around in the distance, probably taking care of the rest of the squad. Is Maverick hurt? A monitor beside him beeps a few times then stays quiet.
His lungs hurt with every breath he takes. Each tiny inhale makes him feel like he’s burning from the inside. The side of his stomach hurts. It feels wet. And warm. It slips his mind again.
His head is hammering. He probably got a concussion during the fall. He feels like he’s about to throw up.
He groans again.
His left arm hurts. It stings. It feels like a bunch of tiny needles are stabbing his forearm at the same time. He tries twisting the arm a little and notices his hand sting even worse. He can’t move either of them. The pain and tingling gets worse every second.
He groans again.
He doesn’t want to lift his head. He’s in so much pain. He feels like he’s about to throw up at every small movement. But his arm hurts so bad.
He opens his eyes. It’s bright, burning them. He has to close them for a second. There is a light, right above his bed. He opens his eyes again, leaving time for them to adjust to the room.
He groans again.
His arm starts to tingle even more.
He finally lifts his head, trying to look down, to see the cause of his pain.
Hangman’s head is resting peacefully on Rooster’s arm. His eyes are closed, his breath is even. He looks calm, at ease. Hangman’s hand is holding his tightly, even in his sleep he didn’t loosen the hold one bit.
Rooster tries moving his arm once again, trying to ease the pain. It must have fallen asleep from the weight of Hangman’s head. Moving it doesn’t work. His body is too tired, in too much pain.
“Hangman,” Rooster tries to wake him, but his mouth is too dry. He barely makes a noise.
Hangman’s hair looks soft. The gel from earlier is barely holding it together anymore. It’s messy, just a bit. It feels soft where it touches Rooster’s arm. It makes him look real. Realer. He doesn’t look like ‘Hangman, the guy with one - no, two - confirmed air kills’. This isn’t Hangman, who makes side comments everytime they see each other. This isn’t Hangman, who he pretends to hates. This isn’t the Hangman, who used his father’s death against him.
This is… This is Seresin? This is Seresin, who saved him and Maverick.
Every breath escaping his lips makes the air brush against Rooster’s Bradshaw’s Bradley’s arm hair. It moves ever so slightly. It tickles.
Bradley forgot how long his lashes were, but so up close, he couldn’t miss them. His cheeks are flushed, burning hot against Bradley’s arm. He forgot how soft and red his lips look... He forgot so much about the other man. But right now, he sees it all again.
Bradley watches him. Studies him. His arm is still in pain. But he doesn’t seem to care. All he can do is watch him.
This isn’t Hangman, or Seresin. This is just Jake. Jake, who apparently cares about him. Jake, who is sitting beside him. In the med bay. Who is holding his hand right now. Holding his hand so tightly as though Rooster Bradley could slip right out again. Disappear in the woods of a foreign country, stranded with no way out.
Bradley can’t stop watching Jake. Asleep on his arm.
“Jake,” Bradley tries again. “Wake up, please.” He tries to move his arm with more force.
Jake groans. His lips part. His eyes twitch and open slowly.
He shoots up as soon as he realises where he was. And who he was resting on. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.
But his hand doesn’t leave Bradley’s. He loosened the grip but it stayed right where it was for the last few hours.
Jake stares at him, looks him up and down, then at the monitor beside Bradley. He doesn’t know a lot about medical things but the vitals look fine to him.
Rooster Bradley is fine. He is safe. He is here. He isn’t stranded on the military base of another country. Bradley is next to him. Bradley’s hand is in his. Jake is holding his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Hangman stares at him and tries to slip his hand out of Rooster’s.
Bradley tightens his grip, he doesn’t want to let go of Jake. He wants to stay here, with him. He forces a smile. It hurts.
“Don’t,” Bradley tries to speak again. His voice is still raspy.
Jake calms down. He reaches beside Bradley, bringing a cup of water to his lips.
“Here,” he says as he lifts the cup and watches Bradley drink.
“Thank you, Jake,” Bradley says once he is done, getting a smile in return.
His arm doesn’t hurt anymore. He can lift it again. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to scare Jake away. He doesn’t want Jake’s warm hand to leave his.
Bradley caresses his hand with his thumb. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles.
Jake leans his arms on the bed and lifts their hands, resting his lips against Bradley’s skin. He studies his face and mumbles into Bradley’s fingers.
“Mhm?”
“I was really scared,” Jake looks at him carefully and holds Bradley's hand tighter.
He doesn’t like being vulnerable. He doesn’t like showing his emotions, laying them all out, expressing them, admitting that he is vulnerable too. He knows he has to. If he doesn’t say it now, he never will. He is a coward. He knows it. He tries not to be one. And he would try everyday for Bradley.
Bradley blinks at him, a slight smile on his lips. “I’m sorry.”
Jake smiles back at him and gives Bradley’s hand a soft kiss. He barely feels it, but his hand is finally coming back to life. Jake stares at him again.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, “I was such a dick.”
Bradley studies Jake's face, “Yeah, you were.”
They both chuckle. Jake looks up to Bradley, his face resting on their hands. He groans frustrated. “God, I’m a 33 year old man and don’t know how to say this.”
Bradley keeps watching him and turns his hand in Jake’s grasp, stroking over Jake’s knuckles. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I was an asshole, not just a little. I was rude and mean, and I said things I wish I never even thought of saying. I’m sorry. This is no excuse, there can’t be one. But… I was so worried, Bradley. I was so fucking worried. I just wanted you to fly faster, to get there in time,” Jake tries to explain, getting faster with every word leaving his mouth.
“I know I acted so sure of myself but I knew he would pick you in the end. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear the thought of you not coming back. I know– I know we’re not friends… I know this… We… I don’t– You mean so much to me, I can’t put it into words.”
“I like to tease you, I want you to be the best. You are the only person I consider my even. And I want you to be better. I need you to be better. Because if you’re better than me. Then I don’t have to worry about you not coming back.”
“Hangman,” Bradley starts. Jake’s face twists. “Jake. Hey.”
Bradley removes his hand from Jake’s entirely and moves it to his face.
“Thank you.” His thumb strokes Jake’s cheek. “Come here.”
His hand guides Jake’s head to lay down on Bradley’s side. He’s warm, comfortable. Jake sighs, the hand in his hair stroking it softly.
“It’s… it’s not fine,” Bradley says and feels Jake tense. “I won’t lie to you. What you did, what you said… I can’t pretend it’s fine now. And I was angry. I still am?”
Jake tries to get up from where he’s lying but the hand in his hair is keeping him still.
“But,” Bradley starts, “I understand you. I don’t like how you went about it, but I also know I would have been too stubborn to ever listen to you. I don’t even… I don’t even know how we ended up here. Jake, I loved you. I loved you so much. You meant the world to me.”
Tears fall from Jake’s eyes, rolling down his nose and cheeks and soaking into Bradley’s gown. Bradley’s hand presses into Jake’s hair, tears forming in his own eyes.
“I’m so sorry, for everything,” Jake mumbles into the wet patch on Bradley’s stomach.
“I’m sorry, too.” Bradley moves his hand, lifting Jake’s face, pulling him closer.
His eyes are red, there are tears falling from them. His cheeks are stained, wet and tacky. His lips are red, like he was biting down on them. Bradley’s thumb moves up and down the side of his face, taking him in with his eyes.
“I miss you,” Bradley finally says. More tears spill from Jake. He breathes out, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and finally breathes in again.
“I miss you, too, so much, Bradley,” Jake replies as he moves closer to his face.
His forehead rests against Bradley’s, Jake’s tears falling onto his face, mixing with his own.