Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jake groans as he looks at the tire on his truck. Just great. Fucking fantastic. He runs a hand through his short blonde hair and thinks about what to do. He was one of the last of the Daggers to leave San Diego to head to Laguna Beach. Stupid Javy, always telling how much fun it's gonna be to convince him to go somewhere. He loved the man to death, but god was he persistent. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Both are too stubborn to allow the other to miss out on something. He goes to grab his phone from inside his truck when he hears a honk. He looks over and his heart drops.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw is staring at him with that stupid, smug grin. Those stupid chocolate brown eyes make his stomach flutter. Jake swallows them back and glares at the man. He watches as the window to the brunette’s Bronco rolls down fully. Jake mentally calculates how long it would take to reach the hotel on foot if he had 30 minutes left of driving before his tire popped. He quickly concludes it's too long.

“Need a ride, cowboy?” Bradley asks, and somehow his words are more smug than the shit-eating grin on his face. Jake debates punching (or kissing) it away. He looks over at his truck, which appears to be a bit slumped from a flat tire. Fuck it. He grabs his bags from the back of his truck and walks over to the Bronco, opens the door, and steps up into it. He pulls out his phone as Bradley pulls over so that he can get a tow. He tries his hardest to ignore Bradshaw's shit-eating grin, but it’s kinda hard when it’s a cute shit eating grin.

“Thanks,” Jake mumbles softly. Bradley nods.

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After a 45-minute drive that consisted of very quiet rock music from the radio and some annoyingly awkward silence, they finally arrived at the hotel. They both grab their bags from the back and go to check in. Everyone arrived at roughly the same time, as all of the daggers are in the waiting room to get checked in. Jake sits next to Javy and greets everyone. Bradley flops onto the couch cushion next to Nat and watches her raise an eyebrow.

“Did you just walk in with Hangman of all people?” she questions him. For some reason, Bradley feels his face flush. He chops it up to the teasing.

“His truck's tire went flat,” Bradley shrugs. “Thought I might as well help him out.”

Nat grins teasingly. Bob, who overheard the conversation, speaks up. “Being the bigger man, I see,” he says. Bradley flips them both off.

He and Jake wait until everyone who got there before them gets their rooms. They walk up at the same time, the blonde glaring at Bradley as they both get there at the same time. The woman at the desk looks up at them with a smile, knowing they walked in at the same time with one another. She smiles that annoyingly polite fake smile that could piss you off if you were in a bad enough mood.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she says, clicking on her mouse to do something on her computer. “It seems we only have one room left. Is that okay? It should have two beds, and it's on the third story, which has a great view of the beach!” Her voice screams a fake work voice she’s forced to use.

Jake’s face burns, but he swallows the feeling down and turns towards Bradley, whose face is equally surprised. Jake turns to Javy. “Swap?” He offers, and his best friend shakes his head far too quickly. Bastard. What was he plotting?

Bradley just gives Nat and Bob a look, and they both shake their heads. Bob’s smile seems sincere, but Phoenix’s? She’s plotting too. At least there will be separate beds, right? He watches the blonde turn back towards the lady at the front desk as he does the same. “We’ll take it, can you do cash?” he asks, opening his wallet. The redhead getting their room nods. Jake pulls out his wallet, too. They split the price 50/50. By the time they’re done paying, everyone else has scattered to their rooms. They silently walk to the elevator. Jake’s smug smirk is back.

“Guess we’re roomies, huh?” he says, and Bradley rolls his eyes. Sure, Jake's always thought Bradley was hot, and he maybe had a teeny tiny crush on him, but he's never taken it seriously. The man's his type exactly, so it’s not surprising he finds him at least a little cute, right?

“The only reason I’m bunking with you is because I have to,” Bradley says, and it’s only half playful. Jake knows Bradley doesn’t exactly like him, but he’s never really an asshole to him (at least, not directly.)

There’s a soft ding, and the doors to the elevator open. They both step out, bags in hand, and hunt for their room number. When they find it, Bradley takes his keycard and opens the door, a soft click follows a beep, and the door unlocks. They step in.

Immediately, something is wrong. There are not two beds, as they’d been promised, but one. Bradley groans. “This cannot be happening.”

Jake follows him, and his face falls. “Are you serious? Did they charge us for two beds?” he grumbles, throwing his bag down. Bradley does the same. He sighs.

The room is mostly a grey-ish brown color. The carpet has a funky line pattern. There’s an accent wall behind the bed’s headrest that’s random of dots various tropical colors. There’s a TV set up on the opposite wall, and under it is the entertainment center. The east wall between the two has a window. There’s a couch with no backboard in a sterile white color that doesn’t feel homey exactly. There are two side tables with lamps on either side of the bed, and two dressers on either side of the room. Right next to the front door is the door that leads to a modern and slick bathroom, the type that doesn’t make you feel very at home. Feels more like a hospital. Bradley fucking hates hospitals.

“I’ll go see if we can get a 50% refund. I’ll split it between us,” he says, walking towards the door. Jake watches as his stupid Hawaiian shirt hugs his arms in all the right ways. This is gonna be one very long week.

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Bradley comes back up. They have no more open bedrooms. Which means they’re just gonna have to share this one. He sighs as he opens the door to the hotel room. He hears the faint sound of the shower running and walks past the bathroom door, definitely not thinking about Jake showering. He starts to unpack his bag, hearing the soft pitter-patter of the shower come to a stop. He folds some of his Hawaiian shirts back up and turns to the dresser facing opposite the bathroom door and the front door. He hears the door to the bathroom open, but doesn't bother to turn around.

“Did they give us a refund?” Jake asks, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, showing his hips. His hair is soaked, dripping down his body. He leans down to get some clothes to change into.

Bradley turns and freezes, his face turning pink immediately. His gaze looks over Jake’s chest. “Y-Yeah. I’ll give you half of it,” he says, forcing his gaze up from Jake's chest. The blond smirks that same cocky smirk he’s used against Bradley since they were in the academy.

“Like what you see, Bradshaw?” He teases playfully, shaking his hips. The other man forces his mind out of the gutter and flips him off. Jake laughs softly and grabs some clothes, going to the bathroom to pull them on. Bradley finishes unpacking, and Jake finishes changing.

“I’ll crash on the couch,” Rooster says, knowing his back will be killing him by the end of the night. Jake shakes his head immediately.

“Absolutely not,” He says, staring at the dough-eyed brunette. He starts to pull the sheets back on the side towards the bathroom, moving some of the pillows down so they’re facing down where he can lie comfortably. “We can just share the bed, Rooster,” Jake insists.

Bradley shakes his head. “No, really, it’s fine,” he says.

“Bradshaw, that bed has absolutely no support. You’re too damn old for that. You’ll cry about your back all week, and I am not dealing with that,” Jake’s smirk softens. Bradley wonders if that dumb smirk he hates is just a front, and maybe the real Hangman has some other emotions besides being smug.

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Bradshaw shoves a pillow in between them as the sun starts to set. Jake feels a pang of hurt, but understands why he did it. They’re both in sweatpants and t-shirts. The cool hotel air is a nice difference from the humidity they’ve been feeling the last few weeks back home. Bradley turns over, his back facing Jake. The younger man looks over his outline, swallowing dryly. He watches his body expand and deflate as his breathing slowly comes down. For a second, just a split second, he thinks about reaching out and running a hand through his hair or lightly tracing his form. He sighs and rolls back over, burying his head in his pillow.

Get a hold of yourself, Seresin.

Bradley can feel his staring. He assumes he’s just a bit uncomfortable and brushes it off, half asleep. He speaks up, voice raspy from sleep. “Goodnight, Hangy,” he doesn’t turn his way as he speaks.

Jake can’t help but grin at the man's teasing tone. “Night, Roo,” he whispers back softly, closing his own eyes. Maybe Bradshaw wasn’t so bad.

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In the morning, the shorter man walks out of the bathroom, phone in hand. “The others wanna go swimming, wanna go?” He asks it as if he’ll only go if Bradley does.

Rooster looks out the window down at the pool, spotting Fanboy and Payback already in the pool. Yale and Harvard join them only moments later. “Sure, why not?” he shrugs, grabbing his swim trunks. Jake digs in his bag and finds his swim trunks. They both quickly change into them.

Jake’s eyes linger on the other's chest for a beat before he smirks again. “Ready?” Bradley nods. The younger man is in some plain black swim trunks. Bradleys are a bit more colorful, a nice shade of green.

For a second, the brunette thinks they match Hangster’s eyes pretty well. He forces the thought away and pulls on his shades. He grabs two towels from the bathroom, throwing one at Jake. It perfectly hits him in the face, making the other pilot flip him off. He laughs and continues out the door.

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By the time they reach the pool, the entire daggers squad is already there, fucking around in the pool. The second he is spotted by Nat, she splashes Bradley from where she stands in the pool next to Bob. He laughs and throws his towel down.

“Oh, it is SO on,” he gets in and soon a splashing fight ensues between the two, Somehow Halo and Payback get dragged into it too.
Jake climbs into the pool, making his way over to Coyote, watching the play fighting with a soft smile. Well, technically, he was watching Bradley, but do the details matter here? Javy just gives him a look. “What?” Jake frowns defensively. He knows his best friend knows the look, but he’s gonna deny it as much as he can.

“Bradshaw?” He whispers with a smirk. Jake feels his face flush.

“Shut up, I can think a guy is hot, okay?” He mumbles. But his best friend’s smirk just grows wider.

“I always knew there was something more there,” he teases him. Jake sighs softly. He can’t believe he likes Bradley fucking Bradshaw of all people. “Did ya’ll cuddle in your shared bed last night?” he pokes at the blonde.

“No, you dick. Besides, he’s probably straight,” Jake flips him off.

Rooster has to be straight. Right?

Chapter Text

After two hours at the pool, everyone leaves to go shower. Bradley swallows dryly as he and Jake stand in the elevator. The blonde, who apparently never learned to dry off properly, because his stupid fucking muscles are dripping with water and his hair is soaked. He has to force his eyes away from the other man, covering up his arousal with a glare. He looks at the small puddle forming under Jake.

“Really, dude?” he mumbles. Hangman just rolls his eyes.

“It’s just a bit of water,” he says with a shrug. A small ding shuts him up as the elevator doors open in front of them. Bradley steps forward and feels Jake hit him as he does the same. His glare somehow hardens, and he forces himself forward to step into the hall. He unlocks the door and holds it open for Jake. As he steps past him, Bradley feels his eyes linger on his shoulder blades. He again hides his flushed face and shuts the door behind him.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. He grew up with Ice and Mav; he’s used to it. Even before his mom passed, he spent his summers in California. Long days at the beach with his uncles made summer summer. When they were in the privacy of their home, his godfathers were the two most clingy men he’d ever met. Maverick was always kissing Ice’s cheek or holding his hand. He never cared. They hid it because, obviously, it was the 90s and DADT was still a thing, but only at work. Even then, Bradley was sure everyone knew. You don't stare at your wingman like that.

Hell, his best friend is a lesbian, and he loves her like a sister. But any time he has ever thought that a man was attractive, he tells himself not to. Besides, he’s been with women. He likes women—quite a bit, actually. He also knows you can still be straight and acknowledge that it’s okay to think someone of the same gender is handsome or pretty.
After all, he’s not blind. Jake is a beautiful man. A cocky, narcissistic man, but a beautiful and handsome one.

“I call dibs on the shower,” Jake says quickly. Bradley groans.

“You used it first last time,” he mumbles. The other man just grins and walks in. Bradshaw rolls his eyes and sits down at the desk. He scrolls for what feels like much longer than it was, lost in his thoughts as he tries to forget about Jake, dripping wet with that stupid fucking smile on his adorable face. He doesn’t even realize it’s his turn to shower until Jake is throwing a towel at his head.

“Rooster, you’re up,” he smiles softly. Bradley stands and heads to the bathroom, his brain lingering on his childhood, his mom, his dad, and his uncles. Before he steps into the show after he strips down his phone buzzes. He glances over.

Mav: How are you feeling, kiddo?

He puts his phone on silent and steps in, not ready to face an actual conversation with his godfather, where they both weren’t high on adrenaline.

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A five-year-old Bradley holds his Mom’s hand as he follows her up the steps of an unfamiliar house. He’s holding flowers tight in his little hand. His mommy told him earlier that these were for his daddy. He misses him a lot. Misses his scratchy kisses. Misses the way he’d play piano and make Uncle Mav sing. Misses his silly shirts and the way he’d laugh when he got ice cream on his nose. Misses how his mom used to smile and say they were gonna go visit, and they’d sit on a plane. He used to like to look out the windows at the clouds and think about how his daddy and his uncle Mav would fly through those every day, and how he wanted to do the same when he was all grown up. His mommy says that he’s up in heaven laughing with them, tucking him in at night, making sure he’s not getting into too much trouble. He wonders if she’s right.

The house in front of them is by the beach. It’s a soft blue that reminds him of one of his daddy’s old shirts that his mom lets him keep. He fidgets as his mommy knocks on the door. It opens, and a tall blonde man answers. He recognizes him instantly.

“Uncle Ice!” he yells, throwing himself into his godfather's arms. He can hear his mom chuckle, and the man's arms wrap around him in a hug.

“Hey there, baby Goose,” he says, ruffling his hair. Bradley peeks around the corner and sees his uncle Maverick.

“Uncle Mav!” he runs towards him, tackling him in a hug. He hears the front door close and his mom talking to his other godfather. Shorter brunette smiles down at him.

“Hey, kiddo. What are the flowers for?” he asks. Bradley puts them out. His uncle Mav hasn’t changed since they visited a few weeks ago, because a few weeks is years for a five-year-old.

“They’re for daddy,” he says with a smile. His uncle's smile falters before he forces it back up. He ruffles his already crazy hair and walks over to his mommy.

“Hey, Carole.”

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After they visit his daddy’s grave, leaving flowers and some soft spoken words that Ice walks him away from, distracting his godson with talk of ice cream, they go home.

Bradley licks the ice cream his uncle gave him to go. He looks back out the window as they drive away and sees his godfathers kiss. He smiles and turns to his mom. “Mommy?” he asks, all sweet and innocent like, which immediately tells Carole this question is gonna be one of those.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he smiles over at him.

“Why do Uncle Mav and Uncle Ice live together? And why do they kiss?” He says, rapidly spewing questions back to back. Carole decides on the simplest answer.

“Because they’re in love,” she watches his reaction. He just licks his ice cream.

“Okay. Like you and daddy?” She nods. “Is it normal for it to be two boys?” he asks again. Her face softens, and she nods again.

“Yeah, Brad Brad. They’re happy. You can love anyone you want, okay?” She looks over his hair and his smile. God, he looks like her Nick. She misses him.

“Okay, mommy.”
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Jake and he get out of his Bronco at the same time. Everyone else is already there or is driving up as they approach the bar. Bradley, ever the gentleman, opens the door for Jake, who smirks and nods. He glares back. Would it kill him to say 'thank you'? He shouldn’t judge. It’s not like he’s a saint or anything. He sighs and follows him in.

The daggers that are already inside are sitting at a circular table, with enough open seats for the few missing lingering around them. Bradley plops down between Nat and Bob, watching Jake do the same with Javy.

The bar is slightly modern. Everything's some shade of millennial gray, unlike the hard deck that Bradley has gotten used to. The warmth and familiarity of the wooden feel of the bar back home is much better, in his opinion. This place feels sterile with its concrete and steel beams. It’s a sports bar, as there are TVs all around displaying sports games, and a few groups of men with wings and beers in front of them, cheering when their team wins. There are neon lights everywhere that sprinkle everyone with a different array of colors. There’s a touch-tunes juke box mounted to a wall by the bar, an old beat-up piano next to it, looking like it hasn't been touched in months. Maybe even years. There are a few rings on ot where people left their sweating beers, leaving permanent marks.

“What’s with you and Hangman?” Bob asks, taking a sip of what Bradley can tell is lemonade, judging by its neon yellow color. That, and the overwhelming smell of sugar that manages to linger in the air.

“What do you mean?” Bradley says with a small frown.

Nat cuts in with a shrug and a hum of the mouth. “You two normally can’t stand each other. Now you’re bunking in the same hotel room as him,” she says, not even looking up at Bradshaw. “It’s just interesting.”

“What’s so interesting about it?” Bradley says defensively. “We’re two grown men. We only piss each other off when it comes to work,” he grumbles, suddenly standing. “Does anyone want a beer?” he asks the entire group. A few people nod. He gets their orders and walks over to the bar.

A shorter woman with blonde hair that goes to her lower back and green eyes that sparkle under the lights is sitting at the bar. She’s not too short but not too tall compared to him. Bradley quickly puts together that she is sitting alone. Her clothes aren’t casual but aren’t dressy or club-like. They’re all earthy sort of tones. A dark green cardigan, some brown pants, and an off white shirt with plain sneakers. Just his type. The pilot smiles that stupid, smug, flirty grin that anyone who’s ever seen him with a woman can recognize. She flushes and smiles back. Cute.

He gets his drinks and quickly walks back over to everyone, that smirk lingering on his face as he sits. “What are you grinning about?” Payback asks with an eyebrow raised. Mickey and Bob turn to look at Rooster.

He shrugs and looks over at the bar. The other men's eyes follow, and Mickey and Payback laugh and pat him on the back, saying something along the lines of ‘shoot your shot, Rooster.’ But Bradley’s eyes linger on Bob, who doesn’t look as happy for him. The blue-eyed man gives Nat a look, and she looks over, quickly piecing together what happened. She smiles, but Bradley knows it’s fake.

What the hell are they plotting?

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Eventually, everyone's at least a little tipsy. Well, except designated drivers, so Bob, Bradley, and Rueben. Bradley watches Jake lean drunkenly on Javy as they play darts from the bar stool he’s currently sitting at. Something unfamiliar bubbles in his gut. He shoves it down, filing it away as annoyance at the blonde’s stupidity. He turns his head and sees the blonde woman from earlier. Fuck it, he thinks, turning his whole body to face her.

“Come here alone?” he asks. He bites his tongue. Did that sound creepy? He can’t tell.

She nods. “Sometimes I come here for their burger and a beer. Plus, they play some good music,” she says with a soft smile. Bradley suddenly has an idea.

“I play piano,” he states smugly, looking over at the piano he’d seen earlier. She follows his gaze, her soft smile turning into a grin.

“Play me a song, piano man,” she whispers back. He stands and walks over, sitting down. His friends notice and step closer, knowing what’s to come. He plays the opening notes of Piano Man. He hears some of the laughter pause and the previously playing electronic song being turned down, presumably by the bartender who’s also turned towards him. The song feels a bit empty without the normally accompanying harmonica solo, but Bradley covers it by playing it on the piano.

“It's nine o'clock on a Saturday. The regular crowd shuffles in,” he rasps out, grinning as others join in.

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“Sing with the family, Bradley!” his father says with a grin as Maverick and his lady friend join him and his mom in singing. He joins in, beaming as he swings his feet well sitting up top. He giggles as his uncle Maverick sings louder (and worse) than the rest of them. He looks down and watches his father's fingers dance over the white and black piano keys.

The piano they have at home is a lot like this. When he’s on leave, his daddy will sit him next to him and teach him some of the notes, helping him play the ones he can’t quite reach yet. He promises that second his arms are long enough to reach him and his mommy will get him in lessons. That's when he can play, they’ll duet on some songs, and have Maverick over to show off his talent.

He wonders if when he’s big, he’ll look like his daddy. Will he have the same silly mustache? Be a pilot with a fellow one as his best friend? Will he wear silly Hawaiian shirts? Will he have a pretty wife like his mommy, and a son or daughter like him? Will he be just like him? He hopes so. That would be cool.

After a bit of singing, his mom pulls him off the piano, and they finish eating. He watches his parents talk to Maverick and Charlie, who he has just figured out the name of. He munches on his French fries. He thinks this is his favorite day ever, even though he’s five, and he counts any day where they do something fun as the best day ever.

He wonders if this one will stay his favorite forever. He hopes it does.

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Bradley turns with a smirk as everyone cheers and then scatters. Jake walks up to him with a drunken wobble and a smile just as he’s about to stand and walk over towards the lady at the bar. He pauses, eyebrows raised.

“Damn, Rooster,” he slurs out. “That was good,” he steps close, and Bradley can smell the lingering alcohol on his breath. “What else can those pretty fingers do?” he whispers against his ear, hand going towards the seat. It effectively pins the brunette to the seat.

He flushes red and looks up into Jake's chartreuse, not being able to realize his own doe-eyes have gone nearly completely black as his pupil dilates. Jake nearly falls, and he grabs his hip to support himself. “We need to get you back to the hotel,” he mumbles, still supporting Jake. He tries not to think about the fact that Jake is also flushed and has pupils blown wide.

Bradley looks over at the woman, who has a confused look on her face. He grins sheepishly and continues to support Jake, who’s still happily smiling. He rests his hand on Bradley’s. “Your hands are warm,” he mumbles. Bradley’s face somehow turns even redder.

He pulls the blonde over to the others. “Hey, does anyone else need to head home? Hangman over here is done for the night.”

“Noooooo,” Jake groans, not wanting to go home yet. The other laugh and shake their heads.

“Let me help you get him into your car,” Javy says, setting down his darts. They support Jake as they walk out the door. Once they get to the Bronco, Javy steps up and opens the passenger door. They slide Jake in before Javy walks off. Bradley gets in and feels Jake’s eyes linger on him. He flushes.

The drive back to the hotel is awkward. Jake ‘flirts’ a bit, but it's playful. Bradley honestly is a bit pissed off that he’s playfully flirting with him, like being gay is a joke. He thinks he might be overthinking it, but he doesn’t care. He helps Jake through the lobby. When they get to the elevator, Jake continues to lean against Bradley. He drags the shorter man to their hotel room. “Go to bed, Seresin,” he says, tucking him into the light blue covers.

Jake sighs and curls up. Bradley changes into some comfy clothes and lies beside him. “Goodnight, Bradshaw,” Jake murmurs, half asleep. Bradley grunts.

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Jake wakes up with a killer headache, groaning. This wakes up Bradley, who glares. “Fuck man,” he mumbles, sitting up. Bradley follows, his movements slightly cold. He stands and digs in his bag, passing some aspirin to Jake. “Thank you,” Bradley doesn't respond. He watches Jake frown. “Did I do something wrong?” he says with a huff.

“You flirted with my last night,” he watches Jake’s movements come to a halt. He turns, face flushed with an embarrassed red color.

“Oh Jesus- I’m so sorry, man,” he rubs his head. “I was hammered last night.”

“I don’t appreciate you making fun of gay people,” Bradley says with a glare. He watches confusion wash over Jake’s face, and then he bursts out in laughter. Bradley’s glare is so bad now that if looks could kill, Jake would have died yesterday. “What’s so fucking funny?” he growls out.

Jake sobers up, clearing his throat. “Bradley, I am gay.”

“Oh.”

Silence. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that,” Bradley says. “You don’t look- not that looks- you don’t-”

“Relax, Rooster. I’m not gonna cancel you,” Jake hums.

Bradley thinks about the night before. Jake’s grin. How touchy he was. How flirty he was. How close he was to him. He thinks about how flushed Jake’s face was and the flirty grin he had as his eyes wandered down Bradley’s body. He wonders if he looked that way when he was playing piano. If he was one of the ones singing, or if he told the others he looked good. Was it all joking? He’d assumed it was, but that was before he knew Jake liked guys. But not that he does know his brain can’t help thinking it could’ve been real. “So did you really-”

“No,” Jake cuts him off immediately. “I was drunk.”

Bradley feels a pang in his heart. Is that hurt? No, probably guilt. He buries it down in his brain and settles on it having been the latter, and not some form of heartache. “Right. Sorry.”

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They spend a day out with everyone at a little shopping center. They laugh and joke around, but Bradley tries to keep himself away from Jake. He’s not rude, just doesn’t talk to him. Or at least tries to.

“Bradshaw! Look!” Nat calls in a store, Jake and Javy snickering behind her. He walks over, avoiding looking at the blonde man. “You want this shirt?” It’s an ugly pink color with small chickens on it. Rooster flips her off, and she laughs.

“I think pretty princess pink would look great on you,” Jake jokes, and Bradley just smiles an awkward, tight-knit grin. The other two pilots walk off, and the shorter man frowns. “Are you still mad at me or something?”

Bradley's face softens. “No, no, of course not. You were drunk,” the brunette assures quickly.

“Then what’s the issue?” Jake asks, sounding a bit hurt and a bit upset, too. Bradley shrugs.

“I just- You told me you’re gay this morning and- I-I don’t know.” Jake’s face falls, and his walls are put back up in an instant, and Bradley realizes exactly how that sounded.

“I’m not gonna give you the fucking gay,” he glares. He starts to walk away.

Bradley follows. “Wait, that’s not-”

“Fuck off.”

Great.

Chapter Text

“I’m not gonna give you the fucking gay,” Jake growls as he stomps away. Telling Bradley was a terrible idea. To be honest, he has no idea why he thought it’d be a good idea to tell him in the first place. But he didn’t want the other pilot mad at him for all of their leave. This was supposed to be a vacation.

“Wait, that’s not-,” he hears Bradley attempt. Something similar to hurt and anger bubbles in his chest. He doesn’t turn back towards the brunette.

“Fuck off,” he swallows back the lump in his throat that’s an all too familiar fear. He swings the door to the shop open and starts to walk along the shopping area, hearing the chatting of people around him.

He’s not even sure why he feels it, that scary feeling. He hasn't been scared to be himself in a very, very long time. He’s not directly open about his queerness, but he won’t lie if asked. Sometimes he just won’t answer if he doesn’t know the person. He doesn’t feel like he owes that personal bit to anyone. He’s pretty sure the only one of the daggers who doesn't think he’s a red-blooded, chick magnet, pure-bred American is Javy. He remembers telling him in the academy after Javy insisted on setting him up with a girl he knew, and he had to tell him straight to his face that he preferred the company of other men. Of course, with Javy being Javy, he immediately tried to set him up with one of his other gay friends. Jake wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be offended or grateful for an accepting friend. He ended up with the latter. Coyote’s been his number one supporter since that day, second only to his parents and sisters. He loves him like he’s his brother for it.

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He doesn’t know when it shifted. When he suddenly went from thinking a girl was pretty to how mesmerizing the football boys looked when they were all in the locker room. He does, however, remember the day he looked at their linebacker, Archie Flinn, and his heart skipped a beat as his face turned red. Why does he remember that? Because it was yesterday. So now he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where the hell he went wrong. Last week, he was at a party, kissing random girls and getting more numbers than he’d think would be possible in a small town, yet they managed to fill his pockets.

The town's star quarterback, Jake Seresin, the one they used to call a heartbreaker, was queer. He hated the fact that the stutter of his heart felt so right. The other boys' shaggy brown hair and golden eyes made him lose all previous thoughts, and he despised it. Because shit, he had it all figured out. He’d find a girl in college, they’d have the kind of romance his parents did, he’d graduate, come home, settle down, and have a few little rascals by the time he was 30. Now it’s all gone down the fucking drain. All because he’s selfish.

Jake feels tears sting his eyes and rolls on his side, sniffing. This has to be a mistake; he’s gotta be confused. He can’t do this to everyone who’s made plans for his life already. Who wanted Seresin to do better than they had. He’s going to let them down, all because of some stupid feelings he has. Maybe he can still like girls, and this crushing fear he’s feeling will be futile because he’ll still be able to have that life he and others planned for him. No, the life they expect from him.

He lies there for hours, tossing and turning, the gut feeling swapping from a knot of fear that makes him want to throw up to the soft flutter of butterflies as he thinks about letting everyone down and the boy he’s suddenly fallen for. The way Archie smiles and laughs. The way his hair bounces and the outline of a steadily growing mustache. He even thinks about the way the boys' cologne smells. Does his hoodie smell like that? Would Jake enjoy the warmth of the cloth around him as the overwhelming smell of what he can only describe as Archie floods his nose? Would he like the way his lips felt the way he thought they had when he got kissed by girls?

Jake sits up and looks at his clock after a bit of the flip-flop—2:27 AM. Jake groans, looking around his room. He’s got his math final tomorrow. Thankfully, he doesn’t have practice. He’s pretty sure some of the guys were talking about a big party after school. That would be nice. Maybe it could clear his mind. For now, he gets out of bed and heads towards his white bedroom door.

The Manchester wooden floors are cold, but they're familiar. His feet glide over his rug, which is sat on the floor by his desk and bookshelf, both decorated with metals. The shining gold and silver of baseball awards shine in the moonlight. The shelves remain dull, unlike the objects displayed on them, with the greyish-brown almond color of the varnished wood, but matte in a way. Not too shiny, not too flat. His desk matches it, a spinney chair tucked into the front. The walls of his room have been a dark blue his whole life, and he imagines a plain white room would give him a headache. His wall faces north from his bedroom door, with a window overlooking his backyard from the south side of his room. The walls are covered in baseball and band posters, thumbtack holes littering the few empty spots. The biggest of the posters is a Dallas Cowboys cheerleading poster, signed and all. He refuses to turn towards it because, for some reason, it makes him feel sick. Like a fraud.

He swings the door open and silently walks down the narrow hall, feeling the rug under every step. The dark hallways are illuminated by the little bits of light peaking through the windows downstairs. The walls are a cloudy grey, sprinkled with every school photo of him, Alice, and Lisa, every family photo shoot. An entire life story playing out in real time, past memories frozen in pictures. Jake wonders if he will ever get to have the same sort of life, even if he does marry a man. He buries that thought as quickly as it came. When he reaches the step, he carefully makes sure not to make a single sound. All he needs is one of his parents or sisters finding him all puffy-eyed as he hunts for something to eat that can distract his mind from its current flow of consciousness.

When he’s successfully gotten down the steps, he hobbles to the kitchen, exhaustion becoming more and more apparent with every single step he makes. The floor is just as cold as it is in his room, still the same shade of wood. The countertops are marble, and each cabinet is hand-painted white. Photos line the walls in here, too. He opens the door to the fridge, already raided by the other Seresins and their nighttime munchies. Jake sighs and grabs the gallon of milk, flicking on the light to see a bit better. He silently opens one of the cabinets above and grabs a bowl. He opens the pantry, grabbing a box of Cheerios.

Jake’s halfway through a bowl when he hears a creak. He looks over his shoulder and spots the Seresin middle child, Lisa. He quickly turns away, hiding his eyes. “Hey,” he says, munching on the honey-tasting cereal. He hears her step around the island and open the fridge, but continues to keep his eyes trained on the bowl.

“Hey, Jakey,” she says back. They're all only a year apart. Jake’s 16, Lisa’s 15, and their baby sister Alice is 14. They’ve always been close, despite their different interests. They tell each other everything. Well, almost. Jake thinks the new awakening of his attraction to another gender should stay his. For now. Maybe forever. He watches her sit next to him, eating some leftover spaghetti. “You okay?”

Jake shrugs. He takes another bite. “Can’t sleep,” it’s bullshit, and they both know it. But neither of them finds it necessary to say it. Lisa knows better than to poke a sleeping bear.

They eat in silence until Jake cleans out his cereal bowl, gives his sister a side hug with a mumbled ‘love ya’, and goes back up to his room. He finally feels tired enough that when his head hits his pillow, he falls asleep nearly instantly.

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Jake sits on the bed in the hotel room. He keeps his eyes on his feet. He tries not to mingle personal life or feelings, really, with work. But he’s hurt. Even if it was stupid and he knew it, a part of him thought maybe he and Rooster were on good terms. He might’ve even had a shot. He swallows and hardens his face, hearing his phone buzz again. It feels like the millionth time since he got a message.

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Jakey, where are you?

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Jakeyyyyyyy

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Bradshaw has sad puppy eyes. What happened?

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Hangy?

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Answer meeeeeeee

Missed call from Wile E. Coyote ❤️

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: JACOB SERESIN

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: I HAVE YOUR MAMA'S NUMBER AND YOU KNOW IT

3 missed calls from Wile E. Coyote ❤️

Jake reads the messages and groans into his hand. He doesn’t need Javy pissed off, because lord knows if he finds out, the other man will immediately go into protective brother mode. But if he doesn’t answer now, he’ll be in deeper shit. God, putting him into the family group chat was never a good idea, no matter how much of a family member he’d become to all of them. His mom jokes that he’s the fourth Seresin sibling. He pulls his head out of his palm and decides to answer him back.

Me: Yeah. Sorry, I was heading back to the hotel room. Rooster just pissed me off, and I needed to cool off. What are y’all doing when you’re done shopping?

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: What’d Bradshaw do??

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Also, we think we’re going surfing.

Wile E. Coyote ❤️: Back to Rooster, do I need to kick his ass?

Jake sighs and rolls his eyes. He knows how protective his best friend is. He also knows Javy knows when and why he’s putting up walls to protect himself. But he doesn’t need any more drama. He just wants to go swimming, drink, and have a good time on his leave. He ends up just texting a plea not to do anything, saying it’s fine, just him and Bradley butting heads like they usually do, nothing different.

The lack of a response tells him Javy can see right through him, but that's fine. He didn’t expect any different. Those aforementioned walls are being put up because he’s catching feelings for his wingman fast and can’t handle getting hurt. He laughs to himself, but it’s stained with a sense of bitterness. It seems he always gets hurt, and yet he still can’t handle it. Maybe he’s just weak. But burns still sting even when you’re covered in them, and lord knows he’s been blanketed with them enough times. That, and he and the other pilot are just getting along. Why ruin it with some useless feelings? He’s such an idiot.

He feels guilt again. The same guilt he felt when he thought he was letting everyone down, the same guilt he had when he caught feelings for a friend. Because he has. Maybe Bradley was pissed off about all the shit he did before this trip. Like when he brought up Goose. But after he’d saved him, he told Bradley he was sorry.

So what’s wrong? What had he done? Was it just cause he liked dick?

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Jake passes through the loud groups of other teens around him. Parties like this were loud, and he enjoyed them for that exact reason. Everyone would have fun, drink, and keep quiet, far away from him. He hears someone yell his name and turns to it. A shorter girl with brunette hair smiles back at him. She’s wearing a tight t-shirt, sneakers, and jeans. A comfy outfit for the warmer weather and a party. The white shirt is a cheerleading one she got from school and didn't change out of. He smiles back and walks towards her. He’s in a baseball-style shirt and jeans, too.

“Leah,” Jake smiles down at her. He watches a soft pink splatter her cheeks. He can't help but feel bad at the sight. Here’s this girl- the kind his granny would set him up with- who likes him and has no idea he spent the entire night before tossing and turning because he kept thinking about a boy. She’s pining for the same boy who spent all of his science class staring at a certain brunette and wondering what his lips would taste like. He swallows back the guilt and keeps his smirk on his face, indenting his cheeks.

“Seresin,” She nods, eyes scanning over Jake. She gestures over to the makeshift bar in the kitchen. “Refill?” She offers, extending her hand towards him. He swallows a lump in his throat and takes Leah’s hand, allowing her to drag him into the kitchen. He looks over the bar and spots Archie, who’s doing beer pong with the other football guys. He swallows and turns back to the girls he’s supposed to be interested in. She grabs them both a can of some cheap beer. He cracks his open, letting her hand go and saying a soft thank you as he takes a sip, the almost bitter taste of the cheapness flooding his senses. There are a dozen more people in the kitchen, surrounding a marble countertop as they pour drinks. They spill out of the room, and new people enter from the dining room. The host, one of the football boys, Michael, pushes through the flood of people with a grin, looking dead at Jake.

“Come on, dude, we’re doing shots with the team!” he shouts over the sound of the loud pop music blaring from the living room. Jake turns to Leah with an apologetic smile before he follows the other boy into the crowd, losing all sight of the brunette that had just captured his attention.

He looks around the living room for Archie. The second he’s in sight, Jake’s heart beat has doubled. They make eye contact, and he forces that feeling down, the normal lopsided grin going on his face. “Arthur!” he jokes, patting his back. He watches Jason pour a dozen or so shots of tequila. He can tell some of the dudes are already getting smashed, but Archie doesn't seem to be at the same level.

Archie laughs and shoves him. “Shut up, Seresin,” he watches Jason spill some of the tequila on the table. “Jesus Christ, man, how much has he had to drink? It’s barely 10:00,” he mumbles, and Jake snickers. They both reach over and grab a shot for themselves, their hands brushing. Just for a second, Jake swears he sees a blush on Archie's face.

Before he can investigate further, Leo grabs his shoulder. The boy, a few inches shorter than him, with a freckle-covered face and a mess of golden mop on his head, grins, “To us!” he says cheerfully. They all coast, extending their shots up to meet.

Jake grimaces as the burn of pure tequila hits the back of his throat. He shrugs it off and turns towards Archie, who’s watching the party and setting down his shot glass. “Care to join me on the dance floor?” he jokes over the bump of music blaring from the nearby speakers. The brunette grins and steps forward.

-----------

Jake meets everyone at the beach, avoiding Bradley. He tries not to stare as he watches the other man in only swimtrunks, attempting (and failing) to balance on a surfboard. Everyone surfs for one or two hours, laughing and joking around. For a while, that gut feeling in his stomach that made him sick leaves Jake’s body. Until it comes back when Bradley gives him a look that Jake can’t decipher between hate and some form of an apologetic glance.

Everyone else is surfing but Jake now. The blonde is sitting on a towel, watching Halo and Phoenix laugh as Fanboy falls off his board into the water. He snickers and hears the sand settle next to him. He looks up and sees an all too familiar dirty blonde combover of hair. He smiles as Bob looks at him.

“Hey, Jake,” Bob says with a smile. Jake. Not Bagman or Hangman or Seresin, just Jake. It honestly makes him happy. Everyone's betting along (except for him and Bradshaw, but that was expected), and they’re all having a great time on vacation, and they deserve it. That mission was terrifying, and he’s just happy to be on land, even if he loves the sky with his whole heart.

“Hey, Bob. Not surfing much?” He asks, knowing Bob for the most part was swimming instead of staying afloat on the boards with the rest of them. The other man shrugs.

“Nah, didn’t feel like it,” he, too, is in swim trunks, but still has a t-shirt on like he did when they were in fightertown. Jake nods and reaches over to grab a beer. He fishes one for himself and grabs another, pointing it towards Bob and gesturing to it to ask if he wants one. “Oh, no, thank you,” Bob says politely.

“Suit yourself,” Jake puts the second one back and grabs his own. He grabs the bottle opener and cracks it open. He takes a sip and watches everyone interact. He makes eye contact with Rooster again and quickly looks back down at his lap. Bob seems to notice, since he looks between them both.

“What’s with you two? It’s been back and forth for days. Did something happen?” He gives Jake those puppy dog eyes through his prescription aviators. He knows Bob is asking for the others, but also to make sure his friend- friend? Were they friends now? He can’t tell- is okay and not upset with his other friend.

He takes another sip of beer, looking over at Bob after a beat. “You know me and Roo. Always butting heads, nothing new. Just a bit awkward since we had to share a room and stuff,” it’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth. Jake honestly feels kind of bad for not feeling entirely comfortable with Bob, who would never do anything because he's a sweetheart, but you can never be too safe. He sees Bob’s face contort into a soft, sorry smile that seems genuine. Remorseful. “We won’t let it affect y’all’s holiday,” he assures, twang coming out slightly.

“I’m more worried about you two than I am about vacation,” Bob says as he looks over at Bradley. “You guys were fine right after the mission. Just a little…worried,” he states the final word with a hesitancy that states that he too doesn't know if everyone is friends officially or just work colleagues who had leave at the same time and went through a traumatic event.

Jake smiles softly. “I appreciate the concern, Bobby,” he says softly. He sets his beer down. “But don’t worry about it, okay? We’re fine,” he pats the man on the back gently. Although for a second, Jake thinks about getting a rental and heading home early, before he decides he might as well stay the last few days. He watches Billy and Neil laugh as Bradley falls off his board.

A bit later, everyone is gathered around a bonfire that Rueben and Mickey set up. Jake can’t keep his eyes off Bradley. But it's not lustfully. It’s more like that kind of look you give the person you like when you just think about how amazing they are as a human. He’s not loud about it, just a glance every once in a while as he laughs, or takes a sip from his drink, or when he just smiles as he listens to a shitty story one of their friends is telling them. But with each look, he has a flutter in his stomach that brings him back to college and high school, when he was still figuring things out.

He looks around, salty ocean smell filling his nose. He watches as everyone laughs at something Javy said, their faces illuminated by the fire pit. And there Bradley is, doe eyes sparkling with flakes of gold, smiling from ear to ear. His heart rate picks up.

For a long time, he had Javy and his instantly family. Even then, he can only really communicate with everyone down in Texas with his phone time when he’s stationed somewhere. He loves Javy, but he’s not always there. As much as he wishes they could be, he and his found-family brother don’t get stationed together 100% of the time. That means there are days when he’s alone.

But now, he’s not alone. He’s got all these people. Even if they met through work, and might only be here because no one wants to leave or let go. They’ve been through so much the last few weeks, cared so much about what happens to each other, leaving now seems like it could be a mistake. Maybe that’s all this is. But it feels more like home than something than Jake.

He looks over at Javy, who’s still laughing at his joke. He looks happy, too. A wave of appreciation hits Jake. He knows he’ll probably get stationed with another dagger every once in a while, but it won’t be the same. Not without all of them there. Yale and Harvard start sharing a story, and he looks over like he’s listening, but he isn’t; he’s just grinning wide. Because he realizes, these are his people. Even if he has feelings for Bradley, it doesn’t matter because he knows better than to ruin this type of friendship. Plus, he’s cared about here by these people. He doesn’t wanna lose them.

He wishes they could all stay in this moment forever.

-----------

Jake swallows dryly as he takes a sip from his beer, Leah talking his ear off as they stand in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. From across the room, a girl and Archie are dancing. He doesn’t even realize it, but he’s got a sad puppy dog look on his face. Leah notices and pokes his shoulder to get his attention, a frown playing on her face. It’s less of a sad one and much more of an upset one, though.

“Do you not even wanna hang out with me?” She sounds both hurt and angry. Jake's attention snaps away from Archie and goes to the brunette. He feels so bad. He’s led her on to this point.

“Wait, no, it’s not like that-” he reaches out as she walks off. He swallows dryly. He’s screwed the pooch on this one, hasn’t he?

He pushes and shoves his way through the crowd. He’s been to Michaels only a few times outside of big parties like these. He came over for his birthday a few months back, and a few other random events his family threw for which he was allowed to invite his friends. The slightly chilly air hits his face as he silently slips out. The deck creaks below his feet. He leans over the railing, the wood not entirely smooth under his touch. It somehow manages to ground him a bit. The yard below is large, with green, lavish grass across it, and flower beds covered in vibrant plants/ A shaky breath comes out of his mouth as he looks over towards the trees behind the fence. The air smells of petriture in the best way. From inside, a rainbow of light scatters across the wooden deck, disrupting the night as teens party within the house.

For a moment, he wonders if anyone in there is in love. What it’s like. If the movies were true, or if they were filled with little white lies. His mind wanders, and he wonders if he’ll ever be in love with a girl. He’s never felt the way he does with Archie with any girl. Maybe one day he will. Maybe he never will.

He watches the trees sway as tears prick at his eyes. He knows most people in their town would call his affection a sin. That’s it wrong, and he’ll suffer for it. But how can love be evil? What does it matter if it’s with a boy?

He hears the glass door behind him and sobers up, wiping his eyes and turning. He expects some of the stoners coming out to smoke, but he instead sees his boy. No. Not his boy. His friend, Archie. Jake smiles. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Archie steps closer, leaning on the railing next to him. They stand there in silence, Jake observing every move made by the other teen. Archie's elbow is pressed up to his, and there are a few centimeters of distance between their hands. He longs to reach out. Hold his hand. Tell him how every time he sees him, he feels an explosion of emotions he didn’t know a human being could feel outside of love stories until he felt it for himself.

He doesn’t.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Jake lands on, his voice a whisper as he looks out in the distance at the trees. He refuses to look at the other teen.

“I could ask you the same,” Archie smiles. When the other doesn't answer, he continues. “Everyone went out front. Michael found some fireworks, so they went to see them. Came back here to find you,” he finally looks over at the blonde. For a second, Jake swears that he stares at his lips.

Jake turns towards him. “Why didn't you just go with the others?” he whispers. Archie shrugs.

“Couldn’t leave ya alone,” he whispers back. Jake realizes just how close their faces are. He subconsciously steps a bit closer.

“Oh,” is all he manages to huff out. He looks at the others' chocolate brown eyes and realizes they’re blown wide. He swallows and almost steps back before Archie grabs his arm.

From behind them, they can hear fireworks, the display in the sky spraying them wth light from above. “Stay,” Archie says.

So he does. He steps closer, keeping a small gap between them as he stares down at his eyes. Archie moves first, kissing his lips softly. The other football player presses his lips back, fluttering his eyes closed as his hand reaches out and grabs onto Archie's waist. He can feel the sports material under his fingertips as the boy's shirt meets his touch. His heart is beating fast, his whole body is tingling, and his face is flushed.

Maybe this is what the movies talk about.

-----------

Jake and Bardley silently walk back to their hotel room. Sure, Jake's still a bit pissed off, but the look on Bradley's face is full of remorse. Hangman unlocks the door and allows him to go in front of him into the hotel room.

“Thanks,” Bradley says softly. He puts their towels in the bathroom over the door. “You can shower first,” he smiles sincerely. Jake just nods back.

He gathers some clothes and walks over to the bathroom. He undresses as the water heats up and steps in, shoulders relaxing as they're soothed by the warm water running down his body. He feels real for a second. Like, actually real. He sighs as he cleans off the sand from his body. He changes into some boxers and a t-shirt when he steps out, the smell of hotel soap flooding his nose. He steps out silently from the bathroom.

As Bradley showers, Jake scrolls through his phone, looking at the dagger group chat every once in a while. He looks up when he hears the bathroom door close after the shower has been turned off. He flushes and quickly looks back down at his phone. Bradley settles in the bed next to him, the pillows no longer dividing them. Jake goes to grab one of the ones behind his head to be the barrier again, but Bradley puts a hand out to stop him.

“You don't have to put up the thing if you don't wanna. These pillows are flat, and one doesn't do much,” he says softly. Jake flushes. “U-Unless you don’t feel comfortable-”

“It’s fine, Rooster,” Hangman assures quickly. “You’re right, these pillows are flat,” he says softly, putting the one in his hand back behind his head.

Bradley reaches over and grabs the remote to turn on the small TV fixed on the wall in front of the bed. He flicks through a few channels before putting on a random movie. They silently watch it before Jake is half asleep, about an hour or so later, making Bradshaw turn off the television and lie down too. The moonlight peaks out from behind the curtains as Jake’s back faces Bradley.

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At around 3:00, he wakes up to a soft cry. He blinks his eyes open and sees Bradley, hunched over, breath stuttering as he keeps his face in his hands. “Roo?” he whispers, sitting up to be next to the brunette.

Bradley quickly shuffles away. “S-Sorry, I wasn't trying to wake you up, just- you can go back to bed,” he keeps his face away from the other pilot. Jake frowns and reaches out to cup his face, pulling it towards him.

As he sees the tear trails on the brunette's face, his face softens. His other hand, which was resting by his side and supporting him, comes up to cup his face as well. He wipes away a tear that trails down his face. He knows sometimes the nightmares could be bad for pilots like them after a mission, but he never stopped thinking about how scared Bradley was when there were those few scary moments where they thought Maverick could be dead.

Sure, he doesn’t know why Bradley and Mav were so close, and to be honest, it's not his business. But he does know that the other man could use a little bit of support right now. He doesn't ask questions, doesn’t poke, just pulls the mustached pilot to his chest.

Rooster melts, sobbing into his chest and clinging tightly as if he let go, he’d be lost at sea forever. Like Jake was the only thing keeping him afloat, and in some ways, he was. He shooshes him gently, running a hand through his curls.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you…I've got you, Roo, promise..."

Chapter Text

Bradley’s sob wrecks his body and he lets them. He nuzzles further into Jake, the smell of the pilot’s cedar cologne bringing him immense comfort. The soft feeling of the other man's warm skin and soft t-shirt he’s wearing grounds Bradley as he clings to it. He closes his eyes and leans fully into him. He feels Jake tense a bit before he nuzzles into his curls, running a hand through them.

“I-I’m sorry for waking you up,” Rooster mumbles, trying to slow his tears to no avail. He sniffs and hides his face in Jake's collarbone, like that’ll manage to hide the fact that his face is bright red and puffy from tears.

He’s never seen the therapist they recommend after missions that caused some emotional constraint. Bradley hasn’t ever seen the point. He’s not sad or hurt. But he’s also never had nightmares like this. He’s never gotten so close to losing someone. Sure, he hadn't talked to Mav in years, but that doesn't mean he wouldn’t have mourned the man who helped raise him. He still took care of him, even if he fucked up. Now he can barely make it a whole night without a nightmare about Mav going down and never coming back home, or something happening to Jake. Really, they’re not that bad. He’s just overreacting.

He feels Jake run a hand through his hair, feeling his curls bounce back onto his forehead. Bradley’s suddenly thankful for the lack of light in the hotel room as heat rises to his face. The blonde’s hand slides down to his chin and gently cups it, pushing it up and away from his chest. Even in the ill-lit room, Bradley can see how soft his green eyes are as they stare down at him.

“Don’t apologize. I get them too. You’re okay, though, alright, Roo? I’m here. Mavs okay, we’re all home,” he whispers. Bradley can only force himself to nod, too flustered and panicked to get proper words out of his mouth.

They sit like that for a long time. Jake runs his hands through the curls, and Bradley’s body melts. He fidgets with his shirt, feeling small even with his height. He’s 6’1 and close to 200 pounds, and yet he feels tiny. Jake’s smaller than him, but by no means is he small. He’s just as buff and almost as tall as him. It’s nice to be held. He’s used to all of his ex-girlfriends being smaller, and him only being able to rest his head in their laps. Not that this is anything like that, Jake is his friend and only his friend, and he has no feelings at all for the man, the way he had with his girlfriends. Bradley Bradshaw is a straight man. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

In the morning, when the sun starts to shine through the curtains, Bradley wakes up first. They’re both on the bed, the brunette's head on the blonde's chest. He flushes and quickly sits up, trying not to wake his wingman. He flinches slightly at how heavy his eyelids feel, which was expected after how much he’d cried the night before. He wipes off the gunk that’s built up in his eyes and glances at his phone. 11 messages, 3 from Ice, 1 from Maverick, and the rest from the dagger group chat Nat made, so if anyone needed info from the trip, it would be a million times easier. It’s quickly becoming more than a vacation group chat, though. He sighs and swings his legs over the side of his bed. He needs to get out of this hotel room before Seresin wakes up, and he asks about his nightmare. He doesn’t shower, just changes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before he brushes his teeth. Just a quick run, and when he's back in the hotel room, he’ll shower and find something to wear before everyone else wakes up and they eat breakfast before doing something as a group.
As he digs in his bag he hears Jake stir, a soft sound coming from him. He flushes and pauses. He waits a few beats before he hears a soft snore come from the other man and keeps digging in his suitcase until he finds a pair of shorts and random hoodie he’s had for god knows how long. He thinks Maverick might’ve gotten him for something, but he could be wrong. He knows he had it in high school. He wonders what Jake was like in high school. He shakes his head to forget about the thought, quickly slipping on some socks and a pair of sneakers. He slips the key to the room and his phone into his pocket before he quickly opens the door, clipping his watch on as he does so.

The door closes softly, and his foot is in the way to make sure it doesn’t wake the blonde. Bradley thinks about his nightmare again. It had been about Maverick, and what could’ve happened to him if he hadn’t come to save him. He dreamed that his godfather had managed to get that old F-14, but hadn’t been so lucky when it came to the dog fight with the SU-57. Sure, it wasn't real, but it felt like it was. It could’ve been. He could’ve been an orphan again, just when he was starting to forgive Mav. Now that he thinks about it, he forgave him a long time ago. But the resentment had lingered. In fact, it is still floating around. Part of him thinks it will go away one day.

He seriously doubts it.

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Bradley smiles, a bounce in his step as he gets out of his old Bronco, which he and Mav have been working on for about two years. A part of him thinks Mav was gonna do it for himself, but figured Bradley needed a distraction after his mom died the year prior. He tries not to linger on that thought. It’s been a good day, and he doesn’t wanna ruin it. His mom would hate it if he did that.

He passed his math test with flying colors today, and the girl he asked to prom said yes (Ashley, a junior like him, with a cute smile and pretty blonde hair. She teases him. He likes that about her). Overall, it’s been a great day. A part of him wonders if his mom had helped somehow as she was watching over him. He hopes so. He really hopes so.

He moved in with Mav and Ice the day after his mom passed. It was hard to pack up his whole life and leave the house he’s known since he was 2. Sometimes he drives by and sees the new family. He gets this bittersweet knot in his stomach. If he hadn’t been orphaned and alone, that’s what life would’ve been like. When he was younger, he wondered if his dad had lived, he would’ve had siblings. Sure, it was the cancer that took Carole Bradshaw, but she died from heartbreak, and they all knew it. She tried to stay strong for Bradley as long as she could, giving him memories of at least one parent, but she was hurting. No one can really survive losing the love of their life.

Bradley thinks if he lost them both and his godfathers hadn’t been around, he would’ve too. He was little when his dad died, but he still knew him. Somewhat, at least. He’s not entirely sure if it’s all just from word of mouth and pictures that formed blurry images in his brain or if they’re genuine memories of Nick Bradshaw and his son. He does know for a fact that the day his dad died, he saw him in the morning. He remembers he told him to take care of his mom before he got home. Accept, he never got home. So Bradley didn’t stop taking care of his mom until she was buried in the ground, and he felt numb. Incredibly numb. He hadn’t even realized he was following Ice and Maverick away from his mother's grave until he felt the rain hit the back of his neck.

It was ironic, really. The day she had died had been sunny. Everyone was outside with their families and friends, laughing and having a great time. Bradley remembers thinking how unfair it was that everyone got to have a great day, and he had a terrible one. He sobbed like he was little again into Mav’s arms, despite having met his godfather in height well over a year or so earlier. Somehow, feeling smaller made him feel safe.

As he steps up to the garage, he catches a glance at his face in the mirror of Ice’s Jeep. He smiles at the small mustache that’s been growing above his lip for months. It’s finally starting to look full, reminding himself of the picture Mav put up in the hall of the two of them standing in front of their shared jet. He knows sometimes Maverick has to look away from it on bad days. He worries that Maverick’s bad days are the reason he’s sometimes short with him.

“Hey, Mav!” he says with a smile as he gets fully up the driveway to where the man is working on his bike. Maverick smiles and turns, his face holding a similar grin until a small frown replaces it for a split second. Bradley raises his eyebrow questioningly, but Mav stays silent.

“Hey, kiddo,” he smiles, but the teenager in front of him can tell it’s fake. Sometimes Maverick is short with him, and he’s never exactly sure why. He has a feeling it has something to do with his parents, but he’s not sure what. He watches Mav keep working on the motorcycle.

“I asked that girl out, she said yes,” he says with a smile. Mav hums, and he frowns. He turns on his heel and steps into the house. He slips off his bag onto the door by the garage onto the red oak wood on the ground. He slips off his shoes and tosses them into the pile. Beside his sneakers and cleats are Ice’s neat dress shoes and Mav’s work boots. Although they’re upright and in a row like Ice’s, they’re nowhere near as neat. Some of them are swapped, and the toes of the shoes are facing both Bradley and the wall. He hums as the smell of Ice’s soup recipe hits his nose.

The mud room resembles most of the house, except for the bedrooms. White walls and a soft wood floor that creaks in the night as it settles. Ice bought it when Maverick got hurt when Bradley was four, and Carole and Ice were both tired of his small apartment. He thinks that’s when they started seeing each other. He knew about the spare bedroom because when he’d spend the night at their place when he was little, he’d ask about it, and Ice would say it was Mavericks. He may have been little, but he knew damn well that room was never touched. The covers were stiff, and everything would be coated in dust when Ice went on his leave, because lord knows Pete Mitchell was nowhere near as tedious about cleaning as his wingman was.

Around that time, when he was about five or six, Bradley learned he couldn’t tell anyone about his godfathers. His friends had called something gay, and he asked his godfathers what it meant. After a long talk, he learned it was scary for them to tell people because they could lose their jobs. He also found out that’s why Uncle Wolf and Uncle Hollywood found new jobs, because they were tired of having to hide. The next time someone called something gay, he had a weird twist in his stomach. Not because his godfathers grossed him out, but rather because he was scared. What if someone found out and made it so they couldn’t fly? They loved flying. He loved watching them fly.

“I’m home, Pops!” Bradley had started calling him pop because he found it strangely amusing to call the man ice-pop. He slips out from the mud room into the hall that leads to the kitchen and the living room. He smiles when he spots Ice working around the kitchen. It's a hobby he picked up since he got an office job.

Ice smiles. “I’m guessing by that cheesy grin, she said yes?” His godson nods rapidly. They had all spent the night before working on the sign. Bradley wanted it to look good for the girl. Ice is a perfectionist, and Maverick loves them both to death and didn't even take a beat to spend hours with the two of them. Bradley nods in response, and Ice seemingly detects something in his mood. “What’s wrong?”

Bradley, who’s stepping into the kitchen and stealing a piece of shredded cheese that Ice is using, shrugs. “Is Mav okay?” he says softly.

Ice frowns and sets the wooden spoon he had down on the marble countertop. The soup he had on the counter roars from the rapid boil it’s in. Ice looks concerned for his boyfriend. “He seemed fine earlier. What’s wrong?”

Bradley shrugs again and turns to dig in the fridge to hide the hurt on his face. It happens sometimes, he thinks. Everyone gets ticked off by someone, from strangers to adopted sons. It’s fine, really. He’s old enough to know not everyone's actions are personal. He settles on an apple. When he closes the fridge, his uncle is staring at him. Well, it really feels like he’s staring right through him. Like he can see every gear turning in his head. Bradley avoids his eyes by turning and grabbing a knife to cut the apple.

“He’s not trying to be an ass,” Ice tries. Bradley smiles lamely. He stares at the apple, careful not to cut his fingers off. One time, Maverick nearly did, and the teen wasn't sure if Ice was more mad at the knife or the man handling it.

-----------

Bradley’s breaths come out in short puffs as he steps back into the hotel room an hour later, his face bright red, covered in small beads of sweat, speckled all over. He’s quiet as he opens the door, not trying to wake Seresin. He hears the sound of the shower and sighs, letting the door close with a soft thud this time. He thinks for a second that maybe if he’s quick enough to grab a muffin, he can dodge Jake for a bit longer. He checks his watch. Nope. Breakfast doesn’t start until 8, it’s 7:30. He sighs and sits on the bed.

He stops for a beat and goes over the events of yesterday. He’d had fun at the bonfire, but honestly all he could think about was Seresin. He felt bad for making the whole him being gay thing weird. He figures he should apologize just as Jake walks out of the bathroom, towel tight around his waist. His hair. Oh god, his hair. It’s shaggy and beautiful and it looks so soft. Bradley swallows the blush on his face and turns away from the blonde. He stands and kneels in front of his bag to find himself some clothes.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Bradley says after a quiet moment, turning towards Jake. His green eyes meet his, and he swallows as he thinks about how beautiful they are. “I wasn't trying to be weird. Really. I just didn;t wanna make you uncomfortable by actually being weird with you being gay and me acting like I thought you liked me or someth-”

“I don’t,” Jake says quickly. Bluntly. Ouch.

Bradley nods. “No, I know. I was just trying not to be weird and still ended up being a dick. I’m sorry.” He smiles softly and apologetically.

Jake shrugs, his own face now sporting that normal grin. “All good. Now go shower, you smell,” he ends with a tease, making Rooster flip him off.

As he climbs in, he thinks of Jake. How beautiful he looked soaked from the shower, in just a towel. For a second, his thoughts bring him to Jake without a towel. No, Bradshaw, he scolds himself mentally. That’s weird. You’re starting to be friends, and you’re straight. Just straight. Right? Of course. He’s only ever loved girls. There’s no way he’s gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, of course. He’s just not. If he was, it would be scary for his career. He’s also had this whole idea of what he wanted life to be like when he settled down, and it never involved a man. Always just a woman. For a moment he wonders if Jake’s career has been affected because of it. Great. Now his thoughts are back on Jake coming out of the shower, wrapped in just a towel.

He turns the shower cold.

He thinks for a beat, shaking slightly, that maybe he’s not so straight. Then, as quickly as the water from the shower had turned cold, he’s tearing up. Has he been lying to himself? If so, what else has he hidden? Why had he loved women and only women, but now he was suddenly maybe falling for a man? Not just any man, either, Jake fucking Seresin. The one who’d made the academy and the first time he’d been to Top Gun hell back in the day because it wasn’t as easy as he thought it would have been. Because the god son of Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Pete “Maverick” Mitchelle had found a worthy opponent that wasn't just Nat. How long had this been going on and he hadn’t noticed? Suddenly, the man felt as though he were very little again, listening to his uncle tell him that Wolfman and Hollywood stopped being pilots because the navy didn;t like they loved each other and they hid it and were tired. That uncle Mav and uncle Ice did the same, but they wanted to stay pilots and he couldn’t tell people.

Yeah, that was damn near 30 years ago. Yeah, DADT was over, and Gay marriage was alllowed and Iceman and Maverick were legally married, but he was still scared, because he knows that it could still stunt his career because people are still hateful bigots in this world. The career he worked so hard to fight his uncles for. The career that had first felt like his dads old boots, too big and ill-fitting, making him trip all over himself. The job that made him leave home and not talk to the men who raised him for years. He doesn’t realize he’s crying because of the water running down his face and dripping off of his chin until his vision is extremely blurry and his chest feels too tight.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by a southern twang that makes his stomach flutter.

“Bradshaw? You good? We’re gonna go get breakfast in a bit, so you should probably hurry,” he says, and Bradley doesn’t feel like he’s bunking with Hangman. He feels like he’s sharing a room with Jake Seresin, the cocky blonde that sometimes reminded him a bit too much of Maverick. A friend.

He sniffs and nods before realizing that Jake can’t see him. He rubs his eyes and clears his throat before yelling out,”Yeah! I’m fine. I’ll be done in a minute.”

He hears Jake pause for a moment before walking back towards the bed, and clicking on the TV. From what Bradley can tell, he put on a baseball game. He lets out a shaky breath before climbing out of the shower. He changes quickly and turns towards the mirror
Bradley stares at himself. He grew up around gay people. Hell, Ice and Mav were always married in his head. But they still hid it. It wasn’t safe for them then at work, and, to be honest, Bradley isn’t so sure it is today. He looks over the features he got from his parents. His actual parents.
He hardly remembers his dad. After all, he was only 4 when he died. But he remembered his giggles. His scratchy mustache when he’d give him kisses on the cheek or head. Playing piano, singing softly to him when he was upset. He begged Ice to help his mom get a tutor so he could play for his mom’s birthday. Of course, it didn’t take much begging because he was extremely spoiled and incredibly lucky.
But Bradley was 12, turning 13, when his mom died. He remembers her more. Going to dinner with his uncles at the diner, drinking their milk shakes, being told how much he was like his dad when he smiled or laughed. How she’d give him that look when he’d spend the summer in California, and return home from his uncles a tanned, light haired version of himself. They moved after his kindergarten year. His mom tried, she really did, but all she could think about was the husband she’d lost and all of the places that reminded her of him.
His dad, the family man.
The man in the mirror wasn’t a family man. 34 and alone and had never had a serious relationship and now he had feelings for a man instead of a woman like he’d pictured his entire life surrounding.
He’s not the man he ought to be.
-----------

After he’s ready he and Jake walk down to meet the others. They each grab a plate full of food. Bradley gets some eggs he’s sure are from a carton, hashbrowns, and 2 sausages. He looks over and sees Jake’s picked all but the same as him, the sausage replaced with bacon instead.

After he’s done in line Bradley sits with Bob, Nat, and Halo. Jake sits at the very end of the table, far away from him, close to Javy. He looks up and sees the two laughing and feels a pang of jealousy that is in no way necessary. Jake isn’t even his to get jealous over, and from what he’s heard Javy has a beautiful fiance. Whenever the man mentions her he beams.

Maybe he looks like that when he talks about Jake. A part of him hopes he does.

He feels Nat nudge him and his attention is torn away from the blonde. She’s smirking. That damn smug smirk that tells him that Natasha Trace is all but his blood sister, and can see right through him. He ignores it and stares down at his plate, shifting in his seat. He doesn’t want anyone to know. He doesn’t like when Nat does this. It makes him feel weak.

“So. Where were you and Hangman?” Bob speaks up. His voice isn’t teasing, but he knows Nat told her something.

Bradley stabs some hashbrowns with a fork and munches on them. “I went on a run and got back late. Sorry,” he mumbles. He looks up, turning away from Nat and at the others. “What are we gonna do today?”

“There’s an art museum I saw!” Mickey says. “We can go there.”

Everyone nods in agreement. Bradley looks at Jake to see his reaction, but the blonde is gone. He sighs and turns back to his food, forcing a smile on his face.

“What time does it open?” he asks. Mickey shrugs and Reuben begins to look on his phone for all of the info.

-----------

An hour and a half later, they’re walking towards a modern looking building with windows that crawl up the walls. Everyone's talking, but he’ss not really listening. Instead, he’s focused on the blonde with a drawl and green eyes that sparkle in the sun. He forced himself to look away as they crossed the street leading up to the museum.

“You okay, Bradshaw?” Jake asks and the brunette's attention snaps up. He nods rapidly and keeps his eyes away the second the other pilot turns.

He’s so confused. He’s only ever liked women. Maybe he’s telling himself that and somewhere in a life full of isolation he’d fallen for a man hadn't realized. He thinks hard and can’t come up with anyone who’s captivated him the way Jake has, man or woman.

He thinks about the way his mom used to describe her love for his father. This grand thing that consumed her every time he crossed her mind, even years after he’d died. How her heart stuttered and her stomach fluttered because she was in love with another human being who had his flaws but was so very real it was frightening. He's seen a few women, but none of them ever made him feel like that. Sure, they were beautiful and made his face flush, but they never made him feel like his heart was gonna leap out of his chest.

But Jake Seresin had somehow stolen his heart. If it was after he saved him or even before the mission, Bradley’s not sure.
He’s so deep in thought that it doesn’t register that they're inside buying tickets to see the art until Nat elbows him and tells him to buy his. He shakes his head and pulls out his wallet.

The wrist band they provide is itchy, and it irritates Bradshaw slightly. The rest of the daggers are waiting for Harvard and Yale to get theirs when Bob walks up with a few pamphlets he pulled from god knows where. He gives pretty much everyone one.

Bradley swallows and looks over at Hangman, whose face silently lights up. Not enough to be noticeable unless you’re looking for it. Just a small twitch in a pre-existing smile. Like he’s happy to be here around all of the other daggers. Happy they’re alive and breathing in front of him after all of the shit they had to go through.

Everyone scatters off around the museum, and somehow Jake ends up next to Bradley as they step in to look at the paintings. Bradley’s squinting at some more abstract art, trying to make sense of it.

“Bradshaw, there’s a plaque next to them for a reason,” Jake whispers with a giggle. Bradley flushes and reads it. Something about strong emotions. He has no idea what it has to do with the 3D shapes presented in front of them, but acts like he does. Jake, on the other hand, seems to completely understand. A look Bradley doesn’t understand very much flickers across his face before he forces his eyes to tear away and meet Bradleys.

For a second, it’s just them in a quiet art exhibit. Bradley swallows and takes a half step closer, before it’s ruined by his phone going off. A few people turn to glare and he flushes, checking the messages.

Mav: Ice wanted me to ask you and the daggers to come to a BBQ when you’re back from leave.

Bradley processes the text message for longer than he’d like to admit. When he pulls his eyes away, Jake’s staring at him with furrowed brows. “You okay?”

Bradley nods. “Yeah, uh, Mav just texted. Wanted to see if all of us wanted to go to a BBQ when we get back before we all get reassigned.”

Jake nods. They walk around for a bit longer, looking at all of the beautiful pieces of art adorning the walls before them. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they don’t. Somehow, they manage to avoid the other daggers. Bradley’s a bit thankful for that. He likes when it’s just him and Seresin. He knows the blonde still has his walls up, but he likes to think they’re starting to come down and he can see Hangman as more than just Hangman. Instead, all he can see is Jake Seresin, the man who saved both him and Maverick.

“I know it’s not my place,” he says suddenly. Bradley looks over at him. The wooden bench beneath them creaks as he shifts. “But what happened between you and Maverick?”

The brunette's tongue almost comes out with sharp and bitter words, but he stops himself. He knows this time Jake isn’t trying to be malicious. He pauses for a moment. “He pulled my papers,” he says softly. “Then I…said some stuff about him and my dad and left. Ice tried to stay in contact but I stayed away from them. Tried to make my own name for myself,” he says softly. Instead of a snark comment like he thought he would get in return, all he gets is a look of understanding.

-----------

Bradley feels his heart drop to his stomach as he reads the paper. Rejected. Every dream he had, every night he had stayed awake thinking of the sky, every night he stared up at the stars and hoped he could meet them, taken away in a matter of seconds. All because he opened an envelope. Tears sting his eyes and spill over.

Every day after he gets home before Maverick and Ice, he runs to check the mailbox, and today was no different. That was, until he finally got it and realized his dreams had been crushed. He fidgets and tries to calm down, breathing like his mom told he was supposed to when he got himself worked up. It didn’t help.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes were puffy and sore when he finally looked up at the person behind him. Ice’s eyebrows are drawn together tightly, a frown on his face as he sees his god son in such levels of distress. He kneels down and cups his face.

“Brad, breathe, what’s wrong?” he says softly.

The teen just shrugs towards the paper and tears up again. He starts to sob into his shoulder hard. Ice runs a hand through his hair. They sit there like that for what could be hours or just a few minutes. Bradley’s not sure. He feels Ice try to pull away when the door opens and Mav calls for them but he clings like a small child. No. He’s not letting go.

After he hears Ice explain what happened, in a hushed tone, he stands suddenly and grabs his keys.

“I’m going for a drive,” he mutters, and they don’t try to stop him. He leaves the house in a rush because he needs a while. Needs to think about how the fuck he’s gonna keep living without being an aviator. Needs to think about what his life is gonna be like now and why he wasn’t accepted.

He needs time.

-----------

It takes two weeks, 3 days, and 21 hours before everything starts to make sense. He noticed they were acting weird, of course. He assumed they thought he was gonna snap. He assumed that they were sad their son was gonna graduate and move on. Leave the nest.

Oh how wrong he was.

He’s straightening out a few final things before graduation like his gown when Mav walks in and sits on his bed. Sometimes he does this when they need a big talk. Like when he tries to explain the birds and the bees to a 15 year old teen who already knew all that was needed from his friends and health class, or when his mom had died and Maverick didn’t know what to tell Bradley except “I love you, kid. We’re gonna get through this together. You, me, and my wingman.”

Maverick picks up a baseball Bradley has by his bed on his nightstand. His first home run ball. He smiles faintly at it and Bradley just stares back at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Your dad loved taking you to your t-ball games, you know that? He’d send a letter to your mom and it would just be him asking about you,” he laughs.

Uh oh. They’re talking about Goose. Bad sign. Very bad sign.

Bradley nods. “You’ve told me.”

The older man pauses. “You know how dangerous flying is. I couldn’t handle losing you, too.”

It hits the teen like a truck. He stares at Maverick. Waves of hurt, of anger, of fear and embarrassment and sadness.

“You son of a bitch,” his jaw tightens.

-----------

“Packed a bag and didn’t come home,” Bradley whispers, now no longer looking at Jake or the painting. Instead, he looks at the floor in despair.

He feels a hand come to rest on his and looks up at Jake.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Bradley's face turns a flustered pink.