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The Hard Deck had been unusually empty that day, granted it had only been 1700 on a tepid Wednesday afternoon and the bar had only just opened, it was weird seeing the usually bustling place so barren of visitors.
Bradley was sitting on the bar, looking over to the unoccupied pool table wishing he had anybody from the Dagger Squad to play with, Phoenix would definitely crush him in just two turns and Hangman would probably act all cocky despite only being on a one-ball lead. The smile on his face had been bitter, the hair of his mustache bristling from the fan right above him.
He had sent a text to Maverick not even ten minutes ago exactly when he arrived at the bar, a simple ‘Wanna grab a drink?’, that was quickly replied with a single thumbs up emoji from the older man. Hangman taught him what emojis were the last time he was there to visit and the emojis made Maverick’s already dry ass texts about a thousand times worse. His usual ‘Hello’ was replaced with a waving hand, and his ‘Yes’ a yellow thumbs up, both instances annoyed Bradley to no end.
It would take him around ten minutes on his bike to get from base to The Hard Deck, and Bradley was getting bored of watching the condensation pool at the bottom of his half empty beer bottle. Penny was out for the day, an old guy Bradley didn’t know was covering for her while she went on a mother-daughter trip with Amelia, so Bradley didn’t even have anyone to talk or mope with.
Not that he even knew why he felt so much like shit that day.
After what felt like his hundredth sigh in the past ten minutes (or was it fifteen?). There was a swing of the wooden double doors from behind him, a familiar chuckle traveling the room to scratch Bradley's ears.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Maverick’s voice was followed with a soft tap to Bradley’s shoulder, barely squeezing at his muscles before he occupied the bar stool next to Bradley. “When you called in sick today, I thought you were gonna stay in bed all day today,” Maverick said, his eyes crinkling with a smile so fond that Bradley felt his stomach churning.
Him and Maverick were co-instructors at TOPGUN, both were offered a teaching position and decided to stay behind after their extra two-week-long rest (the rest of the Daggers got a month before they were all shipped off to different stations at practically every single corner of the world). Maverick had been hesitant but regardless, he knew Cyclone wasn’t messing around when he called TOPGUN Maverick’s last station, and even Bradley knew the old man would rather roll in his grave than be grounded for good.
They flew together nearly every day, messing with their students like the greatest pair of wingmen the Navy’s ever seen, everyone left behind in their metaphorical jet wash. Bradley liked teaching with Maverick, watching the students gawk at his unorthodox teaching ways had been the highlight of Bradley day ever since they started teaching together, and flying with Maverick always felt like a dream.
“What’s up, kid?” Maverick asked, his hand back taking rest on Bradley's shoulder, the thin fabric of his Hawaiian shirt felt like it was burning under Maverick’s touch. “Talk to me, Rooster.”
The last part made Bradley smile, a quirk to his lips as he turned to look at the man beside him. The magic words left a thrum in Bradley’s heart, a comforting buzz that somehow squeezed his lungs tight and left him breathless in the best way possible. Maverick was staring at him with concern evident in his downturned eyes, the lines between his brows deep with his scowl, and his iconic gorgeous smile nowhere to be seen.
“Wanna go on a drive?” His question was sudden, and it wasn’t the answer Maverick wanted. The old man had always been terrible at hiding his feelings, his distaste for Bradley’s avoidance clear as day before it was masked by his trademark smile.
“Fine, but I’m driving,” Maverick said, taking the keys to Bradley’s Bronco from the bar counter, that he didn’t even remember putting there, before leaving Bradley without so much as a look back.
Bradley stayed in place for a few moments, watching his beer bottle for a good minute before there was an ear piercing honk that invaded his ears. He shook himself out of his trance, throwing a few dollar bills on the bar before following Maverick’s trail out of the bar.
Maverick had a hand leaning on the opened car window, his aviators snug on his nose and his smile brighter than the sun behind him. He waved Bradley over like he was the one who wanted to go on the drive, his displeasure gone and replaced with a giddy look on his face that had Bradley smiling. He walked towards the passenger side, opening the door and sitting down with a huff. He looked at Maverick expectantly but the man was only looking at him back, amused and snickering, with no intentions to start driving. Bradley didn’t even have time to ask before Maverick leaned over to cover the distance between them.
His eyes closed entirely on reflexes and it was absolutely not because he expected the feeling of Maverick’s thin lips against his own. Instead, he was greeted with a soft click, and the sudden press of leather across his chest. Bradley opened his eyes to see Maverick already leaning back on his seat with a hand tugging on the gear shift.
“Safety first,” he said with a smile, right hand patting Bradley’s chest before he pulled out of the beach and drove towards the main road.
Bradley’s heart was hammering against his chest, and the spot Maverick touched was burning with something Bradley couldn’t name. He didn’t say anything, ignoring every single panicking atom in his body to reach for the AUX cord. He put on a playlist Phoenix made for him, one meant for a pre-planned drive to nowhere during her next visit. He mentally apologized to his fellow aviator when his speakers came alive with the song from Phoenix’s playlist.
There was barely any traffic on the main road, the drive was seamless and smooth across the long stretch of asphalt, a mere two or three cars passing them by, while they stayed at cruising speed. Maverick fingers were drumming to the beat of the song, his head nodding along here and there while his eyes stayed staring at the open road. Bradley was leaning against his open window, his chin pressed to his resting forearm while his hair was blown back by the passing wind. He kept his eyes closed, the sun kissing his skin from where it was almost adjacent to the horizon, and the air was still salty from the beach they had just left behind.
“You ready to talk about it?” Maverick asked after around four and a half songs, Bradley wasn’t really keeping time but it must’ve been a good twenty minutes since they started their aimless journey. He would be surprised they lasted that long in the silence, but him and Maverick were never the most eloquent out of the bunch.
“Don’t really know what to talk about, to be honest,” Bradley confessed, straightening up on his seat before turning to look at Maverick. “Just wasn’t feeling well, ‘s all,” he said, finally looking at the road Maverick’s been staring at for the entire drive.
Maverick didn’t answer back to him, instead taking the next exit out of the main road, en route to a road Bradley had never visited before, and stopping when they arrived at a beach he didn’t recognize.
“Used to go here when I first started teaching at TOPGUN thirty years ago,” Maverick said after he put the car in neutral, turning the engine off but keeping the radio on. He left the car without another word, leaving Bradley behind so he could sit on top of the Bronco’s hood. Bradley knew the hood was probably uncomfortably warm underneath him, but there was a constant wind from the beach as the evening came and Bradley decided he really didn’t care for comfort as he moved to follow the other man out.
He sat next to Maverick and let out a hiss when his palms touched the warm metal underneath him. Maverick smiled at him and continued to lean on his palms as if the heat was a comfort in winter’s time.
“My first time teaching at TOPGUN was a disaster,” the man started, eyes glaring at the sun preparing to set for the day. His aviators had been pushed up on his head instead, letting his eyes soak in the setting sun’s glow against the green seawater. “Ice was flying around in another country, making names and achievements for himself in the two months I spent struggling through a single class of kids, most only half as cocky as I was.” Maverick laughed, and Bradley was too busy memorizing the contours of his face to laugh along with him.
“I wouldn’t say your second time teaching was much of a success.” Bradley finally chimed in when Maverick turned to look back at him.
Maverick scoffed and punched Bradley’s arm lightly, “What I’m trying to say is, I know how hard it is to teach while your squad is out there making history and medals, you rude little bastard.”
Bradley raised his arms in defeat and smiled back at him, “So, How’d you manage?” he asked with a curious head tilt, and he could watch the man’s gaze soften in real time. It was mesmerizing, seeing the green of his eyes taken over by his dilating pupils, his eyes glimmering against the sunlight with its spattered reflections.
“I didn’t,” Maverick answered, looking back at the slowly but surely setting sun, “I begged for a transfer two months into the job and was shipped off halfway across the globe by the next week. Became a test pilot not long after that, because despite what people think, there aren’t many societal threatening missions that require a half insane pilot pushing million-dollar aircrafts to the limit, every single takeoff,” Maverick whispered the last part like it was scandalous gossip.
Bradley finally laughed, pushing Maverick by his shoulders with a shake to his head. “Don’t I know it,” Bradley said, grinning and finally comfortably pressing his palms on the hood of his car. Throughout his career, Bradley had only been in a handful of confidential missions including the last one, his skills more often used in airshows or basic recon when he was deployed offshore. He also knew that only a small percentage of Maverick’s medals were from his crazy mission stunts, despite being the Navy’s most decorated Captain. “Does it ever go away? Feeling like what you’re doing isn’t enough?” Bradley finally asked, speaking out the thoughts he didn’t even know were clouding his mind.
“You’re asking the wrong person, kid,” Maverick replied, pushing his shoulder against Bradley’s but not leaning back to put back the inch of space between them. They stayed shoulder to shoulder, and Maverick legs widened until their knees were touching too. “I mean, look at me,” he said, looking towards the sky with his eyes closed, “I’m at the big six-oh, and retirement is the last thing in my mind.” Maverick let out a sigh, but the smile on his face was content. “I never stopped feeling like what I was doing wasn’t enough, always searching for something to gain and never satisfied when I gained it. Never really had a goal or a finish line, but I just kept searching for something out there, something to fly for—to live for.”
“You ever found out what that something was?”
Maverick turned back to look at him, dead in the eyes with an expression Bradley couldn’t make out. He bit his bottom lip before glancing down, a small scoff followed by a small smile. Maverick looked at the sun once again, a look directed towards the star that Bradley felt was swimming with sadness.
“Why do you think you’re not doing enough, Bradley?” Maverick moved to place his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward and Bradley already missed the soft graze of Maverick’s shoulder against his own, the warmth of his body next to him. “You think you need to be deployed and gain ten medals like your younger peers or else you get left behind? You feel like you’re settling by teaching here, instead of risking your life like your squad? You feel like you need to prove yourself to someone?”
Every single word out of Maverick’s mouth was a jab to Bradley’s heart, but even then none of them hit the mark. It was both exactly the answer but at the same time not enough to describe how he felt. Bradley let out a bitter smile, “You know I do,” he said, meeting the guilt in Maverick’s eyes.
“Bradley, I—“
“But that’s not it, Mav. It’s just, I don’t know—everything just feels like it isn’t enough. Like there’s one last piece of the puzzle missing and I can’t seem to figure out what it is or even, what it’s supposed to be.” Bradley leaned back until his back was flat against the hood, his arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the sky. It was getting dark, a smooth transition from the purplish-pink to midnight blue right above his eyes. “I’ve always felt like I wasn’t enough, made up the years I lost by overcompensating every chance I got, volunteering for idiotic missions to gain respect and make a name for myself, wanting to prove to myself to the person I used to admire.” His words weren’t all that harsh, but Maverick’s breath still hitched.
“Bradley…” Maverick’s voice wasn’t a warning, it was an apology, and his shoulders were pathetically slumped.
“I was angry, Mav. But that anger drove me to be someone, drove me to push my abilities to their limits.” Bradley’s jaw was set as he remembered his early years as a Naval aviator, the way he had to push his body to keep up with the peers almost half a decade younger than him, just so he could prove to Maverick, he had made a mistake by holding Bradley back. “Yeah, I felt like I needed to prove myself throughout my career. I never felt like I was enough because even with all my achievements, even after placing first in my class, I didn’t even get a single call from you.”
Maverick stayed silent throughout Bradley’s rant, not daring to look back at the man he had once betrayed.
“But I lost all the anger after our mission.” Bradley sat up until he was leaning on the Bronco’s windshield, and he had the perfect view of Maverick stiff back. “Fuck, Mav, as angry as I was, when I saw you go down with your tail on fire—a crashed airplane with no parachute in sight. Maybe—maybe even before then. When you picked me to be your wingman despite me never once succeeding in training. Maybe it was when I realized we might never see each other again after the mission.”
Maverick finally turned back to look at him. His green eyes sunken with age, glassed over with unshed tears.
“I realized that the anger that used to control me didn’t—shouldn’t matter anymore, Mav. Not when we could’ve made up for our lost time instead.”
Bradley smiled at the older man, it was his first time ever talking about everything that happened between them, about how the other man had made him feel. The month they had off had been spent getting to know the Dagger Squad at a more personal level, more friends than mere colleagues on the same mission, and the extra two weeks they had had been spent with them resting, avoiding the topic every time it was brought up to talk about whatever show they were watching together, or the newest news from the Daggers. Before they knew it, they started teaching at TOPGUN, and the promised conversation never happened. It’s been a month since they became instructors.
“Bradley, I’m—I’m so sorry for what I did, for messing with your career, for not being there for you when you needed me. For betraying your trust.”
Bradley sat up and moved closer to Maverick, wrapping an arm around the older’s shoulder and tucking Maverick’s head under his chin. “I know, Mav. But like I said, this mission, you choosing me.” Bradley squeezed Maverick’s shoulder while the other rested a hand on Bradley’s knee. “You trusted me to have your back, you trusted my skills and I could finally show you—prove to you that I could do it, regardless of everything that happened. It showed me that I’d always save you, and you’d always save me too, in no matter the circumstance.”
“Then why don’t you feel enough? What’s still missing?” Maverick freed himself from Bradley’s grasps, and stared at him with eyes filled with desperation. There was something in his look, a hint of determination that told Bradley Maverick would do anything to help him this time. No more running away.
He stared at Maverick, the hand around his shoulder moved to rest on Maverick’s neck, his thumb barely grazing the scruff on his jawline. Bradley stared at Maverick’s eyes, his honest green eyes that held a million stories and memories, a thousand regrets and guilt that never quite dissipated. He watched realization and fear cloud them, his expressions changing ever so slightly with every passing second.
“I-is it me? Am I not enough for you?” Maverick asked, his voice shaking, and Bradley wondered how this man was twenty years his senior with the way he trembled.
“I don’t know,” Bradley answered as truthfully as he could. Because he truly didn’t know, he still hadn’t figured out why he was still unsatisfied with how his life turned out, not when he finally reached his goal of showing Maverick everything he got. Not when he finally proved to Maverick that he could be something, that Maverick didn’t need to be afraid when he was around, and that he was worthy of Maverick’s trust. Worthy of being Maverick’s wingman, his equal.
But even as he held Maverick’s face in his, his anger mellowed and forgotten, his hatred practically nonexistent. There was something in between them that felt unfinished; a gap in their dynamic that Bradley couldn’t describe.
Or maybe ‘wouldn’t’ was the more appropriate answer.
Because as he took in Maverick’s expression, his wide eyes practically begging Bradley to tell him how he could fix the unspoken between them. Bradley had only one thought in his mind.
Maverick looked beautiful in the sunset.
And that thought scared him more than anything.
———
After that nothing else really happened. Maverick pulled away from Bradley’s touch and declared that they should head back so Maverick could start on tomorrow’s lesson plans. They drove home in silence, only the sound of Phoenix’s playlist thrumming through the Bronco’s speakers while the two stayed quiet, both unfamiliar with the tunes and their eyes stayed glued to the road. Bradley was the one driving, dropping Maverick at the Hard Deck to get his bike and then going their separate ways to their government issued homes with the promise of seeing each other on the next day.
The next day, both tried to act as casually as they could. But the gap between them had been addressed, and by trying to figure out (or in Bradley’s case, accept) what it was, it caused the rift between them to grow even larger. Casual hangouts after class didn’t happen anymore, and weekend movie binges at Maverick’s place was out of the question. And Bradley hated how he started becoming a coward when it came to Maverick, afraid to ask for anything that wasn’t related to their job.
Although really, it was hard to even process anything besides work considering even during work Bradley’s biggest enemy was his own mind.
The comfortable dynamic he had established in the past two months with Maverick was absolutely ruined by Bradley’s thoughts, because the only thing he could think about after the beach was how fucking gorgeous Maverick was. How well he fit into his flight suit, filling out the fabric in all the perfect places. How hot he looked after a practice flight, covered in sweat and in an unfairly tight white t-shirt, the rest of his flight suit wrapped around his waist. How pretty he looked with the sun shining down on him, carving his face in shadows and highlights, graceful even with age. Maverick was so attractive and Bradley was losing his mind.
Because when he felt that something wasn’t enough, he didn’t think it would be his relationship with Maverick. Well, he knew it had something to do with Maverick and their relationship, but not that kind of relationship.
Bradley was losing sleep over this, because even though he never truly saw Maverick as a dad or a father figure, Maverick practically watched Bradley grow up. He had even seen Bradley throughout his most embarrassing teenage years, catching glimpses of all of his awkward phases during the one week per year visitations he did to the Bradshaw residence.
Also, he finally realized how he had had a slight obsession for the older man throughout his entire career (and life if he was being absolutely honest), which might not only be because of anger. Spotty memories of drunken jacking off sessions with Maverick’s name on his tongue started flashing by in his brain, and Bradley wasn’t sure if any of that actually happened or if his mind was once again fucking with him and giving him false memories. Either way, Bradley found the man hot.
God, Mav would definitely think he was a fucking freak and Bradley’s gonna cry because they were finally good. They weren’t perfect, far from it, but they were finally somewhere, something comfortable, and Bradley just had to feel that it wasn’t enough. Like having Maverick by his side will never be enough if the older man wasn’t his . Which was a terrifying epiphany.
It had been two weeks since their little impromptu beach trip. Two weeks since Bradley made the realization that he wanted Maverick in his life in more ways than one. Two weeks since he stared at Maverick’s eyes and hoped the fondness he held in them meant something more. He hadn’t been in Maverick’s house in two weeks, and they were two weeks behind on the television soap opera they were watching together. And Bradley wasn’t even sure how he survived living nearly two decades without Maverick by his side, because it’s been two weeks and Bradley missed him like hell.
Without the anger pushing him, without his need to prove himself to Maverick, Bradley dreaded the moment they greeted each other in the morning. Because he didn’t have the passion that pushed him to meet Maverick in the eyes, the passion that found a challenge every time brown met green. Because now, he greeted Maverick and wished he could push a gentle kiss on his cheek. He dreaded saying goodbye, because now all he wanted was to go home with him. His body and mind was a mess of longing, and guilt, and stupid feelings he refused to acknowledge. Bradley wanted to push Maverick against the wall and kiss him silly.
Another weekend rolled by, and Bradley was sure he would actually combust if he spent another one alone, instead of making fun of shitty soap opera characters on Maverick’s ratty old couch. So, against all rational thoughts, he picked up his keys and was out of his door before he could even remember to text Maverick about his visit.
It took him a fifteen minute drive before he was rapping his knuckles on Maverick’s door. His genius mind only then remembering the fact that Maverick might have not even been home and his visit was a waste of effort. He knocked again, trying for another minute before he pulled out his phone from his shorts pocket. His clothes were beyond casual, a plain black t-shirt and a pair of shorts that fell above his knees, he wasn’t dressed to impress at all and was slightly regretting that fact.
His last raps to the door finally bear fruit when Bradley heard a soft grunt and a strained call to wait a second. And a second it was, because the door handle was twisting not long after that and the door was pulled open.
Maverick stood in front of Bradley in all his glory. He was half naked, sas a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips (Bradley bit the inside of his cheeks so hard he almost cut himself). Maverick’s hair was all over the place, spiky where it was short and flopping where it was slightly longer. Bradley prayed to every god and deity in the universe that he only interrupted Maverick’s afternoon nap and nothing else.
The old man rubbed his eyes slightly, squinting at Bradley’s bulky figure on his doorway suppressing a yawn. Bradley almost screamed in euphoria.
“Bradley?” Maverick asked, his voice rough and laced with sleep, “Did you say you were coming? I don’t think I got a text,” Maverick continued, stepping away from the door and walking towards his couch, leaving Bradley to invite himself in.
Bradley scratched the back of his neck, closing the door behind him and following Maverick until he stood near the end of the couch, “No, I—uhh, I didn’t text or anything like that, just wanted to come here, I guess.” Bradley was fidgeting by the time he finished speaking, Maverick was already getting himself comfortable on the couch.
Maverick eyes were on him, squinting with a slight quirk of his smile as he took in Bradley’s awkward posture. He didn’t reply, turning towards the television and turning it on with a simple click of the remote beside him. “Well, what are you waiting for? We got a couple episodes to catch up on,” Maverick said, patting the spot next to him and taking the pillow that previously occupied it. He placed the pillow on his lap and leaned until his back hit the couch. “Warlock spoiled a bit of the episode to me, apparently Sophia was caught cheating on John with Derek,” he spoke the words through gritted teeth and Bradley couldn’t stop himself from gasping.
“Are you serious?!” Bradley asked, throwing himself next to Maverick with eyes wide and bright.
“I don’t know!” Maverick laughed, “Let’s find out, because I’ll actually kill Warlock if he lied to me.”
Bradley laughed, letting himself get comfortable next to Maverick while the old man navigated his TV. Maverick had always been a fast learner, figuring out how to work his smart TV after a short explanation from Bradley. The man was like a tech wiz, calmly pushing the buttons until he found the last episode they watched together.
Something inside Bradley blossomed, when he saw that Maverick had in fact waited for him, none of the new episodes had been watched. The last played episode was the one they watched the weekend before their beach trip. Bradley let himself indulge just a bit, scooting until his shoulder was pressed against Maverick’s, and their thighs were almost touching. Maverick turned to look at him, sending him a soft smile before pressing play on their show.
They were loud throughout the six-episode marathon, letting out gasps and laughter like some live studio audience. Bradley had his moments, almost screaming at the characters and their endless idiocracy. Maverick had his own fair share of frustration, massaging the temple with a groan during moments that were truly shockingly stupid. Every single groan and cry of annoyance was met with a peal of laughter from the after party, a laugh that sounded more fond than amused. Bradley wondered if Maverick was looking at him the same way he looked at the other man.
Warlock had in fact not been lying, and the main three characters were in fact caught in a messy cheating scandal after a drunken rendezvous between the cheaters. The end of the marathon had both men gritting their teeths in annoyance, frustrated grins twinning on their faces.
“Oh my fucking God, they’re all idiots!” Bradley complained when the end credits rolled around. “Why did you make me watch this?” he accused, a pointed look at a grinning Maverick.
Maverick held his hand up in defeat and let out a small chuckle. “Hey, I’m not forcing you to be here,” he said, patting Bradley's thigh when the younger threw himself against the armrest. “You hungry? I got some leftovers I can heat up.” Maverick stood up and walked towards the kitchen in light steps. He took out a couple of takeaway boxes from his fridge, and Bradley spared a look at the clock hung on the wall next to the TV. 2100 sharp, he noticed, and his stomach growled at the exact same time. It was an embarrassingly loud one that left Bradley with his head in his hands, ears and cheeks red. Maverick laughed, leaving no further comments before he took out a pan from his kitchen drawers.
Dinner was comfortable, small talk exchanged about their students and their weekly antics that made both aviators lose their minds. It reminded Bradley of how they were before, they were that comfortable something again, and the gap was lost in the back of their minds. They ate until the plates were scraped clean, and the dishes were left for tomorrow’s problems.
Bradley could’ve—should’ve gone home after that, but Maverick offered him a cold can of beer, and he couldn’t find it in him to decline.
They went back to the couch, two cold cans of beer’s condensation puddling on Maverick’s wooden coffee table, both half empty and neither had a coaster underneath it, and there were four empty bottles on the floor below them. They were talking about anything and everything at that point. Theories of what would happen next on their show evolved to the story of how Maverick had somehow managed to piss off Cyclone again just by existing, and that topic brought them to the Dagger Squad and what each of them was doing. Bradley told Maverick about Phoenix’s annoyance with her current CO, an old admiral that Maverick vaguely remembered pissing off in the past. Meanwhile, Maverick told him stories about Hangman, which was a surprise, Bradley just wasn’t sure it was a pleasurable one.
“Wait, wait, hold on—how do you know what Hangman is up to?” Bradley asked, incredulously. He reached for his beer once again, the once ice cold can only cool against his fingertips and he took a swing. Maverick didn’t even need to say anything before Bradley handed him his own can.
Maverick threw his head back on the couch before turning to look at Bradley with a squint to his eyes, “We keep in touch,” he said, fingers circling the lip of his can while a small smile graced his face.
Bradley turned to fully face Maverick, his tucked one knee under his thigh and leaned an arm on the back of the couch. He placed his chin on the back of his hand, and mirrored Maverick’s head tilt until their eyes aligned. Bradley couldn’t really register the space between them, they were probably only a few inches apart, and if he focused he could feel Maverick’s hot breath brush against his lips.
“You and Hangman? How?” Bradley asked, an easy grin on his face when he saw the crow’s feet forming by Maverick’s eyes.
“I’ll tell you right now, Jake is an annoyingly persistent texter. He blows up my phone with complaints almost daily.” Maverick turned back to look at the ceiling, and at that point Bradley could probably see Maverick even with his eyes closed from how often he stared at the other man.
“What do you even talk about?!” Bradley asked with a slight chuckle, “Which admiral to piss off next or something like that?”
“Something like that,” Maverick nodded with a grin. “He reminds me of me back when I was his age. Brave, cocky, a pain in every single CO’s ass.”
“Not much of a difference to you now, if we’re being honest.”
Maverick placed a weak slap on Bradley’s bicep. “Annoying little shit,” he grumbled, and Bradley laughed. “He’d complain to me about how his CO mostly, calling them wrinkly old cowards when they deemed his flight skill too reckless and dangerous.”
“So he complains to you and you just take it? How very doormat-y of you, Mav.”
Maverick laughed and shook his head, “Of course not, life’s a fair trade. I let him complain, and he’s forced to hear me complain as well. He’s surprisingly understanding, that kid.”
“Hangman?!” Bradley borderline exclaimed. “How?!”
Maverick just laughed again, but this time he nodded. “Yep, not judgemental at all about what I was talking about, a real adult when he needed to be.”
Bradley blinked, once, twice, “Well now, I have to know what you were talking about.”
Maverick’s carefree smile started to drop after that, and he turned to look at Bradley once again. There his green eyes were once again, boring into Bradley’s chocolate ones with an unreadable expression. His eyes were swimming with emotions, every single one screaming at Bradley, while at the same time hiding behind each other, never showing who they truly were. Bradley found himself getting lost in the sadness he had managed to catch, his eyebrows furrowing as his own smile dropped.
“Mav—”
He couldn’t finish his words because Maverick had broken their eye contact, his head hanging low to look at the beer can on his lap, the once cold beverage now warm and tepid.
“Just about life, in general,” Maverick started, taking a gulp of his beer. “What I’m doing, where I’m going next, what I want to fight for.” Maverick finished his beer with another swig, crushing the can in his fist. “Who I want to fight for.”
The last part was barely a whisper, and Bradly let out a whisper of his own, “Mav …”
“It’s getting late,” Maverick said. He picked up all the empty cans on the floor and stood up without another word.
“Maverick, I—”
“It’s late, Bradley,” Maverick said, walking until he reached the kitchen trash can and clang of metal rang through as he dumped the empty beer cans into it. “You’re welcome to stay on the couch.” He left Bradley alone after that, his heart hammering as his mind raced, wondering whatever the fuck had just happened between them. He wondered about Maverick’s words, wondering about who he meant. If Maverick had meant him .
Bradley was gone before he even heard Maverick’s bedroom door close, no goodbyes, and no other words exchanged. He didn’t bother calling in sick the coming Monday.
———
If Bradley had been confused after their beach trip. Post movie night Bradley was a whole new form of mess. He laid in bed without moving for hours, his body woke him up at exactly 0500 and he couldn’t fall back asleep despite only getting three hours of rest. His mind was a mess he didn’t even want to explore, images of Maverick’s words and expression meshed together until Bradley had a hard time remembering whether everything really happened or whether he imagined the look in Maverick’s eyes, the one Bradley could recognize as longing, matching his own.
Bradley groaned in frustration as the morning sun started to invade his room, harsh sunlight pushing past his half-open blinds and hitting him square in the face. He still didn’t get up, though, instead just rolling in bed until his back met the sun, shutting his eyes close and forcing his body to shut down.
It almost worked, Bradley managed to lay in bed for another few hours, the sun moving with time until the 0700 burning shine turned to a more tolerable 1000 one, the angle no longer piercing through his window. He finally got himself out of bed because his stomach had been forming a riot since thirty minutes ago, and his body was not a fan of the change in breakfast schedule.
It was a slow day in which Bradley had no idea what he wanted to do. After a quick eggs on toast breakfast, and a piss poor cup of coffee, he was fully awake with absolutely nothing on his agenda. He didn’t have any shows he wanted to watch, never had been a TV guy in the first place. He didn’t like reading and had no books laying around waiting for their pages to be turned. He was a horrible cook, and had an embarrassingly empty fridge, which meant no cooking experiments.
Bradley wanted to groan as he realized that flying was really what he had in life, it was the thing that kept him going, the one ‘hobby’ he had and was actually good at. He had absolutely nothing to keep him entertained for the day, and no friends left on base to keep him company aside from the man who was the cause of his turmoil.
He threw himself back into bed, his blinds now pulled fully shut and all of his lights turned off, he hoped his brain could keep him busy enough until it tired itself to sleep. Bradley spent the next few hours alone with his thoughts, all about one person who had been occupying them for his entire life.
Fuck, Bradley was pretty sure he was in love with Maverick.
———
“—ley, Bradley ….”
There was a shake to his shoulders and Bradley grumbled, curling into himself like he wasn’t six feet tall. The shake was then followed by a tiny snicker, and Bradley heard his voice being called out again.
“Bradley!” The voice was louder this time, and the shake to his shoulder actually startled him awake.
He sat up so quickly he almost got lightheaded, his back was straight and he almost jumped to stand at the end of his bed, but there was a hand still pressed on his shoulder, halting his movements.
“Hey, easy there, kid!” Maverick said with a grin, squeezing Bradley’s shoulder softly.
“Mav? What—how?”
Maverick pushed Bradley until his back met his mattress once again, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Called you about ten times after class. Went to voicemail every single time and got worried,” he said, his hand still on Bradley’s bare shoulder, thumb hesitantly grazing his skin. “I remembered where you put your spare key and let myself in, sorry.”
Bradley nodded, turning to look at his bedside table to see his digital clock, a couple minutes past eight and there was no light coming through his blinds. Bradley didn’t even know when he fell asleep.
“You hungry? I got some pasta on the way here,” Maverick said, standing up before placing his hands in his jean pocket. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet with a small smile. Bradley pushed himself up until he was leaning against the headboard. “You can wash up, and I’ll set everything up.” Maverick walked out after that, leaving Bradley with a scowl set on his face.
He went to the adjoining bathroom the moment he heard the kitchen drawers being opened.
His shower took less than five minutes, and barely ten minutes had passed when he was walking out of his bedroom towards the kitchen. Maverick was already sitting down, tapping away on his phone while two full plates of pasta were placed neatly on the table, a full jug of ice cold water in the middle of the table with two empty glasses next to it. Bradley cursed his brain for thinking about how domestic everything felt.
Bradley greeted Maverick with a soft pat to his bicep, making the older man look up at him with a cute grin.
Dinner was quiet, only the sound of metal against glass plates, and the thuds of glass meeting the wooden table every time one of them took a drink. It took less than ten minutes for the food to be gone, and they were both leaning back on their chairs after the meal.
“Sick again, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” Maverick said after a few more minutes of silence. Bradley turned to look at him but didn’t reply. “If this keeps up we might need to take you to the doctors.”
“Just wasn’t feeling well again.”
“Bradley.”
“Why are you here, Mav?” Bradley asked, his jaw square and his eyes squinting into a glare.
Maverick turned to look at the table in front of him, his pointer finger tapping on the edge of it while he bit the inside of his bottom lip. “I told you, I was worried.”
“Well, I’m alive and well.” Bradley also turned to look at the table. “Besides, we’ve gone no contact for years before, why’s today any different?”
The silence between them was enough to hear a pin drop, and Bradley didn’t get to speak before Maverick answered him, “I don’t know.”
“Mav, you’ve been confusing me lately,” Bradley complained, he didn’t even care if it sounded like he was whining. “Well, you’ve always been confusing, never knew what you were thinking or what any of your words meant,” Bradley scoffed, placing his forearms on the table and leaning on them, he turned back to look at Maverick. “But lately, it feels like you’re speaking in code, and I’m over here losing my mind and sleep trying to decipher it.”
“What about you?” Maverick asked instead, sitting up straighter on his chair. “Why did you go distant after the beach trip?”
“Who’s the person you’re fighting for?”
“What did you mean when you said you didn’t know whether or not I was enough?”
“Jesus Christ, Mav, this isn’t some cryptic olympics!”
Maverick seemed like he wanted to argue again but sighed instead, “Alright fine, I’m sorry. I’m just saying you don’t get to be mad at me when you’re doing the exact same thing.”
“Why are you here, Mav?” Bradley asked once again, this time he turned himself until he was fully facing Maverick, sitting sideways on his chair. There was desperation in his eyes and fear in Maverick’s.
Maverick rested his clasped hands between his thighs and started glaring at them. “I’m here because I don’t think I can spend another day not talking to you, being with you.” Maverick’s confession was abysmally small, and Bradley furrowed his eyebrows at his words. “Fucking hell, Bradley, even when we went no contact I had ways of finding out how you were, it took one call and I’d instantly know how you were doing even when it’s info from someone else. But today, it was radio silence and that killed me.”
Bradley still hadn’t said a word of response, staring at Maverick and trying to dissect his body language and words.
“I don’t know if it was something I said or did last night, then I remembered what you said.” Maverick paused, “I thought maybe I wasn’t enough of a reason for you to stay. Maybe, you’d taken a page from my book, leave me behind without a single phone call, and leave me to find out the news from someone else. You don’t know the relief I felt when I saw you sleeping in that bed, Bradley.” Maverick finally looked at him again, and he said a lot of words, but—
“I still don’t get it, why?” Bradley asked
“I don’t know how else to say it to you.” Maverick let out a laugh, sad and self deprecating. “I made weekly calls to admirals I had pissed off just to find out how you were. I had Ice mail me your TOPGUN graduation picture and had it framed. I put it in the hangar, and placed my watch in front of it every single night when I came home just so I had a reason to look at it every morning. I pulled your papers because I was scared half to death I’d lose you to the skies.” Maverick blinked, and Bradley wondered if tears were clouding his eyes. “And after the mission, after almost losing you again, I realized I couldn't do it.”
Bradley held his breath, and he didn’t have to wonder about the tears clouding Maverick’s eyes anymore.
“I can’t live without you, Bradley.” Maverick’s voice shook as he took in a breath. “So I’m sorry, if I’m not enough, I want to be with you, make up for lost time.”
And again, Maverick was saying a lot of words, he was word vomiting at that point, but—
“It’s not enough,” Bradley whispered and he could see the hurt flash through Maverick’s eyes.
The old man blinked, taken back by Bradley’s response and rendered speechless.
Panic coursed through Bradley’s veins and he was quick to reassure the other man, “No, no, not you, Mav. This—this, fuck, whatever the fuck we have going on right now, that’s what’s not enough for me.”
“I don’t understand,” Maverick said, and Bradley wondered if Maverick was this frustrated when Bradley said practically the exact same words.
Bradley took a breath, his hands were shaking when they moved to grasp Maverick’s own. He bit the inside of his cheeks as he thought about every single choice he had on how everything would play out. He was close to saying nevermind, to accepting Maverick’s wishes of them never parting again without ever gaining the satisfaction of being able to actually be with the older man. But Maverick had that look on his face again.
And Bradley’s once again greeted by the sheer amounts of emotions Maverick’s eyes could portray. In between the line of nerves, in between the fear, there had been hope in those mesmerizing green eyes. Bradley’s reminded of Maverick’s fondness, the longing his deep eyes brought every time their eyes met. Bradley wondered if it was underlined with love like his was.
Bradley made his choice with a gentle movement. His hand left Maverick’s trembling ones, instead cupping one of his cheeks in a warm embrace. Maverick was hot underneath his touch and Bradley swallowed before he finally spoke, “I love you, Mav, that’s why it’s not enough.” He continued before Maverick could answer. “I can’t be without you either, but I won’t be satisfied with just being by your side. I want to wake up next to you every day, make shitty breakfast and buy dinner from whatever new restaurant we discover that week. I want to binge watch stupidly long soap operas and complain about the characters with you. I want to be with you, Mav. I want to be yours, and—“
His words were lost in a mess of lips against lips. Bradley would be lying if he said he didn’t gasp the moment Maverick’s lips met his. Maverick had his hands wrapping around Bradley’s waist after that, tugging him closer until Bradley didn’t have anywhere else to go except Maverick’s lap. Maverick’s lips moved against his with expertise, his movements were soft but perfect in every way possible. Bradley’s hands moved from Maverick’s jaw to instead tug on his hair, meanwhile Maverick’s hands were underneath Bradley’s shirt, pressing the dimples on the base of his spine.
They pulled away gasping for air, foreheads pressed against one another as their hot breaths met in the barely inch of space between them. Maverick’s hands were now splayed across his back, his fingers tracing the wide expanse of skin.
“I love you too,” Maverick whispered against his lips and he didn’t need to utter another word before Bradley was crashing their lips together again.
———
Even with his age, Maverick was still a very well built and strong man. Strong enough to pick Bradley up and bring him to bed, apparently.
Bradley had screamed, a very appropriate reaction in his own humble opinion, meanwhile Maverick laughed, casually walking while he left trails of kisses down Bradley’s jaw.
“I am pretty sure I have a solid forty pounds over you,” Bradley said after he was thrown onto his bed.
Maverick slid between his legs with a chuckle, sending him that unfairly gorgeous Hollywood smile. “Yeah? And I have a good twenty years of experience over you, baby, I’ll manage.”
And that sentence went straight to Bradley’s dick. The smooth addition of the pet name almost had him swooning. But instead of embarrassing himself further, he curled his arms around Maverick’s neck and tugged him into a kiss.
Maverick didn’t have to ask for permission before Bradley was giving the older man access to his mouth, letting Maverick’s tongue explore every inch of his mouth and map out his teeth. Bradley pulled away with a chuckle, “You taste like marinara,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against Maverick’s lips.
Maverick laughed against him, pressing a kiss to Bradley’s cheek, “You’re a brat,” he said, continuing his kisses downwards.
Bradley lifted his body up when Maverick pushed at the hem of his shirt. It didn’t take long before they were both shirtless and Maverick was back leaving kisses down Bradley’s body. The older man’s touch was soft against his skin, gentle threads and squeezes that drove Bradley mad. There was a featherlight kiss against his sternum, and it left Bradley shivering.
Maverick took both their pants off, pressing a kiss against Bradley’s stomach, moving further down until he could kiss the inside of his thighs. Bradley had a hand gripping the sheets beneath him, his thighs flexing with every wet kiss Maverick left behind.
A hand was touching him over his boxers, gripping the shape that filled out his gray boxer briefs, squeezing until a damp wet spot covered the fabric. Maverick’s mouth was still on his thighs, kissing, licking, and biting them over and over again until Bradley was sure they’d be purple and blue.
Bradley still had half the mind to reach over into his bedside table, rummaging until he found the familiar shape of his lube bottle while Maverick was still busy marking him up, moving closer and closer to Bradley’s crotch. He threw the bottle towards Maverick, barely missing his shoulder. It made a small thump when it landed on the sheets near Bradley’s leg and the sound made Maverick look up. He took the bottle and turned to look at Bradley.
“Are you sure?” Maverick asked, crawling over to him until he was right on top of Bradley, their hard cocks pressed against one another.
Bradley cradled his face and nodded. “I’m sure,” he said pulling him into another kiss, “Now fuck me, old man.”
Maverick didn’t need to be told twice. He practically ripped off Bradley’s briefs, immediately wetting two of his fingers and rubbing them over Bradley’s fluttering hole.
Bradley gasped at the coldness he felt, almost twitching away from the touch but there was a hand on his waist, holding him in place as the wet fingers continued to circle his rim. He got no further notices before a finger slipped inside him, the slide rough despite the lube because of how long it had been.
The first finger had already been a stretch but Bradley had been desensitized to pain for a while now, whining at Maverick to add another finger despite only a few moments passing. Maverick’s other hand had left his waist, groping and squeezing at Bradley’s torso and chest in tune with the slow thrust of his fingers, pumping in and out of the younger man at an excruciatingly slow pace.
Bradley wanted to claw at the other man. He loved the burn and stretch, and how fucking hot Maveri looked above him, but it wasn’t enough, not when he could see the hard outline of Maverick’s cock in his own boxer briefs, suffocating in the tight fabric.
“Mav, please,” he begged, his eyes wide and pleading. He did end up clawing at Maverick, his hand wrapping around Maverick’s bicep, letting his blunt nails dig into the skin with no care of the indents it left behind.
“Please what, baby?” Maverick asked, pushing Bradley’s legs until his knees were bent and he could place a small kiss to his red kneecaps. His fingers were still moving instead of Bradley, pressing into his walls and purposely missing the spot that would let Bradley see stars.
“Fucking fuck me already,” Bradley whined—begged even. He should get an award for his eloquence at that point because as he was pushing his hips to meet Maverick’s fingers he went on a small rant that flew before his mind could process the words they conjured. “Fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow. Break my fucking back and fill me with your cum. Use me.”
“Holy fuck, Bradley,” Maverick said, and his fingers paused their movements, which was predominantly his worst move yet, because Bradley’s babbling continued.
His hand left Maverick’s bicep to pull him into a desperate kiss, open mouthed and messy. They separated with a string of saliva still connecting them. “Please, Mav, please,” Bradley whined into his lips, “I need this, need you . Need you so fucking bad, Daddy, please.”
And at that point Bradley was sure both his and Maverick’s brain short circuited.
He would be lying if he said they didn’t go absolutely fucking feral after that. Maverick shoved another finger into Bradley without even adding anymore lube, caring more about stretching Bradley than how it felt. It took barely a minute before Maverick was ripping, ripping, his own underwear off. His mouth was busy the entire time, nipping at Bradley’s skin and marking him every place he could, letting his canines break skin where it was vulnerable enough. Bradley’s body was now a mess of bite marks and bruises, red with the flush that stretched from his face to the center of his chest.
Maverick was no better, his green eyes were almost black from his pupils. His hair was a mess, and sweat dripped down from his forehead, following the deep lines on his face before sliding down his jaw. If Bradley wasn’t too busy being a fucking pillow princess he would’ve been all over Maverick, leaving his own marks down Maverick’s neck, sucking the hollow of his throat and biting his collarbones. But everything was a little bit too surreal for him at the moment that he really didn’t have the mental capability to do anything except moan like a bitch in heat, begging for Maverick’s cock like a whore. The press of Maverick’s blunt cockhead almost made Bradley pass out.
In hindsight, they could’ve gone a more romantic and patient route with the foreplay because the burn when Maverick first pushed into him had Bradley gripping his sheets so hard he was close to tearing them. But Maverick’s thumb was rubbing circles to the inside of his thighs and pressing kisses to his knees, trying to ease into Bradley with his lube-covered cock.
“There we go, baby, relax,” Maverick said, continuing to kiss up Bradley's body while rolling his hips slowly.
Bradley let out a groan, throwing his head onto the pillows underneath him, spreading his legs further apart. “Please, Daddy,” he begged, and Maverick didn’t have to be told twice.
One of Bradley’s legs was pushed up and placed over Maverick’s shoulder, the older man almost folding Bradley in half before he started pounding into Bradley hard. Every single thrust pushed out small moans from Bradley, small ah-ah-ahs as his jaw hung open and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
If Maverick had been purposely missing his prostate when he fingered Bradley, he was now hitting it with every single thrust. The head of his cock pounded on the bundle of nerves relentlessly, and had Bradley lightheaded. His grips on the sheets were a mess, and his eyes were tearing up with every jostle of their bodies. The headboard of his bed was creaking and slamming against the wall, and Maverick’s hands on Bradley’s hips were bruising.
“I-I can’t, Mav,” Bradley whined, heat and pleasure pooled in his stomach, leaving him squirming with every trust as his heavy cock was dripping precum on his stomach. “I can’t,” he cried. Maverick’s hand went to cover the base of his cock, but instead of stroking it he gripped it tight.
“Just a little more baby, I’m close too,” Maverick whispered into his ear before kissing behind it. “Hold on a while more and we’ll come together. Okay, baby? Can you do that for Daddy?”
Bradley cried but nodded nonetheless. He wrapped his arms around Maverick’s back, nipping the old man’s bottom lip and dragging his fingers across his broad back. Maverick’s rhythm became erratic, fucking into Bradley hard and fast, and the grip he had on Bradley’s waist turned the skin red.
“Mav, please,” Bradley cried out after the brutal abuse against his hole, his thighs were trembling and so were his arms on Maverick’s back.
“Come for me, baby,” Maverick said, biting Bradley’s neck while the younger screamed out his name. Maverick’s thrusts stuttered when Bradley clenched his hole tight, milking Maverick’s orgasm into him and letting him paint his walls white with his cum. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re such a good boy for me.” Maverick kissed up the column of Bradley’s throat until he met the younger one’s lips, kissing him slow and steady.
He collapsed on top of Bradley right after that, his dick slipping out of Bradley’s spent hole, his cum following after and pooling onto the sheets. Bradley’s stomach was sticky against his own but neither of them really cared, exchanging lazy kisses as they held each other close.
Maverick tucked himself under Bradley’s chin, letting the younger one run his hand along his body, scratching the back of his ears and kissing the top of his head. And Maverick was really a force to be reckoned with, because while Bradley slowly drifted away to sleep while the old man pulled away to get something to clean them up.
Bradley fell asleep to the gentle swipes of a warm towel across his body, and a sweet kiss to his forehead.
———
If there was anything Bradley hated and loved about the military it was their impact on his body clock. Because even after mind (and back) breaking sex, Bradley was awake at 0500 on the dot.
His eyes didn’t even flutter open, instead opening wide to take in the darkness of his room, a few quick blinks following suite. The warmth he expected next to him wasn’t there, and Bradley almost fell sick. He turned his head towards the bathroom and saw no light seeping through the door crack. The panic in him tenfold, his heart hammered against his ribcage, and he was actually going to get sick before he turned his head towards the other side of the bed.
Near the end of his bed, illuminated by the faint strip of light sneaking past his blinds was the silhouette of a man slumped over himself.
Bradley let out a sigh of relief and turned on his bedside lamp. The light made Maverick flinch but he made no effort to look at Bradley. “Mav?” Bradley called out, but got no answer.
Maverick took in a shaky breath before speaking, “I think we made a mistake, Bradley.” He still hadn’t turned to look at Bradley, eyes fixated on the floor beneath him.
“Mav, what—?” Bradley tried to push himself to lean against his headboard, suppressing a hiss when his back started protesting against his movements. That had Maverick twitching, turning to look at him in concern. “What are you talking about?” Bradley asked when their eyes met.
“What we did yesterday,” Maverick started, turning back the look at the floor. “We shouldn’t have—we never should’ve done that.”
Bradley eyebrows were furrowed and his glare was piercing. “Why?”
“It’s wrong,” Maverick said. Bradley heard the man swallow, before he turned his head once again. And Bradley saw the ever familiar guilt and fear in Maverick’s eyes, the look he had whenever they brought the past, brought up his mistakes. “Isn’t it?” Maverick asked, his voice a mere whisper that almost got lost in the air.
Bradley’s anger dissipated at Maverick’s tone, he would’ve moved to hug the older man but his back was killing him so he couldn’t only beckoned him closer. Maverick was hesitant, but he eventually moved to be near Bradley.
“I wanted it, you wanted it, we’re both adults,” Bradley took Maverick’s hands and held it in a tight grip, “and I don’t know how you think of our relationship, but you’re not my dad, Mav.” Maverick looked at him with a complicated expression but Bradley merely laughed. “and I’ve never once thought of you as my dad. So how is this wrong?” Bradley placed a kiss to the back of Maverick’s hands, “Besides, if your one-week yearly visits made you my dad then you’d be one piss poor dad.”
Maverick shook his head with a laugh, pulling his hand away from Bradley’s grasp, “You’re such a little shit,” he said, the fondness in his voice back.
Bradley wrapped his arms round Maverick’s shoulders and pulled until the man was laying against his chest. “I’m being serious, Mav. We’re doing nothing wrong here, stop overthinking it. Don’t think—“
“Just do,” Maverick finished, turning his head to press a kiss against Bradley’s jaw. “Don’t start using my words against me, now,” he scolded with a smile.
“Then don’t do stupid shit,” Bradley said, kissing the side of Maverick’s head and squeezing him just a bit tighter.
The rest of the morning was spent in bed, they exchanged kisses and laughter, a sweet interaction between the two that made Bradley swoon. Maverick made a call to cancel class for today, telling Cyclone that they were both taking a personal day before turning his phone off. They were probably being spammed to death by the admiral, and their jobs were most definitely on the line but Bradley couldn’t care less, not when he finally had Maverick in his arms.