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Maverick sat at the bar, careful to keep his phone in his pocket, and surveyed the scene around him. The Hard Deck was lively tonight. Penny whirled around, pouring drinks and laughing with her customers. Phoenix held court over the pool table, apparently happy to separate unsuspecting newbies from their hard-earned money when they thought they could beat her. Maverick sighed and shook his head fondly when another pair of Navy men strutted up to her, clearly confident in their skills. Bob sat off to the side, guarding her drink and winnings, watching the proceedings with a proud little grin. Payback and Coyote were playing darts not far away, Fanboy evidently cheering them on. The rest of the Daggers stood around chatting nearby.
Maverick felt... peaceful, in a way he hadn't been in a long time, knowing all his people were here and safe and happy.
Well, mostly happy. As he watched, Bradley made another aborted attempt to talk to Hangman, only to be brushed off. It was the third time that night, and it was getting painful to watch. Maverick knew they had history, though Bradley had never told him anything. He had kept tabs on his godson from a distance after their falling out, with Ice's help, wanting to be as close as he could even if Bradley wouldn't talk to him. It probably crossed a line, but he hadn't cared. Now that they were speaking again, Maverick hoped that Bradley would eventually feel like he could open up to him about these things.
So, yes, he had heard the stories about Rooster and Hangman—the way they had butted heads from the moment they met, rumors that they were sleeping together, the infamous fights. And it had certainly seemed like they had history, the way they'd interacted over the course of their special detachment. Maverick just wasn't sure if they loved or hated each other. But after the way Hangman had defied orders to save them, he was pretty sure he knew. Though it seemed like Hangman was still hell-bent on pretending otherwise, ignoring all of Bradley's sad puppy dog looks.
Maverick was starting to wonder if he should intervene–or tell Bradley to give up for the night before he embarrassed himself too much–when Bradley chugged the rest of his beer, slammed his glass down on the table, and made a beeline to the jukebox. He unplugged it, as usual, rather than just turning the thing off, and then settled at the piano.
As the first few notes of "Great Balls of Fire" rang out, the people nearest to the piano turned and crowded closer, and soon enough half the bar was gathered around. Maverick was content to watch from the bar as Phoenix wormed her way through the crowd until she was standing at Bradley's shoulder, singing along. The rest of the Daggers also gathered close, belting out the familiar lyrics in the way moderately drunk people love to do. Maverick noted that Hangman was hanging farther back in the crowd, a small smile on his lips. Coyote nudged him, tipping his head either towards the center of the crowd or toward Rooster himself, Maverick wasn't sure. Hangman shook his head, but Coyote nudged him again, apparently coaxing. They exchanged a few words that Maverick couldn't hear, then they were weaving through the crowd to the other side of the piano. They ended up not quite at the front of the group, almost facing Bradley at the back corner of the piano.
From this angle, Maverick could see Hangman's face, but Bradley’s was in profile. He couldn't tell if Bradley had spotted Hangman yet, but he had a feeling he would sooner rather than later. Hangman started singing along, more hesitantly than Coyote next to him, but soon enough he was belting it out with the rest.
The atmosphere was raucous, everyone laughing and singing and dancing together. Maverick couldn't help but think once again of Goose at that same piano, singing the same song, but this time it just made him smile. He still missed Goose fiercely, but now that his relationship with Bradley was healing he was happy to be able to watch Baby Goose honoring his dad's memory.
The song ended and the whole bar cheered. Maverick could just see the corner of Bradley's proud grin. Hangman shook his head, and Maverick wondered if he was even aware of the fond smile on his face.
The crowd shifted as some people moved away after the first song ended, and soon there was no one between Hangman and the piano, and only the piano between him and Bradley.
Bradley played a few notes, starting a new song, and Maverick nearly gasped out loud when he realized what it was.
"You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips," Bradley sang. Maverick couldn't really see his face, but he had no doubt Bradley was looking right at Hangman.
Hangman, for his part, just rolled his eyes and looked away.
There were still people hanging around, and a surprising number started singing along. Maverick figured that song would be too old for this crowd.
It hadn't bothered Maverick that Bradley was playing his dad's old song a minute ago, and this didn't either per se, but something about it made him ache. For the thousandth time, he wished Goose was there to see the man his son had grown up to be.
"And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips." The rest of his audience seemed to think Bradley was still just singing to everybody, apparently oblivious to the way he directed every word toward Hangman.
Not everyone was oblivious, though. As Maverick watched, Coyote shoulder-checked Hangman from behind. Hangman must have been caught off guard, because he stumbled forward almost into the piano. Maverick could just about imagine Bradley's shit eating grin as he looked up.
"You're trying hard not to show it, baby," he sang, eyes locked with Hangman's, "But baby, baby I know it. You've lost that lovin' feelin'. Whoa, that lovin' feelin'. You've lost that lovin' feelin'. Now it's gone, gone, gone."
Bradley was standing now, somehow still playing but leaning over the piano to get closer to Hangman. Hangman rolled his eyes again, grinning despite his feigned annoyance, and gave him a light shove, sending him back to sitting on the piano bench.
"Now there's no welcome look in your eyes when I reach for you. And now you're starting to criticize little things I do." Hangman said something to Bradley, but Maverick couldn't hear the words.
In that moment, watching Bradley perform, suddenly Maverick felt like Ice was standing right there next to him—his voice was so clear in Mav's mind. "He got that from you," imaginary Ice said, voice warm with laughter and approval. “You were always one for grand gestures.”
The grief for Goose was old, worn dull around the edges. He was used to those waves lapping at his feet. But Ice... that grief was new, jagged edges tearing at him. He sucked in a ragged breath, letting the wave wash over him. Ice would've loved to see Bradley like this, so free and bold, finally taking a leap.
"I like to think he's got a little bit of all his parents in him," Maverick murmured back, despite knowing Ice wasn't really there to hear.
"What was that?" the guy next to him at the bar leaned over to ask.
"Oh, sorry," Maverick gestured with his glass. "Just talking to myself."
"You alright there, Pete?" Penny appeared out of nowhere in front of his spot at the bar.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Just watching the show." He tipped his head toward the piano.
Penny laughed. "They're quite the pair, aren't they? I remember when they first came through Top Gun. They were constantly drawn together, like magnets or something. But it was like they couldn't decide whether to fight or make out."
"No kidding," Maverick snorted.
As they watched, Bradley continued to sing. "Baby, baby, I get down on my knees for you." True to Penny's word, Hangman had gotten closer to the piano again, and Bradley was leaning toward him. "If you would only love me like you used to do, yeah." Hangman pressed himself against the back of the piano, Bradley's head tipped back to look up at him. Bradley's voice grew softer, not that anyone in the crowd seemed to notice. "We had a love... a love... a love you don't find everyday."
Hangman put his hands on the top of the piano and leaned over until he was in Bradley's space.
"So don't, don't, don't, don't let it slip away. Baby (baby), baby (baby). I beg you please (please), please (please)." Their lips were maybe an inch apart.
Maverick could see Bradley's lips move again, but he was pretty sure he wasn't singing anymore. Then—yep, there it was. Hangman lurched forward and kissed him.
Coyote, who had apparently been pretending not to watch from a few feet away, started cheering. Phoenix and Bob, dancing and singing behind Bradley, looked up at the noise and started cheering too when they saw what was going on. Payback wolf whistled from farther back in the crowd.
Most everyone else kept on singing and dancing, even though Bradley was no longer playing. "I need your love (I need your love), I need your love (I need your love)."
Maverick turned back to Penny. "I think they finally decided," he said with a grin.
"So bring it on back (so bring it on back), bring it on back (so bring it on back). Bring back that lovin' feelin'. Whoa, that lovin' feelin'. Bring back that lovin' feelin'..."