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Chapter Text

It wasn’t until they were in Bradley’s Bronco on the way home from a long day at the beach that Jake noticed something was seriously wrong with his boyfriend. The usually loud and boisterous man who sang along with every song on the radio- obnoxiously if you asked anyone in the Dagger Squadron- was quiet and subdued as he drove. His fingers were still, he didn’t comment on Jake’s rapid-fire changes of the songs playing quietly through the radio, and he kept his eyes focused ahead of him, almost as if he were afraid they would crash on the barely 4-mile drive. 

That was only the first red flag that sent Jake’s mind reeling. 

Bradley was also incredibly still, and if you knew Bradley Bradshaw, still wasn’t in his vocabulary. He was constantly in motion, always looking around at the scenery, and always holding Jake’s hand. He would point out landmarks from his childhood even though Jake had seen most of them and could point them out himself. Most importantly, Bradley was always tapping his hands along with the backbeat of any song, even songs he was unfamiliar with. Now, with each movement to grab his barely empty water bottle, turn the steering wheel, or adjust his seatbelt across his chest, he winced and attempted to remain almost entirely still. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asked quietly, his hand reaching for Bradley’s thigh. “You’re very quiet.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley’s voice was rough and unfamiliar to Jake’s ears. “Just tired. I’m going to go to bed when we get home.” 

“It’s barely seven,” Jake prodded gently, hoping to pull an answer from his unusually withdrawn partner. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his brow furrowed and his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. “I promise, Jay, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” 

Sighing, Jake leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, attempting to recall any situation that could have soured Bradley’s mood, triggered an episode of his lingering PTSD, or made him upset in any form or fashion, and he was coming up empty-handed. 

They’d spent the day with Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy, playing Dogfight Football, roasting marshmallows over their private fire, and romping around in the ocean like Bradley remembered doing as a child, and that Jake fondly recalls memories of from family vacations to Galveston during his childhood. Everything was perfect in the eyes of the blonde, a day spent with his friends with no thoughts of the incoming Top Gun class, work, or flying. 

And for aviators, a day spent not thinking about flying was more precious than pearls. 

Frankly, Jake wasn’t sure why Bradley seemed so despondent, but he didn’t want to push the subject for fear of starting an unjustified argument while Bradley seemed fragile. Instead, he rubbed a soft circle on the older man’s thigh with his thumb, and when Bradley jerked away, his heart ached. 

“Roo…” Jake’s voice was laced with sadness. “You can talk to me. I’m here, I’m always going to be here. If today- if today caused something, anything, to make you upset, please tell me.” 

“Babe,” Bradley inhaled sharply as his chest ached. “I promise you, there was nothing that happened today that upset me. I’m okay, but if it makes you feel better, we can talk about it when we get home.” 

Jake gave Bradley’s thigh a gentle squeeze but withdrew his hand when Bradley inhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut as they came to a complete stop at the light nearest his home. Staring intently at his boyfriend, his hand hovering and trying to figure out what to do, Jake’s heart raced. 

“Bradley,” Jake breathed. “Are you okay, physically?” 

“No,” Bradley croaked. “But we’re almost home; we can talk about it when we get there.” 

“B, you look really pale,” Jake turned in his seat to look directly at Bradley. “Do you need me to drive?” 

“I look pale because it’s dark,” Bradley joked weakly. “Moonlight doesn’t, doesn’t do the same for my skin tone as the sun. You know this.”

“It’s not funny, Bradley,” Jake felt his hands start to tremble. “You look sick.” 

Turning onto their street, Bradley felt his stomach churning, and his skin felt like it was on fire. He knew forgetting sunscreen was going to come back to bite him, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. He would burn on occasion, sure, his shoulders and cheeks pink from the sun, but never has he experienced the burning pain of the sunburn currently blistering his skin. 

The shirt, seatbelt, and swim trunks weren’t helping the situation. 

Jake’s hand on his thigh felt like a white-hot iron, and the brief squeeze sent white spots dancing across his vision. 

His skin was raw, and he knew the moment Jake saw it, he would spiral. 

“Can you get the stuff out of the back?” Bradley asked cautiously, working to keep his movements brief as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. “I-I need help with it.” 

Jake sat for a moment, his hand on the door handle, and frowned, “Roo, are you hurt?” 

“No,” Bradley breathed, moving his burned and achy body. “Just, we can talk. When we’re inside.”

Nodding, Jake exited the Bronco, pulled their bag and cooler from the back seat of the truck, and eyed Bradley as he walked slowly, staggering on occasion, up the steps to the porch and paused when he reached for his keys. 

They were still in the Bronco. 

 “Fuck,” Bradley’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Hey,” Jake was quickly at his side, his hand falling on the small of Bradley’s back, eliciting a whine from the brunette. “What’s wrong?” 

“Please don’t touch me,” Bradley’s voice was weak. “I forgot my keys in the cup holder. I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t touch,” Jake was cut off as Bradley took a step and swayed on his feet, only catching himself with the handrail of the steps. “Whoa, okay, no. Nope. Let me help you.” 

“Jake,” Bradley’s eyes were squeezed shut. “Please don’t touch me, please.” 

“Bradley,” Jake’s voice cracked as his boyfriend’s name escaped his lips. “Let me help you, please let me help you.” 

“My skin is on fire,” Bradley choked. “My head is throbbing, I feel like I’m going to barf all over this porch at any second. Please don’t touch me.” 

Alarm bells were sounding in Jake’s head as he fished his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the front door with the spare as Bradley clung to the hand rail. Turning on the porch light, Jake saw it. 

Bradley wasn’t just sunburnt, his skin was a deep, angry red, and he was scared to think what lingered under his hastily buttoned Hawaiian shirt. 

“Oh, Roo,” Jake soothed. “Babe, you’re… this isn’t good.” 

“I know,” Bradley swayed again. “I-I need… to sit.” 

Jake sucked in a shaky breath as he wrapped his arm around Bradley’s waist and did his best to ease the dizzy, pained man onto a chair that had a permanent residence on the front porch. As Bradley winced and gasped in pain, Jake took in his appearance, and a chill ran down his spine. 

Sun poisoning. 

His sister had gotten it one summer after spending a day on the beach, and the incident had resulted in a trip to the Emergency Room. Jake knew, at that moment, there was a very real possibility that Bradley would end up in the same place if they didn’t work to ease the pain and symptoms. 

“Roo, can you tell me what’s happening?” Jake crouched down in front of him, careful not to touch the tender, blistered skin of his knees and thighs. 

“My skin feels like it’s on fire, but I’m freezing,” Bradley wheezed anxiously. “Head hurts, and ‘m dizzy as fuck. Jake, it hurts.” 

“I know,” his voice was laced with sympathy and anxiety, but the blonde did his best to assess the situation. “I know it does. Are you still nauseous?” 

“Might barf on you if you don’t move,” Bradley rasped painfully. “I don’t feel well.” 

“Okay,” Jake exhaled. “I’m going to get everything inside, and then we’re going to get you in a cool bath; that’s what we did for my sister.” 

“No,” Bradley sniffled. “Water’s going to hurt.” 

“I promise if it hurts, you can get out immediately,” Jake hoisted the bag over his shoulder, looped the cooler handle onto the same arm, and rested it in the crook of his elbow. “I’ll be right back.” 

Jake darted inside, dropped their belongings inside the entryway, and attempted to clear a path for Bradley to walk. Returning to the porch just as his boyfriend darted toward the railing and threw up, Jake knew there was nothing he could do at the moment to comfort his partner. Touching him was out of the question, so there were no soothing movements to his upper back, and placing his hands on his chest to keep Bradley from heaving forward as he vomited would only make the pain worse. 

So, even though it broke his heart and tears pricked his sea-green eyes, Jake could only watch as Bradley was sick. 

“Think you’re done?” Jake asked cautiously, not wanting to trigger more vomiting. 

“Yeah,” Bradley spit onto the ground below. 

Jake, even though Bradley whined in pain, wrapped his arm around his waist once more, and the pair gingerly made their way inside the house. With pain in each step, Bradley grew dizzier, and he asked Jake to stop at the bottom of the stairs so he could get the world to stop spinning. 

“Just a little bit further,” Jake soothed as Bradley struggled to stay on his feet. “Just a few stairs. I promise we won’t have to come back down.” 

“‘Kay,” Bradley inhaled as Jake helped him up the stairs and into the en suite bathroom. 

Sitting Rooster down on the closed toilet was the easiest part of the job; Jake knew that he was going to need to strip Rooster of his clothing very carefully. 

“Roos,” Jake started quietly. “I have to take your shirt and your trunks off.” 

“I know,” Bradley sniffled. “Just make it quick. It’s really going to hurt.” 

Jake sighed and turned on the bathtub, the water barely warm, before he faced Bradley, who was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. For the first time, Jake was able to take in Bradley’s reddened and semi-blistered features; his brow was furrowed and red, and his nose and cheeks took the brunt of the burning on his face. His freckles were splattered across the bridge of his nose and his face, barely visible. 

His lips were chapped, and his eyes were rimmed red and watery. The sight broke Jake’s heart, knowing that this barely scratched the surface. 

Together, the pair removed the thin Hawaiian shirt, and Jake let out an audible gasp. Bradley’s upper body was covered in a rash, a deep, red rash that splotched his skin in raised bumps and blisters, and it looked awful. 

“Oh, darlin’,” Jake’s voice broke. 

“I don’t want an I told you so,” Bradley whimpered. “I know you reminded me about the sunscreen, and I didn’t remember.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jake stopped himself. “Can you get your trunks off?” 

Bradley shook his head. 

Carefully, Jake tugged at the waistband of his patterned swim trunks and pulled them carefully down his legs, grateful for the reprieve of the material. Tears were trickling down his cheeks as Jake checked the water temperature and turned to face his partner, who looked wary and helpless. 

“Need help getting in?” Jake’s hands hovered above Bradley’s, scared to make contact.

“If we can make it fast,” Bradley’s skin was pale below the angry, red rash. “It hurts.”

“This should help,” Jake helped him stand and eased him into the cool water. “It should help, I promise.”

“It’s cold,” Bradley shivered. 

“I know,” Jake raked a hand through the sweaty, sun-bleached curls. “Just 15 minutes. Give me 15 minutes.”

“Okay,” Bradley’s eyes slipped closed. “And then what?”

“Do we have Apple Cider Vinegar?” Jake hesitated to ask, knowing the answer would come in the form of a head shake.

“No,” Bradley frowned. “There’s the Aloe plant in the kitchen, though.”

Jake sighed in relief, “When you’re out, we’ll let your skin air dry, and then I’ll use that. It’ll soothe the burns. And I'm going to get you water and Tylenol.”

Bradley sank further into the cool water, tears filling his eyes as he looked up at Jake.

“How will I sleep?” Bradley asked sadly. “I’m tired.”

Jake’s heart shattered at the broken question. He didn’t know how Bradley would be comfortable enough to sleep, let alone sleep next to him. He was worried that Bradley would be in too much pain to find sleep, and he wanted to take the pain away.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jake half-smiled. “If the Tylenol doesn’t work, we’ll change the sheets to a softer set. We can try pain relieving cream. Whatever we need to try, we will.”

“‘kay,” Bradley whispered as he let his shoulders submerge. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Jake’s voice was gentle; he wanted to convey his message as carefully as possible without inflicting more pain; it felt impossible without the added element of physical touch. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. Nine out of ten times, I remind you, you forget sunscreen, and this doesn’t happen.”

“But you warned me,” Bradley let the tears fall down his burned and tender cheeks. “I didn’t listen, and I’m sorry that you’re stuck taking care of me when you probably want to relax.”

“Ignoring and forgetting are two different things, darlin’,” Jake comforted his partner, who looked as miserable as he sounded. “It wasn’t international. And hey, look at me.” 

Bradley’s glassy, chocolate-brown eyes looked up at Jake sadly, and all Jake wanted to do was take away everything that was hurting the man in front of him. 

“I like taking care of you,” Jake whispered. “It’s not something I’m stuck with.” 

“Can I get out?” Bradley sniffled. “It’s cold.” 

“Just a little bit longer,” Jake brushed the sweaty curls carefully off of Bradley’s forehead and frowned at the heat radiating from his skin. “I know it’s cold, but it’ll help take the sting out of the burn. Are you okay in here by yourself if I go get everything from the kitchen?”

Bradley nodded.

“I’ll be right back,” Jake pressed a kiss to Bradley’s curls before hurrying to the kitchen to quickly find supplies to treat the sunburned skin.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned against the counter with his head in his hands and fought back tears. All he wanted was for Bradley to feel better, for there to be something in the house that could combat the aches, pains, and stinging burns he was sure his boyfriend felt. Gathering his thoughts and jumping into action, he decided against breaking off leaves of the Aloe plant and instead sought out the plastic bottle of Aloe Gel that was tucked away in the medicine cabinet. 

Once secure, he dug for the Tylenol, not Bradley’s Excedrin, and Benadryl for good measure and hopefully a way to ease the rash. He also tucked the thermometer into his pocket to check for fever before his last-ditch effort to find something to relieve the pain of the burn. 

He nearly cried when he found the small container of burn cream tucked into the door of the refrigerator, left over from when he burned his arm on base a few months ago while working on his plane. 

“It won’t be perfect,” Jake whispered as he returned to the bathroom and saw Bradley leaning against the cool porcelain of the tub. “But I think it will help.”

Bradley nodded and looked up at Jake with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, and Jake’s heart shattered. 

 “Let’s get you out and to bed,” Jake sat down on the edge of the bathtub and helped Bradley into a seated position before standing and offering him his hands. “Do you want to try to pat everything dry?” 

Easing himself from the tub, Bradley nodded and squeezed his eyes closed. He found himself seated on the toilet moments later, a soft towel draped across his lap, and another in Jake’s hands. 

“Okay,” Jake breathed. “Tell me to stop if it hurts, and we can try something else. And tell me if you’re still feeling dizzy or nauseous.” 

Bradley nodded and winced as the towel made contact with his blistered back and shoulders. As he worked, Jake whispered soothing words in his ear and promised that he was working as quickly as possible to dry him off and stop the pain. 

“I know,” Bradley choked. “Can we take a break? It hurts.” 

“Yeah,” Jake whispered, kissing his temple. “We’ll stop for just a minute. I brought you a pair of boxers. They might feel best to sleep in.”

“Thank you,” Bradley whispered. “For taking care of me.” 

“Always,” Jake reminded him. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

Chapter Text

“This isn’t healthy,” Jake whispered as he crouched behind Bradley, who emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet of the en suite bathroom. “You can’t keep doing this.” 

If someone had told Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw that teaching at Top Gun was somehow more stressful than being a Top Gun pilot, he would have laughed in their face and called them a liar. With the draining hops, tough competition, infuriating other pilots- namely one Jake “Hangman Seresin- and the burning desire to prove everyone who ever doubted him wrong, Top Gun was not for the faint of heart, and there were times that Rooster wasn’t sure it was for him, regardless of the legacy left by his father and Godfather years earlier. 

Following the Uranium Mission, the instructor positions fell into their laps as Maverick accepted a promotion and took full command of the Dagger Squadron. It was offered with stipulations, that he and Hangman would still be required to deploy with their squadron on missions, but the pair would replace two current instructors who sought promotions and chose to PCS to other parts of the country. Jake was ecstatic, and Bradley was skeptical. While he was fully dedicated to exploring the domesticity of his new relationship with Hangman, he was worried that moving in together (as boyfriends with separate rooms in Rooster’s house) and sharing a shoebox-sized office during the day might push them over the edge. 

Now, the day the new Top Gun class would arrive, Rooster was certain that being an instructor is what would put him six feet under, joining his father, mother, and Uncle Ice as he played Guardian Angel for Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. 

“I know,” Bradley gagged, his stomach convulsing. “Fuck.” 

As Bradley vomited, Jake did his best to brace his arm across his boyfriend’s chest to avoid hitting his head on the toilet and causing an even bigger issue. Bradley wretched, and Jake used his free hand to rub up and down his spine, soothing words spilling from his lips as he silently begged the universe for a reprieve from nausea and vomiting. 

“Jay,” Bradley croaked. “Water?” 

“You think you’re finished? I don’t want you to throw up the water,” Jake spoke gently, hoping that Bradley would listen to reason. 

“Yeah,” Bradley deflated, his back leaning against the bathtub. “‘M done.” 

“I’ll get you a bottle of water, then,” Jake stood, his knees cracking, and left the bathroom. 

Bradley felt the tears pricking his eyes instantaneously, and his chest felt achy and tight as he thought about all the ways being a Top Gun instructor could go wrong. 

His dad died a Top Gun, and Viper was never the same. 

He could lose a student during a hop. 

He could lose Jake during a hop. 

He could lose himself during a hop.  

He could fail, and every lingering particle of self-doubt would be confirmed. All the times he thought Maverick didn’t believe in him, that he wasn’t ready to be an aviator, all the nagging, loud thoughts could be confirmed in the blink of an eye, and all Bradley wanted to do was make the people around him proud. 

“Here,” Jake’s voice snapped Bradley from his thoughts. “Drink it slow for me, okay?” 

Bradley nodded and reached for the bottle, taking tentative sips to ensure that it would stay down and wouldn’t trigger another round of vomiting. 

“Are you sick?” Jake asked, the daily question always met with the same answer, no. 

“No,” Bradley whispered, his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on his folded arms. “I’m not sick, Jake; I haven’t been sick all week.”

“Talk to me,” Jake sat next to his partner, his cold hand on Bradley’s forearm and their shoulders touching. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help.” 

Bradley felt a tear slip down his cheek as Jake moved to rub his back, the soothing movements breaking down the remaining walls between Jake and Bradley’s vulnerability. 

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” Bradley whispered, and his stomach rolled. “Never have been.” 

“Bullshit,” Jake said firmly. “That’s bullshit.” 

“What if,” Bradley spoke, but the churning in his stomach sent him launching toward the toilet, the water he previously drank coming up with burning stomach bile. “Fuck.” 

“Breathe through it,” Jake was at his side quickly. “Just breathe, let it pass.” 

“I can-'' Jake braced his forearm against Bradley’s chest once again as the older pilot dry heaved and nearly cracked his forehead against the back of the toilet bowl. “I, fuck, Jake.” 

“Breathe,” Jake soothed. “Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” 

“I don’t,” It was increasingly more difficult to keep Bradley from hitting his head against the toilet as the dry heaving came in violent waves, and Jake wasn’t sure what to do. “Jake.” 

“I know,” Jake whispered. “I know, but we’re going to push through this. It’s going to pass.” 

“What if,” Bradley gagged again, but the wave passed quickly as his empty stomach contracted. “It doesn’t.” 

“It will,” Jake rubbed a hand up and down Bradley’s back, resting on his shoulder. “I promise. It won’t be like this forever. But you need to talk to someone.” 

“Talking to someone,” Bradley inhaled shakily. “Makes me want to throw up more than I already do. They’ll ground me.” 

“Nah,” The blonde rested his head against Bradley’s shoulder. “They won’t. But you’ll get yourself admitted to the infirmary if you can’t keep anything down. You look a little thinner through the face, I can tell you’re not keeping your food down either.” 

“What if I fail?” Bradley sniffled. “What if everything I thought before Mav-Mav and I talked is true? What if this isn’t for me, and I should just, I don’t know, be a Stock Broker or something?” 

“You hate suits; you’d be a terrible Stock Broker,” Jake joked and kissed the bare skin of Bradley’s shoulder. “You’re a phenomenal pilot and an incredible man. I’m lucky to work with you.” 

“Just to work with me?” Bradley teased. 

“Shut up,” Jake teased. “Darlin’, to get this figured out, you have to tell someone what you’re telling me. The Psychologist on base, she’s there to help. Mav, your Uncle Slider, they can help.” 

“‘M gonna throw up again,” Bradley groaned. 

“Breathe,” Jake soothed and rubbed the pressure point in Bradley’s hand. “Breathe through it, and it might go away. You don’t have enough in your stomach to bring anything up, and it’s going to hurt if we can’t think of some coping skills.”

Bradley nodded as the rolling waves of nausea passed with each deep breath, and before he knew it, any sensation of vomiting was gone, and he leaned heavily against Jake’s side. Taking in the scent of Jake’s body wash and cologne, Bradley’s eyes fell closed, and he thought about where they were six months ago. 

Six months ago, they were coming to blows in the classroom, fighting at the Hard Deck and nearly killing each other in the air. Now, Jake had moved in, spent most nights in Bradley’s bed, and was comforting him after extreme bouts of nausea from stress and anxiety. 

“I hate throwing up,” Bradley confessed. “Reminds me of how sick my mom was when she was taking her treatment. She was always sick.” 

“Oh,” Jake wrapped an arm around Bradley’s waist. “It’s not…” 

“The same?” Bradley looked up at Jake. “No, but I still hate throwing up. And man, Maverick is bad when people are sick, especially like this.”

“Oh really?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Sympathy puker?” 

“Sympathy puker,” Bradley squeaked out a laugh. “Any time I was sick, he stayed as far away as possible, even when he wanted to be there to comfort me or help. He always left it to Mom, and eventually, Ice was the “sick kid” parent.” 

“My dad was the sick kid parent; my mom couldn’t handle vomit, or blood for that matter,” Jake reminisced. “I had the stomach flu in fourth grade, and I think my mom ran away for a week because she couldn’t handle it. Dad just laughed it off.” 

“Your mom’s great,” Bradley leaned further into Jake’s side. 

“So was yours,” Jake said firmly. “I wish I could have met her. I think I could have charmed her by sweeping you off your feet.” 

“She’d have loved you,” Bradley sniffled. “We gotta be on base soon.” 

“Give yourself a couple more minutes, will you? It’s my turn to drive, and I don’t want to clean the barf out of my upholstery if you decide to blow chunks,” Jake kissed his cheek. 

“I haven’t thrown up in a car since I was nine, and Mav took me to the carnival, filled me full of funnel cake, and then drove the “long way” home to spend more time with me,” Bradley chuckled. “It was the first and last time he did that.” 

“Come on, then,” Jake stood and extended his hands. “We have some pilots to embarrass.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Bradley pulled Jake to his chest and held him, his chin resting on the blonde’s broad shoulder. “I’m happy we’re doing this together.” 

Jake knew he meant more than just teaching. 

“Me too,” Jake squeezed him a little together. “No one else I’d rather share a shoebox with.”

Chapter Text

Hangman was no stranger to migraines; he had been subjected to them since he was a young teenager but thought he’d outgrown that phase of his life. Gone were mornings with an aura so stunning that he knew he needed to find his medication, tell his mother that he needed to stay home and crawl back into bed with the blackout curtains closed and every possible light off and noise-producing electronic unplugged for the sake of his sanity and his soon-to-be mush-brain.

Those days were the worst; afternoons where the roots of his hair ached, his teeth hurt, and ice packs and cold compresses did nothing to alleviate the Earth-shattering pain that threatened to split his skull in two while simultaneously scrambling his brain to liquid he was sure would spill out of his ears.

The last time he had a migraine was in flight school. Coyote noticed that something was off before dragging Jake to the infirmary, where he spent most of the afternoon with a barf bag on the tray in front of him and all the lights off. His commanding officer and instructors weren’t pleased, but there was nothing Jake could do about his natural disposition that tried to take him out at the knees prior to their first day in the air that week.

He’d opened up to Rooster about the migraines when the mustached aviator found the bottle of pills tucked away in their cabinet next to the Lexapro prescription that had the name Bradley Bradshaw printed neatly on the label. It wasn’t something he needed to worry about, but Jake filled him in on what the medication was for, why he constantly filled the over-priced prescription for 5 small, maroon pills, and that if he was going to have a migraine, he would let Bradley know as soon as possible if he was able.

There wasn’t much he could do other than beg the universe that the pesky problem would remain at bay, especially when he was in a new-ish relationship with someone who is a chronic worrier about those around him. It was something that Jake loved about Bradley, but adding another thing to his already full mental plate wasn’t something Jake was keen to do so soon into their cohabitation. 

So, when Jake was sitting at his desk in the office he shared with Bradley while Rooster grabbed his weekly lunch with Maverick (it was part of their “I’m sorry I did what I did, we have nearly two decades to make up for" initiative), and he felt the familiar twinges of pain at the base of his skull and radiating down the back of his neck, he regretted ever going anywhere without that stupid orange pill bottle. 

“Dammit,” Jake grumbled, his eyes burning as he surveyed the room around him. 

While their shoebox office wasn’t that small, the bright-white light streaming in through the blinds that more than likely hadn’t been replaced since the time Maverick was an instructor seemed to turn the small room into a Broadway-esque stage, complete with blinding spotlights. 

To make matters worse, he’d forgotten his sunglasses, his first line of defense against the blinding light on days when he had a minor headache, let alone one that was about to cripple him for the remainder of the day and into the next. 

Jake took that time to assess his symptoms. 

Sharp pains in the neck and at the base of his skull? Check. 

Light sensitivity? Check. 

Blurred vision, especially in his left eye? Check. 

He wasn’t nauseous, yet. He hadn’t heard anything loud enough to trigger his sensitivity to sound, but knowing that there was a group of pilots about to take off for a training exercise, he dug through his desk drawer for a pair of earplugs he used when he knew he was going to be around the jets for a long period of time to preserve his hearing. 

Sue a guy for wanting to be hearing aid-free when he was 65; he wasn’t taking any chances. 

Glancing down at the pile of reports on his desk, Jake let out an audible sigh and knew that he would be behind after the realization that his day was about to take a dramatic turn for the worst. With all the energy he could muster, he picked up his phone, quickly turned down the brightness, and fired off a text to Rooster. 

Please don’t make a ton of noise when you get back. 

Locking the device, he folded his arms in front of him and buried his face in hopes of alleviating some of the pain he felt, but he knew he had at most an hour before he was in the thick of the migraine-induced suffering, and he didn’t know what to do. 

If he was at home, he’d crawl into Bradley’s bed, the fluffy duvet pulled around him, close the curtains, and lie in the dark with ice across his eyes while waiting for the medication to kick in. On base, he had two options: suffer in his office or drag himself to the infirmary to suffer. 

He chose the former, and that’s when the dizziness arrived. 

Even though he was sitting entirely still at his desk, head buried in his arms, he felt the room tilt, and when he looked up, everything was fuzzy, and he felt like he was spinning. Without hesitating, he pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and laid flat on the dingy carpet, waiting for the waves to wash over him and the migraine to take hold. 

As the pain progressed and developed into the migraine he was ever familiar with, he used the sleeve of his jacket to cover his eyes and begged the universe to stop using him as a punching bag. 

“Jake?” A soft voice called as the door creaked open. “Are you in here?” 

Mustering enough strength to groan from behind the old, wooden desk, Jake could feel the presence of his boyfriend, who had crouched down beside him. 

“Can you take your food out of here? I think I might throw up,” Jake whispered. 

“Yeah,” Bradley whispered, his hand squeezing Jake’s. “I’ll be right back. Don’t, uh, don’t move.” 

“Not planning on it,” Jake muttered, his eyes squeezed shut under the sleeve of the jacket. 

His stomach rolled at the smell of whatever leftovers Bradley had returned with, and as he tried to keep his wits about him, he remembered he’d asked Bradley to bring back something for his lunch as he’d forgotten his lunchbox in their refrigerator. 

It was the squeaking of the boots just outside the door that alerted Jake of Bradley’s return, and he braced himself for the pain that would spread through his skull as the other man returned. 

With each step taken, Jake’s heightened sensitivity to sound- even with the ear plugs- felt like a sledgehammer was using his brain as a pinata. 

“I’m back,” Bradley’s voice was abnormally quiet and soft, something Jake relaxed hearing, but still felt as though his brain was a ticking time bomb. 

“Hey,” Jake rasped, his voice shaky from the building pressure behind his eyes and blossoming pain. 

“Is this a Sersein’s special hangover or something else?” Bradley tried to joke. 

“Migraine,” Jake croaked out, his head pounding with each syllable. “Haven’t had one in…” 

“A while, yeah,” Bradley sat down next to Jake’s head, his calloused hand rubbing softly up and down Jake’s arm. “We should get you home.” 

“You gotta,” Jake swallowed thickly. “Finish your day.” 

Wordlessly, Bradley removed the sleeve of Jake’s jacket from over his eyes, his large palm replacing it in an attempt to block out the light; Jake almost cried. As he relished in the touch of Bradley’s hand, the warm palm was replaced by a pair of vintage aviator sunglasses, and Jake did cry. 

“You’re more important than my paperwork,” Bradley whispered. “It’ll be there when I get back tomorrow, but you’re not feeling well, and I need to get your medication in your system before it’s too bad.” 

“Means going outside,” Jake frowned. “Bright out there.” 

“We brought the truck today, so that’ll help. But you need to get home and into bed, sweetheart,” Bradley soothed. “Do you think we can try that?” 

Jake nodded, a grimace spreading across his face at the movement. As he sat up, Bradley’s hands were there for support, and as he pitched forward, his stomach cramping, Bradley grabbed the trash can in case the nausea ended in full-blown vomiting. 

“Thanks,” Jake whispered, his arms wrapped around his shins and his face in his knees. “Sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley soothed, his hand rubbing small, soft circles on Jake’s upper back. “My mom had migraines; I used to think they were my fault, but I know more now that it’s just shit luck.” 

“Mhhm,” Jake breathed. “What helped her?” 

“Give me your hand?” Bradley tenderly took Jake’s hand and found the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger, pinching. “Mav would sit with her and do this. She swore it made the pain a bit more bearable.” 

“Hurts,” Jake whined. “But good.” 

Bradley hummed as he continued to rub the small space on Jake’s hand, and Jake uncoiled slightly. His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned into Bradley’s side as they sat against his desk, the drawer knobs digging into their backs and the carpet rough beneath them. 

“Let’s get you up,” Bradley encouraged after a few moments. “You need a bed, and some meds.” 

“Cheesy poem,” Jake tried to joke, but his head throbbed, and as Bradley helped him to his feet, he swayed slightly. 

A strong, warm arm was around his waist immediately, and Jake leaned into his broad form as Bradley grabbed the jacket. 

“Can you stand for a bit while I grab my bag and a few files?” Bradley asked anxiously. “Just in case you need me tomorrow, and I decide I can work at home.” 

Jake nodded weakly. 

“Give me two minutes, max, Jay,” Bradley kissed his temple before slipping over to his desk, pulling on his coat, and shoving two thick manilla envelopes into the leather messenger bag. 

“Ready?” Bradley asked, his arm back around Jake’s waist. “I’ll call Mav and Commander Smith when we get home. Sent Mav a text, but he’s worse at checking his messages than I am. He can cover anything that might come up this afternoon.” 

Jake nodded. 

Slowly and carefully, Jake wincing under the blinding lights of the hallway, the pair made their way to Jake’s truck, and Bradley helped him into the passenger seat. With their carpooling situation solidified by their schedules, Bradley had started carrying a spare key for the Chevrolet and was thankful that he didn’t need to disturb Jake to retrieve the keys. 

“We’ll be home soon,” Bradley whispered. “Just close your eyes, and we’ll be there before you know it.” 

The cool glass felt good and eased a bit of the pain in Jake’s head as he leaned against the window, and rather than his typical driving style, Bradley was very careful. He eased into stops and took turns carefully, and when it came to the speed bumps at the entrance of his neighborhood, he nearly drove onto the sidewalk to avoid them. 

“We’re here,” Bradley said quietly. “Let’s get you inside.” 

Bradley helped Jake from the truck, and when they walked inside, he left the lights off as he deposited his semi-limp form on the couch and retreated to the kitchen. Jake could hear him opening and closing cabinets and the refrigerator, and when he was presented with a single pill and a cold glass of water, Jake hoped there was a light at the end of the migraine-sized tunnel. 

“Take that, and I’ll go get the upstairs situated for you,” Bradley kissed the crown of his hair before quietly making his way upstairs. 

Jake closed his eyes after drinking half of the water and taking his medication, and he was nearly asleep when Bradley returned and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Do you want to change?” 

Jake nodded. 

“C’mon, I closed all the blinds, and there shouldn’t be any light in our bedroom,” Bradley crouched next to him and helped him sit. 

Jake stumbled as Bradley helped him up the stairs; the ringing in his ears and the blurriness in his vision were normal, but still concerning as the vertigo kicked in, and he wasn’t sure if he would make it to the bed. Bradley toed open the door to their bedroom; tears pricked his eyes when he saw that it was completely dark and totally silent. 

It also smelled subtly like peppermint. 

“Mint?” Jake’s voice was soft. 

“Yeah,” Bradley sat Jake on the edge of his bed and crouched down to remove the Navy-issued boots. “Helped my mom; it’s peppermint oil. She would spray it on her pillow, so I used it on yours. We can swap if it’s too much for you.” 

“No,” Jake let a tear trickle down his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Shut up, there’s nothing to say thank you for,” Bradley grinned and reached for the zipper of the flight suit. “Help me get this off your legs once it’s unzipped?” 

Jake nodded. 

Once he was stripped to his boxer briefs, Bradley eased Jake back onto his pillow and pulled the duvet under his chin. As the blonde settled and snuggled further under the blankets and into the soft material, he sighed. 

Maybe his medication was working, maybe it was the relief of having someone taking care of him, unlike flight school, but Jake felt better. 

“I’m going to go do a little work downstairs,” Bradley brushed a kiss across his boyfriend’s forehead. “Text me if you need me; don’t try to get out of bed.” 

Jake nodded, “Yes, boss.” 

“That’s Lieutenant Commander,” Bradley teased. “I mean it, I’m right downstairs. I don’t want to make anything worse while I shuffle around papers. Promise me you’ll let me know if you need anything instead of trying to do anything yourself.” 

“I promise,” Jake smiled lazily. 

As Bradley turned toward the door and his hand rested on the knob, he looked back at Jake, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Inhaling, he smiled to himself and whispered into the dark room. 

I love you. 

Chapter Text

“I want a divorce,” Bradley coughed, his throat scratchy and his nose runny. “I don’t care if we’re not even married; I want a divorce.” 

Jake looked at Bradley with soft, sad eyes knowing that he was the root cause of the current issue his boyfriend was facing. Last week, Jake was adamantly not sick. Even when his throat burned with each drink of water and he sneezed every few minutes, he was not sick, and there was no reason he needed to stay home, stay out of the air, or take a moment to visit the infirmary for a check-up. 

However, it’s coming to light that last week, maybe Jake was sick. As his boyfriend and friends fell ill the days following their exposure to Jake, he began to rethink his actions. 

And maybe he had given Rooster, Phoenix, Coyote, and Bob his “not sickness”. Now, as the Dagger Squadron’s very own Patient Zero, Jake was being eaten alive by guilt and trying to make up for the fact that he had, to quote Coyote, infected everyone around him because he’s too stubborn to let a doctor shine a light up his nose. 

It started with making sure that Bradley was okay, and that he wasn’t getting as sick as Jake worried he would be. 

“No can do, Roo,” Jake smiled softly as he walked toward the couch where Bradley had sprawled across the cushions, a box of tissues tucked under his arm. “Retainers are expensive, and we both know there’s not an attorney on the planet who will grant a preemptive divorce before we’re even married.” 

“If marrying you means you’re going to get me sick, I redact my future proposal,” Bradley groaned, his head stuffy and his sinuses burning. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t,” Jake frowned, his heart aching at the sad, sickly sight before him as Bradley attempted to blow his nose. 

“Right now, I do.” 

“I apologized four times,” Jake huffed. “And you still want a divorce?” 

“I want to be able to breathe out of my nose,” Bradley whined, the tissue in his hand, finding the discard pile on the floor next to his shoulder. “Were you this sick last week?” 

Jake recalled the congestion he’d experienced, but it seemed as though Bradley had contracted a cold that was a touch worse than what his “not sick” had been. He had been sniffling when he was working, and occasionally coughing, but Bradley’s weaker immune system had taken the cold and run with it, giving the other aviator symptoms that were a bit more severe. And Jake felt horrible. 

“No,” Jake sat at the end of the couch and pulled Bradley’s feet into his lap. “I just had the sniffles and a scratchy throat; that’s why I didn’t think I was anything other than allergic to the glorious desert air we breathe on occasion.” 

“This sucks,” Bradley coughed weakly. “But you know I’m not mad at you, right? No one is.” 

Jake was silent, his mind racing through every scenario last week when he could- and should- have gone home to spare everyone exposure to his germs. Unfortunately, there were many, and as Jake thought about the times he spent in close quarters with Rooster rather than working at home, or sharing their bed when he had one of his own, guilt crept into every corner of his thoughts, and he leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. He didn’t mean to get the others sick. It was a lapse in his judgment because he enjoyed teaching and being around the other, more experienced pilots after a day of working with the Top Gun students. 

“It seems like you’re pretty irritated,” Jake frowned. “And we both know Phoenix is pissed.” 

Bradley propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Jake, a long, intense stare that made Jake nervous. The “Bradshaw Stare” was something Maverick had warned him about, but until recently, Jake had remained unfamiliar. 

“I’m mad I’m sick, but not mad that it’s because of your cold that you didn’t think you had,” Bradley said firmly, leaving no room for arguments. “It was bound to happen; we sleep in the same bed, sneak kisses outside of the officer mess, and I vaguely remember shoving my tongue down your throat in the middle of watching Beetlejuice because you were getting handsy.”

Jake snorted, recalling the memory fondly, “Odd choice of make-out movie, but I won’t ever say no to the Bradshaw special. You really are something else.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Bradley coughed. “I mean it, you ass. I’m not mad.” 

“Phoenix is.”

“Phoenix can get over it just like everyone else,” Bradley pushed himself into a seated position. “Promise me you know that I’m not mad or I’m going to be really, really annoying.”

“You’re always annoying,” Jake deflected. “I just enjoy your particular brand of annoying’s all.” 

With a smirk, Bradley devised his plan to goad Jake into promising him that he did, in fact, know that Bradley was not mad at him no matter the twisted narrative his brain was forming.

“Babeeeeeee,” Bradley whined dramatically. “I don’t feeeeeeeel gooooood.”  

“Bradley,” Jake rolled his eyes and shoved his boyfriend’s leg. “Knock it off.”

“My nose is runny,” Bradley offered an exaggerated and drawn-out sniffle. “There aren’t enough tissues in the world to make it stop.” 

“Bradley Bradshaw,” Jake groaned. “Stop it for crying out loud; you’re a grown man.”

“But I don’t feel good,” Bradley batted his sad, brown eyes in Jake’s direction. “I’m sick. And you think I’m mad at you. And I’m not.”

“Fucking fine,” Jake chuckled and patted Bradley’s thigh. “Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, I, Jacob Andrew Seresin, promise that I know you’re not mad at me. Now, knock it off and act like a big boy.”

“You think I’m cute,” Bradley coughed.

“I do,” Jake admitted openly. “I think you’re downright adorable, darlin’.” 

“I think you’re pretty damn adorable, too,” The brunette grinned. “Except you got me sick.” 

“Hey,” Jake frowned. “You said you weren’t mad at me. Now I take back my promise.” 

“I’m not mad,” Bradley flopped back down against the pillow he’d carried with him from their bedroom and stared at Jake. “I’m sick.” 

“But you just said it was my fault,” Jake furrowed his brow and scrunched his nose; Bradley thought he looked like a kitten. “And it is. I should have stayed home last week and not spread my germs around.” 

“I willingly kissed you,” Bradley closed his eyes and lightly kicked his foot against Jake’s thigh. “I was a participant in passing the sickness from you to me; I could have avoided kissing you and made you suffer, and then you’d have been mad at me .” 

“I would have pouted,” Jake smiled softly, his hand gently running up and down Bradley’s shin and moving to massage his calf. “I don’t like it when we watch movies, and we aren’t together.” 

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Bradley grinned. “I’m familiar with that brand of Seresin pouting. All too familiar with it, especially when I tell you to stop because I’m actually trying to enjoy what we’re watching. And you were getting awful handsy during the Day-O scene.” 

“Okay, fine. We are both at fault for you getting sick. We should have kept our hands to ourselves. But, you promise you’re not mad?” Jake questioned again, insecurity getting the best of him. “I didn’t mean to get any of you sick, I really didn’t think I had anything until y’all started dropping like flies.” 

“Jake, you have three seconds to shut up before I sneeze on you, and this becomes a very vicious cycle,” Bradley grumbled. “I will tell you when I’m mad at you, and I’m not. Do you remember when you set me off in the Ready Room?” 

“Unfortunately, it’s burned into my retinas. Your mustache gets all twitchy when you’re mad,” Jake smirked. 

“That’s what happens when I’m mad at you times 1,000,” Bradley blew his nose again. “I will tell you when I’m mad. I’ll never try to punch you in the face ever again, but please, just believe me.” 

“Okay, sickie,” Jake squeezed his calf. “Do you want to go to bed?” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be at the current moment,” Bradley confessed. “I don’t feel good. I think I need a very cute, handsome, gorgeous man to take care of me.” 

“You’re a menace,” Jake laughed and extended a hand to Bradley to help him sit up.

“But you love me anyway,”  Bradley flashed a smile. 

“I do.” 

Chapter Text

Bradley had seemed off all day; from the moment he woke up, he was just… off. Something about his demeanor screamed, “Take care of me, please, but I don’t know how to ask you,” and all throughout dinner, his shoulders were slumped as he picked at the mashed potatoes that were on his plate and the chicken that Jake had cooked for him knowing that he didn’t favor salmon.   

“I’m going to go to bed,” Bradley sniffled, his head aching from the pressure in his sinuses. 

“Feeling okay?” Jake probed, hoping that his boyfriend of nearly a year would finally let him in when something was ailing him. “You look a little pale.” 

“Ah, yeah,” Bradley’s nose continued to run, and his voice was thick with congestion. “I think ‘m getting a cold. One of the guys had it last week.” 

“Okay,” Jake eyed him suspiciously. “Get some rest and call down if you need anything?” 

“I will,” Bradley stood from the table and collected their plates, kissing the crown of Jake’s head. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Jake grinned. “Take a shower before you get in bed; it’ll loosen up some of that congestion, and you’ll be able to cough it up.” 

“Yes, Dad,” Bradley teased. “I’ll see you in a bit; keep your side warm and all that sappy shit.” 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Jake teased as Bradley rounded the corner, his footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs. 

Jake puttered around the kitchen- it was his night to cook and wash dishes; they’d come up with their own rotation- and as he was loading the dishwasher, his mind wandered to the brunette upstairs with the sniffles. He was worried about Bradley; the more he thought about it, the more he looked too pale during dinner, and his demeanor was off. Whenever Bradley was sick, something in him shifted. He was more withdrawn, quiet, and closed off than usual, and he was quick to retreat to their bedroom. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Bradley to shut down amidst something troubling; he was working through it in therapy, and Jake noticed small progress, but he wished his partner would let him in, especially while sick. 

It wasn’t until after he’d finished unloading the dishwasher and turning off the television that he realized it was quiet upstairs- too quiet for his liking. 

Sighing, he ascended the stairs and found their bedroom door cracked and all the lights off. Peeking inside, he saw a lump in the middle of the bed. The Bradley-sized lump was asleep, but Jake could hear the soft wheezing of his breathing echoing throughout the room. 

“Brad?” Jake crept toward the bed. “Are you awake?” 

Bradley didn’t respond but tossed restlessly in his sleep, his brow furrowed, and his eyes pinched shut. Jake’s hand hovered over his shoulder, scared to wake the pilot in fear of a knee-jerk reaction, but as his hand fell, Bradley stirred. 

“Hm?” Bradley hummed, his eyes still closed. “Jake?” 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jake whispered, sitting next to Bradley’s now-shivering form. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up.” 

Jake moved his hand from Bradley’s shoulder, where he could feel the heat through his thin t-shirt to his forehead, and he could feel the hot skin under his hand. Alarm bells sounded in his head as he considered the factors that could contribute to such a fever, especially when barely two hours ago, Bradley seemed… fine. He wasn’t flushed at dinner, but now a bright red crept across his cheeks and nose, and his brow was hot to the touch no matter the temperature of Jake’s always-cold hands. 

“Feel like shit,” Bradley muttered. “Like I got hit by an F-18.” 

“Oh,” Jake whispered. “Were you feeling this bad at dinner? You didn’t look this flushed.” 

“No,” Bradley’s eyes remained closed as he spoke. “Just felt kinda shitty. Now I feel extra shitty.” 

Jake raked a hand through Bradley’s sweat-soaked curls and felt his boyfriend lean into the touch. Bradley rarely felt comfortable under Jake’s tender touches, and it wasn’t until recently that he understood that those were rare for the man. He’d spent so much time on his own that he froze under gentle touches and soothing words, worried that they’d disappear over time as people continued to leave. 

“I’m going to start a shower for you,” Jake spoke softly. “The steam will help break up the congestion, and then we’ll try to cool you off. Will you be okay here while I go get Tylenol and the thermometer?” 

Bradley nodded weakly. 

Jake made quick work of his trip downstairs after starting the shower and closing the door to trap the steam. He quickly gathered Tyelonl, the thermometer, and a bottle of water into his arms, looking in the cabinets for anything else he could think of. Preemptively, he plucked a washcloth from the drawer in case the shower didn’t help to decrease the fever Bradley was experiencing. 

“I’m back,” Jake saw that Bradley had gone from lying in bed to seated, his back resting against the headboard as he coughed into his elbow. “Can you take this for me?” 

Bradley nodded, “My throat hurts, though.” 

“Just two pills,” Jake uncapped the pill bottle and tipped two white tablets into Bradley’s palm. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then we’ll get you in the shower. Sound good?” 

Another nod. 

Maneuvering Bradley into the bathroom and sitting him down on the toilet seat, Jake rubbed soothing circles on his back as the coughing began. Bradley coughed and coughed and coughed until he choked up a mouthful of phlegm into the small trashcan that Jake held in front of his face. 

“Feel better?” Jake chuckled. 

“No,” Bradley’s eyes filled with tears. “Awful.” 

“Let’s try the shower,” Jake encouraged, his hand tugging at the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt before helping the older man remove the article of clothing. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” 

Bradley nodded before Jake exited the bathroom to give him privacy in his moment of vulnerability, no matter how much he longed to provide intimate comfort in the form of gentle touches and support. 

The shower seemed to help as Bradley crawled into bed and snuggled into Jake’s side. As their legs tangled together and Jake placed his hand on Bradley’s forehead, the fever seemed to have gone down. The readout on the thermometer was 101.8, a little high for Jake’s comfort, but knowing that it seemed to drop after the shower gave him hope. 

“Mom,” Bradley muttered in his sleep as he began to toss and turn. “Mom, don’ f’l good.” 

Jake woke with a start as he heard Bradley talking in his sleep. Reaching over to rouse Bradley awake, Jake pulled his hand back in response to the burning, fevered skin. Bradley’s fever had spiked, and his fever-induced dreams had taken hold. 

“Momma,” Bradley sniffled. “Please.” 

“Bradley,” Jake shook his shoulder gently, hoping to avoid scaring the restless figure next to him. “Babe, you’re having a bad dream. I need you to wake up for me.” 

Bradley didn’t wake. Instead, he began quietly crying in his sleep, his mother’s name on his lips as he tossed and turned. Jake tried everything he could to wake him, but the dream had taken hold, and Bradley was lost somewhere in his childhood, his mother caring for him while he was sick.

“Just hold tight,” Jake whispered, brushing a kiss over Bradley’s forehead. “Just hang on, okay, darlin’?” 

“Mom,” Bradley cried. 

Jake mustered up the courage to stand from the bed and step into the hall, his cell phone clutched in his hand as he willed the tears to stay at bay. Pulling up the contact of the one person he believed could pull Bradley from the fevered haze, he tapped the name, pressed call, and waited as the phone rang through. 

When Maverick picked up, Jake visibly relaxed. 

“Mav,” Jake’s voice cracked as he heard the older man on the other line. “Can you come over?” 

There was a shuffling, a sneeze, and what sounded like feet hitting a hardwood floor on the other end of the phone before Jake received a response, “What’s wrong?” 

“Bradley’s really sick,” Jake allowed the first of several tears to escape his soft, green eyes. “I’ve tried everything, but his fever is still climbing, and he’s teetering on delirious. He’s been calling out for his mom. I don’t know what to do.” 

“He’s asking for Carole?” Maverick’s voice was steady, but Jake could hear the undertones of concern. “How long has that been happening?” 

“Not very long,” Jake admitted. “It’s just, intense.” 

“I know,” Maverick sighed sadly. “He had fever dreams when he was growing up; they were really bad after his mother passed. He would wake up screaming for Goose or Carole, sometimes Ice.” 

“He never does anything half-ass, does he?” Jake’s words were filled with humor, but his voice fell flat. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” Maverick assured. “Can you keep him comfortable that long?”

“I can try,” Jake sniffled. “It’s hard.” 

“You’re doing a great job, Jake,” the praise in his words makes Jake’s heart swell. “Sit with him and talk to him. Let him know it’s just a dream and that you’re there.” 

“Be safe, Pops,” Jake breathed. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

Hanging up the phone, Jake slid down the wall next to the bedroom door with his head in his hands. It seemed as though Bradley had settled again, and he needed a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts. 

“NO! DAD!” Bradley screamed from the other side of the door, and Jake scrambled to his feet, rushing to his boyfriend’s side. 

Bradley was tangled in the bedsheets, his eyes wild and his heart racing. Jake could see the beads of sweat forming along his hairline as he thrashed, the fabric trap constricting his movements and causing him to panic further. With a hand on each shoulder, Jake attempted to hold Bradley in place, speaking gentle words to the trembling, terrified man in front of him. 

“Bradley, Bradley,” Jake shook him. “It’s a dream, it’s just a dream. I’m right here.” 

“Mom,” Bradley sobbed. “Mom, I want Dad.” 

“No, sweetheart. It’s me,” Jake choked, his voice laced with intense emotion. “It’s Jake. You’re at home, in bed. It’s just Jake.” 

“Mom,” Bradley sobbed. “Mom.” 

“No,” Jake ran a hand up and down Bradley’s bicep. “It’s- it’s just Jake. We’re home; you’re in our bed. It’s our home. You’re safe.” 

“D’n’t f’l g’d,” Bradley coughed thickly. “M’m.” 

“You’re sick, sweetheart, really sick,” Jake explained as Bradley’s fever-filled eyes met his, his body still shaking. “Your mom’s not here, I’m sorry.” 

“Jay,” Bradley’s brain began to catch up with his current situation, his body deflating under Jake’s touch. “‘M s’ck.” 

“Yeah,” Jake’s hand tangled in Bradley’s curls. “You’re very sick, darlin’. Mav’s on his way over, and we’re gonna help you feel better.” 

“Freezin’,” Bradley’s words were slightly slurred. 

“Let me get you another blanket,” Jake soothed, standing and moving toward their walk-in closet. 

Placing the warm Sherpa material over Bradley, who was still shivering so hard his teeth chattered, Jake hoped that Maverick would arrive soon. It was late, Bradley needed sleep (or a hospital, he wasn’t sure), and the fever had settled. 

“I’m going to take your temperature again,” Jake added. 

Picking up the thermometer that was discarded on the nightstand after the previous check, Bradley grumbled incoherently as Jake brushed the device against his forehead. 

103.2. 

“Shit,” Jake whispered. “Can you roll onto your back?” 

Bradley nodded and slowly turned from his side to his back, his head resting on the plush pillow beneath him. Jake pulled the blankets around his shoulders and tucked them in, his forearm feeling the heat that continued to radiate from Bradley. 

“I’m going to get a cold washcloth again,” Jake spoke, hoping that Bradley would understand what he was saying.” 

He didn’t want to leave Bradley’s side but had to try something. There had to be a way to bring down the fever before Maverick arrived so Bradley’s Godfather wouldn’t worry. It was going to be useless; Maverick’s worry was unmatched and had been passed down to Bradley. Bradley was a chronic worrier, especially about people he cared about. 

As Jake ran the cloth under the water, he frowned to himself as he thought about how much love Bradley gave but how little he was willing to accept from others when he needed it. Right now, though, Jake could give as much as he was able in order to take care of his partner. 

He rung out the cloth and returned to the bedroom to see Bradley, his eyes closed and breathing even, but shallow. 

“Here,” Jake whispered as he placed the folded fabric on Bradley’s forehead, and Bradley involuntarily shivered. 

“Cold,” Bradley mumbled. “Mom?” 

“No,” Jake brushed his thumb over Bradley’s cheek. “Just me.” 

“Oh,” Bradley frowned. “Mav?” 

“He’s on his way. Right now, it’s just me,” Jake reiterated. “I’m sorry.” 

“Love you,” Bradley whispered. 

Even though he wasn’t sure that Bradley knew who he was speaking to, Jake returned the sentiments easily before settling onto the bed beside him. 

As Jake sat next to his sleeping boyfriend, he sighed. It was going to be a long night, that much he knew. Between the fever, delusions, and borderline nightmares, Bradley was going to remain restless until his fever broke or they could find something that brought him comfort. As he was lost in thought, he heard the door open, and there were footsteps on the stairs and a knock on the bedroom door. 

“Hey,” Maverick whispered. “Used the spare. How’s he doing?” 

“He finally fell back asleep,” Jake squeezed Bradley’s hand and picked up the now-warm washcloth. “It’s been a rough hour. It was goin’ on before I called you, but I didn’t know what to do.” 

As if he could sense Maverick’s presence, Bradley blinked open his eyes, stared at the new figure in the room, and frowned. 

“M’v,” Bradley whispered sleepily. “Here.” 

“Hey, kiddo,” Maverick gingerly sat on the edge of the bed next to Bradley, his hand finding his Godson’s forehead. “Yeah, I’m here.” 

Bradley stared up at the dark-haired pilot with bleary eyes and felt his eyes fill with tears. The calloused hand on his forehead elicited memories of his childhood, Maverick combing his hand through Bradley’s dark, tangled curls when he would find himself feverish. When his mother was too sick to risk an infection, Maverick was his sole caretaker, bringing him pain relievers and fever reducers. He sat with him when the fever-induced nightmares became too much, and he would wake up screaming for his father. 

“Don’ feel good,” Bradley muttered. “‘S cold.” 

“That’s the fever,” Jake sat on the opposite side of the bed, his cool hand taking Bradley’s. “You’re very sick.” 

“Wan’ mom,” Bradley’s eyes slipped closed, and a tear trailed down his flushed cheek. “Made it better.” 

“I know,” Maverick soothed. “I know she did. And I’m so sorry she’s not here. But Jake’s right, you’re very sick, and we have to get you taken care of.” 

“No doctor,” Bradley cried. “Hate the doctor.” 

“I know,” Jake ran his hand up and down his boyfriend’s arm gently, his thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. “But we have to take you to Urgent Care and bring your fever down. You’re dehydrated.” 

“Do it here,” Bradley rasped. “Don’ wanna go. I wan’ m’m.” 

Looking at Maverick with tear-filled eyes, Jake was at a loss for what to do. He wanted, more than anything, to give Bradley his mother; the comfort she could provide the man would be far more than anything he or Maverick could muster. He recalled his mother's cool hand on his forehead as she felt for a fever, the chicken noodle soup she would make for him and his sisters on their worst sick days. 

“We have to take him,” Jake whispered. “He’s so sick, Mav.” 

“I know,” Maverick sighed. 

“He’s not getting any better,” Jake sniffled. “He was sick during dinner, but nothing bad, and when I came upstairs, he was wheezing when he was coughing, and his fever spiked, and it never went back down. I don’t know what to do.” 

“I don’t know what we can do that you haven’t,” Maverick’s voice was shaky. “Other than the doctor.” 

Bradley had fallen back asleep, but he was restless. As Maverick and Jake traded looks across the bed, the pilot’s hand was grasping at the blankets around him, twisting with each frantic, fever-ridden thought. 

“Shhh,” Jake soothed, placing his hand on Bradley’s chest. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” 

He stilled briefly, his eyes fluttering back open as Jake’s gentle touch pulled him back to reality. With an aching heart, Jake took a shaky breath and spoke softly to Bradley, soothing words spilling from his lips to provide some comfort. 

“Feel bad,” Bradley muttered. 

“I know,” Jake whispered. “Please let us take you to the doctor.” 

“Mmmm,” Bradley mumbled. “E’vry time I go, s’mone dies.” 

Maverick’s heart shattered at Bradley’s broken words; the pain he felt from one small utterance took him back to the hospital hallways, a younger Bradley crying in his arms and asking why everyone he loved left him too early. It was never an easy thing seeing Bradley in pain, but the brutal memories of Carole’s final days scarred Maverick, and the sobs that ripped through the teenager’s body would haunt him. 

“You’re not,” Maverick choked. “Going to die. They’re going to make you feel better, and I promise I wouldn’t ask you to go if I thought anything less.”

Bradley trusted Maverick, and he trusted Jake. Even through the haze of his fever, he knew they were going to take care of him, and they wouldn’t ask him to go if they didn’t think it was necessary. Maverick knew Bradley like the back of his hand, each quirk and fear. Jake was slowly learning more about his partner, his dislike of anything banana-flavored, and his deep-seated fear of the unknown. 

Bradley sighed, relaxing under Jake’s hand that had slipped to his cheek. He was scared, but Jake wouldn’t let anything happen to him.  

“Let’s get you up,” Maverick whispered. 

“Love you, Mav,” Bradley croaked. “Love you, Jake.” 

“We love you too.”

Chapter Text

“What the fuck, Bradley?” Jake shouted as he tripped over his boyfriend’s slumped figure. 

Bradley, who was seated with his back leaning against the tub and his knees pulled to his chest, whined in pain as Jake accidentally nudged his side with his foot. The sharp stabs radiated through his hip and abdomen, and his hands clutched at his side with a groan. 

“Brad?” Jake crouched down next to him, his real reason for the late-night visit to the bathroom forgotten when he saw Bradley’s pale complexion. 

“Hm?” Bradley looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes; he had been crying. 

“Darlin’, are you okay?” Jake touched his arm carefully. “You don’t look so good, and you’ve been crying.” 

“Hurts,” Bradley mumbled. “My side.” 

“Which side?” Jake could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the anxiety increasing. 

“Right side,” Bradley was cut off by a shiver. “Lower by my hip.” 

Jake knew it could be a variety of ailments, but he continued to think about the time he’d had appendicitis. He didn’t know how to diagnose it, he had only been 11, but he could recall the excruciating pain that ripped through his body with sudden movements, and how bad it hurt to extend his leg. 

“Are you nauseous?” Jake ran through a mental checklist of questions to ask. 

“Only from the pain,” Bradley hissed. “And… anxiety.” 

“Do you think you could keep one of your anxiety pills down? Or do we want to try lying down?” 

“I need to pee again,” Bradley whispered. 

“Again? How many times did you get up tonight?” Jake raised an eyebrow. 

“Three,” Bradley grimaced. “You were dead to the world and didn’t even notice. Like a spy.” 

“You’re crazy,” Jake sat down next to Bradley and took his hand. “But I love you. And now I’m very worried about you, and that you have Appendicitis. I don’t want us to try to go back to sleep right now because I’m scared of what could happen.” 

“I’ll be okay,” Bradley lifted their hands and kissed Jake’s knuckles. “I have a gorgeous nurse.” 

“The pain comes in really intense waves,” Bradley explained. “I don’t know how to describe what happens, but it’s excruciating and white hot for 10 to 15 minutes, and dies down. Right now, it feels achy, but it doesn’t hurt.” 

“What makes it feel better?” Jake leaned his head on his partner’s shoulder. 

“Peeing, sitting like this,” Bradley noted. “Can’t think of anything else. I just know that when I need to take a piss, it hurts like a motherfucker.” 

“You’re so elegant when you speak,” Jake grinned. “Like a Jane Austen novel.” 

“Fuck off,” Bradley could feel the pain and pressure building. “I’m sick, and it hurts again. Leave so I can take a leak.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jake helped Bradley from the floor, and the brunette doubled over in pain as he inhaled sharply and tried to slow his breathing. 

“Easy,” Jake whispered. “Slow.” 

Bradley nodded, unable to speak as he willed away the pain. 

“When you’re finished, let’s go downstairs and watch a movie. We’ll see if we can’t get the pain to go away. Otherwise, I’m scared you’ll need to go to the hospital,” Jake confessed. “I don’t want to take you unless we have to.”

“I don’t want to go at all,” Bradley squeezed his eyes closed and hoped the pain would pass.

Jake left him to his own accords and stood just outside the bathroom in case Bradley needed him. In a sigh of defeat when he heard a small whimper of pain and the flush of the toilet, Jake waited for Bradley to emerge, placed a palm on his sweaty forehead, and felt for fever. 

He was running a little warm, but nothing that concerned Jake too greatly at the moment. Wordlessly, Jake led him downstairs, an arm wrapped around his waist and stopping on occasion as Bradley was nearly brought to his knees in pain. Jake deposited Bradley gently on the couch and covered him with the first blanket he found. 

“I want a pillow,” Bradley whined. “Not a scratchy one.” 

“I’ll get you the throw pillow; that’s as good as it’s getting because I have a feeling we won’t be here long,” Jake said casually, the fluffy pillow now in his hands. 

“It’ll be fine,” Bradley said through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “Promise.” 

“Bradley,” Jake sat down next to his boyfriend, who was now lying on the couch, his hands pressing on his lower right side. “We need to take you to the hospital.” 

“No thanks,” Bradley responded through gritted teeth. “It’ll pass.” 

“Or your appendix will rupture,” Jake combed his hand through Bradley’s sweaty, unkempt hair. “I don’t want that to be our worst-case scenario. If it needs to come out, it needs to come out.” 

“It’s,” Bradley gasped in pain. “Fine. I promise.” 

“You’re not fine!” Jake snapped. “This is nowhere near fine, Bradshaw. Fine would be asleep in our bed, not barely coherent due to pain. If this is your fine, I don’t want to know how you live the rest of your life.” 

Jake ranted at Bradley, his cheeks flushed with frustration. He failed to notice, however, that Bradley had turned a sickly shade of green and was grasping his wrist with force. It wasn’t until Bradley looked up at him, glassy brown eyes and all, that Jake realized something was wrong. 

“Jake,” Bradley croaked. “I’m going to be sick.” 

Jake quickly grabbed the trash can as Bradley revisited his dinner, his stomach screaming in agony as he wretched. The pain in his side blossomed into white-hot stabs, and Jake rubbed his back in soothing, circular motions as he continued to get sick. 

“You going to let me take you to the hospital yet?” Jake asked timidly. “Or do we have to wait for it to get worse?” 

“I need to pee,” Bradley announced in full avoidance of the question and retreated to their bedroom. 

Jake noted that it was the fifth time in an hour that Bradley had made this same comment, and his concern grew into something more. As he sat and waited for the brunette’s return, his mind wandered to kidney infections and other more serious conditions that caused fever, vomiting, frequent urination, and excruciating pain. 

In the end, Jake still thought it was Bradley’s appendix. 

“Jake,” Bradley’s voice cracked as he returned to the living room, hand still pressing to his side. “I-I need you to take me to the hospital.” 

Sitting up straight and looking directly at Bradley, his heart raced as he noticed the sheen of sweat across his boyfriend’s forehead, the ashen skin, and the grimace. He didn’t want to make a joke about the situation since it took an immense amount of courage for Bradley to ask for help, let alone ask him to drive him to the hospital. 

“What changed your mind?” Jake’s voice was tender and laced with concern. 

“The fact that I just pissed blood might be cause for concern,” Bradley tried to joke with his partner, but Jake was at his side in an instant. “Okay, we’re going.” 

Jake ushered Bradley to his truck with the trash can in tow after slipping on his shoes and jacket and helping Bradley into a sweatshirt and his god-awful Birkenstocks (yes, Bradley is a California hipster at heart). The pair rode in silence save for Jake’s occasional check-in and Bradley’s groans of pain, and as they arrived in the dimly lit Emergency room parking lot, Jake threw his truck in park. 

“So maybe it’s not your appendix,” Jake wrapped his arm around Bradley’s waist. 

A nurse checked in Bradley at the desk and instructed them to wait in the nearly vacant waiting room. Jake took the time to let Maverick know he had Bradley in the Emergency Room, but it was a waiting game, and there was no need for anyone else to be there. As they waited, Bradley was periodically called back and interrogated (his words, not Jake’s), his blood was stolen (again, his words, not Jake’s), and two hours had gone by without seeing a doctor. 

The clock continued to tick, and with each passing moment, Jake’s frustration grew, and Bradley’s panic crept into his already spiraling thoughts. 

“I could be dying, and we’re sitting here waiting,” Bradley mumbled, semi-conscious from the pain. “Something’s wrong.” 

Another hour passed, and another series of complaints were crassly uttered to Jake from Bradley as they waited. 

“Bradley Bradshaw?” A nurse in light blue scrubs peeked around the corner and walked through the door. “I’m here to take you back for your CT scan.” 

Bradley’s eyes went wide as Jake squeezed his hand reassuringly. With a sharp exhale, Bradley stood and followed the nurse, who attempted to make small talk as she prepared him to meet with Radiology. The sight of the machine made Bradley queasy, he’d heard his mother getting scan after scan while she was fighting cancer, and he didn’t like the memories it brought back. 

“It’s okay,” the radiology technician said to the panicked, wincing pilot. “3 minutes tops.” 

“Holding you,” Bradley almost doubled over from the sharp prick of pain. “To that.” 

The tech nodded, and before Bradley could blink, the CT scan was finished. Once again ushered to the waiting room, he was assured that his scans would be read within the hour and he would know what was wrong. 

They sat there for two more, and Bradley’s nausea was taking over. 

“I’m going to give you a Zofran,” the nurse who came into the waiting room explained. “You’ll put it under your tongue and let it dissolve, but it should help with the nausea.” 

No sooner than Bradley put the little white pill under his tongue and grimaced at the taste, a woman in a lab coat called his name and waved him toward the door. Following her down a corridor, they were finally in a bootleg exam room (Jake’s words, not Bradley’s), and Bradley was lying down on the bed. 

“First,” the doctor smiled, “It’s not your appendix.” 

“Thank God,” Jake relaxed as he squeezed Bradley’s hand. 

“More good news? A nurse will be coming by to give you a Toradol shot. It’ll help with the pain today, and you can fill your prescription for pain medication when you leave,” she shot a wink in Bradley’s direction. “I’m going to go find your nurse; she’ll be in soon. I’ll come back when she’s finished.” 

Five minutes later, Bradley received a shot in the upper arm, complaining the entire time. 

“I’m back. Now, for the somewhat bad news,” The doctor flashed two images up on the screen, and neither pilot knew what they were looking at. 

“What is it then?” Bradley raised an eyebrow. 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, how much coffee do you consume in a day? Soda, tea, anything like that?” The doctor asked as she sat on the rolling stool next to Bradley’s infirmary bed. 

Looking over at Jake, who shot him a look that screamed, “ Be honest ,” Bradley sunk further into the uncomfortable mattress and sighed. He did the mental math; he was a daily coffee drinker, and he knew it was in excess. On the way to the office, he would have a cup in the morning and take a travel mug with him. While on base, he suffered through the mediocre coffee offerings, and when he returned home, he was sometimes too wired to settle for the evening. 

“Lieutenant,” a feminine voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Your coffee consumption? Or any other dark liquids?” 

“Probably too much,” Bradley joked weakly. 

“And how much water do you think you drink?” She questioned. 

“Probably not enough.” 

He was thankful that the excruciating pain was fading, even if he was still lying in an Emergency Room bed with a sore upper arm. Hours earlier, he was certain he was going to die. The pressure and pain in his right side sent white-hot, blinding shocks through his body, and nothing he tried could relieve the suffering. 

“Well,” She inhaled with a smirk. “I would begin to believe that your coffee consumption has turned on you. Based on your CT scan and your bloodwork, you do have a kidney stone. 3 millimeters on the right side.” 

“A kidney stone?” Bradley raised an eyebrow. “That sounds fake.” 

“Bradley,” Jake scolded. “Let her finish.” 

“Yes, Lieutenant, a kidney stone. Kidney stress causes calcium levels in your urine,” she explained. “When you consume too much caffeine, on top of other health issues, this calcium in your urine can form a small stone. For instance, when you drink too much coffee, you cause kidney stress.” 

“So coffee made my boyfriend think my appendix was rupturing?” Bradley frowned in frustration. 

“If you’ve never experienced the pain of kidney stones, I can assure you it seems like you have appendicitis, depending on the affected kidney. In your case, your kidney stone is on the right side, in the right Ureter,” she continued. “Mimicking appendix pain.”

“How do I get rid of it? Does it just dissolve or something?” Bradley inquired, and he heard Jake snickering. 

“No,” the doctor laughed. “You’ll have to pass it. I’m going to send you home with information, but unfortunately, the only way to rid the body of the stone is to pass it through your urine. You’ll need to increase your water intake and avoid caffeine, soda, tea, and coffee. If you don’t pass the stone in the next week, we’ll need to see you back to discuss other options.” 

“Other options?” Bradley was nervous; Jake could see the panic written across his face. 

“We can go in and blast the stone with a laser device if it doesn’t pass,” she gathered a few pamphlets and papers from her folio. “This means the stone poses a risk of completely blocking the ureter and can cause the kidney to swell and spasm.” 

“This sucks,” Bradley groaned. “I’m assuming I’m grounded, then?” 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, if you can do anything functioning with a kidney stone, you deserve a few more ribbons on that uniform,” The doctor smiled. “You’re going to want to take it easy, drink water, and take the prescribed pain medication until it passes.” 

“You gonna babysit me?” Bradley asked lazily as he looked over at Jake. 

“No, you’re Maverick’s problem.” Jake grinned. "What do you think?" 

Chapter Text

Bradley was nervous, and rightfully so. After watching Jake suffer from a low-grade fever for a little over a week, and call off for as many days, he was beginning to worry that it was something more than just a cold or an irritation that Maverick said could be lingering a little longer than normal due to stress or exhaustion. Jake was facing both; their first week as Top Gun instructors was intense and draining. Both men were coming home wiped out from spending their days teaching new pilots, flying in various hops, and working while the other aviators were in other classes. 

“Jake,” Bradley brushed the hair off his warm forehead. “I’m starting to get a little worried about this fever. I want to take you to the doctor tomorrow.” 

“Mmm, just a cold,” Jake mumbled as he wrapped the blanket from the couch around his body. “I'll be fine.” 

“You’ve been running this fever for a week,” Bradley sat down on the floor beside the couch, his head next to Jake’s. “Everyone on base is starting to worry about you, Mav included.” 

“If you don’t ever go to the doctor, I don’t have to,” Jake countered. “Pot meet kettle.” 

“That doesn’t even make any sense right now, babe,” Bradley chuckled. “But you’re right. I’m a hypocrite if I force you to go see a doctor when I almost always refuse. But I’m still incredibly worried that you have something wrong that’s more than just a cold.” 

Jake closed his eyes and sunk into the couch pillow, his hand dropping off the edge of the couch and reaching for Bradley’s. Rooster didn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together, his thumb gently stroking the back of Jake’s cold hand. 

“I don’t like it when you’re sick,” Bradley rested his head against Jake’s arm. “I feel helpless. I want to help you feel better, but I don’t know how. I’m not very good at knowing what the people around me need.” 

“Always know what I need,” Jake whispered. “You can always tell.” 

“You need to go to the doctor,” Bradley whispered. “I know that you think it’s just a cold, but I don’t like how wheezy you sound when you’re breathing through your nose.” 

Jake groaned. 

“You know I’m right,” Bradley kissed his knuckles. “And you can use this against me whenever you want the next time I’m sick. I’m sorry for any time I’ve ever worried you.” 

“Sinuses feel like they’re going to explode,” Jake confessed. “Been bad all week, an’ they hurt.” 

Bradley nodded against Jake’s arm and continued to squeeze his hand as Jake explained the symptoms he’d been having throughout the week on top of the low-grade fever. Bradley was aware of the sneezing, sniffling, and overall stuffy nose, but he didn’t know about the headaches, pressure behind Jake’s eyes, earaches, or how painful his jaw felt. 

“Just don’t feel good,” Jake said in a final statement. “And everything smells funky. Dinner, our house, you. And I know everything’s supposed to smell good, but even the jet fuel you come home smellin’ like smells burnt.” 

“Sounds like a sinus infection,” Bradley commented. “Which is why I think you need to see a doctor.” 

“If I go, will you give me a treat after?” Jake smirked, his eyes closed. “One about this long…” 

“Enough,” Bradley chuckled. “You’re a damn mess, Jay.” 

“I’m your mess.” 

“The messiest of my messes, and I have dead parents and daddy issues,” Bradley deadpanned, causing Jake to choke out a laugh. 

“Not funny,” Jake frowned. “You’re perfect the way you are, and you’re workin’ through the rest. Couldn’t ask for anyone better.” 

With tears in his eyes, Bradley turned to look at Jake, who had closed his eyes once again. He lifted a hand to his cheek and rested his hand there; Jake leaned into the cool touch. 

“Thank you,” Bradley whispered. “Will you let me take you to the doctor tomorrow?” 

Jake nodded, his nose running. 

“Okay,” Bradley brushed his thumb over Jake’s cheeks. “I really love you, Jake.” 

“Always knew you did,” Jake smirked. “Love you too, darlin’.”

Bradley’s knees cracked and popped as he stood, eliciting a laugh from Jake, who was three years younger than his partner. With one more glance at Jake’s sleeping form, Bradley retreated to the kitchen to get the thermometer, Tylenol, and nasal spray that was tucked away in the back of the cabinet. 

“Here,” Bradley walked back into the living room with supplies in tow. “Take this, and let me take your temperature. And then use the saline spray and see if it helps.” 

“No,” Jake muttered into the pillow. “Leave me alone to die.” 

“No can do, princess,” Bradley sat next to Jake’s feet and rubbed his legs. “C’mon, sit up.” 

Jake shook his head. 

“You need to, sweetheart,” Bradley’s voice was tender and gentle like he was speaking to a scared animal or timid child. “It’ll help with the sinus pain and bring your fever down, even if it’s not very high.” 

“Help,” Jake held out his hand for Bradley’s support while he sat up and leaned back against the couch. “‘M tired.” 

“I know,” Bradley soothed, handing Jake two white pills and a glass of water. “We’ll go up to bed in a little while. I promise.” 

Swallowing the pills quickly and leaning into Bradley’s side, Jake felt the thermometer glide across his forehead and beep. 

“101 even. That isn’t too bad, but it’s a little too high for me to be okay with how you’re feeling,” Bradley admitted. “Mav got you an appointment on base tomorrow at 0800.” 

“Early,” Jake sighed. “But they’ll make me feel better?” 

“They’ll try.” 

Early the next morning, Jake groaned when Bradley’s alarm blared through the bedroom. With his boyfriend’s support, Jake dressed himself in his khaki uniform, foregoing the shower for the sake of his own sanity. He was tired, he didn’t feel well, and he knew that his lingering illness was worrying Bradley, and rightfully so. Bradley had watched his mother suffer through illness before she finally went to the doctor; his young life fell apart soon after with the cancer diagnosis. Before he was seventeen, Bradley was an orphan, and even the slightest sniffle or cough from Jake silently sent the older man into a spiral he sometimes couldn’t escape. 

Jake felt guilty, but just like Bradley was working through his own trauma, Jake worked through his. He learned that just because the feelings of fault are lingering, doesn’t mean what happened was in his circle of control. From the first time, his wingman had to eject to Bradley’s panic attacks that started when they first moved in together, and Jake was caring, warm, and loving toward the man who had been on his own for so long, it was circumstances outside of his control. 

Jake also knew it took a lot out of Bradley to return to the infirmary on base and spend time there; hospitals, doctors, and medical filled him with intense anxiety, and he only went when drugged to the gills, extremely sick, or coaxed by Jake and Maverick. This was huge for him, and showed how much he cared about Jake. 

“You ready?” Bradley’s hand fell on the small of Jake’s back. “We’ve gotta get going.” 

“Yeah,” Jake sniffled, and he felt a tissue in his hand seconds later. “Thank you.” 

Blowing his nose one more time before they left, he saw Bradley stuff a handful more in his pockets before following Jake out of the house and to his Bronco. 

“This is half the battle, isn’t that what you tell me?” Bradley smiled as he took Jake’s hand. “And that going to the doctor is an act of self-preservation?”

“So you do listen?” Jake grinned. “Nice to see that you don’t totally shut me out when you don’t want to be seen by a doctor, dentist, or any other medical professional.” 

“Shut up,” Bradley squeezed his hand. “You’re such a menace.” 

“Your menace, remember? You fell in love with me at first sight but were snug on that perch until after I saved your life,” Jake smirked. “You love me.” 

“I do,” Bradley smiled softly. “But you’re who played Slow Ride at the Hard Deck to try to get in my pants but ended up pissing me off.” 

“I’ve apologized for that. Don’t even,” Jake frowned. “I’m sick, and you’re being mean to me.” 

“Hush,” Bradley rolled his eyes. “We’re almost to base.” 

“Yes, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” Jake saluted. “Whatever you say, sir.” 

With another roll of his eyes, Bradley pulled onto the base, and they flashed their military IDs to the guard, who let them in with a small smile and a salute. Arriving at the infirmary, though, is when Jake started to pout. 

“They’re going to stick a swab in my nose,” Jake said firmly. “And I hate that shit.” 

“Better than down your throat,” Bradley shot back as they exited the vehicle. 

“I can think of something I prefer down my throat,” Jake grinned before he was interrupted by a series of harsh sneezes. 

“We’re in public,” Bradley elbowed his boyfriend’s ribs. “Go check yourself in, I’ll be in the waiting room.” 

Jake pouted as Bradley left him at the reception desk and told the nurse everything she needed to know. He was there for an appointment with the first doctor available; he’d made the appointment the day before, and filled out a brief confidentiality notice, listing Bradley as the person who could access his records. 

“You could have stayed with me,” Jake frowned as he dropped into the seat next to Bradley, whose knee was bouncing anxiously. 

“No, I couldn’t,” Bradley breathed. “You know I couldn’t.” 

“Hey,” Jake placed his hand on Bradley’s knee. “I know this is hard for you, but thank you for coming with me instead of making me come by myself. I appreciate you.” 

“You’re sick. I’m supposed to be comforting you,” Bradley spoke, his voice wavering slightly. “Now I’m sitting here sad, pathetic, and anxious as you wait for your doctor.” 

“You comforting me isn’t being taken away by the fact that you need some support right now, too,” Jake rubbed his thumb just above Bradley’s knee. “I can care for you, too, you know? You’ve taken care of me all week, on top of working and taking over my hops since I’ve been gone. You deserve to be loved.” 

“Like I said last night, daddy issues,” Bradley whispered sadly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Apologize to me again, and I’ll leave you here,” Jake shot back without thinking, and he saw some of the color drain from Bradley’s face. “Shit, darlin’, I didn’t mean…” 

“I know,” Bradley cut him off. “I know. Just leave it. I’m fine.” 

The pair sat in silence for a moment, each man dealing with their own inner thoughts and silent spiral, but when Jake leaned his head against Bradley’s shoulders, that wall between them collapsed. 

“I love you,” Bradley whispered. “I wish you felt better.” 

“I love you too,” Jake whispered. “And-and I know I’ve said harsh things before, but I wish life had been more fair to you than it was.” 

“Thank you,” Bradley kissed the crown of Jake’s head, not caring if they were in the waiting room of the Navy’s infirmary and that people would talk if someone with a loud mouth saw and decided to spread gossip. 

“I mean it,” Jake started to doze slightly. “It’s been unfair to you. And I want you to be happy.” 

“I’m happy with you,” Bradley whispered. “That’s why I want you to feel better.” 

“We’re gonna talk about this later,” Jake’s words were firm. “Just because you’re taking care of me while I’m sick doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love back from me. Even when I’m sick, I’m still allowed to love you and worry about you.” 

“I’ll be okay,” Bradley leaned his head back against the wall, anxiety creeping in. “I’ve always been okay.” 

“Yeah,” Jake snorted. “Sure.” 

“Not fighting with you in the waiting room,” Bradley sighed. “You’re sick. You’re here to get better. We can air our grievances on whatever this is when you’re feeling better.” 

“Okay,” Jake’s word was sharp and poignant.

He remained leaned against Bradley’s shoulder until a nurse stepped through the door and called his name. 

“Do you need me to come with you?” Bradley asked carefully. “I can.” 

“Nah,” Jake frowned. “Go get some air.” 

Bradley nodded as Jake followed his nurse, and as soon as the heavy door closed, he stepped outside the infirmary and doubled over, heart racing and nausea bubbling. He hated hospitals, infirmaries, and doctors office. The smell of the antiseptic made his head spin and his ears ring with loud alarms that signaled a Code Blue. He thought of his mother lying in her bed, and the times Maverick had been hurt. 

He thought about how something bad could happen to Jake. 

He spiraled, and he knew that he was overreacting to a small scenario and that he should be able to get it under control. He tried the breathing exercises his therapist taught him as he sat on the bench outside, repeatedly checking his phone for an update from Jake. 

“I have a sinus infection,” Jake’s rough voice started Bradley from his thoughts. “You ready to go home?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley whispered. “We can head home.” 

“I want to talk in the car,” Jake sniffled. “But we need to go pick up my antibiotics on our way there. Swing by the pharmacy on the corner before our street.” 

Bradley nodded, and the two piled into the Bronco; it was silent for a beat too long to be comfortable. 

“Thank you for making me go to the doctor,” Jake broke the silence and the tension. “She said it wouldn’t have gotten any better if I hadn’t had someone prescribe the antibiotics she did. I’m supposed to finish them all even if I feel better.” 

“That’s pretty standard,” Bradley’s voice was a smidge above monotone, his eyes fixed on the road. 

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Jake whispered. “She also said I’m supposed to rest and drink plenty of water.”

“We can do that,” Bradley continued to stare out the windshield, finding anything more interesting than his conversation with Jake as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. 

“You’ve got a death grip on that steering wheel,” Jake said softly. “You’re gonna hurt your hands.” 

“As long as you start feeling better, I’m fine. We’re going to pick up your meds, and then you can go home and rest. I’ll work in the office so I don’t bother you,” Bradley’s voice was biting and cold, and Jake could feel the iciness settle into his bones. 

“You don’t bother me,” Jake spoke firmly. “You never have.” 

Bradley nodded as they turned into the parking lot and found a spot closest to the door. Jake moved for his seatbelt, but Bradley’s hand fell on his, “I’ve got it.” 

Bradley sauntered into the pharmacy, leaving Jake in the running vehicle, his head leaning against the window as he waited. He felt like hell; his head was still full, his sinuses still hurt, and his ears were clogged. He was hoping that the medication would work quickly because he was worried that with the sinus infection, he wouldn’t be allowed back in the air for weeks. 

The doctor told him no flying for a week after his symptoms were gone, anyway. 

Bradley was back, a small white bag in his hand before Jake could follow his train of thought any further. Handing the bag to Jake in silence, Bradley buckled his seatbelt before they exited the parking lot. 

“She also said I can’t fly until my symptoms are gone, and I have a follow-up,” Jake tried to engage in conversation with Bradley again. 

“I can keep taking your hops. It’s no big deal,” Bradley sighed. “You need to rest.” 

“Goddammit, Bradley! That’s not what I’m getting at,” Jake snapped, his head feeling fuzzy as he spun to face him. “I’m just telling you what she said so you know that I’m fine and that I’m not dying.” 

“My dad died in that infirmary, Jake. That’s the waiting room my mom occupied me in for hours,” Bradley breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re sick, and I’m sorry I’m not better at this. And I’m sorry it took bringing you to the doctor to make you feel better because I couldn’t.” 

“Don’t apologize for caring about me,” Jake reached for Bradley’s hand, prying it away from the wheel. “Don’t apologize for anything, actually. You have no reason to apologize.” 

“Let’s get you home,” Bradley whispered as he squeezed Jake’s hand. “I have a phone call I need to make, and you need to rest.” 

“Phone call?” Jake probed. “It’s Saturday.” 

“Dr. Cook takes emergency appointments on Saturdays,” Bradley said softly. “I think there’s a lot I need to talk to her about while you take your meds and take a nap.” 

“I’m proud of you. Thank you for making sure I’m feeling better.” 

“I love you.” 

Chapter Text

Bradley was cursing himself as he limped along the sidewalk in the rain. He was soaked to the bone; his t-shirt was clinging to his upper body, his shorts were no better. With each slow step, his shoes sloshed, and his socks were a disgusting level of wet. Following the mission. Bradley’s therapist had recommended finding a way to decompress and combat anxiety when he found his medication wasn’t working efficiently in the face of his racing heart and spiraling mind. 

A few weeks later, he’d taken up running, and each evening, he’d ask Jake to join him; Jake would politely decline, and Bradley set out on his 3-mile loop through neighboring areas and their neighborhood in an effort to decompress before bed. Some days it worked, and other nights he would be plagued by nightmares and wake in fear that he’d lost his Godfather, boyfriend, or any of the other members of the newly minted Dagger Squadron. 

Now, on what Bradley assumed was the rainiest day in San Diego history, he regretted taking up running and wished he had invested his time in a different hobby like crocheting or painting, something that would keep him out of the elements on days with surprise bad weather. 

“Fuck,” Bradley pulled his cell phone from his armband and tried to dial Jake’s number in the torrential downpour, only to find he could barely see the screen.

 He knew he wasn’t too far from home, but his ankle hurt, he was cold, and he wanted to take a shower and warm up in the comfort of his own bed with Jake tucked into his side. He wanted Jake to pull up next to him in his truck, roll down the window, and yell over the pouring rain to get in and get warm. 

He knew Jake would ask about the ankle, and he knew Jake would fuss after Bradley had walked the last mile home in the rain, so he did what any man would do. He made up an excuse. 

I was trying to avoid a … No, that wouldn’t work. 

I was trying to help a cat out of a tree, and when I hopped down, I hurt my ankle. Jake would never believe that. 

The only thing there was left to do was tell the truth… I stepped off the sidewalk wrong when I was trying to avoid a puddle. My ankle is the size of a softball, it hurts, and I feel miserable. 

“Fuck this,” Bradley grumbled, still limping along the sidewalk as the rain beat against his skin. “Fuck running, fuck this weather, fuck San Diego. Fuck.” 

As he rounded the corner, he knew he was nearly home, and as he approached the bungalow, he could see Jake standing on the front porch with a look of worry spread across his handsome features. 

“BRADLEY!” Jake yelled, hoping his voice carried over the rain. “WHAT THE FUCK! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO COME FIND YOU!” 

Bradley didn’t hear him and continued to limp toward the porch. Jake dashed down the stairs, wearing flip-flops, shorts, and a rain jacket, and wrapped his arm around Bradley’s waist as he met him. He took a majority of Bradley’s weight on the right side, the other aviator grimacing in pain with every step he took before they ascended the stairs. 

“Stay here,” Jake demanded as he went to the bathroom to retrieve towels. 

Bradley was dripping all over the entryway, his ankle throbbing, his body shivering, and his head reeling and starting to pound. Jake bounded down the stairs moments later, his hands full of towels and a fresh set of clothes for Bradley. 

“Strip, stud, then wrap yourself in these towels until you’re dry,” Jake glared at him. 

“I’m not getting naked in our entryway,” Bradley countered. “Not a chance in hell. Someone could see me through the window.” 

“You’re the only person who’s been by here in hours, and you live here,” Jake continued to glare. “Strip, you’re gonna catch a cold.” 

“Jake,” Bradley whined. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” Jake narrowed his eyes. “You want me to turn around and preserve your modesty?” 

“We showered together this morning before work,” Bradley deadpanned. “Help me with my shoes.” 

As Jake crouched down to help Bradley out of his running shoes and socks, he noticed the state of Bradley’s right ankle and gasped. 

“What the hell did you do? I thought you pulled a hamstring or something, but this looks gnarly. It’s already starting to bruise,” Jake probed the swelling, and Bradley’s knees nearly buckled. 

“Don’t do that until I’m sitting down, at least,” Bradley said through gritted teeth. “I stepped off the sidewalk wrong.” 

“Shit,” Jake frowned as he untied the shoes. “Can you stand on that leg while I take your left shoe off?” 

“Can try,” Bradley scrunched his nose. “It’s gonna hurt.” 

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” When Bradley was ready to lift his left leg, Jake pulled the shoe and sock off quickly as Bradley was brought to tears by the pain. “I’m done, breathe.” 

“How bad is it?” Bradley blinked away tears. “It hurts like a motherfucker.” 

“Strip and dry off, I’ll help you get changed, and then we’re going to the couch. I want to look at this a little closer. You need to get warm, and we need to get ice on that ankle as soon as possible,” Jake commanded gently, hoping to get Bradley moving a little faster. 

Bradley peeled off his shirt, shorts, and boxer briefs, and towel-dried before Jake helped him out of the wet spot on the foyer floor and into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, both of which were warm against his chilled skin. 

“C’mon,” Jake looped his arm around Bradley’s waist for a second time that day, and the pair slowly walked/limped over to the couch, Bradley lying on his back with his foot in Jake’s lap. 

“So?” Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed so he could brace for Jake touching his aching, swollen ankle. 

“It’s bruised really bad along here,” Jake’s calloused finger ran along the outside of Bradley’s foot. “And it’s bruised here too.” 

“And it’s swollen?” 

“It’s huge,” Jake frowned, sadness evident in his voice. “It’s going to be really painful for a while. But the immediate bruising is good, I think. And since you could semi-walk on it, I don’t think it’s broken.” 

“Don’t want x-rays,” Bradley grumbled. “If we can avoid it, we should.” 

“As I said, I don’t think it’s broken, so we need to do the RICE method; it’s what my high school football coach did when I had an ankle sprain,” Jake explained. “Rest, ice, compression, elevation. I’ll get ice, you stay off of it, and we’re going to wrap it and elevate it.” 

“Yes, nurse,” Bradley grinned. “Can I take you out after your shift?” 

“I’ll take you out if you don’t knock it off,” Jake rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Going to have to dig through our cabinets to find a wrap or compression sleeve.” 

“You really don’t have to do that, I’ll sleep it off, and it’ll be okay,” Bradley frowned. “Seriously, can we just sit here and watch a movie? I’m cold, and I wanna cuddle.” 

“Ice, at least, please?” Jake frowned. “Let me do something for you; it looks really gross.” 

Bradley nodded weakly as Jake found himself digging through their freezer for soft ice packs that could mold around the swollen extremity. Sighing in relief when the bright blue object came into view, he grabbed it and wrapped it in a towel. When he returned, he could see the pain on Bradley’s face and sat down once more, and carefully lifted his leg into his lap. 

“What’s wrong?” Jake carefully placed the ice, and Bradley winced. 

“Moved it wrong because my toes were stiff,” Bradley frowned. “It wasn’t the right thing to do.” 

Jake frowned, and when Bradley reached for his hand, he squeezed it. Bradley was struggling, Jake could see the discomfort painted across his features and in his eyes. He wasn’t typically injured; the older pilot wasn’t as accident-prone as his Godfather, and this was uncharted territory for him. 

It was new for Jake, too. Other than nursing his ribs on occasion from a rough landing, he hadn’t experienced much more than a sprained ankle since his high school football injury. They were both relatively lucky, considering their field. 

So Jake held his hand, squeezing it, brushing his thumb over his knuckles, and occasionally massaging the muscles of his arm. He could feel Bradley warming up slightly, and as his partner dozed off to sleep under the blankets draped over his form, Jake let himself relax. Bradley’s foot was still in his lap, and as the older man twitched in his sleep (because could Bradley Bradshaw ever be still?) Jake would adjust the ice to ensure it never fell off. 

“Jake,” the blonde was pulled from his brief nap as he heard the gravely voice of his boyfriend. “‘M not feeling so great.” 

Jake sat up and carefully moved Bradley’s leg so he could sit on the coffee table beside Bradley’s head, “What do you mean? Is it your ankle?” 

“No,” Bradley coughed, and by the sound alone, Jake winced. “My head hurts, and my body aches. Chest feels tight and gunky.” 

“Only you could catch cold four hours after running in the rain,” Jake raked his hand through Bradley’s now-dried curls. “You feel a little warm, but you were sleeping hard for almost four and a half hours.”

Bradley coughed again, and Jake knew that he was prone to Bronchitis and a number of other chest infections or illnesses that stemmed from the common cold. His immune system, as strong as it was, was no match for anything once it settled in his chest. 

“I’m going to go get you some cold medicine, the kind you like, don’t worry, and a thermometer,” Jake explained when Bradley reached for him as he stood. “I’ll be right back, and then I’ll lie down with you, okay?” 

“Don’ leave,” Bradley shivered. “‘S cold, and I wanna cuddle.” 

“We’ll cuddle in a little bit,” Jake kissed Bradley’s forehead before he left the room, leaving no space for Bradley’s not-so-convincing argument. 

He worked quickly, knowing how clingy Bradley could be when he was sick (not that Jake minded in the slightest), and returned to the living room to find Bradley buried under the blankets, his head barely sticking out from under the pile. 

“Hey,” Jake peeled back the blanket as he sat the medication, water, and thermometer on the coffee table. “What are you doing under there?” 

“Trapping body heat,” Bradley sniffled. “I’m cold.” 

“You’ll feel better in a little bit,” Jake poured the dose of cold medication and sat it next to the water before swiping the thermometer across Bradley’s forehead. “100.2, nothing major, but let’s try this medicine to make sure it doesn’t get any worse. We don’t want you being dramatically sick when you’re already dramatically injured.” 

“Not dramatic,” Bradley pouted. 

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, darlin’,” Jake grinned. “Sit up and drink up.” 

Bradley tossed the medication back like a shot and gagged, reaching for the glass of water and drinking nearly half of it before Jake pulled it away. 

“Not dramatic,” Bradley whined again. “Shit’s terrible, though.” 

“Not my fault you hate the pill version,” Jake stood and stretched before peeling back Bradley’s blankets. “Move and give me space, or we’re not cuddling, Bradshaw.” 

“Kay,” Bradley inched forward and gave Jake room to climb over him and onto the couch. 

Settling in behind Bradley, his chest to the other man’s back, Jake could feel Bradley’s body relax. He never remembered how tense his boyfriend could be, and his little jaunt in the rain and mishap on the sidewalk more than likely wound him up beyond what Jake could notice. He began tracing patterns on Bradley’s bare arm under the blankets, and Bradley sighed. 

“Tired, babe?” Jake whispered, his lips brushing over the fabric of Bradley’s sweatshirt. 

“Mhhm,” Bradley mumbled. “Ankle hurts really bad, too.” 

“I know,” Jake watched as Bradley gingerly rolled over, face contorted with pain. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Wanted to see you,” Bradley sniffled. “Sleep better when I can hear your heartbeat.” 

“Oh,” Jake’s smile was soft, and his heart fluttered. “Here.” 

Opening his arms, Bradley curled into his side and rested his head on Jake’s chest, the thrumming of Jake’s heart relaxing him further. As uncomfortable as it was cuddling on the couch as two six-foot men, Jake wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world. 

He loved Bradley Bradshaw. 

“Love you,” Bradley whispered. 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Jake kissed the crown of Bradley’s head and pulled him closer. “I love you more than I can ever explain.” 

“Love me enough to let us get a cat?” 

“No cats,” Jake chuckled. “You’re allergic to them anyway.” 

“Kay,” Bradley mumbled, slowly fading into sleep. “Love you anyway.”

Chapter Text

Maverick hadn’t been on base in three days, and Hondo informed the Daggers that their Captain was under the weather but wished them well and hoped he would be back in the air with them as soon as he was cleared by medical. 

The idea that Maverick was sick and suffering set off alarm bells in Bradley’s brain, and his heart rate elevated ever-so-slightly when he thought of how many times he’d heard the phrase “under the weather” when there was a serious, underlying medical issue ready to rear its ugly head. 

He’d heard it with his mother – Oh baby, it’s just a cold. Momma’s gonna be fine. 

He’d heard it with Ice - It’s just a cough, kiddo. I’m an old man with old lungs. 

He’d heard it over and over, every time someone he cared about got sick, and that was the root of the issue. Almost every time someone he loved got sick, they never walked out of the hospital the same, if they walked out at all. 

He shouldn’t; he couldn’t let himself think that way before he was in the air. Those thoughts created a danger to himself and to his team, and he had to stay focused to ensure their safety. However, it wasn’t easy to shake the thoughts of something happening to Maverick. 

His dad in all but blood. 

The man he’d recently started to reconnect with and pick up where they’d left off when Bradley stormed out his front door fifteen years ago. 

Someone he loved. 

As he stood with his hand on his jet and his forehead resting against the cool steel of the unflown machine, he felt a presence behind him before he saw him. 

“Hey,” Jake whispered as he wrapped his arms around Bradley’s waist. “You okay? You’ve seemed a little shaken up today. Wanna make sure that head’s cleared before you get in the box.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley relaxed under Jake’s touch. “Just thinkin’ too much, I guess.” 

“Breathe,” Jake released Bradley and walked to his side, a hand falling on Bradley’s strained forearm. “Can you do that for me? Just a few deep breaths?” 

“I’m not panicking,” Rooster rolled his eyes and frowned. “Just… thinking.”

“Humor me?” 

“Okay,” Bradley followed Jake’s lead and took four deep breaths in sync with his boyfriend’s. “I think I’m going to see Mav after we’re done for the day. Wanna check on him.” 

“Want me to go with you?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “I know things are still… not where they should be. Not yet, anyway. I’m happy to go.” 

“I think I need to go by myself,” Bradley confessed. “See if he’s feeling better, maybe talk.” 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Jake kissed Bradley’s temple. “You know I’ll go with you.” 

“I know,” Bradley squeezed Jake’s hand. “I appreciate you.” 

“I appreciate you too.” 

That’s how Bradley ended up on the porch of the beach-side home five hours later, grocery bags in his hands, an ache in his chest, and anxious thoughts racing through his muddled mind. 

This was always Ice’s thing, Rooster thought to himself as he knocked softly on the door of Penny and Maverick’s shared home. Hoping that the older woman and her daughter would be home to ease the anxiety and the embarrassment of showing up just because he was worried. 

He honestly wasn’t sure what to expect, but Maverick answering the door wasn’t it. 

His Godfather looked feverish and ill, but nothing like Bradley had expected. His hair was falling on his forehead, unstyled and seemingly unwashed, and his cheeks were flushed a deep crimson. Even though he attempted to conceal the cough, it wasn’t as stifled as the elder pilot had hoped. 

“What’re you doin’ here, kid?” Maverick opened the door further, and Bradley stepped inside, three bags in hand. 

“Checking on you,” Bradley responded nonchalantly, his heart still beating a little too fast for his own comfort. “Hondo said you’re sick.” 

“Have been for three days,” Maverick’s reply was sharp and took Rooster by surprise. “Been managing just fine on my own. Penny and Amelia are out of town.” 

Nodding, Rooster walked past Maverick and deposited the bags on the counter. He opened the refrigerator and unloaded each carefully. The orange juice found a home on the shelf, and the prepackaged meals were lined neatly on the shelf. 

The Mucinex, Tylenol, NyQuil, and lemon cough drops (the “good kind”) were in a neat pile on the countertop. 

“Why are you doing all of this?” Maverick leaned against the bar, his arms crossed and a disgruntled look across his face. “I’m just fine on my own.” 

“Returning the favor,” Rooster shrugged. “All shit you bought for me when I was growing up and was sick, felt like the right thing to do.” 

“You’re about fifteen years too late, don’t you think?” Maverick snapped, his eyes dark. “I survived on my own for this long, I’m capable of doing it myself this time around.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Rooster locked eyes with his Godfather, his heart aching at the pain he knew he caused the moment he left. “You don’t have to this time.” 

“And who’s fault was that?” Maverick spat, and Bradley recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “It’s not like you were stopping by with an armful of bags any time in the last, oh, decade.”

“I’m trying,” Rooster snapped. “You think I don’t know that leaving fucked you up too? What about all the times I was sick? Huh? You showed up a month ago after I got the flu, playing happy family with me and Jake, and now you’re bitching at me because I’m trying to return that same kindness?” 

“Too little, too late, kid,” Maverick coughed. “Go home. Just… go home.” 

With a curt nod and tears pricking his eyes, Rooster threw the paper bags in the recycling bin, picked his discarded phone up from the counter, and faced Maverick one final time. 

“You’re a jerk when you’re sick, Mav.” 

Wordlessly, Maverick watched as Rooster walked through the small home and quietly opened the door. Unlike the last time he’d left a home Maverick called his own, there was no door slamming, no additional name-calling, and no sobs echoing in Maverick’s brain. 

Instead, the older man felt numb. 

He didn’t watch Bradley leave, the Bronco peeling out of the driveway, not this time. Instead, he listened as the vehicle came to life, and he could hear the music- something from the 80’s- softly whispering in the open window. 

The ache in his chest was no longer from his cold. 

Bradley had grown up and learned to hide the hurt, the hurt that Maverick knew he caused after the man he called his son had walked out the door. 

It took everything in him not to step outside and stop Rooster from leaving, to apologize. But his fever-riddled body wouldn’t let him. Instead, coughs ripped through his frame as he rounded the bar to see what his Godson had left on the counter. 

It was everything he’d ever used when Bradley had a cold after his mother passed. 

Everything Ice would leave in a bag hanging from the doorknob of his on-base housing unit. 

Maverick felt like an asshole, but he knew it was too late to do anything now. He’d wait until he could see Rooster with a clearer mind and healthier body. He knew, from past experience, that a barrage of phone calls and texts would only push Bradley further away and start a fight. 

Reaching for the bright yellow package, Maverick carefully opened the small bag of cough drops, unwrapped one, shoved four in his pocket for later, and headed back to his spot on the couch after sending a short text. 

Take care of him. 

Bradley didn’t cry until he got home. As he drove down the empty streets of Maverick’s neighborhood, onto the highway, and into the neighborhood where his house was nestled among other bungalows, Bradley fought the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. 

He’d fucked up. 

Even when he had the best intentions, all Bradley Bradshaw knew how to do was hurt the people who cared most about him in the world - so much so that even following conversations, memories, laughter, and tears, they still resented him. 

He felt like a failure. 

Pulling into the driveway, his vision was blurred by unshed tears, but he could see a figure sitting at the top of the stairs; Jake had been waiting outside since he received the text from Maverick. Bradley threw the vehicle in park and brushed past Jake, who was waiting for him, and into the downstairs bathroom. 

“Bradley?” Jake whispered from the other side of the door. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Bradley gripped the countertop and attempted to keep the tears at bay. 

Unfortunately, that dam broke when Jake entered the small half-bath and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him impossibly close. 

“I knew nothing was getting better,” Bradley shook with sobs. “I knew I fucked up more than he was willing to admit, more than he was willing to ever say out loud. I’ve only been a burden on him.” 

“Shhh,” Jake soothed. “No, that’s not true.” 

“It is,” Jake’s collar was soaked by Bradley’s tears, and he continued to rub a soothing hand up and down his boyfriend’s back. “He only took me in because he felt guilty. It wasn’t because he wanted me around.” 

“He’s sick, darlin’,” Jake whispered. “Sometimes people say things they don’t mean when they’re sick.” 

“It felt like he meant it,” Bradley cried. “He could have said anything else.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jake released Bradley from the hug and tugged on his hand. “We can go sit on the couch. I made dinner.” 

“I’ve hated myself every day since I slammed the door in his face when I was 18,” Bradley choked as Jake ushered him to the couch. “I didn’t want to believe he hates me as much as I hate myself, but I think he does.” 

Sitting next to his partner, Jake let Bradley cry. He wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say that would make him feel better, but he knew he was ready to give Maverick an ear full after seeing his boyfriend so shattered emotionally. 

“He saved your life,” Jake whispered. “I don’t think he hates you. I think he’s just sick.” 

“Saved my life so he could have a real reason to hate me,” Bradley mumbled. “He… he used to keep lemon cough drops everywhere; in his Jeep, in his pocket, everywhere, when he knew I was feeling sick. He’d buy out a pharmacy and bring home orange juice. I tried to do the same.” 

“I know,” Jake pulled Bradley to his chest. “I know. It’s okay to be angry with him right now; you don’t have to carry it all on your own.” 

“It’s mine to carry,” Bradley sniffled. “I’m the one who cut him off until we were called back here. I’m the one who hurt him. He-he was just doing what my mom asked.” 

“And he could have explained that to you before it blew up,” Jake countered. “It hurts me when you’re hurting.” 

Bradley nodded and buried his face in the crook of Jake’s neck. 

“You’re allowed to feel hurt when people hurt you,” the blonde continued. “It’s not your fault.” 

Bradley nodded again. 

“It scares me when people get sick,” Bradley rasped. “They don’t ever get better.” 

“That’s not what this is,” Jake soothed. “He’s just a crotchety old man with a complex and doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings. Just like you’re a crotchety younger old man who doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.” 

“Learned it from him,” Bradley pulled away with a soft laugh and sat up. “I just… I want to fix it.” 

“I think there’s a lot of hurt left, and sometimes that hurt comes to light when we’re vulnerable,” Jake explained. “I don’t think he meant it. Fixing comes through hard conversations; I think some will need to be had.” 

“You didn’t see him or hear him say it,” Bradley found the throw pillow next to him extremely interesting. “It seems like he did. I don't know if I can fix it.” 

“You can and you will. You say some pretty off-the-wall stuff when you’re sick. And I know that I’ve said some offputting things to you,” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Have we ever meant it?” 

“No,” Bradley rationalized. “It felt like he meant it, though.” 

“Why don’t you try talking to him?” Jake rubbed Bradley’s back. “He sent me a text right when you told me you were coming home. Asked me to take care of you.” 

“I don’t want to right now,” Bradley admitted. “I think it’ll be a few days.” 

Jake nodded and wordlessly stood from the couch. When Bradley grabbed his wrist, anxiety splashed across his tear-stained cheeks, Jake informed him that he was going to make him a plate of food and that he’d be back in a moment. 

Bradley heard the banging of pans and the clink of a plate being placed on the countertop, but Jake’s “just a moment” took a little longer than expected. 

Jake, with his ulterior motive, used making dinner as an excuse to pull his phone from his pocket and respond to the earlier text. 

I will. But I think you both need to talk. 

He didn’t wait for a response, but instead picked up the plate and returned to the living room. Bradley had leaned back against the couch, rested his head against the plush cushions, and closed his eyes. 

Jake could see the hurt; he could nearly feel the hurt. 

While he respected Maverick as their commanding officer and loved him as Bradley’s Godfather, he was upset. Upset that the two emotionally-stunted men couldn’t talk through their feelings and that he was left to pick up the pieces. 

“I think you two need to talk when you’re ready, not when he is,” Jake explained. “You’re hurt, and rightfully so. You’re allowed to wait until you feel okay about talking. But I’ll make sure that I check on him. You said Penny is out of town when you sent your text earlier?” 

Bradley nodded. 

“I’ll stop by Maverick’s on my way home tomorrow,” Jake informed him. “I’ll make sure he’s taking something for his cold and being a good little pilot, and give you peace of mind. I know you’re worried.” 

“I am,” Bradley tentatively took a bite of food, his stomach hurt. “But I’m more hurt than worried right now.” 

“Which is why I’ll take the time to check,” Jake spoke gently. “I promise I won’t press the matter or interfere with the conversations you need to have. I’ll make sure I check on him and come back to you. You’re my priority.” 

“And you won’t yell at him?” Bradley asked softly. “Or make him feel worse just because I’m upset?” 

“I’ll try my best,” Jake kissed Bradley’s temple. “I can’t guarantee I won’t tell him off, but I won’t yell.” 

“That’s all I can ask for,” Bradley half-smiled. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Jake replied with a sweet smile. “And only you. I know he’s sick, and I know you’re worried. But my priority, my responsibility in this situation, is you.” 

Chapter Text

Jake kept his promise when he checked on Maverick. 

He bit his tongue, asked how his Captain was feeling, checked to make sure the medication in the boxes had been taken, and said goodbye. He resented Maverick, but not enough to overlook his concern for the man’s wellbeing. So, he bit back the snarky remarks when Maverick asked how Bradley was, how their classes and hops were going, and if everything in their newly minted relationship was going well now that they’d been living together for nearly six months. 

Jake’s answers were polite but short, and Maverick seemed to take the hint that even though he was there, he wasn’t happy with his commanding officer. 

“He’s still mad at me?” Maverick croaked as Jake sat down on the chair across the small living room. 

“Yeah,” Jake shrugged. “Won’t tell me what ya said, but I know it hurt him. Enough he’s still pretty torn up about it.” 

“How’s he flying?” Maverick’s voice was filled with an emotion that was unfamiliar to Jake, one mixed with love, hurt, and anxiety. “He doing okay?” 

“Didn’t go up today,” Jake commented as he kicked his boot-clad feet onto the old coffee table. “Said he had a headache.” 

“Is he sick?” Maverick pressed. “He didn’t catch my cold, did he? And get your feet down, Penny loves this table.” 

“Nope,” Jake deadpanned, responding to both the question and the request. “Doesn’t surprise me he’s got a headache when he’s not sleeping, and I catch him cryin’ when he thinks I’ve gone to bed.” 

“Crying?” Maverick coughed, his throat aching and his nose itching. “He’s crying? And seriously, she’ll kill me if your boots scuff this table.” 

“Yeah, Maverick, he’s crying,” Jake clenched his fists in his lap and lowered his feet to the floor. “Crying, telling me he deserves you hating him, everything under the sun he can use to hurt himself emotionally he is.” 

“Did you tell him I didn’t mean what I said? That I was just caught off guard by him being there?” Maverick’s face had fallen. “You did tell him, right?” 

“I told him that I think things are fine and that you probably didn’t mean it,” Jake snarked, and instead crossed his arms, forgoing the relief of the clenched fists. “But no, I didn’t tell him that you didn’t mean what you said, because I’m not sure myself.” 

“That’s not fair,” Maverick countered in a raised voice. before coughing harshly. “You know I didn’t mean it. He’s my kid, Seresin.” 

“Plenty fair, and he doesn’t feel so much like your kid right now as a burden on you. I’m going to get you a glass of water and a cough drop. Hearin’ you cough hurts my throat,” Jake nodded toward the kitchen and stood, exiting the room quickly. 

Maverick felt worse than he had at the height of his illness. Paired with the internal guilt of hurting Bradley in a moment of vulnerability and pain they’d been working to resolve both individually and together, he felt defeated. He waited for Jake to return, waiting for the harsh sound of a glass being slammed on the coffee table. 

It never came. 

Instead, when he opened his eyes, Jake was waiting with a glass of water extended in his direction and a soft smile on his face. 

“Surprised you didn’t throw it on me,” Maverick coughed again. “Thanks.” 

“You can be mad at someone and still care about them,” Jake shrugged as he returned to his chair. “But it’s hard to think about that when the situation is turned on you. Bradley thinks you hate him.” 

“I’ve never hated him; I could never hate him,” Maverick took a drink of his water and stared intently at Jake. “It’s just hard to fall back into that same pattern, you know? He’s a grown man; the last time we spent time together was when one of us was sick. He was 18. I know I stopped over the night he was running that fever, but it’s not the same. I don’t know Bradley, I don’t know Rooster… I knew Brad, I knew Baby Goose.” 

“He’s still the same person,” Jake noted, his eyes sad. “He’s just a little broken, a little guarded, and a lot hurt. I don’t know what you said…”

“I told him he was fifteen years too late to check up on me,” Maverick admitted, his face falling in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Maverick?” Jake sighed. “You’ve pulled one too many G’s if you think that was something even remotely okay to say to him! He’s been letting it eat him alive!” 

“I know!” Maverick coughed harshly, his hands shaking as he fought off the fit. “You think I don’t know that, kid? I’ve been beating myself up since the words left my mouth.” 

“They why’d you say it? Being sick is one thing Mav, but those are fighting words,” Jake frowned. “How am I supposed to convince him that you don’t hate him and didn’t mean it when that’s what was said?” 

“I don’t know,” Maverick sighed. “But I didn’t mean it, and I need you to believe me when I say that.” 

“I think there’s a lot you two need to talk about,” Jake chose his words wisely. “I can’t get stuck in the middle of this, because every time, I’m going to choose Bradley. I’ll choose him every single time, Mav. And if that means the two of us have to get the hell out of Dodge, and find ourselves on a carrier in the middle of the ocean so he knows he’s loved and cared about infinitely, I’ll put our transfer requests in tomorrow.” 

“I’m not losing my two best pilots over this,” Maverick responded sadly. “Just know I never meant it.” 

“You’re not willing to lose your pilots, but are you willing to lose Bradley?” Jake posed a deep question for Maverick, who only ever wanted his Godson back. “You’re doing a bang-up job of working on this whole reconciliation thing the two of you have approached. It’s like any time the two of you get within spittin’ distance, you freak out.” 

“What am I supposed to say to him? That he’s never been a burden, and that him showing up when I was sick looked just like his dad did when he checked on me on the carrier?” Maverick rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure how it would go over.” 

“I think it’s a better start than you’re aware of,” Ignoring any of Maverick’s previous requests, Jake kicked his feet back onto the table. “And no, I’m not puttin’ ‘em down; I’m comfortable. Settle in because we need to talk before you talk to Bradley.” 

“I guess that’s a fair request,” Maverick nodded as he tried to stifle a sneeze. “Whatcha want to talk about?” 

“ What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh ?” Jake joked, his eyes bright. “I didn’t think I’d get this far, so I ran out of questions.” 

“Didn’t think you’d get this far?” Maverick raised an eyebrow. “How far did you think you’d get?” 

“Figured you’d kick me out when I asked what you said,” Jake chuckled. “Transfer stuff I kind of just pulled out of my ass because you pissed me off. Same with the rest of it. Bradley told me I had to play nice to the other kids on the playground today.” 

“How noble,” Maverick rolled his eyes. “Turns out this phenomenal immune system isn’t what it used to be. I feel like hell in a handbasket.” 

“You look like roadkill,” Jake’s honesty wasn’t always as well received as he hoped, but Maverick laughed for the first time in nearly three days. “And I’ve seen some gnarly road kill in West Texas.” 

“Fuck you too, Jake,” Maverick groaned. “Why the change in attitude?” 

“Change in thought process,” Jake noted. “‘Sides, it’s hard to stay mad at you when you’re all coughy and pathetic on the couch. It’s easier when you can stand your ground.” 

“You’re really not holding back, are you?” Maverick snorted. “What’s your change in thought process?” 

“I dunno if you’re gonna want to hear it, God knows Bradley’s going to be pissed if he has to add one more weekly appointment to his calendar,” Jake’s words were hesitant. “I think y’all should go to, like, marriage counseling?” 

“Marriage counseling?” Maverick laughed. “You want me to go to marriage counseling with a kid who used to run away from me when I tried to change his diaper?” 

“Or couples therapy or whatever,” Jake tried to explain, failing miserably. “You know what I mean.” 

“I really don’t,” Maverick laughed, but it came out as a barked cough. “Why don’t you keep trying to explain.” 

“Like, go see a therapist who can be there so you two can bitch at each other and actually talk after,” Jake threw his hands in the air. “Couples therapy is the only place I know it happens! Sue me!” 

“Jake, I’m just giving you shit,” Maverick smirked. “I know where you’re trying to go with this. I don’t think it’s a terrible idea, but both people have to be willing to work through the pain and the turmoil. It’s why it never worked the first… four? Yeah, four times, that Penny and I tried to go. I wasn’t willing.” 

“You’re saying you’re willing to work on this, work through this, with Bradley so I can stop watchin’ him hurt so bad?” Jake raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “I want to believe you, Mav, I really do.” 

“Then, believe me, kid,” Maverick sighed. “I’m willing to work on it so I can have my Godson back in my life- fully and presently back- because it’s not been the same without him around. It’s been too long.” 

“And you won’t say any hurtful shit like you did the other day?” Jake pressed the older pilot for answers. “Because I never want to see him come home like that ever again unless it’s because you’re both working through things.” 

“I know,” Maverick replied softly. “I know you care about him more than anyone else who’s been in his life as a partner or as a friend.” 

“I love him,” Jake spoke confidently. “And there’s not much in this world that would change that. Unless he shaved his head or killed my family dog.”

Maverick smiled, “That kind of love is special. Especially when it comes from a Bradshaw.” 

“Yeah,” Jake smiled back. “It’s pretty special, even if he has to work on it every day. To be vulnerable, to show love when he’s scared of getting hurt. Mav, that’s what he was tryin’ to do when he came over here. He was worried.” 

“I know,” Maverick sighed, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts. “And I never meant what I said, and I definitely didn’t mean to hurt him.” 

“I’ll bring up this couples therapy, father-son counseling shit to him if you promise me this is the first conversation you’ll have,” Jake was stern, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I mean it. I won’t bring it up if you aren’t going to try. I’ll say the same shit to him.” 

“I promise,” Maverick sniffled. “But he has to promise that he’ll try, too.” 

“The first thing he said when we finally started talking about what happened is that he wants to fix what he broke,” Jake recalled sadly. “Thinks he’s a burden on you, and that you hate him as much as he hates himself.” 

“You mentioned that,” Maverick scrubbed at his face roughly. 

“Alright then,” Jake moved his feet and stood. “Don’t die overnight. I’ll bring this up to Brad when I’m home, and then the ball’s in y’all’s court, Pops.” 

Maverick extended his hand, and Jake pulled him to his feet before wrapping him in a hug, “Take care of my kid, Seresin. I’ll kill you if you ever break his heart.” 

Jake nodded and walked out the front door feeling lighter. He knew that Bradley would be receptive to talking, but he didn’t know how well-received a “therapized conversation” (his words, not Jake’s) would go over. 

However, when Bradley was waiting for him when he walked in the front door and kicked off his boots, he didn’t have to broach the subject. 

Bradley did it himself. 

“How was Mav?” Bradley’s demeanor had shifted from the day before. 

“He’s on the mend,” Jake wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and leaned in for a kiss. “We talked about quite a bit.” 

“Oh?” Bradley frowned. “Anything good come of it?” 

“I think so,” Jake kissed him again. “I think there’s a lot you two need to get off your chest like big boys.” 

Bradley nodded and laced his fingers with Jake’s before pulling him toward the kitchen. The smell of pot roast and vegetables overwhelmed Jake’s senses, and he smiled. 

“Making dinner for little ol’ me?” Jake gasped. “Why Bradley! You shouldn’t have.” 

“Please tell me this comedy of errors isn’t your cover for killing Mav,” Bradley groaned. “But yes. Pot roast, potatoes, carrots, everything. It’ll be done in about an hour.” 

“What’s the occasion?” Jake smirked. “Should I expect an engagement ring? Earth-shattering, life-affirming sex?” 

“No. Well, maybe the sex,” Bradley chuckled as he leaned against the counter across from his boyfriend, who was seated at the bar. “I wanna talk about something.” 

“What’s that?” Jake was curious; Bradley never wanted to talk about anything too deep or serious until they were tangled under their sheets, breathing even and bodies pressed to one another. 

“I want to talk… to Maverick,” Bradley’s voice caught in his throat. “But, I, I don’t want to do it alone. I had a session with Dr. Cook today…” 

“And?” 

“And she said, uh, she said she would recommend another therapist in her practice who could mediate our conversations? A family counselor,” Bradley swallowed thickly. “Someone who knows how to help with… this mess.” 

“Oh?” Jake’s heart swelled with pride. “How did this come up?”

“I told her about everything,” Bradley let a tear trickle down his cheek. “She asked me how I felt, and after she told me that I shouldn’t shoulder so much guilt, I told her I wanted to fix it. That I wanted my dad back.” 

“I’m so proud of you,” Jake nearly knocked his barstool over to meet his partner and wrap him in a tight, warm hug.” 

“Thank you,” Bradley rested his forehead on Jake’s shoulder. “It was a hard session today.” 

“But you keep going back,” Jake kissed the crown of his head. “Even when it gets tough, you keep going back and seeing her. Bradley, that’s so… It’s so good.” 

Bradley nodded. 

“What did she say about fixing it?” Jake whispered, rocking Bradley back and forth. 

“Said she doesn’t think there’s anything broken, just damaged,” Bradley breathed. “Said that both of us have to be willing participants in the repairs, not just me. So I don’t know if it’ll do any good if Mav doesn’t care.” 

“He cares more than you think,” Jake soothed, his hand rubbing up and down Bradley’s spine. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so,” Jake spoke confidently. 

With his boyfriend in his arms, Jake could see the light at the end of the Maverick/Rooster drama, and with a heart full of hope, he realized that there would be a resolution. It might take crying, screaming, fighting, hugging, and long nights in bed where Bradley would share all of his darkest secrets and gut-wrenching pain, but they could do it. 

And as sick as Maverick was, if he went back on his word, Jake would throttle him.  

Chapter Text

If there was ever a time when Jake noticed that Bradley had a change in demeanor, attitude, behavior, or overall state of existence, he was on high alert. Over the last year, he’d learned the ins and outs of Bradley; how he liked his coffee, that he preferred a lavender fabric softener, and when he’s sick, he’s likely to hole up in his room, suffering alone, because he’s afraid of asking for help or feeling vulnerable around others. His therapist and Bradley’s alike referred to this particular behavior as a negative coping mechanism, but one that Bradley struggled to release as he navigated trauma during therapy. He’d easily released other “poor” coping skills like explosive anger, the silent treatment, and storming out of the house when situations were tense, but the mustached pilot had a death grip on hyper-independence, even if it often resulted in extreme self-sabotage. 

Jake struggled to understand, because while he was independent and had an air about him that screamed, “I can take care of myself,” he was quick to lean on others when he needed them. He would confide in Javy when he was struggling with processing missions and assignments, curl into Bradley’s side in bed, and talk through his sleepless nights and lingering nightmares knowing that his partner struggled with similar issues, and when he was sick, he was clingy, needy, and allowed Bradley to take care of him. 

Jake hated that Bradley was too hesitant to tell him when he was struggling; he felt like that was the remaining obstacle in their relationship, one that needed to come down before they could take it a step further. He knew that Bradley hadn’t slept well the night before, and as his boyfriend sauntered into the kitchen, red-nosed and glassy-eyed, he saw he wasn’t feeling well. 

“You okay?” Jake questioned, curiosity getting the best of him. “You were pretty restless last night.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley plopped down on a barstool and leaned over the counter. “Had weird dreams, stuff about the mission, Mav, all of it. Don’t know why; it’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jake was scared to press his luck that early in the morning, but a part of him (a very large part) hoped that Bradley would finally open up about what plagued his mind. 

“‘M okay,” Bradley yawned. “Coffee ready?” 

“Just finished,” Jake stood on his tip-toes, yes, his tip-toes because Bradley’s three inches of height allowed for coffee mugs to be one shelf too high in the kitchen, and retrieved the Navy blue mugs with their squadron emblem. “Black? Or you wanna spice it up this mornin’?” 

“One hot bean water, please,” Bradley smirked. “You can make yours all fancy, but I’ll take mine as-is.” 

“Dunno how you do it, darlin’,” Jake chuckled. “Tastes like battery acid and PineSol.” 

Jake poured the coffee and felt Bradley’s presence behind him in an instant, his partner’s large and warm arms wrapping around his waist and his forehead resting on his shoulder. Savoring the moment with his partner in the quiet of their home, Jake relaxed, and Bradley inhaled deeply. 

It was nice, the small moments they spent together in their home without friends interrupting their fleeting moments of intimacy. If it wasn’t Natasha barging into their office to drag them to lunch, it was Javy throwing open the break room door and demanding a game of foosball or pool while the Top Gun students wrapped up their days. 

“This is nice,” Jake’s voice echoed through the small space. “Just bein’ here with you, just us.” 

“Mhhm,” Bradley’s lips ghosted over the nape of Jake’s neck. “You’re warm.” 

Chuckling, Jake’s hands peeled Bradley’s arms from around his waist, and he spun on his heels, the two now face to face as Jake was pressed against the counter. 

“Coffee’s gonna get cold,” Jake grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “As much as I love this, you’re a human furnace, and it’s too hot for that right now.” 

“”M cold though,” Bradley pouted. 

“You’re never cold,” Jake cocked his head to the side and studied Bradley’s form. 

His partner’s shoulders were slumped, his nose was red, and his eyes were watery. It wasn’t uncommon for Bradley to wake up congested; he struggled with allergies no matter the season, but hearing him speak the dreaded “I’m cold” into the universe led Jake to believe it was something deeper, even serious. 

“It’s getting cold outside,” Bradleys shrugged. “We’ve been sleeping with the windows open.” 

“Yeah,” Jake rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s it. But you don’t look like you feel well, love.” 

“I’m fine,” Bradley continued to avoid Jake’s underlying questions and concerns. “I didn’t sleep well, and I’m tired. It’ll be fine by lunch.” 

“You’ll let me know if you’re sick?” Jake pressed a kiss to Bradley’s shoulder as he pulled him into another hug. 

“Yeah,” Bradley held him once more. “But I’m not, so there’s no need to worry. But we do need to leave in about an hour.” 

Jake nodded, and his hand fell on Bradley’s hip, his hand resting there for a moment while they made intense, connected eye contact, and Jake pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Go shower,” Jake whispered, brushing the curls from Bradley’s forehead. 

“I don’t know how you’re always ready for work this early in the morning,” Bradley giggled. “It’s endearing, but you’re frustrating. You always look so good in the morning.” 

“You’re pretty good-looking yourself, Bee,” Jake winked. “Some of us are better morning people than others. Isn’t that why they call ya Rooster?” 

“One of the reasons,” Bradley smirked before escaping Jake’s embrace. “I’ll be back down in half an hour. By then, my coffee will be cold, just like I like it.” 

“You’re disgusting!” Jake laughed as Bradley returned upstairs, his shoulders still slumped and a sniffle stifled until he thought he was far enough awake Jake wouldn’t hear him. 

Bradley rushed downstairs later than anticipated, and Jake could tell by the frazzled look on his face that he was stressed. Not sure why his morning felt like it was taking longer than usual, and that he wasn’t feeling well. The blonde knew not to press the issue, Bradley was already anxious about making them late, and when he finally had his boots on and his helmet bag in his hand, Jake was halfway to the truck and waving for Bradley to hurry up. 

As the brunette opened the door, Jake heard two weak coughs before Bradley’s almost dead weight flopped into the passenger seat, and he leaned against the cool window.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake side-eyed Bradley as they pulled onto their street and made their way toward base. “You just look… off.” 

“Tash called while I was getting in the shower, and it threw me off; took a little longer to get around because she needed help with something,” Bradley said earnestly. “I promise, Jake, I’m fine.” 

“You’ve coughed three times since you got in the truck,” Jake mentioned poignantly, hoping Bradley would give in and tell him what was wrong. 

He had no such luck. 

“Would you believe me if I told you this was normal for this time of year in San Diego?” Bradley looked at Jake lazily, his eyes fluttering. “The air gets a little dusty, and it wrecks my sinuses and my allergies for a few days.” 

“I thought you said you were just tired,” Jake’s hand twitched anxiously against his steering wheel as Bradley coughed again. “There are cough drops in your desk at work; use one when we get there.” 

“Tired and allergic to the air aren’t mutually exclusive,” Bradley countered, his hands tapping lightly against his thighs and the green material of his flight suit. “I can be tired because I didn’t sleep well, and cough because I have allergies. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.” 

“Fine,” Jake fixed his eyes on the road. “I’ll drop it. But that doesn’t mean I believe you, and that I won’t be checking on you while we’re working.”

“That’s fine,” Bradley chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” 

“I worry about you,” Jake slipped his hand into Bradley’s as they continued their drive, his thumb brushing over his knuckles lightly. “You don’t have to take care of yourself.” 

“If I was sick,” Bradley was caught off guard when Jake’s hand slipped from his and found his forehead. “What the hell?” 

“Feelin’ for a fever,” Jake grinned cheekily. “And you feel warm.” 

Slapping Jake’s hand away from his forehead, Bradley scowled at his boyfriend and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. He hated when anyone made a fuss over how he was feeling, and Jake was no different. 

“Okay, pouty,” Jake half-smiled as he took in Bradley’s demeanor. “I’ll leave it be. But if you start feeling sick, will you please tell me? You were a little warm, and I don’t want you running a fever or overworking yourself while you’re not feeling well.” 

Bradley looked over at his boyfriend; he was confused by the tenderness of Jake’s voice and the look on his face as he asked Bradley a simple, small question. 

“You know, if I had been sick when we were on the mission that called us back, you would have told me to eat shit and fly sick,” Bradley turned slightly to his left. “Not that I’m saying I don’t like the change, but… It just confuses me sometimes. You never let anything keep you from the air.” 

“Things change,” Jake held out his hand for Bradley’s ID as they approached the gate, and with a quick flash, the truck rolled into their designated parking spot, and the pair of aviators hopped out with their gear in tow. 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley whispered as he fell in step with Jake on the way to their office. “It’s just, it’s hard. Sometimes I know how much you love me, and other times it confuses me.” 

“I care because I love you,” Jake laced their fingers together. “And because I love you, I need you to be honest with me.” 

Before Bradley could respond, he swallowed thickly and tried to keep a new coughing fit at bay. Unsuccessfully, he doubled over with a fist to his lips, hoping to keep the cough from escalating into a fit. It hurt as he tried to take a breath, to calm the ache, and the only thing keeping him upright as the next cough escaped his internal pit of hell into the world. 

“Hey,” Jake had his hands on Bradley’s shoulders once he realized it wasn’t going to end as quickly as he assumed. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley croaked as the coughing stopped, and he stood back up. “That was weird.” 

“Weird,” Jake muttered under his breath as he followed Bradley, who had resumed their walk to the office. “Yeah, totally weird.” 

Their office was small, but the pair made the best of it with desks facing each other on opposite sides of the room. Each had their own unique setup; Jake’s computer was on the left, and Bradley’s was on the right, so they could speak to one another without looking over the extra monitor for their laptop. Bradley had pictures of his dad on his desk, Jake had his family. Scattered about the office were framed photos from missions, patches on display, and shelves of books, mementos and tokens from deployment, and anything else that didn’t fit in their singular home office. 

Jake’s favorite photo was from the carrier, right after Bradley and Maverick crash-landed when they were shaking hands. Bradley, sweaty, with a cut on his neck, would crash soon after it was taken because of adrenaline, but Jake loved the way they looked at each other. 

“I’ve got to go get the evaluations from Maverick,” Jake said quietly as he turned to face Bradley. “You going to be okay in here without me?” 

“No goodbye kiss?” Bradley frowned. “That’s mean.” 

“Shut up. I’ll be back in less than ten minutes,” Jake playfully rolled his eyes, and after sitting his bag on the floor next to his desk, he walked over to Bradley and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Remember what you promised? If you’re not feeling well, let me know?” 

“I feel okay,” Bradley pressed their foreheads together. “You’ll be the first one to know if something’s wrong. Can’t hide anything from you anyway.” 

“Damn right,” Jake closed the distance between them and softly kissed Bradley. “I’ll be back.”

With Maverick as the commanding officer of the Dagger Squadron and a rotation of Daggers teaching at Top Gun, they’d become a family. Where Hangman was previously an adversary, Jake was a friend. Over the last year, the Pesudo-Father/Pseudo-Son had reconnected, and Jake had become part of the small family. And, of course, Jake’s family family had welcomed Bradley with open arms. 

Jake snuck back into the office, his arms full of folders, and heard Bradley coughing from just beyond the closed door. 

“I’m back,” Jake handed a pile of folders to Bradley, who was wiping his nose with a crumpled tissue. “You good?” 

Bradley nodded, his eyes watery and red, “just a cough. It’s dusty in here. I moved a few boxes, and it irritated my lungs.” 

“I’m going to call Maverick,” Jake was firm as he spoke to Bradley, their eyes meeting across the office. “You sound like shit, and I can tell you’re not feeling well.” 

“Drop it,” Bradley frowned. “Please, Jake, just drop it. I didn’t sleep well, my morning was thrown off, and my allergies are flaring up like they always do. I promise you, my dear sweet lover, that I am fine.” 

“I’m not going to drop it. And the sarcasm will get you nowhere,” Jake eyed Bradley as his boyfriend coughed into his elbow and winced as they were growing worse as time passed. “Do you want water?” 

Bradley shook his head, another cough ripping through his chest and his eyes filling with tears. Jake was concerned because he knew that Bradley was susceptible to chest infections, bronchitis, and respiratory illnesses. He was predisposed to them, just like his younger sister Jamie was when she was growing up. Jake remembered Jamie sniffling in the morning before school, and returning home with a deep, wet cough and a fever. He didn’t want the same for Bradley, but he knew most of the time that it was inevitable. After speaking with Maverick early in the relationship, when Bradley fell ill with Bronchitis, it was easy to see when he was getting progressively more sick. 

“He’ll be irritable, Jake,” Maverick spoke as they bellied up to the bar at the Hard Deck. “It’s his default setting. Irritable, quiet, and frustrated. Getting sick scares him, so tread lightly.”

Jake always did his best to give Bradley space, even when it broke his heart, as he saw a sickly or sad Bradley sitting on their couch, laying in their bed, or working at the desk across from him. The elephant in the room was Bradley’s cough, which had gotten worse since their ride to base. He wanted to attribute it to the dusty hangar and their small office (Bradley swore it was infested with black mold, anyway), and more than anything, he wanted to wrap Bradley in a hug and take him home. 

Jake’s mind wandered to the few times he’d seen Bradley really, truly sick. It was something that perpetually terrified him, the way he would cry out for his mother, father, or Maverick. The fevered thrashing and tossing, his burning skin, red-rimmed eyes, and wheezing, ragged breathing. He remembered walking into their shared bedroom after sending Bradley up to bed following dinner to find him in the throws of a fever, his body tangled in their sheets and his skin burning as Jake laid his hand across Bradley’s forehead. 

It was that night when he called Maverick, panicking, because Bradley wasn’t getting better. 

Before Jake could think further, he was snapped from his thoughts by a deep, guttural cough that had Bradley pitching forward and nearly hitting his forehead on his desk. He coughed deeply, but it wasn’t productive, and instead of the fit stopping, he continued to cough until his eyes were wide, rimmed red, and frantic as he struggled to draw a breath. 

Jake was on his feet quickly. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Jake was beside Bradley in an instant as violent coughs ripped through his body, searing pain burned his lungs, and tears filled his eyes. “Just breathe.”

“Can’t,” Bradley struggled against the coughing fit as Jake thumped three hits against the center of his back. “Hurts.”

“Sounds like it,” As the coughing subsided, Jake’s hand remained on Bradley’s back, rubbing up and down his spine as he encouraged the muscles to relax and for Bradley to sit up straight to allow for more air to fill his lungs. “What happened? Swallow wrong?”

“Must’ve,” Bradley cleared his throat. “Coffee’s a little worse than usual.”

“Nothing good about coffee on base,” Jake chuckled, eyeing Bradley carefully. “You sure you’re okay?”

Bradley was pale, but given the nature of the coughing fit that overwhelmed his senses, it made sense; so did the tear-filled eyes, runny nose, and raspy voice. Jake was concerned and needed to be entirely sure that Bradley was okay, healthy, and able to function.

He wouldn’t forgive himself if his boyfriend was sick and had kept how he was feeling to himself, no matter how closed off Bradley could be in moments of adversity. Even if it was just the two of them, Bradley’s go-to was shutting down and shutting off. He didn’t know what to believe about Bradley’s story. He knew he hadn’t slept well, but the rest didn’t make sense. 

The coughing made even less sense, and Jake had known him long enough to recognize an allergy cough when he heard one. 

This was more than that. 

Bradley hated worrying Jake and adding unnecessary stress in moments where he felt it didn’t belong. Work, for one, was a place where Bradley attempted to eliminate any stress he could cause Jake for the sake of peacekeeping when others were present.

“Yeah,” Bradley’s voice was rough, evidence of the coughing fit lingering. “Just coughed, Jay.”

“Nearly coughed your lung up on your desk, Bradshaw,” Jake rolled his eyes. “Forgive me for wanting to make sure that your organs stay on the inside.”

“You’re a comedian, Jake. You deserve your own Netflix special,” Bradley attempted to joke, but the words sounded strangled as he fought the tickle in the back of his throat. 

“I’d have tens of adoring fans,” Jake winked as he returned to his desk, a watchful eye on Bradley as he resumed his paperwork. “Might even make a joke about ya. Isn’t that what all comedians do? Joke about their wives?”

“If anyone’s the wife here, it's you, Mr. Pedicure,” Bradley stifled another small cough as a wave of discomfort rippled through his body. “Fuck that did a number on my throat.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, the jab at his self-care routine long forgotten.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Bradley furrowed his brow. “You’re freaking me out.” 

“You coughed this morning at home and came downstairs looking sick,” Jake recalled. “Seems some further investigation might be due.”

It was the frustrated sigh that escaped Bradley that indicated Jake needed to drop the subject, quickly, before there was an unnecessary argument taking place in the small office.

“I’m fine,” Bradley took a long drink from his water bottle, raked a hand through his hair, and picked up a new folder. 

“Report or eval?” Jake quickly changed the subject. “I’ve got four evals. Were we this moronic when we were at Top Gun?”

“Don't remember,” Bradley shrugged as he flipped through the papers in his hand. “At least I get to give Buckeye her evaluation.”

“Best pilot we’ve…” Jake was cut off as another harsh cough escaped Bradley’s lips.

As he was about to return to the brunette’s side, Bradley raised his hand to indicate Jake could stay put. 

“Don’t ask,” Bradley hacked. “If I’m fine. Because I’m fine.” 

“Whatever you say,” Jake’s words were laced with a deep-seeded frustration directed at Bradley’s glaring lack of attention to his personal well-being. “As I was saying before the demon living in your lungs decided to interrupt, Buckeye is the best one we’ve got so far. I like how she flies with Parrott and Sleuth.”

“Reminds me a lot of Tash,” Bradley shrugged. “I need her to kick Moose’s ass six or seven more times. Kid’s got a mouth on him.”

“So do you,” Jake winked. “Nothin’ wrong with yours though. ‘s pretty talented.”

Bradley bit back a laugh and shook his head, “We’re at work.”

“Our door locks,” Jake retorted, his eyes never leaving his paperwork. “Might be a nice way to get through the garbage we’ve gotta look at after the first few folders.”

“I’m not blowing you in our office when I can barely catch my breath without your dick in my mouth,” Bradley rolled his eyes. “It’s creative thinking on your part, though, babe. Love the initaitive.” 

Before Jake could respond, another ripple of coughs tore through Bradley, and Jake was scared that it would be a repeat of earlier, or worse, one that would cause Bradley to vomit. 

“You’re sick,” Jake didn’t ask this time; he made a simple observation. “And I’d like for you to tell me you’re not feeling well instead of giving me a bullshit excuse. I’m your boyfriend, I love you, and I’m worried about you.” 

Bradley looked at the folder on his desk in shame. Suddenly, the manilla envelope was the most interesting thing in the world as he thought about what his next move would be, and what he would say to Jake, who was watching him like a hawk. 

“Don’t tell Maverick or Cyclone,” Bradley rasped. “I’m just feeling a little off today. It should be fine by tomorrow, for sure, by the end of the week.” 

“Bradley,” Jake frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

The other man’s cheeks flushed a deep red as he bounced his leg and played with the sleeves of his flight suit, “because I didn’t want to bother you with something as small as a nagging cough.” 

“You’re not, though,” Jake said sadly. “It’s never a bother. In fact, it’s the opposite. I want to be there for you, for whatever you need. But I can’t read your mind, Bee. You gotta tell me these things.” 

Bradley flushed red with embarrassment as he nodded his head. 

“If I let Maverick know you’re going home early without telling him why, would you agree to taking some cough medicine and taking a nap?” Jake asked gently. 

Bradley nodded, “Just don’t tell him why I’m leaving. Make up an excuse and tell him we’re having work done at the house, and they showed up early or something.” 

“I can do that,” Jake nodded. “Need help packing your bag?” 

Bradley shook his head and began piling his papers and folders into the leather messenger bag at his feet, coughing each time he bent over to place more files inside. 

“I’ll bring home dinner,” Jake added, standing next to Bradley, who was halfway to the door. “Don’t overexert yourself. Watch a ballgame, take a nap, and drink water. Rest. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Bradley whispered, his arm snaking around Jake’s waist. “I’m sorry I’m worrying you.” 

“I’m always worried about you, Bradshaw,” Jake smirked. “From the first time I saw your questionable shirts and this rat on your lip.” 

“Shut up,” Bradley rolled his eyes, his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you when you’re home.” 

When Jake returned home, he found Bradley sleeping on the couch with a grimace on his face and a blanket pulled up to his chin. It was adorable on any given day, but today it concerned Jake that something was deeply wrong with his partner, and he was concerned. He placed the takeout containers on the bartop, and when he returned to the living room to wake Bradley, he was met by a pair of doe brown eyes staring up at him with a lazy smile. 

“Hi,” Bradley whispered. “‘M glad you’re home.” 

“I brought dinner,” Jake extended his hand so Bradley could sit up, and when he did, he doubled over, coughing. “Think you can eat some Thai food?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley smirked. “Nothing can keep me from Thai food.” 

The episodes and fits of coughing continued through dinner, and Bradley was exhausted. Jake could see it written on his features and wondered how long the nap had lasted, and when he’d actually fallen asleep upon his return home. Bradley’s eyes were bloodshot, no doubt from the harsh coughing, and his nose was running. 

“I’m going to watch the game, but why don’t you go up to bed?” Jake encouraged. “You need rest.” 

“But I want to spend time with you,” Bradley frowned. 

“I want you to feel better,” Jake rebutted. “It’s okay to miss a Thursday Night Football game when you’re not feeling well.” 

Frowning, Bradley picked at the food in the plastic container, coughing occasionally, as Jake watched him. 

“Are you finished?” Jake’s words were soft, and when Bradley’s eyes met his, he sighed. “You don’t look like you feel good.” 

“I don’t,” Bradley finally admitted. “My chest hurts from all the coughing, and the meds made me sleepy earlier.” 

“Then you should head up to bed, darlin’,” Jake stood and picked up their nearly empty boxes. “I won’t be mad at you.” 

“I know,” Bradley yawned. “But I love you and want to not ruin our usual Thursday tradition.” 

“Football season started a week ago. We can miss one night,” Jake walked back to Bradley and ruffled his hair. “Go up to bed, and I’ll be up in a little while. Text me if you need anything, don’t try yelling downstairs; it’ll make you cough.” 

Nodding, Bradley resolved himself to go to bed. 

He attempted a shower, hoping that the steam would break up what was happening in his lungs. He had no such luck, and between coughing fits, somehow got himself dressed for bed and turned on the small TV on their dresser. 

His body ached, and he needed something mindless to distract him from the intrusive thoughts of death and dying.  

It had been an hour since Bradley had gone up to their room when he became consciously aware of the beads of sweat on his forehead and the few that trickled down his back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his skin felt too tight, and his hands were trembling.

Mom was coughing like this when we finally took her to the hospital after what would be her final round of chemo.

She was almost turning blue.

She never came home. 

I don't want to die like my mom.

He knew he needed to tell Jake, to talk to Jake about these fears that were eating him alive and terrorizing his mind. He could calm down to Jake, who was watching a hockey game in the living room while on FaceTime with his nieces, and ask for cough drops, tea, and comfort.

He knew he should tell Jake about the fear that had him in a chokehold, threatening to cut off all oxygen.

But he couldn’t tell Jake and have him turn a molehill into a mountain.

It was just a tickle in his throat and an ache in his chest. 

It was just a little congestion.

But as he tried to talk himself out of the inevitable- he was catching a cold- his heart rate continued to increase, the trembling in his hands never went away, and he felt suffocated. His chest ached, his throat was raw from coughing, and his ears were ringing as he struggled to catch his breath with each wave of harsh, painful chokes that escaped his body as his lungs revolted. 

He was scared. 

Even though he’d told Jake he was going to bed an hour ago, he was restless, and now he was panicking. As he peeled the blankets off and pulled on a sweatshirt, his heart was still racing, and his lungs hurt. 

He needed Jake. 

He wanted Jake even if he couldn’t bring himself to tell him what was wrong. 

Violently throwing the blankets off of his body and struggling to free himself from the tangled sheets, Bradley wheezed and coughed so hard white spots danced across his vision. He needed Jake, but couldn’t draw the air into his lungs to call for him. Instead, he staggered into the hallway and down the stairs, stumbling at the bottom and into the wall. 

“Bradley?” Jake’s voice called sweetly from the couch. “Are you okay?” 

Bradley couldn’t respond, and the coughing and the ringing in his ears muddled his senses. His back hit the banister of the stairs, the railing digging into his back as he struggled to stop the coughing and take a deep breath to get the much-needed oxygen to his lungs. 

“Babe?” Jake’s voice was laced with concern. “Is that you?” 

A choked cough tore from Bradley, and within seconds, Jake was at his side, easing him onto the steps and digging the heel of his palm into Bradley’s chest, rubbing harshly. 

“Can’t,” fear washed over Bradley as he worked to form the words to tell Jake what was wrong. “Breathe.” 

“Shhh,” Jake whispered, his hand still rubbing circles counterclockwise on Bradley’s chest. “Focus on me, focus on what I’m saying. In and out.” 

Bradley choked and coughed as he listened to Jake, unsure of the words, but knowing the soothing sound was his boyfriend helped ease his racing mind and focus his attention on something other than the searing pain in his lungs. 

“Good,” Jake whispered. “There you go. Nice and easy.” 

“Jake,” Bradley coughed once more. “I don’t know what’s happening.” 

“You need to go to the doctor,” Jake whispered, his hand still rubbing up and down the length of Bradley’s spine. “Remember when you told me I could use this against you next time you were sick? I’m calling it in. I don’t like how you’re struggling to breathe right now. It’s scaring me.” 

“Mom,” Bradley wheezed as he fought off another coughing fit. “Mom… was like this… before she died. Cough, was bad.” 

“Oh,” Jake’s voice caught in his throat. “Oh, darlin’. I didn’t even think…” 

“S’okay,” Bradley continued to gag and cough between words. “Her lungs… with the cancer were… bad.” 

“Shhh,” Jake soothed. “Breathe, we can talk more later. Just breathe until you get the air you need in your lungs. I love you.” 

Bradley took deep, exaggerated breaths, each ending with a ragged, rough cough or a wheeze that made Jake’s heart sink. Bradley was sick, and Jake had sidestepped the truth all day because Bradley wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. 

“There you go,” Jake whispered, hand on the small of Bradley’s tense and slightly warm back. “Breathe, just breathe. Nice and slow.” 

Bradley continued to breathe, the struggle diminishing as he focused on the rise and fall of his own chest and Jake’s gentle, soothing words. 

“Keep breathing,” Jake helped Bradley sit up straight and allow the air to flow deep into his lungs. “Fill your lungs the best you can.” 

Bradley nodded, his chest rising and falling like he thought he would never experience again, Jake’s hand firmly on his back, and one holding his hand. 

“Good,” Jake soothed. “Good job. Breathe.” 

“Trying,” Bradley wheezed. “Gettin’ easier.” 

“It’s not supposed to be hard in the first place,” Jake kissed Bradley’s temple. “You feel a little warm.” 

“That’s how my mom would take my temperature,” Bradley cleared his throat. “She’d kiss my forehead. Jake, I’m scared. What-what if this is how I die? Some fate to die just like my mom did?” 

“Hey,” Jake wrapped his arms around Bradley quickly in an attempt to ground his partner. “None of that, it’s not happening. You’re not dying.” 

“But,” Bradley was cut off by a soft kiss on his lips. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Jake helped Bradley to his feet. “You can talk more about your mom when we get you situated and propped up on some pillows, okay?” 

Bradley lazily followed Jake to their bedroom and snuggled under the blankets as the blonde got ready for bed. While he waited for Jake to join, he stripped off the sweatshirt, suddenly too hot, and leaned back against the pile of pillows for the time being. As Jake walked out of their shared bathroom, Bradley moved his pillows back to his side of the bed, left Jake’s for him, and allowed his boyfriend to climb into bed next to him. 

“When mom got sick, it was just a cough,” Bradley confessed. “‘S why I hate having one. It scares me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake pulled Bradley into his side and let the older man rest his head on his chest. “D-did you know, I mean, what it was?” 

“Mav thought she had pneumonia,” Bradley sighed. “When they did scans, it was cancer… everywhere. Said it started as Breast Cancer and had spread.” 

“Oh, love,” Jake breathed. “I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay,” Bradley’s voice was filled with sorrow. “I’s young enough that I didn’t know much, but old enough to know she was really sick.” 

“Don’t talk too much,” Jake said in fear of triggering another coughing fit. “Tell me what you need to tell me in small parts, okay?” 

Bradley nodded and continued, “She admitted she’d been feeling unwell for a while. She just didn’t make her annual appointment that year… she-she missed it because I-I had a baseball.”  

“It’s not your fault,” Jake’s voice was laced with sadness. “It’s not your fault, Bradley.” 

“That’s something I’m working through with Dr. Cook,” Bradley coughed roughly. “She says the same thing.”

“And she’s right,” Jake trailed his fingers up and down Bradley’s bare back. 

Bradley nodded and relaxed under Jake’s gentle touch. Some days, believing that his mother didn’t get sick because of him was easier than others. It was a lifetime of shouldering guilt for distracting her from her annual check-up, and a lifetime of wondering what would have happened if they’d caught the cancer before it consumed her body. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” Jake kissed the crown of Bradley’s head. 

“I don’t want to die like she did,” Bradley sniffled. “It was so hard to watch her as she struggled to breathe.” 

Jake was at a loss for words as Bradley spoke, unsure of what he could say that would ease the pain and the anxiety. Instead, he ran his hand through Bradley’s messy curls and winced at the fever. 

“You’re warmer than you were when we came up here,” Jake’s cool hand felt like heaven against Bradley’s forehead. “I don’t like that you’re running a fever.”

“‘S nice,” Bradley mumbled. “Cold.” 

“You’re cold, or my hand is cold?” Jake furrowed his brow in concern. 

“Hand,” Bradley’s voice was raspy and tired. “Nice and cold.”

“You’re not nice and cold, though,” Jake mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to Bradley’s warm forehead. “You’re running pretty hot, actually. Will you let me take you to the infirmary tomorrow? That way, if they keep you, I’ll be on base, and so will Maverick?” 

“Don’t want you to leave me there,” Bradley coughed again. 

“I won’t,” Jake promised. “But will you promise me that we can go? That you’ll let a doctor check out your lungs and make sure nothing’s going on in there?” 

Bradley giggled when Jake tapped his chest. 

“Bradley,” Jake frowned. “Promise me?” 

Bradley nodded and curled into Jake’s side with a sigh and felt himself begin to doze. 

He was restless as he struggled to sleep, his lungs finding a way to rouse him from his almost-sleep each time he started to get comfortable. He hated that he was keeping Jake awake when he needed to be up for work in about 7 hours. Bradley considered moving to the couch to sleep, in hopes of giving one of them a peaceful night’s sleep, but as he rolled over to remove himself from their shared bed, Jake’s hand was on his arm and rolled him onto his chest. 

“Sleep,” Jake ghosted his lips over Bradley’s warm forehead and pulled him close. “The doctor will help you feel better tomorrow, and we’ll get your cough taken care of.”

Bradley shook his head and sniffled, his mind still reeling with terrifying what-if scenarios and the guilt of disturbing his partner, who needed sleep.

“Brad,” the blonde responded to Bradley’s silent rebuttal. “They will.”

“Don’t,” Bradley coughed welty. “Don’t wanna-wanna die like mom did. A-and you need sleep. ‘M keeping you awake.”

Jake’s heart broke at the statement, pieces falling into the hollow of his chest like shattered glass. He pulled Bradley as close as possible, his boyfriend’s head resting on his bare chest. He played with the short strands of hair on the back of his neck and rubbed soft circles with his thumb. 

“You won’t,” Jake kisses the crown of his head. “I promise, you won’t. We’ll get you healthy again, I swear. I just need you to feel better. I asked Maverick to call us both in tomorrow.”  

“‘Kay,” Bradley coughed again, burying his face in Jake’s chest. 

“I promise,” Jake whispered. “I promise they’re going to make you feel better. This-this isn’t what happened to your mom.” 

Bradley nodded, and Jake stayed awake until Bradley dozed into a fitful sleep, his hand never leaving Bradley’s back. 

Chapter Text

Bradley is annoying.

Even though he had promised Jake the night before that he would willingly and peacefully go to the infirmary on base the following morning, it was a different tune when he was instructed to put on his khaki uniform instead of his flight suit. It was painful for Jake to listen to him cough, hack, and gag as he struggled through his morning routine, but most of his sympathy fell by the wayside when Bradley began to pout. As cute as Bradley’s sad, brown eyes could be when he was begging for something that he wanted, his sad, pouting face was nothing short of frustrating. 

So yes, even though on his best days Bradley was a menace, today he was just annoying. 

“You promised me you’d go there without a struggle and without an argument,” Jake spoke harshly, his words biting a little more than intended. “But no, now you’re going to bitch and moan when all I want is for you to feel better.” 

Bradley coughed into his elbow as he looked at Jake, whose shoulders were slumped, and his cheeks were red with frustration. The way Bradley had been coughing for the last 24 hours even made Jake’s chest hurt, and that’s where his concerns came from. The fact that Bradley even sounded like he was in pain made the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stand on end, and his heart beat just a touch faster than normal. 

He wasn’t mad at Bradley, but he was frustrated by the sudden 180 from the night before when he’d agreed to let Jake take him to the infirmary. A place Jake knew would help his boyfriend feel better, maybe start him on a hefty dose of antibiotics, and hopefully prevent a raging case of Pneumonia that Maverick mentioned sometimes came with a respiratory illness in Bradley’s case. 

Jake was worried because he hated seeing Bradley suffer in any way. 

“But I feel better,” Bradley emphasized. “I told you this morning I was feeling fine. I promise.” 

“Yeah, sure, Bradshaw,” Jake rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Because listening to you wheeze in your sleep and nearly cough your lungs out definitely eased my mind. And now I can hear that gunk rattling around in your chest. You’re lying to me.” 

“I’m not,” Bradley’s voice was filled with exasperation. “I promise you, I feel fine.” 

“I’m not dealing with your shit today, Bradley,” Jake said dryly. “You can get in the car and go to the infirmary or get in a plane and let your lungs explode. Honestly, right now, you’re being an annoying little shit. So make your own decisions since apparently you won’t listen to me.” 

Bradley’s heart stopped when the look on Jake’s face said everything he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, verbalize. It stuck fear in his heart, and he thought back on the Before Jake and Bradley arguments they’d have, the way they’d come to blows in the classroom, the hateful and hurtful comments, and the way they antagonized one another to goad a reaction. 

He was scared that’s what was happening now. 

“Jake,” Bradley whispered from where he was standing in the kitchen, his heart pounding. “I just…” 

“Just what?” Jake’s brow was furrowed, and Bradley could see the frustration in his eyes. “What could you possibly say that wouldn’t start a fight right now? I already know you don’t want to go.” 

Tears pricked Bradley’s eyes as he stared at Jake, an ache in his heart and anxiety he hadn’t felt since the crumbling of his last relationship made his body go cold. He didn’t want to make Jake mad but was terrified of setting foot in the infirmary; he thought he’d explained himself well enough the night prior. 

“Just forget it,” Bradley rasped, quickly wiping his eyes and turning his back to Jake with a harsh, pained cough. “It’s nothing.” 

“Don’t walk out of that door until you tell me what you want to tell me,” Jake’s voice was noticeably softer after he saw the tears in his boyfriend’s eyes, but Bradley still felt his flight response kicking into overdrive, and his emotional brick wall being rebuilt quickly. “Please. We don’t start our mornings with fights. We never fight, so just tell me.” 

Turning back to face Jake, Bradley’s face was pale, and a sheen of sweat was across his forehead. As he sought comfort from somewhere, something in their small living room, his eyes darted around the space, and Jake instantly felt guilty for his knee-jerk reaction to Bradley’s behavior that morning. He could see the fear-filled brown eyes searching for a focal point, a distraction, an anchor.  

Yeah, Bradley was annoying on his worst days, but he was sick, and Jake had just yelled at him. He’d yelled at him and told him to make his own decisions, and when he’d made the adult decision to say something to Jake that now appeared to be very important, Jake had gone cold and unintentionally shut him down. 

And now Bradley looked like he was three seconds away from a panic attack. 

“Bradley,” Jake whispered gently as he walked toward his boyfriend, who flinched slightly. “You don’t look like you feel well.” 

Bradley coughed in response, and he’d hoped it would be anything but when he’d opened his mouth to respond. 

The older aviator’s lungs ached, his throat was raw, and his chest, sinuses, and head felt heavy and like they were filled with concrete. He wanted to cough, and when he was finished coughing, he wanted to cough again. Because surely something would rid his lungs of whatever made him feel like he was drowning and unable to breathe easily. 

“I feel like shit,” Bradley coughed wetly as he tried to keep his tears at bay. “But you’re mad, so we might as well get going so you can yell at me in the car, too.” 

Jake felt frozen in place as his boyfriend, someone who he loved with his entire being, stepped backward and away from him because he felt threatened. Bradley usually sought comfort from Jake, but he looked like he was ready to run at any second, much like the foals on Jake’s family’s ranch. 

Another wet, painful cough pulled Jake from his almost spiraling thoughts, and as Bradley nearly doubled over from the lack of oxygen brought on by the now very harsh coughing fit, all his anger and anxiety melted away and were replaced by fear. 

Bradley needed him, and they could talk later. 

“I’m not mad,” Jake was at his side quickly, his hand bracing Bradley’s chest. “But Roos, you’re not doing okay right now. Physically or mentally, it seems,” Jake sighed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I’m not sorry for being frustrated with the situation.” 

“I was,” Bradley struggled as he fought the oncoming cough. “I was trying-trying to tell you why…” 

Bradley’s voice trailed off as a second, deeper, and more painful cough echoed through the small living room. Every breath in was painful, and every exhale sent a wheeze reverberating through Jake’s brain. His boyfriend was sick, they both knew he needed to go to the doctor, but there was a block, a disconnect somewhere between last night and this morning. 

And finally, Jake’s now fully online and caffeinated brain put the pieces together. 

The block was Bradley’s mom, a woman he’d seen wither away into nothing as she fought cancer; too many cancers to name from the recollection of Bradley’s explanation of the metastasized Breast Cancer. 

He’d heard her sick, with a similar cough, days before she passed away, and Jake was kicking himself for forgetting the vulnerable nighttime conversation the pair had while tucked under their blankets and tangled beneath the sheets. 

“Can you tell me in the car?” Jake’s gentleness starkly contrasted with his previous frustration as Bradley struggled. “I want to get you to the infirmary as soon as I can. I’ll stay with you the entire time, I promise.”

As he eased Bradley into a more upright position, he could see up close and personal just how sick his boyfriend looked that morning. He’d heard him wake a few times in the night, returning after leaving to get water or take another dose of Tylenol, and he’d felt him tossing and turning beside him as he struggled to find a position that would alleviate his coughing. Now he could see the hints of purple under his tired, tear-filled eyes, the sweat on his forehead, his pale, chapped lips, and the look of frustration etched into his features. 

He looked terrible. 

“I know you’re not feeling better,” Jake kissed Bradley’s temple. “And I know you don’t want to go, but you need to. Can I help you to the car?” 

Bradley shook his head. 

“Do you want me to get you some water?” 

Bradley nodded and coughed into his elbow, saliva, and phlegm spraying onto his skin, his eyes pinched shut in pain, and Jake left to retrieve a bottle of water from their refrigerator. As he returned, he saw concern written across Bradley’s face, like he had a question he was too afraid to ask. 

“Here,” the cool bottle found Bradley’s hand. “Drink it slow so you don’t cough it back up.” 

Bradley nodded. The thought of speaking hurt his chest. 

“Jay?” Bradley looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “A-are you mad at me?” 

“No,” Jake rested his hand on Bradley’s too-warm cheek and brushed a thumb over his freckled skin. “I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you.”

“Seem mad,” Bradley whispered as Jake wrapped an arm around his waist and led him toward the door. “Kinda scared me.” 

Bradley stopped abruptly and erupted into another violent wave of coughing and wheezing. Jake, with one hand on Bradley’s chest and the other on his back rubbing small, gentle circles, felt his heart aching at the state of Bradley’s illness. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered. “Sometimes anger and worry… they just come out the same. Just focus on breathing. Focus on me. It’ll be over soon. The doctor will help.” 

Bradley nodded as he struggled to take in precious oxygen amidst the coughing fit. When he was convinced he was finished and that his lungs had somehow remained inside of his chest, he stood and tugged on Jake’s sleeve to indicate he was ready to go. 

“Does talking sometimes trigger coughing?” Jake asked cautiously as they both climbed into the truck. “Or is it something else?” 

“Everything does,” Bradley’s voice was rough and raw like he’d gargled glass. “I feel like shit. My head hurts, and so does my throat.” 

Jake nodded and reached over to take Bradley’s hand; he was scared the older pilot would pull away in fear of irritating Jake, but instead, he laced their fingers together. 

“You could, and only if you want, tell me what you wanted to tell me inside?” Jake looked over at Bradley, hopefully. “I’m sorry I was so harsh. I didn’t mean to make you feel like it wasn’t safe to tell me something. It’s always safe to express your feelings to me. I won’t be upset with you.” 

Bradley nodded and stared out the window for a brief moment before squeezing Jake’s hand like it was a lifeline, like it was the only thing tethering him to the planet that would keep him from floating away. He hated feeling so ungrounded, so distant from what he knew was reality, but he was scared. 

“My mom,” Bradley whispered, tears pricking his doe brown eyes. “I just don’t want to end up like my mom, s’all. She was like this.” 

“Before you lost her? I know,” Jake held his hand tightly. “I’m sorry I forgot about that part of our conversation last night. I was so worried about you that some of the things we talked about didn’t stick like they should have. Is that why you’re anxious?” 

Bradley nodded. 

“Were you with her a lot while she was sick?” 

Bradley nodded again, “every day after school and all day on the weekends. Mav was as much as he could.”  

“I’m sorry you had to go through with that,” Jake spoke softly. “No one that young should have to witness their parent that sick.” 

Swallowing thickly and trying to stifle a cough, Bradley frowned, “It’s cold in here. Can I turn on the heat?” 

“Bee, it’s warm,” Jake’s worried voice rang through the truck. “You’re running a fever again, darlin’. We’ll be there soon. Do you want the blanket out of the back seat?” 

Coughing with enough force to propel him forward before he could answer, Bradley’s vulnerable state allowed for panic to seep in through the cracks of his “tough” facade. With each weak, struggling inhale, his heart raced. He frantically reached for Jake’s hand, trying to find a grounding presence that could pull him back to reality. 

“Bradley?” Jake’s voice cut away at the fog in Bradley’s brain as he struggled to comfort his boyfriend before he could pull over. “Bradley, breathe, okay? I’m looking for somewhere to stop.” 

Bradley shook his head wildly as he erupted with hacking, ragged coughing, and pained breathing as he nearly hit his head against the dashboard of the vehicle. His hand was clenching Jake’s like a lifeline, and the other was pulling at the top of his khaki uniform. 

“I’m dying,” Bradley panicked. “Jake, I’m dying.” 

As soon as Jake found an empty parking lot, he swiftly pulled in and threw the truck in park. With a racing heart and shaking hands, he helped Bradley into a seated position, the older of the pair letting out a whine as their hands were separated. Bradley fought to catch his breath. The awful sounds that came instead would haunt Jake long after his partner recovered. 

“You’re not dying,” Jake’s warm, calloused hand was on Bradley’s cheek instantly. “You’re not. I promise you’re not dying, Bee.” 

“Jake,” Bradley choked, his cheeks a deep crimson as he coughed again. “My chest.” 

“Does it hurt?” Jake questioned worriedly. “How can I help?” 

“I’m dying,” Bradley cried out, his hand now tight around Jake’s wrist. “It-it’s just like…” 

“No,” Jake cut him off, hoping to stop the spiral. “It’s not. You, babe, you’re just sick. It’s something that they can fix with medicine and some rest. You’re not dying.” 

“I’m dying,” Bradley’s breathing was increasingly worse as he started to cry, gasps and coughs reverberating through the cab of the truck, causing Jake to wince.

“Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw,” Jake’s voice was sharp and intense. “I need you to focus on me, not on anything else. On me.” 

“Jake,” Bradley cried. 

“My voice, listen to my voice and get out of your head,” Jake ran a soothing hand up and down Bradley’s forearm as he spoke evenly. “Focus right here on what I’m saying.” 

Bradley shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks and his chest heaving with each attempt at a deeper breath. 

“You’re not dying,” Jake soothed. “Not even close. You’re sick, and your lungs are struggling. It might feel like you’re dying, but you’re not. You’re right here with me, in my truck, in a… Wells Fargo parking lot.” 

Bradley began to feel his senses return as Jake’s calloused hand ran up and down the length of his forearm, encouraging him to follow the movements and breathe. His heart was pounding in his ears, his head was throbbing, his chest ached, and he felt like he swallowed glass. 

“Good,” Jake continued his gentle motions. “Just like that, breathe slow. In and out. Give your lungs a chance to catch up and cool off a bit. They’re overworked.” 

Bradley, for the first time, was able to take a deeper breath than he could in the past hour. His head felt fuzzy on top of the ache behind his eyes and in his temples, but Jake was there, and even when Jake was frustrated with him and didn’t always understand his flight response, he made everything better. 

“There you go,” Jake’s hand slowed, and instead of removing it, he squeezed Bradley’s arm gently and waited for him to open his eyes. “Just like that. Keep doing that for me.” 

Bradley nodded, and Jake winced at the wheeze of his exhale. 

“Much better,” Jake whispered. “Even breathing is going to help your cough, believe it or not. When you get worked up, you stress your body too much, and then you start panicking. I don’t want you to cough so hard you pass out.” 

“Almost did,” Bradley responded weakly. “Jake?” 

“Hmm?” Taking his own deep breath, Jake met Bradley’s scared eyes and saw the flashes of pain on his face. “Your color’s getting better.” 

“Can we go?” Bradley squeezed his hand. “I-If we sit any longer, it’s going to get worse.” 

“The cough?” 

Bradley shook his head, “the anxiety.” 

“Yeah,” Jake spoke softly. “We can go. Just breathe slowly, and don’t fight the coughing. And don’t swallow that shit if you feel it coming back up.” 

Bradley nodded, and as Jake pulled from the parking lot, his hand found Bradley’s, and he squeezed three times. 

I love you. 

“I know you’re nervous,” Jake pulled onto base, and Bradley’s leg was bouncing so forcefully it was shaking the cab of the truck. “But I’ll be here the entire time. Mav too.” 

“Mav?” Bradley croaked. 

Jake nodded. 

Amidst his frustrations that morning, Jake let Maverick know that Bradley left work yesterday because he was sick and that nothing was improving, even with cough suppressants and other remedies Jake had looked up online. He was scared, and even though it was breaking a promise to Bradley, he knew it was necessary to stem the anxiety felt by his partner. 

“You said you wouldn’t,” Bradley’s heart was racing again, a feeling of panic spreading through his body. 

“I know,” Jake admitted. “But you’re sick, and you need him to be here. He didn’t ask questions, but he’s going to meet us here.” 

Bradley swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“You ready?” Jake frowned, Bradley’s face starting to pale. “Breathe.” 

“No, I’m not,” Bradley confessed quietly. 

“You can do it,” Jake leaned across the console and kissed Bradley on the temple, his lips lingering against the warm skin for an extra beat. “I’ll be here with you the entire time.”

With a little coaxing and gentle reassurance, Jake was able to get Bradley to the check-in desk of the infirmary, and his information was, thankfully, easily found in the system. They were assured that a nurse would be out to take them to an exam room shortly, but the longer the couple waited, the more Bradley felt like he could vomit. He didn’t notice the new face in the waiting room, but Jake’s eyes shone with tears as Maverick caught sight of his Godson. 

“Hey, kid,” Maverick crouched down in front of Bradley. “Feeling kinda shitty?”

“Understatement,” Bradley turned his head and coughed harshly into his elbow; Maverick winced. 

“Jake said you’re having a hard time,” Maverick’s voice was barely a whisper. “What’s going on?”

“Thinkin’ about mom,” Bradley felt tears prick his tired eyes. “How she got sick like this before she died. I-it’s the same.”

“No,” Maverick’s hand fell on Bradley’s thigh as Jake reached over to intertwine his hand with his boyfriend’s. “It’s not the same, Bradley. I promise.” 

“Feels the same,” Bradley mumbled, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Maverick’s shoulder.

“I know,” Maverick whispered, his voice even and calm. “But we both know it’s not. Jake knows it’s not. And the doctor’s going to be with you soon enough that it’ll all feel better.” 

Bradley nodded, and a warm hand traced patterns up and down his back as he tried to steady his breathing. It was difficult, especially when his heart felt like he’d just finished running a marathon and his lungs ached. 

“It’s going to be just fine,” Maverick wrapped his arms around Bradley’s shoulders. “You’re going to be just fine.” 

“Wanna go home,” Bradley whined, tears flooding his eyes. 

“I know,” Jake’s voice joined the mix as he squeezed Bradley’s forearm. “But we don’t have a choice, babe. You’re sick.”

Swallowing thickly in an effort to suppress a cough, Bradley leans his head on Jake’s shoulder as Maverick (whose knees popped when he stood but will vehemently deny it) takes a seat next to the couple. 

It was a little while longer before Bradley was called back to an exam room, his Godfather and boyfriend in tow. The nurse initially objected to the extra bodies but recanted when she realized that there was no way Bradley would remain calm in the infirmary without one of them with him. They attempted it, and before Jake knew it, Maverick was also being ushered into the small room as he talked Bradley through a small panic attack. 

“Shhh,” Jake ran his hand up and down Bradley’s back as he was seated next to his partner. “Mav’s here too. It’s okay.” 

Bradley nodded weakly, his hands trembling as the room became busy and the nurse reentered with a rolling cart. 

“I’m just going to take your blood pressure and temperature,” She reassured him. “Your doctor will be in shortly, but we need a little bit of information.” 

Bradley could feel the pressure building in his eyes and struggled to keep the tears at bay as Jake slipped his hand into his, and the nurse strapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm. 

“You’re doing great,” Jake brushed his lips over the shell of Bradley’s ear. 

Bradley swallowed thickly, and before the nurse could get a good read of his blood pressure, he erupted in a fit of coughs that ended with his lips tinged blue and Maverick’s eyes wide. 

“I’m going to go get your doctor,” the nurse said quickly. “That was pretty nasty, and we can do everything else when she’s seen you.” 

Bradley deflated as the woman left the room, his hands shaking and his bottom lip quivering. 

“I’m dying,” Bradley’s voice cracked. “I’m dying.” 

“No,” Jake soothed. “No, you’re not dying. You’re just sick, darlin’. She’s only getting your doctor so we can figure this out instead of waiting until you turn blue.” 

Bradley hiccuped and soon began crying. 

“Easy,” Jake rubbed his back as the door cracked open, the doctor and nurse stepping inside. “Just like we did earlier, breathe nice and slow.  

“Bradley, I’m Dr. Anderson,” The older man with salt and pepper hair spoke softly. “I hear you’re sick.” 

“Dying,” Bradley sniffled. “I’m dying.” 

With a frown, Dr. Anderson rolled a stool over in front of Bradley’s exam table, and Jake and Maverick stepped back to give them room. Flipping through notes, Maverick knew that Dr. Anderson would see Bradley’s family history and have an insight into the panic dripping from the aviator. 

“I don’t think you’re dying,” the doctor said gently. “But I think you might have a nasty case of bronchitis based on the coughing I could hear from the hallway.” 

“See,” Maverick whispered. “You’re no stranger to that, Bradley. It’s okay.” 

Bradley shook his head and, in an attempt to keep the tears and harsh coughing at bay, began to tremble with anxiety. He was scared of hearing the words his mother heard, that Ice heard, that collapsed the small world he’d established. 

“I-I don’t,” Bradley coughed into his elbow as his heart rate increased, and Jake moved quickly to his side to provide what little comfort he was able. 

“You’re not,” he whispered. “But you gotta let them do their exam so we can know for sure.” 

Bradley nodded and leaned into Jake’s gentle touch. The nurse, who readjusted the blood pressure cuff, was able to get a good read and clipped the oxygen meter to Bradley’s index finger before swiping a thermometer across his forehead. 

His blood pressure was elevated, his pulse was significantly higher than average for resting, and he was running a fever. 

“Breathe,” Jake whispered again. “It’s okay.” 

It wasn’t until after a thorough examination by the doctor, a diagnosis, and several coughing fits that Bradley was able to relax. 

It was just Bronchitis. 

Just Bronchitis. 

“I’ll take him home,” Jake whispered to Maverick as the doctor finished talking Bradley through the side effects of the antibiotics and instructions for his breathing treatments. “I don’t want to leave him there alone.” 

“I’ll call you out,” Maverick clapped him on the shoulder. “Think you can handle him alone? Need backup?” 

“Nah,” Jake glanced over at Bradley, who looked worse than they imagined he felt. “I think I’ll get him home and put him to bed after we pick up his medication.” 

“Call me if you need me,” Maverick nodded before returning to Bradley’s side. 

Jake didn’t know what was exchanged between the pair, but when Maverick left his Godson, a sheen of tears could be seen in both of their eyes. 

“Ready?” Jake placed a warm hand in the middle of Bradley’s back. “We can go home.” 

Bradley nodded and, with Jake’s help, stood from the table and leaned heavily into his partner’s side. 

“Let’s get you to bed, babe.” 

Chapter Text

Stepping out of the bedroom with the door slightly ajar, Jake leaned heavily against the cool wall, scrubbed his hands over his stubbly face, and sighed. Bradley, his sweet, soft Bradley, was sick, and he didn’t know what to do. Jake wasn’t a stranger to the mood shifts when his boyfriend was stressed, anxious, sick, or hurting, but he hated the pain that reverberated through his chest with each avoided sentiment or soft touch that he hoped would bring comfort. 

Before his reconciliation with Maverick, Bradley had been on his own for nearly 15 years. 

15 years without someone to massage his shoulders when the muscles ached, his heart was broken, or he wasn’t feeling well. 15 years without a presence in his life who was there for support or comfort when times were tough, and even though he was working diligently with Dr. Cook to unravel and process these traumas, Jake struggled with his place in Bradley’s life when he would pull back and retreat into the comfort of isolation. 

Tonight, though, Bradley conceded ever so slightly when Jake encouraged him to take a bath to help bring down the climbing fever. It was nearing 1900, and Jake could tell he wasn’t feeling any better following a dose of cold medication and a little TLC, so the bath was the next best thing in Jake’s mind. 

Bradley was hesitant at first; he didn’t want to inconvenience his partner, but he was lethargic, achy, and congested. Pairing those with the fever felt like the weight of the world was collapsing on his fragile independence, and he allowed Jake to run a warm- not hot- bath with a lavender-scented bubble bath. 

Jake continued to lean against the wall in the hallway, his head resting against the cool surface, and struggled with what else he could do. He didn’t want to bother Maverick; the reconciliation was new enough that he wasn’t sure if Bradley would want Maverick there for every sneeze and sniffle. Javy and Natasha were out to dinner, and Bob was back home for his sister’s wedding. His mother always knew what to say in the hard moments and the tough times, and even though it was an hour later in Austin, he hoped she would still be the comfort he needed if he called. 

He’d been so invested in making sure Bradley was comfortable that he forgot to check in with himself. As he stood in the dimly lit hallway, he was coming to the realization that he needed his mother and was heartbroken that Bradley couldn’t pick up the phone and call Carole for the same motherly comfort. 

Not wanting Bradley to overhear his anxiety, he quietly made his way downstairs to the kitchen and leaned heavily against the counter while weighing his options: his mom or Maverick. 

Jake refused to take advantage of the small moments, not after learning about Bradley’s heartbreak, so with a shaky breath and sweaty hands, he fished his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, found his mother’s contact, and called. 

After three rings, Jake’s racing mind slowed as his mother’s voice rang through the speaker; it was instant comfort at any age, and Jake nearly cried.

“Jakey? Honey, is that you?” He could hear the smile in her voice, and tears pricked his eyes. 

“Hey, mama,” Jake rasped. “I miss you. I miss you guys so much.” 

“I miss you too, baby,” she soothed; her voice was music to Jake’s ears as he listened to her speak. “What’s wrong, Jake? You don’t sound like you’re doin’ alright.” 

Jake sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of Bradley’s worn, grey UVA sweatshirt he’d pulled from their shared closet before launching into his brief explanation for his sullen tone. 

“Brad’s sick,” Jake said weakly, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “Fever, chills, and he’s achy. He feels miserable and looks worse.”

“Oh, that poor boy. Is he okay?” She asked gently, concern dripping from every word. “Is there anything I can send you two that might help? What do you need, honey?” 

“He pulls away when he’s sick, ma,” Jake confessed, sadness hanging on every word as he tried to relay Bradley’s current state. “H-he, you know the story. He tries to do it all on his own, but when he gets sick, it’s worse. I don’t know what to do. He’s sick, and I don’t know how I can be there for him when he keeps pushin’ me away.”

“Honey,” Laura Seresin spoke gently, her voice even and calm as Jake tried to steady his breathing and his wavering emotions. “He’s having a hard time. Being sick makes people even more vulnerable than they usually are. He’s probably scared. What can I do to help?” 

“I wish you were here,” Jake slowly slid down the cabinet fronts and sat on the floor, his head leaning against the oak. “I wish you were here every day, but especially right now. You always knew what to do when we were sick, and you’d make him feel better.” 

“I can be there tomorrow,” she said without hesitation. “Is that what would be best? Do you want me to fly in? Or could you call Natasha or Javier?” 

Jake squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling down his cheeks. 

“No,” Jake sniffled. “I think it would make Bee pull further away, honestly. I think if anyone was here beside us, he’d shut all the way down.” 

“What are your other options?” She inquired, her voice laced with motherly concern. “What have you tried?” 

“Cold medication, and he’s in a bath right now to try to break up his congestion and bring down his fever,” Jake sighed. “He hates the doctor's mom. Any mention of it will have him spiraling.” 

“Okay,” Laura voiced her understanding to her son. “You’re doing what I’d do, Jakey. That’s a good thing. It might take a bit of time to bring the fever down. Have you tried a cold rag on his forehead or an ice pack on his stomach?” 

“Just the first one,” Jake muttered. “He says he’s freezin’, and I don’t want to make it worse.” 

“I understand, sweetheart, but if his fever is a concern, you might have to,” she replied gently. “If he took NyQuil, he can’t take Tylenol. Has he had any water or anything to eat?” 

“I’ve tried to get Gatorade in him as much as I can, but he’s not hungry,” Jake frowned. “I wish you were here, mama.”

“I know,” Laura cooed. “I can’t be, though. But we’re going to figure something out together.”

“Your Chicken Noodle Soup always made everything better,” Jake reminisced. “Even if it wasn’t medicine, it always made me feel better when I felt shitty.” 

“You could make it,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll text you my recipe.” 

“Mama, no offense, but you didn’t raise a chef,” Jake laughed weakly. “Bradley’s the one who cooks most of the time unless it’s something I can throw in the oven.” 

“It’s easy, honey,” She chuckled. “I just sent you a picture of the recipe. Should take about an hour if you’ve got all the ingredients.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Jake chortled. “But if I burn the house down and Bradley has to run outside naked after his bath, he’ll never forgive me.” 

“Honey, if you burn the house down making soup, you shouldn’t be allowed to live on your own or with a partner,” Laura laughed heartily. “It’s just chicken, carrots, an onion, celery…” 

“Brad hates celery,” Jake groaned. “Will it suck without it?” 

“Use a pinch of celery salt in its place,” She didn’t miss a beat with her substitution. “And you’ll either need to use egg noodles or white rice and chicken stock.” 

“I know we have rice,” Jake thought for a moment about what was in their refrigerator. “I know we have chicken and everything else. Noodles might be a miss, but we definitely have rice.” 

“And a big stock pot?” 

“We definitely have that. Bee made a really fancy soup a few weeks ago, and he used that,” Jake confirmed. 

“There you go,” Laura smiled through the phone. “Talk to me while you get to work?” 

“Yeah,” Jake grinned. “I’ll need you to walk me through this anyway.” 

As his mother walked him through the recipe and his preparation, he listened for signs of life from Bradley upstairs and hoped that he would settle into bed following his bath. Hearing the older man stumbling around their room made Jake nervous, but he knew that hovering and being a “mother hen” would do no good for the anxiety his boyfriend was feeling and his stress. Bradley was always loud and a bit of a bull in a China shop, so while he was concerned about the noises coming from upstairs, he wasn’t entirely surprised.

He did want to return to their bedroom as soon as possible because he wanted to be with Bradley, even if it meant sitting in silence and letting him take the lead. 

Instead of wallowing in his anxieties and spending too much time locked in his head like a wrongly convicted offender, Jake’s dedicated effort was making a perfect soup. HIs mother spoke to him patiently as he asked about the best method for chopping onions so his eyes didn’t burn, and he smiled to himself as she told him she had the same reaction when chopping onions for any dish. 

Even if he was horrible at anything other than the basic “dump it in a pan or a crock pot and go” meal, cooking made him feel closer to his mother. 

“Okay, it’s boiling, what do I do now?” Jake asked softly, his mind wandering. 

“Add your carrots first, and then you’ll add everything else,” She explained. “You’ll want this to boil until the vegetables are soft. Do you have an Instant Pot?” 

“We do. We used it last week,” Jake confirmed. “Will that cook the chicken faster?”

“It will,” His mom chuckled. “You need to take a few cooking lessons.” 

“Hey,” Jake feigned offense. “I can hold my own, and I’m great will the grill and the smoker. Bradley loves to cook.” 

“I just worry about my baby,” His mother replied quietly. “Are you feeling any better?” 

“I’m not the one who’s sick,” Jake sighed. 

“A mother is allowed to worry about her son and his partner,” Laura quipped. “You weren’t yourself when I answered, and I’m worried about you too, honey.” 

“Talking to you always makes everything better, mama,” Jake smiled to himself. “I’m glad I have you.” 

“You know you can call me whenever you want, not just when Bradley’s not feeling well,” Laura sighed. “I miss hearing from you and all of your adventure stories. So do the kids.” 

“I’ll make sure I call more,” Jake gently stirred the vegetables in the pot and started to work on the chicken. “How’s dad? How’s everything on the ranch?” 

As Jake cooked, his mother filled him in on everything he was missing. His sister Jennifer had started a new job in Houston, and she and their family had moved recently. His other sister Brianna was still in Medical School, and this was her Match year. She was hoping she’d end up in San Diego and could spend more time with her brother and his partner. It was gentle and comforting, hearing about life in Texas, even if he missed it every day. 

Jake belonged in the skies, and his family knew it was where his heart truly was, but when he introduced them to Bradley, they knew he also belonged in San Diego or wherever the other aviator was stationed. Bradley and San Diego were Jake’s home, even if the ranch wasn’t whole without him. 

“Are you going to have any time off for Christmas?” Laura asked as Jake finished shredding the chicken and adding it to the soup. “We’d love for you to be here.” 

“I think we have a week,” Jake recalled. “Brad wants to spend a day or two with Maveric,k, but I could convince him to come with me when I take my leave.” 

“We’d love for you to bring him along,” Laura’s voice was filled with excitement. “Your father is dying to meet him in person, not just through your phone.” 

“So long as he gets to set his own boundaries,” Jake noted. “Holidays are hard for him, and I don’t wanna overwhelm him with all the Seresin holiday charm.” 

“He can participate in as little or as much as he wants,” she explained. “I just hate the idea of him bein’ away from you while you’re both on holiday leave.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jake grinned to himself. “When do I add the rice?” 

“You can add it now, and then give it 20 minutes,” his mother’s final instruction was followed meticulously to ensure the soup would be perfect. “You’ll want to add a little bit of salt and pepper for flavor.” 

“Got it,” Jake laughed. “He’d scrunch his nose up like a kitten if this didn’t have any flavor.”

He could hear his mother shuffling around on the other end of the phone, and as she laughed at Jake’s comparison, he heard a soft “found it!’ and waited for her to return. 

“I’m going to send you a recipe book,” She said firmly. “All of them are rather easy, but it’s more for Bradley than for you. I can tell you miss home, and if you can’t cook ‘em for yourself, I’ll send Bradley this with  some of them flagged.”

Jake’s heart swelled with love and pride as his mother openly and vocally accepted Bradley into their family. It was everything he hoped for, and even after the accepting, loving openness from everyone in Texas after he came out, this was icing on the cake of life. 

“I love you,” Jake whispered, tears pricking his eyes once again. “I love you so much, mama.” 

“Oh baby, I love you too,” She sniffled. “We miss you so much.” 

“You and Pop should come visit,” Jake said out of the blue. “We can introduce you to Mav and show Dad the hangar.” 

Pondering Jake’s statement for a moment, his mother smiled, and he could hear the joy in her words. 

“We’d love to,” Laura smiled. “We have a little time we can carve out and come see you. We’d love to see you.” 

“We even have a guest room,” Jake laughed. 

“So you’ve finally given up the “we’re roommates” act?” Laura responded, her hearty laugh filling Jake’s ears. “Didn’t think that would last long.” 

“We were never roommates,” Jake snorted. “We just have to tell the military that sometimes.” 

“You’re both terrible.” 

“Mama, I think it’s finished,” Jake took the lid off the stock pot and was met with steam and bubbling liquid as the rice expanded and the ingredients came together. 

“Good,” Laura smiled. “Now turn off the stove and dish it out. Get it up there to your boy.” 

“I will,” Jake sighed. ‘Thank you for everything.” 

“It was just a soup recipe, sweetheart,” She deflected, not wanting her emotions to overwhelm both of them. 

“Mama,” Jake’s voice was soft. “ I mean it. For everything.” 

“It’s what you do for people you love, Jakey,” she sniffled. “It’s what you do for your babies even when they’re grown. Don’t be a stranger and call more often, okay?”

“Okay,” Jake agreed. “I can do that. I’m gonna get this upstairs to Bee.” 

“Make sure you give him our love,” Laura reminded him. “And Jake?” 

“Yeah, ma?” 

“I love you to the moon and back, honey,” she cried. “Always.” 

“I love you to the moon and back twice,” Jake followed. “I’ll call you this week, I promise. If Bee’s feeling better, we’ll both call.” 

“By honey, I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“Bye, mama.” 

Hanging up the phone, Jake’s heart felt lighter. His mother, his true North Star since he was born, hadn’t realized the words she said to her son in their brief phone call would make all the difference in the world. Dishing the steaming soup into a bowl, he let it sit on the counter a bit longer to cool, and he pulled a Gatorade- yellow only for Bradley- from the refrigerator and quietly made his way upstairs. 

“Roos? Baby?” Jake whispered from the doorway into the room lit only by lamplight. “Are you awake?” 

“Mhhm,” Bradley mumbled. “Hi.” 

“Sit up,” Jake encourages gently. “I brought you some soup.” 

“From where?” Bradley rolled over and looked up at Jake with a furrowed brow. “ You weren’t gone, were you?”

“I made it.” 

“You made it?” Bradley was confused. 

“Mama Seresin’s recipe,” Jake placed the bowl on the nightstand next to the Gatorade and brushed the damp curls from Bradley’s forehead. “She sends her love. Pops too.” 

“Sounds like it’ll make everything better.” 

“It should,” Jake smiled. 

“Thank you,” Bradley whispered. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Jake pressed a soft kiss to Bradley’s forehead and helped him into a seated position, the aroma of Mama Seresin’s Chicken Noodle (Rice) Soup filling the room. “To the moon and back.” 

“Sap.” 

“But I’m your sap.”

Chapter Text

Bradley felt like he had been submerged in ice water and left to drown. As he stared at his phone, the screen blurred by unshed tears, his hands began to shake, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. He wasn't prepared for what his search results would return, but after a fast "swollen lymph nodes," "fever," "wet cough," and "sore throat" search, he was confident that Jake was the next casualty in his short life.

Cancer.

In all of their glory, the internet and WebMD said that Jake has cancer.

With trembling hands and sweating palms, Bradley looked over at Jake- his fierce, antagonistic, beautiful Jake- who was sleeping restlessly to his left and a lump formed in his throat that he couldn't will away, and tears burned in his deep, brown eyes.

His stomach churned at the thought of Jake's golden skin suddenly ashen, his green eyes dull, and the bags beneath them creating an allusion of sunkenness and impending death.

He remembered his mother, those eyes that brought him peace and comfort and were always filled with love, losing their sparkle and the light behind them going out forever as the heart monitor whined and he sobbed into her still chest.   

Bradley let the first tear fall as he listened to Jake's congested breathing and began to lose feeling in his hands as they shook violently in his lap.

He could  see  how swollen Jake's lymph nodes were and  feel  the heat radiating from his partner as they lay together in their bed. He thought of all the moments he would miss with Jake- all their firsts and forevers- when Jake was taken from him, too.

The universe had a vendetta against Bradley Bradshaw, and as the tension inside Bradley's chest finally snapped like an old, fragile rubber band, he sobbed. 

Sliding down the headboard, Bradley ignored the warmth of Jake's skin and wrapped his arms around him, his forehead resting on Jake's broad, bare shoulder, and he cried.

He cried for his mother.

He cried for Ice.

He cried for the loss of their future.

A raspy whine escaped Jake as if he could feel Bradley's shuddering sobs in his sleep, and he snuggled further into Bradley's embrace, oblivious to the terror and panic filling his partner.

He was too sick to wake, and NyQuil was the roadblock between Jake's brain and the ability to comfort Bradley. 

"You can't leave me too," Bradley's pained cry filled the room. "You can't leave me, Jay. You can't."

Still sleeping soundly, Jake couldn't acknowledge the pain of loss piercing the armor Bradley had forged all those years ago as a child at his mother's bedside. 

"You can't go too," Bradley's guttural sob shook his large frame as he clung to an oblivious Jake. "We're just getting started."

Jake stirred, and Bradley stilled.

“‘m no’ goin’,” Jake rasped. "'ove you."

"Jake," Bradley gasped, another sob escaping his lips and a fresh wave of tears flooding his eyes. "Jake."

Groggy with sleep and sickness, Jake slowly and sluggishly opened his eyes and was met with a devastating sight.

Bradley was crying.

His Bradley was crying,  and he didn't know why. 

"Roos?" Jake's voice was gravely strained, his brain struggling to return online. "Roos, hey."

Bradley buried his face in the soft skin of Jake's shoulder and shook his head, his face now wholly hidden but his chest heaving with deep, anguished cries.

"Go," Bradley croaked. "Back to sleep. 'M okay."

Jake was too sick to understand the gravity of the situation, but he raked his fingers through Bradley's messy curls and scratched his scalp, eliciting another cry.

"'kay," Jake whispered. "'ove y'u." 

"I love you so much, Jake," Bradley struggled against the tight feeling in his chest and the salty tears that dropped down his cheeks. "So much. Rest, okay? Just rest."

Jake nodded, teetering on the edge of sleep again, and allowed Bradley to pull him against his broad chest. He buried his face in the crook of Bradley's neck, and Bradley's heart finally shattered with his small, subtle movements.

He wouldn't have this much longer.

Everything was constantly being ripped from underneath him, leaving him alone in a world filled with hurt.

It wasn't  fair.

Jake didn't even know he was dying, and it wasn't  fair.

Reaching blindly for his phone as one arm remained wrapped firmly around Jake, who felt like he was running a fever once more, Bradley gasped for air, and his vision blurred.

Can I call?

Instead of a response, Bradley's phone buzzed in his hand, and the photo of him with Maverick following the Uranium Mission flashed across the screen.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up?" Maverick's alert and awake voice surprised Bradley, given the hour of his text, and he hiccuped.

"Mav," Bradley wept. 

"Whoa, Bradley, what's wrong?" Maverick entered concerned Godfather mode, and Bradley could hear rustling from the other end of the call. 

"Jake's  dying,  Mav," Bradley choked out. "Just like Mom and Ice. He's  dying. "

"Brad, honey," Maverick's voice was laced with worry. "I'm coming over. I'll be there in ten minutes. I need you to breathe."

"Dad," Bradley continued to struggle against his exploding emotions and painfully tight chest. "'m g-gonna l-l-lose him too!"

Maverick could be heard moving about the home he shared with Penny and whispering softly to his girlfriend that his  kid needed him  and he would be home soon.

"I can't lose him too! Not like mom and dad and Ice!" Panic had taken hold, and Bradley's thoughts were a runaway train. "He can't go!"

"Bradley Bradshaw," Maverick snapped and tried to grab his Godson's attention. "Breathe. I need you to breathe."

"But he's  sick,  and he's  dying,  Mav," Bradley struggled to fill his lungs with air. "He's burning up, and he's  sick ."

Maverick was locking the door behind him when he heard Bradley's muffled sob.

"Bradley, kiddo," Maverick breathed. "I'm on my way."

Maverick's drive to Bradley and Jake's shared home was filled with flashbacks of their last moments in Carole's hospital room; Bradley clung to his mother much like he envisioned he was clinging to Jake. The sounds of his Godson's cries would haunt him, and those haunting memories were dredged up as he tried to soothe the deep-seated fear of loss.

"Meet me downstairs," Maverick conveyed gently as he pulled into the driveway. 

He could hear Bradley sniffle and his heart ached. Before Maverick could knock, he heard the click of the lock.

"Mav," Bradley choked, throwing open the front door and collapsing in his Godfather's arms. "Mav."

Clutching his Godson, Maverick felt the younger man fold into his embrace, and his tears soaked the thin material of his sleep shirt.

"Shhh," Maverick soothed. "I'm here. I'm here, Bradley."

"He's so sick," Bradley sobbed, his breathing coming in short gasps and hiccups. "He's  dying ."

Wordlessly, Maverick held Bradley in the entryway, his body shaking with each of Bradley's cries. He didn't know what to say to alleviate the aviator's pain, so instead, he rubbed his warm, calloused palm up and down Bradley's back in languid motions, hoping it would encourage paced breathing.

"Let's go sit on the couch, and then we can go check on Jake," Maverick whispered, kissing Bradley's head. "I need to know what's going on so we can come up with a plan."

Bradley nodded, and even though the loss of contact reactivated the meltdown in his brain, he followed Maverick to the sofa.

"Honey, I need you to tell me what's going on," Maverick placed his hand on Bradley's bouncing knee. "I can't help if I don't know what happened." 

Bradley swallowed thickly, tear tracks on his flushed cheeks making him look so young. It was reminiscent of the night Maverick and Carole sat him down and explained that there was too much cancer. 

Too many ailments for treatment. 

That she was home so she could be comfortable and spend time with her sweet boy, who was barely fifteen.

"Jake's sick," Bradley croaked. "I-It started with a cough, and it was so mu-much like mom's, and he's running a fever, and his throat hurts."

"Bradley," Maverick whispered. "I know it's scary and reminds you of her, but it sounds like a cold. Maybe the flu."

"But his lymph nodes are so swollen I can  see  them!" Bradley choked. "He's  dying ."

Sighing, Maverick opened his arms, and Bradley toppled over into his lap with a gasp. He allowed Bradley to rest his head on his shoulder as he cried, the hiccups turning back into deep, anguished cries as Maverick threaded his fingers through Bradley's sweaty curls.

"That doesn't always mean death," Maverick breathed. "It could be anything, kiddo. Is that what made you so upset?"

"It's like mom," Bradley cried. "It's just like mom before we lost her. I haven't told Jake I wanna love him forever, and now he's gonna go too." 

"He's not," Maverick felt tears fill his eyes, and he blinked them away. "He's not going to leave you, kiddo." 

"He could." 

Maverick couldn't, and wouldn't, argue the statement for fear of being wrong. He could never promise Bradley something that definitive again, not after he swore Carole would get better, only to receive her terminal diagnosis weeks later. Even if he was sure Jake's body was fighting a nasty infection picked up on base, he couldn't make that promise again because of his own lingering fears.

"It's okay," Maverick soothed. "It's going to be okay."

They stayed like that until Bradley began to doze, his eyes fluttering as Maverick's hand slowed and his tears dried. He felt heavy like the weight of the world was dropped on his shoulders, and he was collapsing under the pressure.

"Bee?" A raspy, strangled voice filled the room. "Are you here?"

Looking up, Maverick saw Jake, who was bundled in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, his hair disheveled and his eyes droopy with sleep.

"Mav?" Jake coughed. "What're you doin' here?"

"You're sick, and Bradley's worried himself into a panic," Maverick said nonchalantly. 

"Didn't know if it's a dream," Jake yawned. "Thought he was cryin' but couldn't tell." 

Maverick nodded, his hand still carding through a sleeping Bradley's hair. 

"You sick?"

"Yeah," Jake wiped at his nose. "I picked up somethin' from Jackpot. His kid's been sick. Medical sent me home with an antibiotic and told me to rest. I've got a respiratory infection, and my sinuses are angry. Normal for me." 

Maverick frowned.

"Bradley thinks you're dying."

"Shit," Jake inhaled sharply. "Guess I wasn't dreamin'." 

Maverick shook his head and gave Jake a thorough once-over. He could see the swollen lymph nodes, and while the blonde looked worse for wear, he could see Jake's eyes were still bright, and he was still attempting a smile.

"In'r' n’t said cancer," Bradley mumbled. “Dyin’.”

"Bee," Jake breathed. "What?"

"Looked it up," Bradley's congested voice was clear to the others in the room. "Cancer." 

"Nope," Jake rose to his feet, his legs shaky. "I was gonna tell ya, but I fell asleep when I got home because I felt like shit, and apparently missed out on somethin' big." 

Crouching beside Bradley, Jake rested his hand on Bradley's flushed cheek.

"Okay?"

"Cyclone sent me to the infirmary today the minute he saw me," Jake recalled. "You were in the air, and I felt so…"

Jake stifled a cough before he could continue.

"Shitty that it slipped my mind. I have a run-a-the-mill respiratory infection and a sinus infection. Explains everything, including the swelling. I'm not dying." 

Bradley squeezed his eyes closed and took a shaky breath.

"Don't want you to leave, too."

"I'm not," Jake brushed his thumb over Bradley's tear-stained cheek. "I'm not goin' anywhere 'cept back to bed, darlin'." 

"Mmmm," Bradley hummed. "Promise?"

"I promise I'm gonna be around as long as I can," Jake soothed, his chapped lips brushing Bradley's forehead. "You should come back to bed, too. Let Mav go home."

Bradley nodded and, with Maverick's help, was soon in a seated position. He hugged his Godfather tightly, head resting on his shoulder before kissing Jake and slowly and silently sauntering to their upstairs bedroom with a slight stumble.

He was exhausted.

"You're telling the truth?" Maverick raised his eyebrow and looked sternly in Jake's direction.

Jake nodded, Coughing again, "said it'll clear up in a week or so. Two till I can be in a plane."

Maverick nodded and leaned back against the couch. Looking at Jake intently, he was satisfied with the response and scrubbed his hand over his face.

"Make sure you talk to him in the morning," Maverick encouraged lovingly. "And push him in Dr. Cook's direction."

Jake sighed and played with the sleeve of his worn sweatshirt.

"I didn't think he'd get this worked up about it. Wasn't my goal to keep it from him or send him down…" Jake gestured vaguely at the room. "This path." 

"I know," Maverick moved to stand. "Trauma responses come in waves and in fleeting moments, kid. Bradley's have never been predictable, but it's better to over-communicate about being sick than keep him in the dark." 

"Noted," Jake's voice cracked. "Thanks for comin' over."

With a clap on his shoulder and a gentle squeeze, Maverick's chords would forever stick with Jake…

"Get some rest and feel better. Thank you for loving our son." 

Chapter Text

For being a disciplined, decorated Naval Aviator, Jacob Andrew Seresin was a shitty listener and an uncooperative prick when he wanted to be- especially when he was being told to do something he didn’t want to do. After finding out that he had yet another sinus infection paired with a nasty Upper Respiratory Infection, there were three instructions he was supposed to follow that were handed down by the doctor who had seen him if he wanted to be back in the air with his squadron as quickly as possible:

1. Get plenty of sleep.
2. Start and finish the antibiotic even if he starts feeling better.
3. Drink more water. 

So far, all he had accomplished the following day was pissing Bradley off, starting an argument about taking his medication, and leaving bed every time he thought Bradley’s attention was elsewhere. He hated being told what to do, and he hated being bored even more than he hated taking direct orders outside of work.

So, when he heard the clanging and banging of pans downstairs and the aroma of food wafted through the hallways, he decided Bradley needed a friend while he made dinner. Sauntering into the kitchen, Jake leaned against the doorframe and smirked in the direction of his shirtless boyfriend, who had just become aware of Jake’s presence.

“Jake, so help me fucking God if you don’t get back in that bed,” Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he stood over the stove. “I will drag you there myself. Your doctor said the more sleep, the better and you need to listen.”

“But I feel better,” Jake grinned. “And I like watchin’ ya cook. Especially shirtless. One of my top five favorite domestic activities right after…”

“And you spent all night last night talking me off a fucking ledge,” Bradley cut him off as he stirred the food in his pot harshly and avoided eye contact with Jake. “You shouldn’t have needed to do that, not while you’re as sick as you are, so go the fuck to bed. Just listen to me, to the doctor, and go to bed.”

“Nah,” Jake shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and smirked. “You need company. Gotta make sure you don’t poison me or burn the house down.”

“You’re the one who can’t cook,” Bradley grumbled. “Never been an issue when I’m making you dinner, or any other meal for that matter.” 

“Consider it a learning experience, then.” 

“Dammit, Jake!” Bradley dropped the wooden spoon angrily, his nostrils flaring as he attempted to keep his composure. “Go. To. Bed.”

“I. Was. There. All. Day,” Jake countered sarcastically, his eyes boring into the back of Bradley’s head from where he was now seated at their countertop bar. “I’m bored, and my back’s starting to hurt.”

Before Bradley could respond, Jake coughed welty and roughly into his elbow, eyes watering and his cheeks red by the time he was finished.

Bradley had a stone-cold look on his face, and Jake felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as he watched his boyfriend’s eyes scan his body, looking for any sign of distress or discomfort that was present.

“Do I need to call your mom?” Bradley raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m one more smart-ass comment from calling your mom.”

“I’m not nine. You don’t need to tattle,” Jake rolled his eyes and clumsily rose from his seat as Bradley pulled his phone from his pocket. “Don’t do anything dramatic, darlin’.”

“Laura loves me,” Bradley smirked. “She told me last time we talked.”

“And she knows me,” Jake retorted, his mind racing at the thought of Bradley and his mother having a conversation about him. “She’s my mom .”

He’d rather it be about asking for her blessing, not because Jake was being a hard-headed, uncooperative patient and causing distress.

“Exactly why I’m about to call her,” Bradley deadpanned. “She knows your particular brand of pain in the ass. She created it. She’s dealt with you since the beginning.”

“She’s a saint,” Jake wrapped his arms around Bradley’s waist as his boyfriend stood with a scowl. “You love me.”

“I do,” Bradley confirmed grumpily. “But right now, I don’t know if I like you.”

Jake frowned, his hand moving to rest on Bradley’s cheek. He wasn’t accustomed to this version of Bradley in their relationship, one who was anxious and frustrated on more than a surface level when it came to Jake’s antics. They’d gone to therapy sessions together, spoken about their shortcomings as men, and had conversations that cleared the air almost completely.

It made Jake nervous.

“Why?” Jake sighed. “Bee, I told you last night that I would do anything to help you feel better and less anxious, and now you’re pissed at me.” 

“I’m not pissed,” Bradley mumbled. “I’m frustrated.”

Jake rested his head against Bradley’s chest and traced patterns on the small of his back. Instead of relishing in the touch of Jake’s cool, calloused hands, Bradley took a step back from his partner and shook his head.

“Jake, that’s not gonna work this time,” Bradley sighed. “Please go to bed.”

Jake looked at Bradley with wide eyes and took in his appearance. He looked… ashamed. It wasn’t a look Jake saw his boyfriend wear often, but when he did it was a sad sight. He didn’t know what was eating at him, but he didn’t want to make Bradley’s mood worse. Instead, he took three tentative steps toward the brunette and laced their fingers together.

“Bradley,” Jake cleared his throat. “Please look at me.”

“Go to bed, Jake,” Bradley sighed, his eyes closed. “Just go to bed and let me take care of you. Please don’t fight me on this.”

“Darlin’,” Jake whispered, his voice a little hoarse and rough from his coughing spells and illness. “Talk to me.”

“I really need you to worry about you and to let me worry about you,” Bradley’s eyes were still closed as he leaned against the counter. “We can’t keep doing this song and dance.”

Jake felt his heart pounding in his chest at Bradley’s soft, pained words.

It felt like a breakup to his muddled mind, and he didn’t know how to respond, not yet, anyway.

“You can’t,” Bradley swallowed thickly. “You can’t keep trying to take care of me and then acting like a little shit when it’s my turn.”

“There aren't any turns,” Jake rushed out. “Relationships don’t have turns. We take care of each other! You can’t walk away from that.”

Bradley shook his head and inhaled deeply through his nose, willing the tears at bay. He didn’t want Jake to get the wrong idea about the conversation but didn’t know how to verbalize the correct one.

I need you to care about you more than you care about me.

Take care of yourself.

My shit is my shit, and you can’t run yourself into the ground because I have trauma.

“You can’t,” Jake coughed as his voice cracked, and he started to panic. “You don’t get to end this because you’re mad at me for getting out of bed. You can’t lose your shit one night worrying and then break up with me because you’re afraid.”

Bradley shook Jake’s hand from his and turned away, not wanting to make the situation worse. But Jake Seresin was a menace, and he wasn’t going to back down without one hell of a fight.

“You don’t get to walk away,” Jake’s feather-light touch on Bradley’s bare shoulder sent shivers down his spine. “You can’t bottle things up forever.”

“I need you to take care of yourself before you try to worry about me,” Bradley sniffled. “I’ve, I saw Dr. Cook today. Another last-minute session because I needed it. Guilt has been eating me alive all day because of what happened last night. She wants to try a new kind of therapy, something EDMR or something.”

“EMDR,” Jake corrected. “I, uh, looked it up once. After.”

Bradley sighed, “This is what I mean.”

Jake felt lost. 

“I love you, Jay, with my whole heart,” Bradley cried. “But you can’t keep pretending like you don’t matter as much to me as I do to you.”

Cocking his head to the side, Jake furrowed his brow and gently turned Bradley to face him.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Jake said quietly. “But it sounds an awful lot like you’re breakin’ up with me for carin’ about you.”

Bradley shook his head as a tear trickled down his cheek.

“Talk to me,” Jake encouraged. “I can’t read your mind.”

“You’re not listening when I talk,” Bradley breathed. “I asked you if you could go back to bed and rest and let me take care of you. I’ve been asking you that all day.”

“But who’s going to take care of you?” Jake snapped. “If I go to bed, who's going to make sure you’re not self-destructing in our kitchen?” 

“I am,” Bradley cried. “I need to be able to push through these moments as my own person. Jake, I love you. But you can’t burn yourself out over my issues. Especially not while you’re sick. It’s why I scheduled with Cook, and it’s why I’m willing to try the EMDR. Because you deserve to put yourself first when I’m struggling.”

“So you don’t want me to care?” Jake argued. “I love you. I want to be there for you.”

Bradley shook his head, and Jake’s heart dropped.

“You can kick me out, shut me out,” Jake coughed again. “But you can’t tell me not to care about you when I love you. I won’t let you do that.”

“I’m asking you to let me take care of myself, to work through my trauma with a professional,” Bradley whispered. “I’m asking you to do what your doctor recommended and let me be there for you like you are for me.”

Jake was still confused by Bradley’s change in demeanor. Last night, Jake held him as he cried over the fear of losing someone else he loved to an incurable disease. He’d seen Maverick’s face and knew that Bradley was too far gone in his spiral to be okay, and he knew it was his job as his partner to be there and help put the pieces back together.

“Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because you’re my boyfriend, not my therapist,” Bradley croaked. “And I can’t keep putting that responsibility on you. Dr. Cook and I spent most of my session doing some introspective work. I love you, I love being your partner, but I haven’t treated you fairly when I’m spiraling.” 

Jake frowned. His eyes were stormy and anxious.

“Tell me to leave, and I’ll leave.”

“I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on this being a breakup,” Bradley spoke sadly. “It’s the furthest thing from my mind. But it’s pretty indicative of me being incapable of telling you anything you’ll listen to.”

“That’s a cheap shot.” 

“Jake, all I’m asking is for you to put your oxygen mask on first this time,” Bradley reached for his hand in a moment of bravery. “I’m just hoping that you’ll take care of yourself before you try to solve all the world’s problems.”

It clicked.

It finally clicked for Jake that Bradley was setting a personal boundary in their relationship to help them grow as a couple and to heal his own hurt, and Jake had been kicking down the paper-thin barrier with each word and defiant action.

“Bee, I’m sorry,” Jake reached for Bradley and pulled him to his chest. 

“I don’t want you to apologize for anything, Jay,” Bradley rested his cheek on Jake’s shoulder. “I just want you to understand that as much as I’m doing this for us, I’m doing this for me.”

“What do you mean?” Jake rocked them back and forth, his hand never leaving Bradley’s hip. “Can you tell me a little bit more?”

Bradley nodded and took a deep, shaky breath.

“Dr. Cook is going to be there for me step by step,” Bradley started. “But I need you to be here on the hard days. Not to fix, but to support. I’ll never get over these fears if I don’t focus on addressing them. She was very insistent that you’re a wonderful partner but allowed me to realize that I’ve been too reliant on how dedicated you are to helping. She called it our hero complex.” 

“Our?”

Bradley nodded, “She said I do the same thing.”

Jake pondered what Bradley said and squeezed his hip gently in encouragement.

“I just need you to let me take care of you,” Bradley nuzzled against Jake’s neck. “I’m already… I’m I just…”

“Take your time,” Jake encouraged, rubbing Bradley’s back. “I’m right here.”

“I need to be able to see the word cancer and not immediately get thrown back to my mom’s hospital room,” Bradley’s voice was small. “I was scared. But now I-I…”

“You’re embarrassed for how you felt?”

Bradley shook his head.

“Ashamed?”

Bradley nodded.

“I’m right here,” Jake kissed the crown of his head. “You don’t have to feel that way around me.”

Bradley nodded.

“Would you feel better if I went back up to bed and you could bring me dinner?” Jake hated seeing Bradley look so small. “I’m sorry I’ve been so defiant. I just want to get back to work and back to normal.”

“It would,” Bradley confirmed. “Don’t apologize for being you. I love your defiant ass when I’m not three seconds from derailing.”

Bradley whined when Jake pulled away, his hand reaching for the blonde.

“Thank you,” Bradley whispered. “For hearing me.” 

“Thank you for telling me.”

Turning back to the soup on the stove, Bradley smirked when Jake smacked his ass on his way by, and when their eyes met, Jake grinned.

“I expect my dinner at 1900, Mr. Bradshaw.”

Saluting, Bradley laughed.

"Hey Jake," Bradley called behind him, and his boyfriend turned around with a grin. "I wasn't serious about not liking you right now. I like you almost as much as I love you." 

"Back at you, princess," Jake smirked. "Just don't make a habit of sayin' that to me. Made me sad." 

"I'll make it up to you." 

"I deserve that much," Jake's playful laughter filled the kitchen as he rounded the corner and made his way upstairs. "Dinner! 1900!" 

Bradley smiled; yeah, it was going to get better.

Chapter Text

To put it simply, Bradley felt like shit.

He’d been dealing with post-meal discomfort on and off for about six weeks, but this time something was different, more painful, than his previous bouts with indigestion, nausea, and shoulder pain after eating something he deemed a safe food. The discomfort was tolerable any other day, but Bradley was growing concerned at the number of days he spent “not feeling great” when they began to outnumber the days he felt “fine.” 

He couldn’t eat anything excessively fatty, so he said goodbye to burgers on the grill and anything red meat; his body seemed to rebel when he attempted to stomach dairy products, so cheese, yogurt, milk, and his favorite- ice cream- were all casualties of his mysterious, sudden bodily aversions. 

He also found his body adamantly protesting red sauce, spicy foods, and pork. 

It got even worse when he woke the morning following a night at the Hard Deck. Jake was in Texas with family, Laura insisting they both visit, but Bradley needed to stay behind for work, and the Daggers had coaxed Bradley from the house with the offers of free beer and dinner.

The nachos and Bud Light did nothing for the increased nausea and chest pain. The morning resulted in a miserable phone call with Jake, who encouraged him to take two Tylenol and eat a Tums before going back to bed.

It was fine that evening when Jake returned home and was all but fine when they ventured to base for their typical Monday workday. 

Unfortunately, the rest of the day was equally as miserable as the morning before following the breakfast he’d chosen. The pain in Bradley’s chest never fully subsided, and the ache in his right shoulder was growing more and more intolerable. At one point, he’d even convinced himself he was having a heart attack until Maverick talked him down from a panic while Jake was on a hop and had given him Ibuprofen and Omeprazole for indigestion. 

“What did you eat?” Maverick raised an eyebrow in Bradley’s direction, concern filling his voice. “You’re old. You gotta watch your diet.”

“Fuck off,” Bradley groaned as he leaned over his desk. “I can’t eat anything but ice without feeling like my chest is trying to kill me and wanting to throw up on myself. It was a breakfast burrito.”

“Drama queen,” Maverick walked behind his godson and rubbed his shoulders. “Maybe you should see your doctor?”

“Every time I consider dragging myself to the infirmary, it’s always better,” Bradley sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t feel good.” 

“Is it always the same sort of pain?” Maverick pressed. “I’ve had a few issues like this, and his was stress-related. But your dad had his gallbladder removed on a carrier in ‘81 before you were born.” 

“Always the same,” Bradley’s words were muffled as he buried his face in the material of his flight suit. “Starts with nausea, ends with chest pain like I’ve been stabbed through the sternum, indigestion, headache, pain in my rib cage and shoulder, and generally feeling like I got hit by a bus.”

“Anything ever help?” Maverick shifted his position to sit atop Bradley’s desk, avoiding the folders of paperwork. 

“Not really,” His Godson whined. “Painkillers take the edge off, sometimes Tums. But then I found out Tums can give you kidney stones, and I’m not doin’ that shit again.”

“Want me to call Jake? Get him back to base?” Bradley vehemently shook his head at the suggestion. “Alright, no need for the dramatics. Tylenol and water always helped your dad, so did laying on a heating pad.”

“I don’t need him to hover just because my body has decided to reject all food except boiled chicken and rice,” Bradley chuckled. 

“Well,” Maverick patted Bradley gently on the shoulder and hopped down from his desk. “Keep me posted. Don’t get in a plane if you’re still feeling this miserable; it’ll only make it worse.” 

“Yes, sir,” Bradley slowly sat up and looked at Maverick, who gave him a quick once-over. “Any chance you can avoid telling Jake about this in general?” 

“Unless it gets worse, I don’t see why not.” 

It got worse, and two hours later, Maverick was sending Bradley home with strict instructions to call his doctor if it failed to improve before dinnertime. Rolling his eyes, Bradley climbed into the passenger seat of the Bronco as Jake drove toward their house, the sharp pain in his sternum growing in intensity as he tried to keep his composure. 

“Jake,” Bradley gasped. “Fucking hurts.” 

“I’m thinking I’d rather turn around and go back to the hospital than take you home,” Jake white-knuckled the steering wheel as he watched Bradley writhe in pain. “This seems really fucking serious, Bradley. And I’m a bit pissed you didn’t tell me sooner.” 

“It started,” Bradley curled further into himself as he pressed his palm into his sternum. “Just like it always does.” 

“Always does? You’re telling me that you’ve felt like shit, and it’s gotten to this point before?” Jake’s eyes went wide. 

“No,” Bradley snapped. “It usually goes away!” 

“Well, apparently, it’s not now!” Jake smacked his hand into the steering wheel. “Bee, you don’t look so hot.” 

Bradley reached over and gripped Jake’s forearm tightly, his chest heaving and his mouth watering, “pull over.” 

“We’re on the highway,” Jake internally panicked but looked for the next closest place to pull over. “What the…” 

He was interrupted as Bradley threw open the door and vomited along the highway, tears streaming down his cheeks and his body trembling. 

“Alright, we’re going back to the hospital; we’re not doing this,” Jake decided. “We’re absolutely not going home if this is how much pain you’re in.” 

“Not just pain,” Bradley dug through the glove box for napkins and wiped his face. “Nausea, indigestion, my chest feels like someone performed CPR for 10 hours and shattered my sternum…” 

“Noted,” Jake squeezed Bradley’s shoulder. “Hospital. I know you don’t want to go, but we’re going. Because you just threw up, and you’re in more pain than I’ve ever seen you in, including after you crash fucking landed in a Tomcat.” 

“Just hurry,” Bradley didn’t have any fight left in him as Jake returned to the road and exited, rerouting them toward the hospital on base. “Fuck, Jake, I don’t feel great.” 

“I know,” Jake took Bradley’s hand in his and squeezed. “I know you don’t.” 

The trip back to the hospital was quick, Jake breaking any speed or road law possible, and when they returned and flashed their IDs, it was a whirlwind in the hospital parking lot. 

Bradley threw up again, nearly on Jake’s boots. He stumbled toward the entrance, white spots dancing across his vision as his chest tightened and his stomach rolled. Jake pulled him in the doors, and before they were seen, Bradley grabbed the nearest waiting-room grade trash can and emptied his stomach… again. 

“We’re going to get you a room,” the nurse from the desk said quickly as she thrust a pink tub into Bradley’s arms and rushed down the hallway. 

They waited for five minutes, Bradley’s appearance deteriorating quickly before the nurse returned and ushered them into a triage room and began clipping monitors and machines to Bradley’s arms and chest. 

“How long has this been going on?” She asked, her hands now holding an iPad. “Roughly.” 

“This?” Bradley replied, leaning back onto the bed with a sigh. “Never. Everything else? Over two months.” 

“Everything else meaning?” She pressed. “Nausea?” 

“Nausea, chest pain, and bloating after I eat almost anything, headaches, pain in my ribs, stomach aches, throwing up, you name it, it’s happening,” Bradley groaned. “I feel like hell.” 

“I’m not a doctor, but yours will be in quickly. I have a suspicion you’re going to need your gallbladder removed rather quickly,” the nurse said stoically. “I had mine removed, and your symptoms are textbook.” 

“Surgery?” Bradley struggled to sit back up, his movements frantic. 

“It’s minor,” She frowned. “And better than the alternative, which is another attack like this one.” 

Jake eased Bradley back against the bed and scratched his scalp gently, aware of the panic and anxiety rising in the other aviator who was staunchly against anything medical-related happening to him, especially with such urgency. 

The nurse was correct, and Bradley was panicked. 

He’d been whisked away for an ultrasound and other scans after meeting with a doctor- Dr. Miller- and a surgeon was the next person to enter the small room. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Jake soothed as Bradley digested the information they were given nearly three hours after their arrival at the infirmary. “I sent Mav a text to let him know what’s going on. Told him I’d tell him more when we knew more, and now we do.” 

Bradley picked at the edge of the hospital gown he was now wearing, the hospital bracelet tickling his wrist and his mind racing. 

“What the fuck,” Bradley groaned, his hand raking through his hair. “Jake, what the fuck.”

“He’s your Godfather…” Jake was cut off by a hysterical laugh from Bradley. 

“No, what the fuck is this,” Bradley gestured wildly at the room. “I had heartburn five hours ago, and now they’re removing a whole ass organ? What the fuck?” 

Jake chuckled and pulled his chair closer to Bradley’s bedside. 

“You’re going to have a five-star stay at Hotel de la Navy,” Jake squeezed his boyfriend’s hand before brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“The only reason I’m okay with this is the hope that I never feel like this again,” Bradley confessed. “Otherwise, I’d be pissed.” 

“You’re handling this surprisingly well,” Jake teased. “I thought for sure we’d have a runner.” 

“Fuck off,” Bradley frowned. “I feel like shit.” 

“I know.” 

“And I know I’ll keep feeling like shit if I don’t take care of this now,” Bradley added. 

“Absolutely.” 

Thirty minutes later, they were in their own pre-op room, and Bradley was tucked under scratchy, blue hospital blankets, an IV in the crook of his elbow, an oxygen cannula resting on his mustache and laced over his ears, and a plethora of other monitors beeping in the background. 

He’d been given the pre-surgical “miracle drug” (Jake’s words, not his) that relaxed his taught muscles and racing mind. 

Now it was Jake’s turn to have a minor, warranted freakout. He’d never been in this position before, not with friends, family, or partners, and he felt helpless. 

“D’d you call Mav?” Bradley slurred, his body relaxing as the pain medication and light sedative took hold. “Needs’ta know.” 

“I did,” Jake brushed his fingers over Bradley’s sweaty forehead and raked his hand through his boyfriend’s hair. “He’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“M’kay,” Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed as Jake continued to card his fingers through the sweaty curls. “Scared.” 

“I know,” Jake soothed. “They’re gonna fix you right up, and you won’t be feelin’ this bad anymore. Are you sleepy, darlin’?” 

Bradley nodded weakly. 

“Okay,” Jake crooned. “Means the medicine they gave you’s starting to work. It won’t be long before they’re back to get you. It’s going to be okay.” 

Bradley began to fight sleep, hoping for one more moment with Jake before his team of medical professionals would return to his room. Jake, his hand still firmly in Bradley’s, watched as his boyfriend relaxed into the pillows, the hospital bed swallowing his larger-than-life partner. His heart ached, he hated seeing Bradley in pain or sick, but this was the first time their relationship had been tested in the “in sickness and in health” aspect that was usually solidified by marriage. 

It scared him. 

Once his boyfriend was in the operating room, all Jake would be able to do was wait. He wouldn’t be able to hold Bradley’s hand as the doctor removes the failing organ, brush the hair from his forehead that had fallen without its usual styling, or tell him how brave he was being when he knew Bradley’s aversion to the hospital. 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw?” A nurse peeked in the door, and Bradley’s eyes lazily peeked open. “I’m Molly. I’m going to be one of your nurses.” 

“Hi,” Bradley whispered. 

“Hi, honey,” She walked to the side of his bed and began to adjust the IV stand and monitors that were hooked to Bradley. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Can’ feel anyth’ng,” Bradley mumbled. “‘M tired.” 

“That’s a good thing,” Molly placed a surgical cap over Bradley’s head and tucked his hair under the translucent blue material. “The rest of my team will be here shortly, but can you tell me what we’re doing today?” 

Jake was taken aback by the question but settled when he recalled his tonsillectomy and how many times he was asked why he was there and what the procedure was going to be. 

“Tak’n my gallbladder out,” Bradley’s unfocused eyes struggled to meet hers. “‘M sick.” 

“Very good,” Molly replied, her hand rubbing up and down Bradley’s forearm. “We’ll take good care of him, Lieutenant Seresin. I promise.” 

Jake swallowed thickly and nodded, placing his full trust in Bradley’s medical team even when his own anxieties were getting the best of him. 

Reaching for Jake with languid limbs, when Bradley finally found his partner’s hand, he visibly relaxed.

“I hear you’re ready for us?” A red-headed nurse with a sharp, shrill voice bounced into the room with another on her heels, and Bradley winced. “How are you feeling, Lieutenant?”

“Nauseous,” Bradley’s voice was small and tired, his demeanor speaking volumes about how he was feeling and the anxiety coursing through his body. 

“That’s pretty normal,” Molly confirmed. “We’ll run your boyfriend through all of the information regarding anesthesia once you’re back in the OR. Nausea is one of them.” 

Jake squeezed Bradley’s hand and nodded in confirmation.

As the nurses milled about the room, the railing on either side of Bradley’s bed was raised, and the IV bag of saline and pain medication was moved to the stand connected to the bed. The reality and the gravity of the situation were breaking through the fog in Bradley’s brain, and the heart monitor began to chirp.

“Just relax,” Jake stood and leaned over to speak to Bradley. “I’ll be right here when you wake up, so will Mav. They’re going to take great care of ya.” 

Bradley’s eyes squeezed closed, and a tear trickled down his cheek. Jake swiftly wiped it away and rested a cool palm on Bradley’s fiery skin. 

“OR 1 is ready,” one of the other nurses confirmed as Jake’s hand was captured tightly by Bradley. “Ready, Lieutenant Bradshaw?”

Jake had a fleeting moment left with Bradley and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I love you,” Jake whispered. “You’re going to be just fine.” 

“Love you,” Bradley breathed. “Don’ leave.”

“I won’t,” Jake confirmed as the wheels on Bradley’s bed were unlocked, and the nurses rolled the bed toward the door. 

“We’ll be in to update you shortly and show you to his permanent room for the evening,” Molly confirmed. “We’ve got him from here.”

Jake watched until the heavy door clicked shut and sunk into the chair, his forearms resting on his knees and his shoulders slumped. He hated waiting; his impatient streak was ten miles wide, and when it was Bradley in the operating room down the hall, he couldn’t stay still.

He knew, on the other side of the steel doors with only key card access, his boyfriend was no longer only in his care. The brunette would be transferred to the surgical table, incisions being made into his abdomen, and anesthesia coursing through his body.

Jake was scared, but he put on his best brave face before sending his team a message and closing his eyes.

Bradley’s having emergency gallbladder surgery. Will update when I can.

Phoenix was the first person to check on them, followed by Coyote. Both volunteered to go to the house and take care of what might be needed. Jake thanked them and sent a small list of chores they could use assistance with, including changing the sheets on their bed and taking out the garbage. 

The others had created a system for everything else; Payback and Fanboy were going to buy groceries, and the four of them were going to stock the freezer with easy meals that would be gentle on Bradley’s recovering system so that they could eliminate distractions from Jake and Bradley’s life upon their return home.

Jake nearly cried at the thoughtfulness but straightened himself in the chair when the nurse returned with an update.

“They just put him under,” Molly relayed. “If you gather your things, we can talk while we walk.”

There wasn’t much for him to collect, just Bradley’s belongings in the plastic bag and his car keys, and he followed down the hall toward the infirmary wing.

“He’s doing great, Lieutenant. His vitals were strong, and hasn’t shown any adverse reactions to the anesthesia,” Molly explained. “When he comes out of surgery and is in recovery, there’s a high probability he’ll be very nauseous, which will be uncomfortable following abdominal surgery. We’re giving him anti-nausea medication; you’ll be sent home with that and an antibiotic. Because of the laparoscopic nature of the surgery, he’ll have a lot of upper back and shoulder discomfort from the gas. Even if he doesn’t feel up to it, encourage walking and sitting upright to help alleviate the pain, even if it’s short walks to the bathroom or down the hall.”

“I think you underestimate how stubborn he can be,” Jake laughed lightly. “Thank you, Molly.”

“It’s all very normal,” she responded with a bright smile. “He should feel back to his old self in a week or so. You’ll need to schedule a follow-up to have his stitches and staples removed. It’ll all be in the discharge paperwork you’ll be given tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”

Furrowing his brow, Jake thought about any instance that could cause issues in recovery.

“We’re aviators,” Jake noted. “Will he need to be cleared by our flight surgeon?”

“Most likely, yes,” Molly wrote a note on Bradley’s chart. “As long as your commanding officer knows, you should be able to schedule it easily.”

Jake nodded and made a note to ask Maverick about it when he arrived.

“Anything else before I head back?” Molly’s soft smile warmed Jake’s heart.

“His godfather will be here soon. Bradley isn’t a huge fan of hospitals,” Jake admitted. “Any chance he can wait up here with me?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

A few minutes later, Jake was aware of a new presence in the room, and Maverick took up residence in the seat next to Jake’s, a hand falling on his future son-in-law’s shoulder. 

“You doing okay?” Maverick’s voice was filled with concern, and his eyes were dark with worry. “Can I get you anything?” 

“I’m good, Mav,” A smile tugged at the corner of Jake’s lips. “Just worried about how long Bee was hiding this from me.” 

“I don’t think he was hiding anything,” Maverick leaned back against the wall, and Jake followed suit. “He wasn’t feeling well, but he said that part of it was going on for a while. Said you knew.” 

“I did,” Jake sighed. “Haven’t seen it get this bad before.” 

“I’d trust that this is an isolated incident then,” Maverick patted his thigh. “When was the last time he wasn’t feeling well?” 

“While I was gone this weekend,” Jake frowned sadly. “Didn’t know what else to do other than tell him to take a couple painkillers and eat a Tums and hope for the best.” 

“Bout all you can do,” Maverick remembered walking into their small room on the carrier, Goose in pain from what would become a gallbladder attack. “It can be genetic. Goose had his taken out before Brad was born. Similar symptoms, but you can’t ever be sure.” 

Jake nodded, and the pair waited for word from Bradley’s surgeon and team of nurses that he was moved to the recovery room. 

“Think he’s gonna say anything wild after he starts coming around?” Jake attempted to lighten the mood with a joke. “Like those videos?”

Maverick chuckled to himself and glanced over at Jake, “his dad did. Confessed his deepest darkest fear of spiders to a nurse and then started crying.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more crying from Brad,” the younger man inhaled deeply. “I hate it.”

“Yeah,” Maverick agreed. “It’s always been hard watching him cry; it broke my heart when he was little. Still does.”

“It’s pretty sad,” Jake noted. “Think he’s doing okay in there?”

“He’s doing great,” Maverick confirmed. “No doubt.”

It wasn’t long after that Maverick and Jake were ushered into the Recovery room, two softer chairs waiting for them along the wall. Holding his breath, Jake saw them wheeling Bradley back, and he relaxed momentarily. 

“He’ll start coming around in a half-hour or so,” the new nurse explained. “He’ll be groggy and potentially nauseous, but the surgery went well, and we removed his gallbladder. It was in pretty rough shape. Any longer, and it could have caused issues far worse than what he experienced today.”

“Thank you,” Jake said quietly. 

“You’re welcome,” She nodded as she assisted in setting up Bradley’s bed. “If he needs anything, the red button will call one of us.” 

Maverick stood beside Bradley’s bed, watching him sleep. He looked soft like this; there were no crinkles around the corners of his eyes or worry lines on his brow.

He looked childlike.

“He looks better,” Jake commented. “Not as pale.”

Maverick nodded and brushed a stray curl from Bradley’s forehead, waiting for a sign that he was starting to come around from the anesthesia. Jake knew he was an inherent worrier, having lost his parents, Bradley’s parents, and Ice. Maverick wasn’t a stranger to loss, and his appearance showed signs of stress and anxiety.

“He’s okay,” Jake said to no one in particular. 

“Just an old man’s worry,” Maverick breathed. “I held him the day he was born. Small enough he fit between my palm and my elbow; had me wrapped around his finger at 4 hours old.”

“He’s special,” Jake took Bradley’s hand in his and squeezed.

It was a few moments after the brief bedside talk that Bradley began to stir, and when his chocolate brown eyes met Jake’s, it felt like the world fell back into place.

“Hey there,” Jake soothed as he saw tears trickle down Bradley’s cheeks.

“Hurts,” Bradley whimpered. 

“I’ll call your nurse,” Maverick interjected, hand on the call button. 

“Mav?” 

“It’s me, kiddo,” Maverick smoothed Bradley’s hair. “Me and Jake are both here.”

“Cool,” Bradkey’s eyes started to flutter closed once more. “‘m glad.”

“Love you, Bee,” Jake kissed his forehead. “Just rest.”

Chapter Text

It was unusually warm for November in San Diego, so much so that when Bradley woke that morning, he pulled on a pair of athletic shorts and his favorite Notre Dame Fighting Irish sweatshirt and began preparing breakfast in his cluttered kitchen with the windows open and music playing softly in the background. It was the one day a week when he did his best to spoil Jake; Saturdays were his favorite day to sleep in, and Bradley hated to disrupt his sound sleep when his body naturally woke him just after sunrise. 

In the days and weeks following his gallbladder surgery, Jake had been steadfast: taking off work, preparing meals that wouldn’t irritate Bradley’s already sensitive stomach, and making him comfortable on the couch when the pain in his shoulders would flare. Bradley joked that he was an angel in disguise, but Jake reminded him that’s what you do for people you love. 

You care about them. 

With Jake asleep upstairs in their shared bed, his cheeks flushed red with warmth from their blankets, Bradley leaned heavily into the domestic bliss that was their weekend mornings. Football was on in the background, Game Day typically taking precedence unless the Longhorns played early. They would compromise: Jake would watch the Longhorns, and Bradley would watch the Irish, and if they played at the same time, they pulled the other TV in from the extra bedroom and streamed both games. 

It was soft, competitive, and loving. 

It made Bradley feel like his whole world existed in a bubble, safe from harm. 

Today was a bit different in the grand scheme of how they spent their Saturdays during football season. The Longhorns were playing a late game against Kansas State, and Javy insisted on throwing a watch party in his new condo to celebrate. Both quickly agreed, trading their full day of domesticity for time with their friends, but agreed that Sunday would be for the Cowboys and the Eagles and never leaving their couch. 

Cracking four eggs into a bowl, Bradley smiled as he thought about Jake. His love for football matched Bradley’s, but his cuddly nature made the in-game experience even better for the touch-starved aviator. Though they’d been together for over a year, Bradley craved Jake’s skin against his, letting him know he wasn’t going to disappear. 

“Hey,” Jake’s voice brought Bradley back to reality as his partner leaned against the doorframe, eyes tired. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” Bradley frowned. “You’re up early. I was going to surprise you with breakfast.” 

“Woke up, and your spot in the bed was cold,” Jake unfurled and walked toward Bradley, his arms wrapping around his waist. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Bradley snaked his arms around Jake’s shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of his head. “You okay?” 

“Mmmm,” Jake hummed as Bradley gently rocked them back and forth. “Just fine.” 

“Feel a little warm,” Bradley whispered. “Promise you’re not getting sick on me?”

Jake nodded against Bradley’s broad chest and sighed. His eyes slipped closed, still tired from his deep, peaceful rest the night before, and he toyed with the hem of Bradley’s sweatshirt. 

“You’re even warmer,” Jake commented. “‘S nice because I’m kinda cold. You have the windows open?” 

“Gorgeous day,” Bradley brushed his lips over Jake’s forehead. “You’re too warm to be cold, sweetheart. I’m gonna ask again: are you sure you’re feeling alright?” 

Jake peeled away from Bradley, nearly shivering at the loss of warmth and comfort, and their eyes met. Bradley quickly scanned Jake’s features- his eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks flushed, and his ears' tips were pink. Batting his boyfriend’s hand away when he reached for the blonde’s forehead, Jake rolled his eyes and started the coffee maker. 

“I just woke up, and that thousand-pound duvet gets hot,” Jake laughed. “I promise, I feel fine. I’ll tell ya if I’m sick. Unlike some people, I don’t hide how bad I’m feeling and end up in the emergency room for surgery.” 

Bradley shook his head in disbelief, the gallbladder incident being held over his head like he had control over his body, rapidly rejecting an organ. 

“One time,” Bradley huffed. “And I was fine!” 

“Mhhm,” Jake hopped onto the counter and watched as Bradley meticulously cooked omelets with bacon, cheese, green onions, and, much to his distaste, mushrooms. “Puttin’ your chunks of rubber in yours only, I hope?” 

“I’d never make you eat a mushroom,” Bradley shrugged. “I know you don’t like them. I’m not cruel.” 

“There was the pizza…” Jake recalled with a sharp grin. 

“We’d known each other for three weeks, and you didn’t tell me you didn’t want mushrooms on the pizza when I ordered it,” Bradley shrugged. “I never forgot, though. Watching you pick them all off was tragic.” 

“And watching you put them on your slice was repulsive,” Jake laughed. “We’ve come a long way since then, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley breathed. “We have.” 

Turning to face Jake as the first omelet sat in the skillet, he fixed his eyes on his boyfriend. His hair was still messy with sleep, and his pajama pants were too long. His eyes, shards of jade, glimmered in the morning sun that filtered through the open curtains. 

“What?” Jake cocked his head to the left with a smile. 

“Nothing,” Bradley closed the distance between them, his hands resting on Jake’s thighs as he stood between them. “I just like looking at you.” 

“I’m a treasure,” Jake pecked Bradley’s lips. “Of course, you like looking at me.” 

“Go to hell,” Bradley laughed. “We’re still good to go to Javy’s tonight for the game? Need to bring anything with us?” 

“Yes,” Jake confirmed. “To both. Good to go, and he asked if we could pick up a case or two of beer. He’s still putting together furniture. I volunteered to help, but he didn’t want to take our whole Saturday, so he called Harvard and Yale.” 

“So thoughtful,” Bradley captured Jake’s lips and brushed his thumb over his cheek, frowning. “Jake, are you being honest when you’re telling me you feel fine?” 

Rolling his eyes, Jake swatted Bradley’s hand away. 

“Should have called you Mother Goose 2.0,” Jake grumbled. “I promise you, darlin’, that I feel absolutely fine. Better than fine, I’m good. I’m very good. I’m great.” 

“Now that’s overkill,” Bradley frowned. “I’m just worried about you. We don’t have to go to Jav’s if you aren’t feeling up to it. We can watch the game here.” 

“Nah,” Jake plopped on a barstool as he escaped Bradley’s stare. “I’m fine. It’s gonna be a good time, and his new place is dope. We’ll go, watch the game, eat his food, and drink the beer we bring. Back home by 10, cuddled up by 11.” 

Bradley smirked as he turned his attention back to breakfast, “you want cheese on top of this, too?” 

“Always,” Jake grinned. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Don’t get used to it unless you exclusively like omelets,” Bradley grinned. 

“You can cook anything you set your mind to,” Jake beamed. “It’s what makes me want to keep ya around.” 

Sliding a plate toward Jake, Bradley smiled and imagined spending the rest of his life making Jake breakfast. His heart fluttered thinking about the future, what would be, and what was to come. He thought about their future in the San Diego bungalow, Maverick close enough to help with home repairs and watch the house while they were deployed. Lazy weekends and long mornings on the beach, friends in the backyard for parties. 

It made him feel whole. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Jake interrupted his daze. “Anything good?” 

“It’s always good when I’m thinking about you,” Bradley shrugged, flipping his omelet. 

“Sap,” Jake grinned. 

Their Saturday was lazy; they cleaned breakfast, and while Jake was in the shower, Bradley loaded the dishwasher and started their laundry. When Jake first moved in, they kept their clothes separate, and Jake’s resided in the guest room. Over time, Bradley’s bedroom became theirs; their clothing was in the same drawers, and Jake had half of the large closet. 

They watched the noon kickoff game, and Jake snuggled close to Bradley’s side as Colorado kicked off in Boulder, and the pair talked football, life, and evening plans. As Jake dozed off into an unusual afternoon nap, Bradley’s hand raked through the soft blonde strands of his hair and frowned at Jake’s forehead’s warmth. 

He was sick but refused to admit it, so Bradley left it be. He would let Jake come to him instead of pressing the matter. The day was off to a beautiful start, and he didn’t want petty bickering to ruin their moment together. 

“Can feel you starin’ at me,” Jake yawned lazily. 

“So observant,” Bradley brushed the hair from Jake’s forehead as he curled further into his side. “I love you.” 

“Lemme nap,” Jake mumbled. “‘M tired.” 

Jake was nearly on top of Bradley, and instead of rolling him off to the side, Bradley pulled him close and traced lazy patterns on the small of his back. The t-shirt he wore to sleep in was soft, and it was one of Bradley’s favorites of Jake’s. The faded lettering, the thin material, and the color were all perfectly Jake. 

“You only get an hour,” Bradley whispered. “Then we have to get up and get ready to go. But we don't have to go if you’re not feeling up to it.” 

“Shhhh,” Jake hissed. “I wan’ my full hour.” 

“Sleep then,” Bradley wrapped his arms around Jake, and like his partner, he dozed with football playing in the background. 

When they woke and lounged on the couch, Jake still didn’t look like he felt well. His cheeks were still flushed, and he was a bit warm to the touch, but Bradley didn’t press the matter. Instead, he dug through their closet for one of Jake’s “spare” Texas sweatshirts and pulled it on with a pair of jeans. 

“Texas Orange is a good look on you, darlin’,” Jake grinned, his voice a little raspy and hoarse. “Like a movie.” 

“Once a year, that’s the best I can do,” Bradley joked. “You don’t sound so great.” 

“It’s my post-nap voice. You hear it all the time,” Jake countered. “And more than once a year in the orange is going to be a new thing. Have to for the Red River Rivalry game, too.” 

“I can probably do that,” Bradley approached his partner and placed a calloused hand on his cheek. “Bout ready? If I keep lookin’ at you, we’re not getting out the door.”

“Hey,” Jake brushed Bradley’s waist with his hand as his boyfriend passed. “I love you too, you know.” 

“I said that to you hours ago,” Bradley led Jake down the stairs to their entryway. 

“Did you change your mind?” Jake frowned, picking up his boots and pulling them on quickly. 

“Nah,” Bradley grinned, keys in hand and a jacket thrown over his arm. “Ready?” 

Jake nodded, his hand in Bradley’s as they walked side-by-side to the Bronco, and Jake climbed into the passenger seat. Bradley loved it when he and Jake shared small moments, especially in the car together. He envisioned his dad driving his mom around in the bright blue vehicle, her laughter filling the spaces and his dad singing along to the radio. 

It was nice; another Bradshaw found a bossy blonde to love. 

“You’re thinking a lot today,” Jake mentioned as Bradley fiddled with the radio. “Something on your mind you’re not sharing with the class?” 

“Just thinking,” Bradley breathed. “Mom and Dad woulda loved you.” 

“Oh,” Jake whispered. “Bee.” 

“Nope, not getting sad with this,” Bradley squeezed Jake’s hand. “Just letting you know that they would have thought you were great and thought you were good for me.” 

“Mav said as much to me when he gave me a fourth shovel talk,” Jake grinned. “I wish I could have met them, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley brushed his thumb over Jake’s knuckles. “I know.” 

The pair pulled into Javy’s driveway a little late but perfectly on time for what Phoenix had dubbed the “Seresin-Bradshaw Show.” They loved to make an entrance, and each of them was a commanding presence. 

“Jake,” Bradley squeezed Jake’s forearm as he stopped his partner short of the door and took in his appearance. “We don’t have to stay long if you need to go home.” 

Jake was a little pale, and his eyes looked tired. Even though he was adamant that he was fine and feeling okay, Bradley didn’t trust him, and the little voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to take Jake home, bundle him up, and give him a dose of cold medication. 

“Okay,” Jake stifled a small cough. “I’m feeling okay, just kind of tired. I’ll let you know if I’m ready to go home. But I think it’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so,” Bradley wrapped an arm around Jake’s waist as he knocked on the door.

Javy opened the door excitedly, quickly ushered the couple inside with a fast hello, and began showing them around. As Jake walked side by side with his best friend, Bradley hung back and looked around the room. 

“Hey, Tash,” Bradley grinned. “Don’t you look cozy?” 

“Shut up,” She said from her corner of the large sectional. “You know what’s going on and why I’m here. Why do you look like someone kicked your dog?” 

Bradley raked a hand through his hair and sighed before flopping across from his best friend, “Jake’s sick, but he won’t tell me. So I’m operating on the assumption he’s here because he’d feel bad staying home and actually feels like shit.” 

“Did you ask him if he’s sick?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, Natasha, I asked if he was sick,” Bradley snarked. “He keeps saying he’s not, but he’s been tired all day, running a low-grade fever.” 

Before Natasha could respond, Bradley’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Is Jake sick?

Sighing, Bradley quickly responded to Javy, who was returning to the living room with Jake, who was still looking a little flushed and tired, in tow. Setting his eyes on Bradley, Jake moved to the couch, dramatically flopped beside his partner, and leaned into his side with a soft exhale. 

“Hey,” Bradley kissed the crown of Jake’s head. “Feeling okay?” 

“Just peachy,” Jake grinned. “Javy’s new place is badass. We’re gonna have to look for one of these.” 

Natasha and Javy laughed lightly at Jake’s clinginess and his bold statement- both knowing that he would be hard-pressed to get Bradley to sell his childhood home- and looked on as their best friends relaxed. 

“Cute, isn’t it?” Natasha whispered. “To see them both like this after watching them nearly kill one another?” 

“They’re good for each other, but Jake is sick, and Bradley looks like he’s about 3 seconds from dragging him out the door and going back home,” Javy laughed.  

“So Bradshaw isn’t making it up?” Natasha looked over at the couple. “He does look a little flushed. Figured the two of them kept each other up all night with their extracurriculars.” 

“Nah, that’s not Jake’s bedroom flush,” Javy laughed. “You guys up for some food? Tash cooked all morning, and we’ve got a spread.” 

Jake was the first to his feet, and the rest of the afternoon and into game time was a comfortable, casual moment between friends and young couples. Javy told stories about Jake and their time growing up together, and Natasha was quick to share tales of Bradley’s life that only she and Jake knew. He flushed with embarrassment when she recalled his water training, and he quipped back with a story of her first flight and how, as soon as her feet hit the ground, she nearly threw up on their commanding officer. 

“If Texas loses, I’ll never show my face in public again,” Jake whined as Kansas State took possession on a turnover on downs. “We should be blowing them out of the water.” 

Bradley chuckled as he pulled Jake closer and wrapped his arms around his waist, “You put too much skin in the game with all the shit-talking you do. You know that Omaha is from Omaha and a Kansas State fan, but you still put $100 on it.” 

“Shut up,” Jake buried his face in Bradley’s sweatshirt. “I’m sick, and you’re being mean.” 

Bradley raised an eyebrow and looked across the sofa at his friends, who were staring at the pair intently. 

“What?” Jake lifted his head. “Yeah, maybe I should have stayed home, a-a-and…” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Jake sneezed harshly into the crook of Bradley’s neck. His partner, with a stoic look on his face, brushed a hand over Jake’s forehead and frowned. 

“Still warm, but now that you’ve infected everyone in the house, we might as well stay,” Bradley laughed. “Unless you’re ready to go home?” 

Jake shook his head. 

“I guess you’re staying then,” Natasha laughed. “But we’re disinfecting this place top-to-bottom tomorrow because I don’t want any of Seresin’s germs getting me sick.” 

“Bradshaw’s just going to have to deal with it,” Javy laughed at the couple. “Welcome to the Jake gets everyone he loves sick club… again.” 

“I don’t mind,” Bradley traced the design on Jake’s pockets. “Could be worse. He could have cooties or something.” 

“You’d already have ‘em if I did.”

Chapter Text

Bradley could also spot a sick person from a mile away and knew all the signs of someone avoiding him because of illness. Maverick and Jake were more alike than they were willing to admit: a stubborn streak a mile wide, reckless as all get out when they were competing, and neither of them would ever, under any circumstance, admit that they had a cold. He remembered his mother telling him not to worry when she was under the weather as a child. Still, Bradley took note of the tells- sniffling, sneezing, watery eyes, and a raspy or scratchy voice- and committed them to memory for the future. 

He knew Jake was sick; he’d known since late last night. 

Jake was touchy; he loved it when Bradley pulled him close in the kitchen, holding him to his chest as they waited for the coffee to finish. He relished small touches from his partner, and when Bradley’s hand would fall to the small of his back when he walked beside or past him, Jake melted. 

This morning, it was different: tense. Jake didn’t curl into his side as they woke to their alarm, and he slipped his hand from Bradley’s as they drove. Three years ago, Bradley would put up his walls and go on the defensive, starting a fight or an argument, but instead, he looked Jake up and down and knew for a fact that Jake wasn’t feeling well. 

His eyes weren’t glimmering with anticipation of flying, and he was suddenly subdued. There were no conversations about their day or their evening plans. Instead, Jake fidgeted in his seat and quietly entered the hangar after they pulled into their parking spot. 

There was no have a great day kiss. 

From across the Ready Room, Rooster stared intently at Hangman, who was fully engaged in a game of Foosball with Coyote. The competitive pair had been trading insults, yelling, and celebrating all afternoon as the Dagger Squadron was grounded due to the weather. The storm had rolled in unexpectedly last night, but while they were still expected to report to base, Maverick informed them they weren’t going up any time soon. Instead, clad in their flight suits, the team decided to have an impromptu game day and set up camp. 

Phoenix and Bob were engulfed in an intense game of Poker with Payback and Fanboy, Harvard and Yale had run back to their base housing and retrieved a TV and PS4, and Halo, Fritz, and Omaha were playing Scrabble. It was loud around him, but Bradley kept his eyes fixed on Jake; this wasn’t Rooster watching Hangman, but a concerned boyfriend looking on to make sure his partner wasn’t as sick as he assumed. When asked why he chose a book from the shelf instead of throwing himself into an activity with his squadmates, Rooster admitted to hating video games, being terrible at Poker, and not wanting to get between his boyfriend and his best friend’s love child- the Foosball table. 

It was easy to deflect when they understood Rooster’s aversion to excessive competition; even though he loved baseball, football, and competing in the air, he was reserved regarding games between the team. So, Bradley was the odd one out, curled up in a chair with a book, and he watched Jake, who had left their house that morning looking tired and sniffling their entire ride to base in his truck. 

After observing Hangman for a few more lingering moments, Bradley sighed. 

Diving back into the pages of his book, Rooster began to brainstorm what he would try to do for Jake when he got home. In the days and weeks following Bradley’s gallbladder surgery, Jake was steadfast. He cleaned, made meals that would settle in Bradley’s sensitive stomach, and seemingly waited on him hand and foot. When the sad, doe-eyed brunette stared at Jake and told him he didn’t need to do anything extra, Jake insisted it’s what you do for people you love. 

And Bradley loves Jake. 

Instead of engaging with their friends and squadmates, Bradley observed Jake and ensured he was well. 

Jake didn’t look as pale as he did that morning in their kitchen, but his nose was red, and his eyes were watery. He could tell that Coyote knew Jake wasn’t feeling well; the glance in his direction with a frown was a tell-tale sign that more than one person was aware of Jake’s cold. 

“ROOSTER!” A shout of his name pulled Bradley from the pages of his book, and when he looked up, Maverick was standing in the doorway. “A minute?” 

Putting a gum wrapper in his book as a placeholder, Bradley stood and moved across the Ready Room; his hand brushed Jake’s back, causing him to freeze. Maverick eyed the interaction with concern but motioned for Bradley to follow him down the hallway and into his office. 

“Missed your call this morning,” Maverick perched himself on the corner of his desk while Bradley sunk into an old leather chair. “What’s up?”

“Jake’s sick,” Bradley scrubbed a hand over his face. “Won’t tell me he’s sick, but he’s sick. I can tell.” 

“You always were overly attentive,” Maverick smirked. “Why’d you call?"

“Just wanted to know the probability of us being in the air today,” Bradley admitted. “I’d like to take him home if we’re not going to do any flying, but I know that’s a lot to ask. And I know he won’t want to go home.” 

“You know you can’t force him to go home, right?” Maverick sighed. “As much as you’d like to, he’s not going to just go home with you unless you’re all dismissed for the day.” 

“Now that you bring it up,” Bradley sighed. “You wanna do us all a solid and let us go home?” 

“Cyclone would have my head, you know that,” Maverick glared in Bradley’s direction. “But if the storm’s not going to pass, and you don’t have anything to do, I don’t know why we couldn’t call it a day. I’ll come to dismiss everyone after I speak with him.”

“You’re the best, Dad,” Bradley smiled. “Thank you.” 

“Go back to your book,” Maverick laughed. “This conversation never happened.” 

With a sarcastic salute, Bradley left Maverick’s office and sauntered back toward the Ready Room with a smirk and a lightness he hadn’t felt in hours. When he rounded the corner, he heard a celebratory exclamation from Jake, followed by a series of harsh, painful sneezes. 

Stepping into the room, he locked eyes with his boyfriend, “did you just sneeze?”

“Nope,” Jake flushed red. “No sneezes from me.” 

“Yes, you did,” Coyote threw him directly under the bus. “You sneezed four times while he was out of the room, and you held them in while he was here.” 

“I was not!” Jake exclaimed loudly. “I didn’t sneeze.” 

Bradley narrowed his eyes and looked at Jake, who almost cowered under his gaze. He’d been caught, and Jake knew there was no escaping the watchful eye of Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw at that moment. 

“It’s dusty as fuck in here! This hangar is at least 100 years old,” Jake tried to deflect as Bradley walked in his direction, a finger swiping over a random shelf. 

“Doesn’t look too dusty to me,” Bradley glanced at his very clean finger. “Look dusty to you, Coyote?”

The rest of the Dagger Squadron had stopped their games to watch what Phoenix would call the Jake and Bradley Shitshow. They stared intensely at one another across the Foosball table, and Coyote stepped back to allow them space for their “lovers quarrel.” 

“You were sniffling in the truck on the way over here,” Bradley recalled. 

“So were you,” Jake tried to lie. “I heard you.” 

“You were hearing yourself,” Bradley smirked. “Give it up, Jay, you’re sick.” 

“I am not-,” Jake replied animatedly, but another spontaneous, loud sneeze cut off his words. “Okay, maybe I’m-” 

Another sneeze, followed by three more. 

“Want to try that one again?” Bradley grinned. 

“Fuck off,” Jake wiped his nose with the sleeve of his flight suit. “They’re just sneezes.” 

“Let me guess,” Bradley stood before Jake with a hand on his boyfriend’s hip. “The furniture is old and musty, there’s dust in the air from the “dry desert” outside, or is it your allergies?” 

Jake rolled his eyes in defeat. 

“I know all the excuses in the book, sweetheart,” Bradley pulled Jake to his chest. “Maverick raised me.” 

"Fine," Jake leaned further into the soft material of the flight suit. "I've felt like shit all morning, but I wasn't going to leave y'all hanging today. The rain saved my ass because I'd be miserable too if I were in a plane." 

Bradley kissed the top of Jake's head and ran a hand up and down Jake's spine as he listened to the others return to their games and start new ones. Coyote clapped Bradley on the shoulder before stealing the vacant chair in the corner of the room. 

"You should have told me," Bradley whispered. "Mav's gonna dismiss us for the day, and when he does, I'm going to take you home, and we can go to bed. Sound okay?" 

Jake nodded, relief washing over his exhausted and achy body as he stood in Bradley's warm and gentle embrace. He loved it when Bradley was touchy and allowed him to cling to him like Velcro. His sweet, gentle Bradley relearned that touch was okay after he became Jake's boyfriend instead of a bitter rival. A man who had looked after himself for far too long was finally, willingly, someone who loved the feeling of Jake's arms around him as much as Jake longed to be in his embrace. It was warm and gentle, something Jake found complete comfort in. 

When Bradley finally let him in, a hole in Jake's heart was filled entirely. 

"Daggers!" Maverick's voice rang through the Ready Room, and Jake peeled away from his boyfriend's warmth. "This storm isn't letting up any time soon. Take the day and do whatever you do, but you don't need to stick around here unless you want to run some flight simulations." 

There was an excited cheer from the entire squadron, and Jake sighed and leaned into Bradley's side. 

"Seresin, you make sure you go home to bed," Maverick smirked with a hand on the doorframe. "You look like shit.

Jake floundered, his mouth opening and no words spilling out as Bradley and Coyote laughed heartily from his sides. 

"You sold me out!" Jake gasped at Bradley. "You ass!" 

"You lied to me," Bradley shrugged. "Sometimes you have to call in reinforcements. Let's go home, huh?" 

Jake nodded and followed Bradley to the locker room where they changed, Jake sneezing and sniffling, and stuffed their belongings into their go bags. Hand in hand, it was a quiet walk to the truck parked in the garage that day instead of the open parking lot. As Jake sank into the passenger seat, Bradley squeezed his hand into Jake's. 

"You want me to make you something to eat when we get home? Ice would make this Polish soup when I was growing up, and I still have the recipe," Bradley explained as they pulled onto the highway. "It's a pickle soup." 

"Sounds... interesting?" Jake raised an eyebrow. "What else you got in the Bradshaw mental recipe book?" 

"I can cook just about anything, babe," Bradley half-smiled. "Comes with the territory. Any requests?" 

"Tomato cheddar soup?" Jake felt his mouth watering in response. "Maybe a grilled cheese?" 

Bradley nodded and flipped on the turn signal, "As long as you promise you'll get settled on the couch and drink some water when we get home, I'll make you whatever you want." 

"You going to nurse me back to health?" Jake stared at Bradley lovingly. "Because I'd love for this smoking hot nurse to care for me. It's a fantasy of mine to wake up to an angelic face staring back at me while they take my temperature." 

"You're a pain in the ass," Bradley rolled his eyes. "But I'm going to take care of you, Jay. And we will take your temperature just in case you have a fever. It doesn't feel like it now, but I want to make sure we watch for that too." 

"You sure know how to be sweet to a guy," Jake squeezed his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me." 

"It's what you do for people you love," Bradley parroted Jake's words from a few weeks prior. 

"I'm doing a lot better with... you know, the anxiety stuff. Sometimes, I forget how much you mean to me when I'm scared I'm gonna lose you." 

Jake nodded in understanding and fixed his eyes on the road before them. It's true. Sometimes, he resented Bradley when he was feeling under the weather because as much as the mustached aviator tried to care for him, it ended in role reversal- Jake reassuring Bradley that nothing would happen. After several intensive therapy sessions and successful EMDR sessions, Bradley was doing significantly better when it came to health anxiety and the anxiety he felt around others being sick. It gave Jake room to breathe when he wasn't feeling well, and Bradley was an incredible partner who knew how to make him feel better. 

"Could I convince you to watch a movie and cuddle on the couch when we get home?" Jake asked shyly. "I-I know this morning I was a little standoffish, and I could see it on your face that you were upset. I didn't want to get you sick." 

"So you did know you were sick?" Bradley glanced over at his passenger. "I knew it." 

"Shut up," Jake groaned. "I mean it. I want to eat soup and cuddle with you." 

"You have to promise you won't sneeze on me," Bradley said sternly. "I draw the line at you sneezing on me like you did a few months ago when the fuzz from the blanket "tickled your nose."" 

Faking offense, Jake squeezed Bradley's hand as the familiar tickle returned to Jake's nose and buried his face in his elbow to block the sneeze.

"I won't sneeze on you," Jake sighed, rubbing his nose with his free hand. "Scout's honor." 

"I only trust you because you were in the Scouts," Bradley quipped. "I bet you looked so cute in your little uniform." 

Jake lightly punched Bradley in the upper arm as they pulled into the driveway, his boyfriend parking his truck in the garage next to the Bronco and putting it in park. The door opening surprised Jake, Bradley extending a hand to his partner and helping him to his feet. 

"Thanks," Jake's voice was scratchy and raw, following more sneezes. "I love you." 

"I love you too," Bradley pulled Jake to his chest as they stood in the garage and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You don't feel like you're running a fever." 

"You'd know if I was, you human furnace," Jake joked. "Thank you for coming home with me. I know you would have hung out with Maverick if I wasn't sick." 

"Nah," Bradley rubbed his hand up and down Jake's arm. "I'd much rather spend a rainy Thursday with you. I'd rather spend every day with you if we're being honest. I love my Dad, but I'm in love with you." 

"And your plane," Jake added in jest. "Who do you love more, me or your jet?" 

"Today? You," A cheeky grin spread across Bradley's face as he unlocked their inside door. "Tomorrow, depending on how insufferable you are tonight, it might be the jet." 

"You're mean," Jake frowned. "You always love me more." 

"If you knew the answer, why did you ask?" Bradley raked a hand through Jake's hair, now messy from the rain and sweat. "Go lie on the couch, and I'll make you some soup." 

"You're awful sweet on me today, Bradley," Jake winked. "I'll be a good listener, so I can cash in on those cuddles." 

With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Bradley waved Jake off to the living room and began to pull everything he needed from the cabinets and refrigerator to make soup and grilled cheese for Jake. While Bradley wasn't entirely against tomato soup, he didn't love it, but Jake did, and he would suffer through the acidic soup for his partner. 

"Do you need help?" Jake asked as he heard Bradley curse under his breath. 

"No," Bradley grumbled. "I just hate our can opener. Did we have to get the electric one?" 

"If it's good enough for my mama, it's good enough for us," Jake sing-songed, followed by several sneezes. "The old one is in the junk drawer." 

"Only Texans have a junk drawer," Bradley laughed. "At least everything we don't think has a place finally has a place." 

"You put just as much in there as I do!" Jake's voice rang through the room. 

"I know," Bradley smiled to himself. "Now shut up and rest." 

"Yes, sir," Jake giggled. 

Chapter Text

Racing down the hallways of Top Gun was not how Jake anticipated spending his lunch break. 

That morning, he and Bradley decided to split their class to conquer the mountain of paperwork covering their desks, conveniently dropped off by Cyclone and Maverick, who were both in Virginia for a meeting with instructors at NAS Oceana. It had been a slow day, and Bradley had mentioned that morning he wasn't feeling well but would avoid taking cold medication until that afternoon to ensure he was in a clear headspace while instructing his students in basic aerial combat maneuvers. 

"What the hell happened?" Jake burst into the room, Squid hot on his heels as he dropped into a crouch next to Bradley, who was lying on the couch with glassy, bloodshot eyes. "One of you, explain, please!" 

"We don't know, sir!" exclaimed Topper. "We came in from our afternoon hop, and he asked us to meet here to debrief instead of in the classroom. He said he was going to take some cold medicine and five minutes later dismissed us and just dropped. We put him on the couch." 

"What do you mean he just dropped?" Jake's hands roamed Bradley's upper body, fingers falling on his pulse point and feeling the rapidly beating heart. "He passed out?" 

"Not entirely," Smack stated. "He was dizzy, and he sat down on the floor before he finally just gave up. We honestly don't know what happened, sir." 

"Did he mention feeling sick?" Jake continued to ask provoking questions. "Anything like that?" 

"Congested, sir," Topper added. "He stated he was congested and had a bit of a headache and sent Ace to the Infirmary after we landed to ask for something he could take." 

"Oh, shit," Jake watched as Bradley stared around the room, disoriented and confused as he listened to the conversation. "Did you specify that this was for Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?" 

"Yes, sir," the nervous aviator, Ace, replied. "I asked the on-call nurse if she could get me any cold medication that Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was able to take. He made it seem like there were some he couldn't." 

"Because there are," Jake unzipped the front of Bradley's flight suit after unbuckling the harness. "Ace and Wiz, you stay with me. I'm going to need some help. The rest of you are dismissed for the afternoon. Skipper, go to my office and get my cell phone off the charger on the bookshelf. I need it." 

"Yes, sir," Skipper saluted and darted out of the room and toward the offices. 

"Hey, Bee," Jake gently tapped Bradley's cheek, hoping to focus his attention. "Right here, look at me. Focus on me." 

Bradley continued looking around, a blank expression on his face as Jake's voice began to break through the fog in his mind. He wasn't sure what happened. He was somewhat aware that the younger aviators had left the room except for Jake's "favorites," but he wasn't aware of what was happening around him. 

"Wiz, can you go to the infirmary and tell them we need someone in the Ready Room? Let them know it's for Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," Jake said firmly, his fingers still pressed to Bradley's neck. "Tell whoever that he's having an allergic reaction to whatever cold medication was sent back to him. Have them check his file." 

"Yes, sir," there was more movement around Bradley as the next aviator was sent on their urgent quest from Jake, leaving just the Lieutenant Commanders and Ace in the room. 

"Sir," Ace whispered nervously. "Um, I was... Did I do something wrong?" 

Jake looked up at the young woman with worried, green eyes as she bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet and watched as Jake continued to evaluate Bradley's vital signs. 

"No," Jake breathed. "it wasn't you. Whoever sent the medication back didn't check Bradshaw's file. He's allergic to most cold medications; there's only one or two he can take. In this instance, it was their oversight." 

"Is he going to be okay?" She followed quietly. 

"He will," Jake assured his pilot. "It's not life-threatening. He needs someone who knows what they're doing to make sure he's okay." 

She nodded, and both coherent pilots were drawn back to Bradley when he squeezed his eyes closed and groaned. 

"C'mon Bradshaw," Jake soothed. "Open those eyes for me, alright? Wiz went to grab a medic. I know you feel like you're dyin' right now, but you're not. It's happened before. It'll pass; breathe." 

Bradley's eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at Jake, more aware than he had been. His heart was hammering in his chest, his hands were shaking at his sides, and he was impossibly hot. 

"Hot," Bradley croaked. 

"You're hot?" Jake asked, and Bradley confirmed his statement with a weak nod. "Ace, can you help me get his gear off?" 

She nodded and quickly maneuvered her way to Jake's side and began to unbuckle the harness and ease Bradley into a seated position. Jake pulled the heavy equipment off his partner's back, and Bradley visibly relaxed. With the flight suit removed from his shoulders, exposing his black t-shirt, he felt like he could breathe easier, and his skin began to cool. 

"Better?" Jake asked quietly. 

Bradley nodded again. 

"Good," Jake ran his hand up and down Bradley's spine. "Let's get you back down. I don't want you gettin' dizzy or passin' out on us. Can you go see if Skipper found my phone?" 

She nodded, and before she could exit the room, she nearly collided with Skipper, who had Jake's phone and a bottle of water in his hand. 

"I brought water, too, sir," Ace sputtered. "I hope that's okay." 

"That's perfect, thank you," Jake took both items from Ace's hands and placed them on the table. "Bradshaw, think you can drink a little bit of water?" 

Bradley shook his head. 

"That's okay, then," Jake squeezed his forearm. "I hear people coming down the hallway. It's probably Wiz and the medic. Just take some deep breaths for me and try to stay focused. Listen to my voice. Listen to what they're going to have you do." 

Bradley nodded, his eyes still closed. 

"Dizzy," Bradley breathed. "Spinning." 

"Yeah," Jake soothed. "You two are dismissed unless you find you want to stay and help us out. They're likely going to send him to the infirmary and will be able to handle getting him on the gurney. I'm canceling the afternoon hops." 

"Will you update us on Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?" Ace asked anxiously, still feeling guilty for bringing him the medication. "I-I want to make sure he's okay after I leave." 

"I will," Jake confirmed. "Go enjoy your afternoon, and thank you for helping. And Ace, this isn't your fault. You were just doing what you were asked." 

She nodded and followed her WSO out of the room in a panic, and Jake was left with Bradley, who was trembling lightly under his touch. Jake could feel the anger rising in his body, the assumed incompetence of the nurse leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. However, he knew she couldn't be entirely to blame. While Bradley had given instructions to his student, he failed to add that it was important for the nurse to know about his allergy and to check his file. 

"Lieutenant Commander Seresin," Wiz said from the doorway. "We're back." 

Jake nodded, and Bradley was flanked by two medics who pulled a bag from the gurney and gently moved Jake to the side. Bradley reached out for his partner, searching for his hand, and Jake knelt near his head and carded his fingers through his hair. 

"Wiz," Jake looked up at the remaining pilot. "You're all dismissed for the day. I appreciate your help." 

"You're welcome, sir. Let us know how he is?" Wiz looked up with a nervous expression. "We hope he's okay." 

"I'll fill you all in tomorrow morning," Jake confirmed. "Go rest, or I'll send you to the sim room." 

"No thanks!" Wiz turned on his heels and left the room. 

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?" The female medic asked. "Are you with us?" 

She strapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm as Jake looked on, his heart beating faster than usual as he watched the medics evaluate his boyfriend. 

"S'cold," Bradley mumbled. "Wha'd you guys gi'me?" 

"We spoke with the nurse," The other medic untolled his stethoscope. "It wasn't on your list of unapproved medications but on the approved list. It looks like one slipped through." 

"S'makes sense," Bradley's eyes slipped closed. "Ma'e's me f'l funny." 

"Your heart rate is pretty high, and I don't like the looks of your blood pressure," She looked up at Jake, who was filled with an internal panic. "It's not life-threatening, but we'd like to take him to the Infirmary and have him spend a little time there and see if we can't get that down."

Jake swallowed thickly and nodded, understanding the need for medical care but knowing that he would lug a semi-coherent Bradley home after a steroid shot at the end of the day. 

"Itchy," Bradley sighed. 

"You're developing hives," the woman holding his hand in hers to check his pulse once more replied. "We'll give you something to bring those down and to ease the allergic reaction once we're back at medical." 

Bradley nodded. 

"Think you can stand and get on the gurney for us?" The voice to Bradley's left asked quietly. 

Bradley nodded and sluggishly rose to his feet, Jake and the male medical officer on each side helping him to the gurney. Once he was unceremoniously deposited on the makeshift "bed," he relaxed into the uncomfortable material, feeling the rough sheet under his hands. 

"Jake?" Bradley looked up with fear in his chocolate-brown eyes. "Coming?" 

"Yeah," Jake pocketed his cell phone and stood at Bradley's side. "I'm coming with you, and then I'll give Mav a call. Let him and Cyclone know what you got up to today and why we had to cancel the hops." 

"Dick," Bradley tried to roll his eyes, but his eyelids fluttered closed. 

"I'm teasing you, Bradshaw," Jake brushed a rogue curl from his forehead. "I'll just update them, let them know what happened and that you're okay, and we'll come up with a plan to make up the hops we missed." 

"Tell Ace, not her fault?" Bradley whispered sleepily. "Doin' what I asked." 

"I told her," Jake assured him as they started to leave the room. 

Jake peeked around the corner, looking for signs of anyone in the hallway in hopes of giving Bradley some dignity. His swift departure from the Ready Room wasn't expected, but as they made their way toward medical, Jake could see that sleep was winning and Bradley was soon dead weight. 

"We're going to get him settled in a room," the medic explained to Jake as they entered the infirmary. "The doctor's waiting on us, and he'll be able to walk you through the process. Is this the first time this has happened?"

"No, it happened a few years ago on a carrier," Jake recalled seeing Bradley drop like a sack of bricks one morning. "I don't think it's happened since then. He's very conscious of what his allergies are." 

"That would make sense," She glanced down at Bradley and took his limp wrist in her hand. "His pulse is still very rapid, but it will settle given time. Are you doing okay?" 

"Yeah," Jake nodded. "Just a little anxious. I've seen this before with him, though, and I know it takes a few hours to peak and begin to wear off." 

She nodded and kicked open a door in front of her as they rolled Bradley's gurney down the hall and into a room where the curtain was drawn. As he regained consciousness, Bradley was aware of hands on his arms and an IV inserted into his elbow. 

It stung, and he grasped Jake's hand like a lifeline. 

"Breathe," Jake soothed. "Just breathe, it's okay. It's going to help." 

Bradley nodded and opened his eyes, looking around the room. He knew where he was; his heart was pounding, and he felt dizzy. The doctor explained the necessity of the steroid injection for the hives and the medication administered to help with the adverse reaction to the drug. He watched Bradley lazily look around the room, his head thick with confusion and exhaustion as the new medication took hold and began to slow his racing heart and mind. 

"Doing okay?" Jake asked softly, his hand holding Bradley's. "I was scared." 

Bradley nodded and squeezed his hand in response. 

"Go to sleep, darlin'," Jake brushed a kiss against Bradley's forehead, not caring if anyone walked in on their tender moment. "I'll step out and call your Dad." 

Bradley nodded, and as he drifted to sleep, he heard Jake whisper a soft I love you before stepping into the hall. 

This was not how he anticipated spending his morning after years of being safe with medication, but he knew Jake had everything under control. 

Chapter Text

"Sweetheart, if you're sick, we can call your mom and ask if they have any availability to reschedule dinner," Bradley pulled his shivering boyfriend to his chest as they curled under their blankets. "You're still running a fever and just spent the last 24 hours throwing your guts up in our bathroom. I don't want a repeat of that at our favorite restaurant." 

Jake snuggled into Bradley's embrace and listened to the strong thrum of his heartbeat, sighing. He knew his parents would be understanding of the situation and his raging stomach virus, but he hated disappointing his mother. And, most importantly, he missed them. While Bradley's Dad was just a few minutes away when they needed anything, he missed his mother and the soothing sound of her voice as she wrapped him in a famous Laura Seresin hug. 

"I know," Jake croaked, his throat raw from vomiting. "I just miss them." 

"She'd understand," Bradley carded his fingers through Jake's sweaty, blonde hair. "I know they're already in town and here for several more days. Would you feel better if I called and asked her to come over? Your Dad, too?" 

Jake shook his head; he didn't want to pass on whatever ravaged his system to his parents, who would return home to work following their brief trip to San Diego. He longed for the comfort of his mother and father, but it was bad enough Bradley was subjecting himself to a potential stomach virus to care for him. 

"You won't be able to hide being sick from your parents, or Mav for that matter, if we go to dinner tonight," Bradley frowned, his hand still lazily trailing across Jake's warm skin. "What if we give it a little while before we make a decision? You stay in bed this morning, and I'll take care of the chores and order our groceries. If you can keep some bone broth and Gatorade down, we can talk more about this later?" 

"I just wanna see my mom," Jake's breath fanned across Bradley's bare chest as he wrapped his arms around his waist. "It's been almost a year." 

"I know," Bradley soothed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Jake's head. "It's been too long since you've seen them since we've seen them, but we don't want to make you feel worse when there's a chance they'll be okay with rescheduling our dinner. Mav has every evening this week free; he told me when we originally made our plans." 

Jake nodded weakly. 

"How's your stomach feeling?" Bradley shifted the subject to something more pertinent and less mentally taxing. "Are you doing okay?" 

"Like it's inside out," Jake buried his face in Bradley's chest, letting the older man rub soft circles on his lower back. "Everything hurts, and I feel like I ruptured an internal organ." 

"I'm sorry," Bradley held Jake closer as he listened to him breathe. "I wish I could do more for you than just bringing you Gatorade and sitting on the bathroom floor with you. I wish you didn't feel so shitty." 

"Throw up for me next time," Jake whined. "I'm getting you sick just being around you. You'll have your head in the toilet next time." 

"Small potatoes here, Jake," Bradley ran his hand up and down Jake's spine. "I don't care if I get sick. I care about you and make sure that you're okay even when there's nothing I can do about it." 

"Doin' plenty," Jake yawned. "Instead of stayin' up here, can I go down to the couch? Don't wanna be away from you." 

Bradley smiled softly and allowed Jake to reposition himself in his arms. It warmed Bradley's heart to have someone around who valued time spent together, even when one of them was sick. And, as ill as Jake was, Bradley didn't want to be away from him either. Bradley breathed with one hand behind his head and the other wrapped securely around Jake before brushing the stray hairs from Jake's forehead. 

"I'm going downstairs and start laundry and breakfast," Bradley whispered. "Why don't you join me when you're ready? Take a shower, take your time."

"Don't watch any Yellowstone without me," Jake mumbled. "I know you did last time, and I wanna watch it with you since you've never seen it." 

Pushing back the blankets and making sure Jake remained warm under the duvet, Bradley grinned. Jake's accent was thicker when he was tired, and it was out in full force as he buried himself beneath the pile of blankets. 

"I would never deprive you of seeing my reaction," Bradley leaned over Jake's form and kissed his forehead. "I'll have something light for you to try when you're downstairs. Call me if you need any help." 

"Love you," Jake muttered as Bradley squeezed his shoulder and turned to exit the room. 

Pulling his phone from his sweatpants pocket, he quickly texted Maverick. Even though he promised not to throw Jake under the bus to his parents, he made no promises to his Godfather, and when Maverick's name lit up the screen, he promptly read the text. 

When you had the stomach flu when you were sick, your mom made you Jell-O, and you'd only drink purple Gatorade. That's about all I remember. 

Digging through their pantry, Bradley's eyes landed on a box of blue Jell-O left over from Natasha's attempt at Jell-O shots for their most recent gathering, and he pulled it gingerly from the shelf to avoid kitchen staples avalanche. 

First household chore when Jake's feeling better? Cabinet organization. But for now, Bradley would make his sick boyfriend Jell-O and bone broth with ginger, lemon, and peppermint tea. 

It had been a long night in the Seresin-Bradshaw Bungalow, and Bradley panicked when Jake began vomiting the previous morning. He'd seen Jake down with a fever, migraine, and sinus infection, but he'd never seen his partner violently retching into the toilet, stomach caving with each dry heave when nothing remained for his body to bring back up. He'd encouraged him to drink water (slowly; he remembered his mother telling him that) and to push air in through his nose and out through his mouth. When nothing worked, Bradley resolved to sit as closely to Jake as possible in the confines of the space, whispering soothing words and gently rubbing his back. 

The stomach flu was a marathon, not a race, and Bradley hoped they were nearing the end.

"Jake?" Bradley heard footsteps on the stairs as he stirred the contents of the stock pot. "That you?" 

"Nah," Jake whispered hoarsely. "It's the Boogyman." 

"Ha ha ha," Bradley rolled his eyes and stared lovingly at his partner, who entered the kitchen wrapped in a throw blanket. "Feeling okay? Nauseous? Throw up again?" 

"No nausea yet, not even with the smells," Jake confirmed. "What's cookin' good lookin'?" 

"Bone broth for you, going to warm up a breakfast sandwich in a bit for me," Bradley caught Jake's gaze, and a grin spread across his face. "I'll eat outside if the smell makes you sick." 

"It's cold out," Jake frowned. "I don't want you to do that. You'll be lonely." 

"And I don't want you throwing up anymore," Bradley's eyes were sad, Jake noted, as he watched his partner cook. "Especially not on our new rug."

Bradley returned to the stock pot, hands trembling as he thought about Jake's sickness but choking down his questions and concerns. Instead, he occasionally glanced up at Jake, who was scrolling on his phone and smiled. Sleepy Jake was one of his favorite versions of his boyfriend; he was soft, tender, and clingy. Gone was any semblance of the Hangman persona, and instead, he was  just  Jake, and it was beautiful. 

"What are your thoughts on dinner?" Bradley asked carefully. "Still up in the air?"

"If I'm feeling as okay as I am right now when the time to leave rolls around, I think we should still go. If I throw up again, I want to stay home," Jake confessed. "I miss my mom, but I don't want her or dad gettin' sick, and I don't want to be sick at dinner." 

Bradley nodded with a soft smile, and when the tea kettle began to whistle, he poured the steaming liquid into a mug over a tea bag, and a strong peppermint aroma filled the space. 

"Did you make me tea?" Jake smiled softly.

"I did," Bradley confirmed. "Peppermint- it's supposed to help settle your stomach." 

"If I didn't have barf mouth, I'd kiss you," Jake smirked. "Thank you for taking care of me. I know I said it earlier, but thank you. I know it's not easy sometimes for you and-"

"Jake," Bradley cut off his rambling words with a gentle glance. "Don't thank me for doing something I would do even if I hated you. You're my partner forever, I hope, and this is part of it. I'm okay. It's hard, but I'm okay. We're focusing on making sure you're feeling better." 

"Noted," Jake sniffled. "Should I even tell them I've been sick?" 

"Up to you," Bradley ladled bone broth into another mug and squeezed in lemon. "I, for one, look forward to Laura giving you shit for trying to keep it from her." 

"You're a menace," Jake stood, his legs shaky, and let the blanket fall from his shoulders. "But I love you." 

Warm arms wrapped around Bradley's midsection, and Jake pressed his forehead to Bradley's shoulder. While still warm, he wasn't running the fever he had been the night prior, and Bradley sighed in relief. 

"Go sit back down," Bradley brushed a thumb over Jake's forearm. "I'll bring you your liquids." 

"Don't say liquids," Jake scrunched his nose. "It sounds gross." 

"Fluids, then," Bradley teased as Jake reacted even further, a disgusted look plastered across his flushed face. 

"Neither," Jake grumbled. "I'm gonna move to the couch. My head still hurts, and I don't want to get a migraine and have to reschedule. Can you bring me some Advil, too?" 

"Of course," Bradley's smile didn't meet his eyes as he watched Jake stroll from the dining area. "Anything else?" 

"A yellow Gatorade," Jake replied as he gingerly sat on the couch and pulled the plush blanket over his body. 

He was exhausted; his head and chest ached, his throat felt raw, and his abdominal muscles were cramping following his escapades the night before. Even though he wasn't nauseous, his body still mirrored the actions of vomiting, his abs constricting with each motion. 

"Here," Bradley appeared at Jake's side, placing two mugs and a small bottle on the coffee table. "Sit up so you don't spill it on yourself. I'll move the trash can close in case it decides to come back up." 

"Okay," Jake squeezed his eyes closed, and two red tablets appeared in his palm when he opened them. 

Swallowing them and chasing them with the warm tea, Jake begged the universe for a reprieve from the vomiting and felt the liquid settle in his stomach. Feeling encouraged and under Bradley's watchful eye, he tested the waters with the tea, bone broth, and Gatorade until he was satisfied that they wouldn't reappear. 

"Are they sitting okay?" Bradley asked quietly when he returned from the laundry room. "Need anything?" 

"So far, so good," Jake's color had started to return, and his eyes looked more focused than previously. "I don't think I'm going to throw up, but the breakfast sandwich will be the test." 

Bradley eyed him carefully before retrieving his plate from the microwave and making his way to the chair in the corner. He didn't want to sit too close to Jake if the pungent odor of eggs flipped his stomach into rebellion. 

"Anything?" Bradley questioned as he took a bite of the sandwich. "Nausea? Feelings of nausea?" 

"I think we're in the clear, and it was most likely a 24-hour bug," Jake smiled. "Eat your breakfast, and then nurse me back to health." 

"There he is," Bradley laughed. "I'm glad you're feeling better. And I'm very glad this isn't here to stay. As much as I hated watching you show off your lunch, I don't know if I could have done it for another full day." 

"How loving and caring of you, Bradley," Jake took another slow sip of Gatorade. "How did I ever get so lucky?"

With a playful nudge to Jake's elbow, Bradley winked in his direction and continued to finish his breakfast. They were in for a slow morning and a lazy afternoon, Bradley deciding that spending time with Jake was more important than household chores that could wait until the other man was recovering and could help. While he didn't mind the house's upkeep, Jake made it fun. With games like shooting dirty laundry into the washing machine and speed vacuuming, even the most mundane chores were enjoyable when Jake was part of every moment. 

Noticing his partner yawning, Bradley turned his attention to Jake, whose eyes had fluttered closed. 

"Take a nap," Bradley stood with his plate in his hand. "We have plenty of time before we need to be anywhere, and if you're feeling like you're tired, you should lean into it." 

"Only if you cuddle with me," Jake whined. "I don't like sleeping without you. You're a furnace, and it's cold outside." 

"I can probably spare a cuddle or two," Bradley squeezed Jake's calf on his way past the couch. "Give me a few minutes to load the dishwasher and make some space. I want to watch a movie." 

Bradley listened as Jake scrolled through movies, playing trailers and listening to the previews as he loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. Drying his hands, he glanced at Jake, who was half asleep on a couch pillow, the blanket peeled away so Bradley could find a spot behind him. 

A fun fact? Jake loves to be the little spoon. 

Bradley carefully and methodically positioned himself behind Jake, a pillow under their heads and an arm wrapped around Jake's waist. As his boyfriend relaxed under his touch and selected a movie, it wasn't long before the pair drifted off into a peaceful slumber after a restless night. When Bradley woke with a Jake-sized weight on his chest, he was covered in sweat, indicating Jake's fever had broken during their nap. He felt as though they'd slept for days when, in reality, it was most of the morning and into the afternoon. 

He hated disrupting Jake's sleep; he had been up all night vomiting, and Bradley had been the innocent bystander. Instead of peeling away the blankets and exposing them both to the cool air of the living room, he listened to Jake's slow, even breathing as he relaxed on his chest. Moments like these were often fleeting with their work schedule, especially with a new class of pilots, and taking full advantage of the small moments was Bradley's number one priority. 

"I can feel ya starin' at me," Jake mumbled. "Stop it." 

"You're just too pretty not to stare at," Bradley brushed his lips over the shell of Jake's ear and pulled him close. "I like lookin' at you. It's kinda fun." 

"I like lookin' at you too, but not when you're sleepin'," Jake pressed his cheek further into Bradley's chest. "Except that one time when I was making sure you weren't going to suffocate." 

"I know you watch me sleep, Jake," Bradley poked at his partner's side, causing him to squirm. "You've done it before; you'll do it again. You're just lucky I've never woken up to you staring at me. I might start swinging." 

"You'd never," Jake kissed Bradley's chest. "You like me too much." 

"I do," Bradley whispered, his hand resting on Jake's hip. "We've gotta get up in a little bit. We slept the day away, but you needed it. You look better." 

"I look good, don't deny it," Jake grinned at his partner and winked. "I'm every man's wet dream." 

"Yeah, sure, whatever you need to tell yourself," Bradley playfully rolled his eyes. "We're covered in your sweat. That's as wet as my dreams about you get, sweetheart." 

"You wound me," Jake gasped. "I can't believe you don't have dreams about me. I thought for sure you'd be dreamin' about me, darlin'." 

"Oh," Bradley laughed. "I do. They're usually nightmares." 

The couple lounged on the couch in each other's embrace and relished in the silence of their home. A soft breeze came in through the windows, wafting the smell of salt air through the room and relaxing Bradley entirely as he continued to hold Jake. His boyfriend's skin was finally cool to the touch, and he tentatively drank the Gatorade- scared that his stomach would rebel at any moment. After hours had passed following Jake's makeshift breakfast, and the clock ticked toward 1630, Bradley nudged Jake awake and whispered softly to get up and dressed for dinner. 

As they walked hand-in-hand into the restaurant hours later, Jake saw his mother's grey-blonde hair, and a smile spread across his face. Bradley squeezed his hand tightly, and when he saw that the Seresins were already seated with Maverick, he flushed a deep red. 

"I wonder what they've told each other," Jake whispered as they approached the table, his mother standing excitedly when she saw the pair. "We're late." 

"They're always late; that's why we thought we could be late," Bradley laughed as Jake was whisked away into a hug. 

"Hey, Bradley!" Jake's father, John, smiled as he pulled the slightly taller of the couple into a hug. "How are you?" 

"I'm doing well," Bradley was caught off guard but eased into the embrace. "It's so great to see you both. I see you've met my Dad?" 

"We have!" John and Laura swapped places, and he was soon greeted by Laura Seresin. "We heard so many lovely stories about you, Bradley."

"And I heard just as many about Jake," Maverick smirked and stood. "Feeling better, kiddo?" 

Both Seresin parents turned and looked at Jake in confusion, unaware of his 24-hour illness. Jake tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling momentarily before taking a deep breath and facing the comical wrath of his mother. 

"Jakey, are you sick?" She placed a hand on his cheek. "Now that I get a good look at you, you look pale. What's wrong?" 

"Let's sit," Bradley shifted the conversation and slid into the booth between Maverick and Jake. "Jake can tell you all about it when we've had a chance to order a drink." 

"If you're sure," Laura said worriedly. "I can't believe you didn't tell your mother you were sick, Jacob Andrew! I've been here the entire time and would have come over to help!" 

"The last time you helped me when I had the stomach flu, I threw up on your feet," Jake sighed. "Bradley had it under control. I wasn't hiding anything from you." 

"Like you could hide an illness from your mother," John chuckled. "Was he too much of a handful? He can be a bit of a diva when his stomach hurts. He used it as an excuse whenever he didn't want to work horses with me, and the one time I should have believed him, he threw up on the dash of my truck." 

"That's nothing," Maverick popped into the conversation as Laura stared at her son and looked for any signs of discomfort. "Bradley was a "tell Mav I'll throw up first, throw up later" kid. And always ended up vomiting in the hallway." 

Jake's hand fell on Bradley's thigh under the table with a tight squeeze. For their first official in-person meeting, John and Laura Seresin and Pete Mitchell were getting along- almost too well. 

"At least the future in-laws like each other," Jake whispered as their parents were pulled into a conversation about Jake and Bradley teaching with one another. "Could have been way worse."

"Yeah, you could have thrown up in the car," Bradley kissed Jake's cheek. "I think this is great. And I'm glad you're feeling better, but I think you nearly gave your sweet mother a heart attack by not telling her you were sick last night." 

"Maverick sold me out," Jake squeezed Bradley's hand. "Can't hide from Mama, though. She always finds me out one way or another."

"I'll remember that." 

Chapter Text

Bradley and Jake were curled into one another on their couch when their phones buzzed in tandem on the coffee table, their intentional time with one another interrupted in rapid succession. 

Can you guys come hang out?

I hate to ask, but Mav suggested it. 

I had my appendix taken out last night and Ruben is going home. 

A series of three short text messages changed the trajectory of Bradley and Jake’s quiet evening at home. They’d all received the urgent text from Maverick last night informing them that Mickey was having emergency surgery after Ruben had taken him to the hospital for excruciating stomach pain, but they weren’t aware that they were going to be recruited as his caretakers when Ruben’s non-refundable flight was scheduled for early the following morning. 

It wasn’t a big deal; Jake and Bradley would drop anything for their friends, even a date night in, but they’d hoped for a heads-up from Maverick. Bradley’s Godfather had picked Mickey up from the hospital following discharge, that much they knew, because the older man had informed the pair that he needed to cancel lunch with them so he could get their squadmate home to recuperate in his off-base apartment. He hadn’t, however, informed them that they’d be shuffling around their makeshift plans. 

They were caught off guard, but they didn’t mind. 

When? We’re home and can be there in a half-hour. Jake replied casually, hoping for a few more minutes with just Bradley before they were seated on a couch that wasn’t theirs, ensuring that Fanboy wouldn’t be lonely or trying to do too much following surgery. 

Mav’s still here for a bit, maybe an hour? I feel like shit.

They could work with an hour, but the ambiguity of Mickey’s I feel like shit hung in Jake’s mind. Bradley Bradshaw was a sympathy puker, and it was well-known around the base that if someone was throwing up and Bradley was in listening distance, he was soon to follow. Jake had seen this first hand on occasion, the worst following an intense day of flight simulations while Phoenix was battling a bout with vertigo. 

She threw up in the trash can in the corner, and Bradley followed directly on Jake’s work boots. 

“You okay if we both go over there?” Jake asked tentatively. “Mick said he feels like shit…” 

“And he’s probably nauseous,” Bradley recalled his ever-present feelings of nausea following his gallbladder surgery. “Even with the anti-nausea medication, he probably feels like hell. I’m good to go over there with you, but if he’s… you know… I’ll be, also.” 

“I’m aware, darlin’,” Jake grinned. “The entire squadron saw you lose your lunch on my boots. We’re pretty familiar with your issue.” 

“As long as I stay out of earshot, I should be good,” Bradley snuggled further into Jake’s embrace and rested his head on his chest. “When does he need us?” 

“Mav’s still there,” Jake ran his fingers through Bradley’s soft, honey-brown curls. “We’ve got a bit of time.” 

“Feels good,” Bradley whispered as Jake continued to comb through his hair. 

“You’re a sucker for someone playing with your hair,” Jake kissed the crown of his boyfriend’s head. “It’s just like a puppy wanting someone to scratch its ears.”

Bradley hummed as he listened to Jake’s heart beat strongly in his chest, the comfort lulling him to sleep as his partner continued to play with his hair and run a warm, calloused hand up and down his bare bicep. Jake’s mind wandered as he watched Bradley sleep on his chest; he wanted to do this forever. Sickness, health, flying, desk jobs, all of it. He wanted to spend forever in the small bungalow wrapped up with Bradley Bradshaw, and whatever that looked like was perfect to him. 

They’d walked through fire to get to where they were. There were fights, hurtful words, illnesses, injuries, and brutal competition that shaped their relationship, and Jake knew there would be more obstacles and elements that made them Jake and Bradley instead of Hangman and Rooster. 

“You’re thinking loud,” Bradley mumbled. “Stop it.” 

“How do you always know when I’m thinking? Maybe I’m trying to figure out a way to avoid you throwing up on my shoes if Mickey is vomiting,” Jake poked Bradley’s sides, causing him to squirm. “Could be a lot of things.” 

“Your heart started racing,” Bradley smiled lazily, unwrapping himself from Jake. “Usually means you’re thinking.” 

Jake blushed, and Bradley planted a quick kiss to his lips before stretching and hopping up from the couch in search of a sweatshirt and his shoes. 

“Let’s go for a drive before we head over. Mav’ll call when he leaves there anyway,” Bradley tugged on the old University of Virginia sweatshirt and slid on his shoes. “C’mon.” 

“What?” Jake laughed as he folded the throw blanket that fell to his feet. “You’re not serious.” 

“Dead ass serious,” Bradley stared at Jake, his hands shoved in his pockets. “We’ll finish date night! And then we’ll go to Mick’s. We only have 15 minutes before the sun sets. Get going.” 

Shaking his head and finding a jacket, Jake let Bradley grab his hand and lace their fingers together as he jogged toward the Bronco. Opening Jake’s door, Bradley grinned and squeezed his knee before climbing in his side and starting the vehicle. 

With one arm hanging out the window and the other in Bradley’s hand, the smile fell from Jake’s face as Bradley’s phone started to buzz. 

“Dammit,” Bradley frowned. “It’s Mav. Can you answer it?” 

Jake nodded, plucked Bradley’s phone from the cupholder, and swiped the screen. 

“Hey, Baby Goose,” Maverick said tiredly. “You guys headed over here yet?” 

“It’s actually Jake, Pops,” Jake laughed. “We just left the house, but we were going to wrap up date night before we headed over. Do you need us now?” 

“I’m sorry, kid,” He could hear the remorse in the older man’s voice. “I’ve gotta run to get back over to Penny’s. Any chance you could rain-check your evening? I’ll wait for you to get there.” 

“Yeah,” Jake sighed. “We can. We’ll be there in just a few.” 

“Thanks, kid,” The sadness in Maverick’s voice made Jake sniffle. “I owe you both.”

“No problem, it’s what you do for people you love,” Jake said casually, the disappointment thick in the air as Bradley turned on his turn signal. “Tell Mick we’ll be there shortly.” 

Jake saw the disappointed look on Bradley’s face before he could hang up the phone. With a silent squeeze of the hand, Jake saw his partner navigating a new route, one toward the apartments just off base. It was a quiet ride, the sky fading from bright blue to shades of orange, pink, and purple behind them. Bradley loved sunsets, and he loved sitting in his Bronco with Jake as they watched the sun sink below the horizon. 

“So much for a sunset,” Bradley whispered. “I’ll make it up to ya.” 

“Maverick can make it up to both of us,” Jake brushed a thumb over Jake’s knuckles. “I forgot to ask how he’s doing, but Mav had to get back over to Penny’s.”

“I feel selfish being upset that we’re doing this,” Bradley confessed. “He’s our teammate, our friend… I should be jumping to go help. But I was looking forward to spending our evening together.” 

“You said the quiet part out loud,” Jake laughed airily. “I know he was over after your surgery to check on you. We owe him this much, but how we’re feeling is valid.” 

“I just feel like a shit friend,” Bradley shook his head. “And I won’t be any help if he’s sick.” 

“We’ll figure it out together,” Jake squeezed his hand again. “Left turn up here.” 

Bradley nodded and squeezed his hand back three times. 

I love you. 

As the pair pulled into the complex, Jake’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Deciding it could wait, the couple saw Maverick standing outside of the door, waving them down frantically as Bradley put the vehicle in park, and they both stepped out into the cool evening air. 

“Bradley,” Maverick warned as his Godson stepped closer. “Don’t go inside.” 

“Oh, shit,” Jake acknowledged Maverick’s warning. “He sick?” 

“Yeah, just stopped getting sick a few minutes ago. Jake, can you go in there with him? I’ll get Brad up to speed, but do not let him in that apartment if Mickey is still vomiting,” Maverick warned before Jake threw open the door and briskly walked inside. 

“That bad?” Bradley’s eyes were wide, and he felt his stomach roll. 

“Could be worse,” Maverick winced. “Just don’t go inside until Jake comes to get you. Drive around the block or something.” 

“Give me a little more credit than that,” Bradley rolled his eyes. “What if this time’s different?” 

“It wasn’t last week; I don’t know why it would be today,” Maverick chuckled before he pulled Bradley into a hug. “It’s good to see you, kid. I’m sorry about your date night. We tried everyone before he texted you both. They’re all on a weekend getaway of one type or another.” 

“It’s okay,” Bradley hugged him back tightly. “We’ll have more date nights, especially if, well, you know what we talked about last week?” 

“Yeah?” Maverick released him from the hug and clapped his shoulder. “You’re gonna do that sometime soon?” 

“Hoping so,” Bradley leaned against the doorway. “I know it hasn’t been a long time, but a year’s a year, and we’ve known each other for a decade. Feels right.” 

“Your dad said he just knew,” Maverick smiled sadly. “Proposed to your mom after a few months. I was there. Her sister was there. Don’t make a big production of it for Jake, but call and talk to his parents. I think he’d appreciate that.”

“I’ve already talked to his mom. I did that when they were here,” Bradley shoved his hands in the pockets of his joggers. “It’s his dad who scares the hell out of me.”  

“John Seresin loves you,” Maverick laughed, looking at Bradley with a shake of his head. “Just do it. You’ll know when it’s right.” 

“I know,” Bradley smiled. “I just hope-”

Bradley was cut off as the door behind him opened, and Jake’s frowning face peeked around the corner. The frown meant one of two things: either Mickey was still sick, or he was in general, feeling unwell. Either way, Bradley knew his time spent outside was going to be lengthy to save him the stress of vomiting in response to vomiting and save Jake the hassle of taking care of two people who were ill at the same time. 

It was the least he could do for his partner, knowing that his reaction to someone getting sick wasn’t pleasant for anyone. If anything, he could return home and pick Jake up in the morning. 

“He’s still getting sick,” Jake explained. “Brads, can you maybe run an errand? I made a list.” 

“I would gladly run an errand for you right now,” Bradley laughed. “Text me the list, and I’ll be back in a bit. Mav, get home safe?” 

“I’m not going home. I’m going to Penny’s,” Maverick smirked. 

“If this was a spot the differences game, there are no differences,” Jake winked. “Go home to your lady, Pops. We’ve got it from here.” 

“You’re both a pain in my ass,” Maverick snorted. “I’ll text you when I’m at Penny’s. ”

“Jake, you remember when you used to say you were coming to my place, but you were really just coming home?” Bradley flashed a cheeky grin. “Sounds really familiar, doesn’t it?” 

“Darlin’, I think you’re onto something,” Jake smirked. 

“Okay, enough, I’m 62 years old. I shouldn’t even be having this discussion. Take care of Mickey. Call if you need anything,” Maverick turned on his heel and walked toward his bike, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot as the two men watched. 

“I’ll be back with the goods,” Bradley kissed Jake softly and brushed a thumb over his cheek. “Tell me if I need to leave everything on the doorstep and go home?” 

“Yeah,” Jake frowned. “I don’t want to spend the night away from you.” 

“Hopefully, we won’t have to,” Bradley pecked a kiss on his lips once more. 

Unfortunately, fate had determined their journey for the evening, and while Bradley was bagging his few grocery items, he received a text from Jake letting him know it might be best for him to go home and stay away from “vomit city” so he could avoid getting sick himself. Even though he knew it was what was best, Bradley’s heart ached as he pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and drove back toward Mickey’s. He’d received a text from the pilot in question a few moments before, a short I’m sorry, and Bradley’s eyes stung as he thought about how he would feel if he were in Fanboy’s position. 

The guilt will eat you alive, dude. No worries. It’s doing us all a favor if I’m not there. 

Bradley meant every word. Even though he had been looking forward to taking Jake to bed and taking him apart that evening as they enjoyed their time off, Mickey needed them. When someone you love needs you, you don’t leave them to their own devices. And truly, Bradley going home was doing everyone a favor because his stomach had a hairpin trigger when it came to sick, and no one needed to add that mess to the current situation. 

When Bradley pulled into the parking spot in front of Mickey’s apartment, Jake was standing outside with messy hair and sad eyes. As Bradley stepped out of the Bronco, Jake met him and wrapped him in a tight, apologetic hug, and they stood there in silence. 

“I’m sorry he’s not feeling better, and you can’t stay,” Jake muttered against Bradley’s chest. “If he wasn’t getting so sick…” 

“Shhh,” Bradley whispered. “I get it. I understand. And I wouldn’t be adding anything helpful to the mix. His apartment is small, and I’d hear it no matter where I was, and it’s too chilly to feasibly spend all evening outside. It’s okay.” 

“I was looking forward to tonight,” Jake confessed. 

“We have every night for the rest of our lives, Jay,” Bradley kissed his forehead. “It’s one night. And I know it was supposed to be our night, but it’ll be okay.” 

At that moment, Jake Seresin realized that he needed to spend the rest of his life with Bradley Bradshaw, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that was solidified soon. He wanted to wake up on lazy Sundays wrapped in Bradley’s arms and watch shitty movies together in the evenings. He wanted to carpool to work, fly together, teach together, and work together. 

He wanted to grow old together, and with that simple statement from his boyfriend, he knew Bradley wanted the same. 

“You should get back in there,” Bradley frowned. “I know this isn’t how we envisioned our evening, but call me later when he’s feeling better?” 

“I’ll call you as soon as he falls asleep,” Jake captured Bradley’s lips with his own and kissed him deeply. “Make sure you start the dryer; don’t leave the clothes in the washing machine overnight. And shut the kitchen windows, or you’ll catch a cold.” 

“Yes, dear,” Bradley’s hand dropped to Jake’s hip. “Push fluids, and give him the Zofran even if he hates it. It’s the only thing that made me feel better.” 

“You know that I will, honey,” Jake winked. “Text me when you get home?” 

“I will.” 

Jake wanted Bradley to text him and let him know he’s safe every day for the rest of his life, fate be damned.

Chapter Text

After his strange conversation with Maverick outside of Fanboy’s apartment the week prior, Bradley sought out his best friend and sole confidant, Natasha Trace, for guidance. 

Fierce, loyal Natasha, who listened as he cried, asked the perfect questions, and gave clarity on many confusing situations during their 15-year friendship, opened his eyes to the world around him and showed him what it meant to be loved unconditionally during a time period when he felt like he had no one backed against the wall with him. It was the two of them until the end of the line, and now the two had grown to four; Phoenix had fallen for Jake’s best friend and their fellow pilot, Coyote, and Bradley was ass over tea kettle in love with Jake. 

The four made quite the pair, and while Natasha and Javy had fallen hard and fallen fast, it would be Jake and Bradley who made it down the aisle first. As he sat and waited in the both at Rio Grande with a pre-ordered pitcher of margaritas, he looked around for his best friend who sent the I’m here text moments before. 

“Bradshaw!” She locked eyes with him from across the restaurant and weaved her way between tables and patrons until she was seated in the booth in front of him. “Why do you look like you’re about to have a heart attack?” 

“Because I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack,” Bradley kicked her foot under the table. “Thanks for meeting me for dinner. Even though this is going to wreck my system, and Jake’s going to be pissed.” 

“Still having heartburn? I thought taking your gallbladder out fixed that?” She poured the lime-green liquid into their salt-rimmed glasses. “Maybe you should see your doctor, old ass.” 

“Oh, you can kiss my old ass,” Bradley laughed heartily. “If I knew you were going to come for my throat, I would have just called you instead. Mav’s already texting me reminders to take my pills like I’m somewhere in a nursing home instead of… oh, 36 years old.” 

“Still would have come for your throat anyway,” she smiled. “You look good. Happy. Jake told me you two spent some time with Fanboy last week. How was it?” 

“I didn’t end up staying. He was getting pretty sick,” Bradley grimaced. “Jake was on Fanboy duty for the night and most of the following day. How was your leave?” 

“Jav and I had a really nice time in Joshua Tree,” her eyes were soft at the mention of her not-boyfriend. “How was everything with Jake? Aside from the obvious.” 

“I’m going to marry him,” Bradley said quickly before he lost his nerve. 

“You’re what !?” She exclaimed with wide, wild eyes. “Bradley, what the fuck?”

“There are families here, Natasha Marie,” He smirked. “But yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.” 

“Hell must be freezing over,” Natasha took a long drink of her margarita, draining the glass. “You’re just now telling me about this?” 

Bradley shrugged as he polished off his drink and scooped more than a healthy amount of salsa onto his chip, “Didn’t really think too hard about it until recently.” 

Before Natasha could reprimand him further, the waiter approached their table and took their orders. Bradley, against his better judgment, ordered enchiladas with red sauce, knowing that his battle with acid reflux and heartburn was well-lost over dinner with his friend. 

“You’ve been thinking about it hard enough,” Natasha scowled. “Who else have you told? If I’m the last one to know Bradshaw, I swear on my entire life that I’ll put you in the ground.” 

“Mav knows,” Bradley chuckled. “You’re the only other person I’ve told.” 

Bradley winced in discomfort as the acidic nature of their drinks started to settle in his chest. Even with the Omeprazole, he still fought with the burning pain in his chest on occasion. He was assured by his doctor and the general surgeon that he would never have an attack as severe as the night of his gallbladder removal, but he needed to be cautious with different foods, drinks, and cooking styles to avoid extreme discomfort as his body adjusts to life without the gallbladder. 

He took the advice with a grain of salt, but Jake was cautious of his mealtime decisions.

“You okay?” Natasha’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts as he swirled the liquid around in his glass, which was now full. “You look… off.” 

“This is going to give me raging heartburn,” Bradley grinned. 

“You could have chosen anywhere else, nimrod,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Now, tell me more about Jake.” 

“Well, I want to marry him,” Bradley laughed. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Tashie.” 

“Call me Tashie again, and I’ll cancel your best friend subscription,” she shot a glare in his direction. “When are you going to propose?” 

“When it feels right,” he shrugged. “It’s not going to be anything big. I’ll probably propose in the backyard or on the beach. Just the two of us. I’ve already talked to his mom.” 

“And his dad?” 

“Scares the hell out of me,” Bradley fidgeted in his seat. “It’s really not that deep, but I do need someone’s help looking for a ring. That’s really what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“You decided to give yourself raging heartburn to ask me to help you ring shop for your boyfriend?” She grinned from across the table. “Maybe I really am special.” 

“Till the end of the line,” Bradley whispered, tears in his eyes. 

Their conversation was interrupted as their food arrived, and Natasha ordered another- albeit small- pitcher of margaritas for the two of them to share. Bradley took a bite and winced at the temperature and at the lingering ache in his chest as his indigestion flared. 

“You sure you’re okay? I have Tums in my bag,” she looked at him carefully. “If you go home sick, Jake will be upset with me. I told him this was best friends only; no boyfriends allowed when he asked why he wasn’t invited. Same with Javy.” 

“Mhhm,” Bradley chewed carefully. “It’ll pass. Nothing left in my body for them to remove that I don’t seriously need.” 

“You’ve still got your appendix, don’t jinx yourself,” Natasha laughed. “I’m proud of you, Bradley.” 

He nodded, a little emotional at the moment, and he hooked his foot around her ankle with a soft smile. Their dinner was comfortable, Bradley and Natasha falling into their normal routine after a week apart for their leave. As they ate, they caught up, and Natasha began making suggestions on rings and proposals and asking Bradley about what else they did on leave. She showed him pictures from Joshua Tree at his request and gushed about the weekend Coyote planned for them and how beautiful the drive was. 

“I think I’m tapping out on my drink,” Bradley winced as he felt the indigestion flare and his chest burn. “And dinner. You safe to get home?” 

“Yeah,” Natasha smiled softly and squeezed Bradley’s hand that was resting on the table. “I took a Lyft. You good to get back?” 

“Never better, Tash,” Bradley’s lopsided smile and brown were warm and comforting, something Natasha loved about her best friend. “I’ll cover dinner. You let me know when you get home?” 

“When have I ever not let you know when I got home?” She winked. “I’ll sit with you till my ride’s here. And you don’t have to pay for my dinner.” 

“I know,” Bradley grinned. “But I want to.” 

Tossing a few bills on the table with the check, Bradley waived off the waiter when he asked if he needed change, and the pair of aviators walked side by side toward the patio, where Natasha bumped Bradley’s shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you,” she wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into a hug. “Keep me posted. And let me know when you get home?” 

“I will.” 

Bradley felt rough the entire drive back to their home, and when he pulled into the driveway, his chest felt like it was on fire. He was ready to get home, lie down, and take a nap. When he saw Jake’s truck in the driveway, his heart fluttered, and he knew his boyfriend was likely sitting on the couch, remote in hand, watching football or reading in the chair in the corner. 

He trudged up the steps, chest still aching from his misstep at dinner, and he cracked open the front door to find Jake napping on the couch. His face was soft, and Bradley walked over to him and scratched the top of his head. 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Bradley grinned. “I’m home.” 

“How was dinner?” Jake yawned. “You have a good time with Tash and feel guilty about leaving your significant others out?” 

Bradley rolled his eyes and plopped down on the couch, stretching his legs out on the opposite side of the sectional with a groan. 

“It was great, but I’m paying for it now,” Bradley belched softly. “I feel like my esophagus is going to disintegrate.” 

“And laying down is going to help you oh, so much,” Jake laughed. “Sit up, or it’s going to get way, way worse. We’ve been through this before. Sit up; I’ll grab you some Tums and a glass of water. What did you eat?” 

Bradley groaned as he sat up, “enchiladas and one too many margaritas.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Jake said lovingly. “But you’re my idiot, and now I’m going to take care of you.” 

God, Bradley was in love. 

“Phoenix is great at silent peer pressure,” Bradley chuckled. “When she finished her drink, and they asked if we wanted another pitcher, she said yes without asking me if I wanted more.” 

“You’re 36; say no,” Jake was opening kitchen cabinets as he looked into the living room at the curly brown hair sticking up over the couch as Bradley slumped into the cushions. “I’ve got Tums, water, anything else?” 

“Just bring me that bottle of apple cider vinegar,” Bradley spoke loudly and heard Jake make a gagging noise. “Don’t gag, it helps. And you know it’ll make me throw up if it sounds too real.” 

“Sorry,” Jake reentered the room and kissed the top of Bradley’s head before handing him two bottles and a glass. “I just can’t watch you do that.”

“I feel like shit,” Bradley breathed. “Like my insides are on fire, and if I open my mouth, I’ll spontaneously burst into flames.” 

“Did you learn your lesson?” Jake took a seat next to him, their thighs touching and Jake’s hand on the small of Bradley’s back. 

“Never,” A devilish grin flashed across Bradley’s face before he took a quick pull from the bottle of vinegar and chased it with water. “God, that shit never tastes better.” 

Jake grimaced and handed Bradley two Tums, “following with these won’t be much better.” 

“At least it gets rid of the aftertaste,” Bradley leaned his head on Jake’s shoulder and sighed. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Jake squeezed his waist. “But you’re welcome.” 

“I mean, thank you for everything, Jay,” Bradley kissed just below his boyfriend’s ear. “I didn’t know how much I needed you in my life like this. Sickness, health, terrible decisions that lead to heartburn, I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to be in your spot.” 

“Not even Matthew McConaughey?” Jake laughed. “I know how much you love him.” 

“Not even him, Jake.”

Chapter Text

Since the beginning of their relationship, Jake and Bradley had been fortunate enough to share a home, an office, and the title of co-instructors for incoming Top Gun students. 

They rode to base together, worked together, and tormented their “baby pilots” daily in what Phoenix deemed a sadistic act of foreplay, and went home at the end of the day eager to tangle themselves together on the couch and share dinner. There was always a lingering feeling that one of them would be pulled away for a mission or an assignment, but over the course of the last year and three months (not that Jake’s counting), they’d had their feet firmly and semi-permanently on the ground. 

That was until Bradley was pulled from the middle of a lecture by a cross-looking Admiral Beau Simpson, their technical air boss, and ushered into a small conference room three days ago. 

As Bradley stacked his papers and followed Cyclone tentatively, Jake was left sweating at the lectern, standing in front of the classroom as confused looks crossed the faces of his students. He continued his lesson, with model F/A-18’s in front of him, and shrugged it off. He knew Bradley could hold his own, but that didn’t stem the curious and panicked thoughts that were creeping into his mind.

The idea of Bradley flying a mission without him on his wing made Jake’s hands shake. 

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin, sir,” one of his latest students, Bones, said from his seat in the back, snapping Jake back to reality. “Are we going up today?”

“Unfortunately, we’re not until Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw returns,” Jake frowned. “This hop was contingent on four planes in the air, two being instructors. Standby in the Ready Room for further information.” 

“Yes, sir,” his student nodded. 

“You’re dismissed,” Jake sighed. “Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw or I will come get you when we have an update on training. If we have to tap someone else in, we will.” 

The aviators in the classroom scattered after offering Jake a salute, and he threw himself against the lectern before taking a deep, shaky breath and returning to his still-empty office. He thumbed through reports, paperwork, and files as he tapped his foot anxiously and awaited Bradley’s return following the meeting with their CO. 

As he worked, his mind wandered. He didn’t want Bradley to be sent halfway across the world for months at a time or to be shipped off to a carrier where he’d be difficult to contact because of mission parameters or phone signal.

He didn’t want Bradley to leave because he would miss him. 

“Before you get upset,” Bradley opened their office door with a frown following an impromptu meeting with Cyclone, Maverick, Phoenix, and Bob. “I’m only going to be gone for three days.” 

Jake’s eyes shot up from the folder he was perusing, and he looked at his boyfriend- defeated and tired- standing before him with his hands in his pockets. 

“What?” Jake asked quietly. “What was your meeting about?” 

Walking to Jake’s desk and sitting on the corner, Bradley placed a warm hand on Jake’s cheek and looked at him like he was leaving his whole world behind. 

“Tomorrow,” Bradley sighed. “Phe, Bob, and I are shipping out to the Roosevelt. They’re doing carrier certifications and need a few extra certified aviators around. I zoned out after they told us we were leaving, honestly. Just the three of us and Cyclone. They’re going to lift us in and out; we don’t have to fly.” 

“But you’re leaving,” Jake’s voice was small, even to him, and Bradley winced. “This wasn’t supposed to be a… thing.” 

“Mav’s taking the hops this afternoon with Payback and Fanboy,” Bradley shifted the subject as he saw Jake’s eyes flutter closed under the touch of his calloused hand. “Said we can both go home and spend some time together.” 

Jake nodded, and his hand landed atop Bradley’s in silence. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Jake frowned. “Who am I going to eat dinner with now? Coyote?” 

That was late yesterday night, and today, Jake had spent the majority of his morning with his head in the toilet, his stomach evacuating everything he’d eaten for the last few days. He was tired, shaky, and defeated as he thought about what landed him in his current predicament. As he slid down the side of the bathtub and rested his cheek against the cool porcelain, he waited for the nausea to return with a vengeance. 

Jake wasn’t someone who enjoyed cooking, not like Bradley did. He wasn’t known for standing in front of a stove with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as soft music played in the background and delicious smells wafted up the stairs. Just like Bradley only did enough cleaning to get by, Jake only did enough cooking to survive while he was a bachelor. 

That’s why he and Bradley worked; they were two parts of a whole, and each had their likes and dislikes, most complimenting the other or identical in nature. 

Cooking was Bradley’s thing, and the night prior, Jake decided he would do his best to clean up their leftovers while his boyfriend was on a carrier instead of cooking for himself. As he dug through the fridge, looked at the clear glass containers, and tried to remember what Bradley had told him before Jake dropped him off at the helipad. 

“Don’t dig too far into the fridge unless you’re cleaning it out; the two containers in the back are old,” Bradley wrapped his arms around Jake’s waist and held him close. “There are ingredients for Chicken Parmesan and plenty of eggs if you want breakfast for dinner. Your mom’s pancake recipe is bookmarked.” 

“I’m not fifteen and being left alone for the first time,” Jake pecked a kiss to Jake’s lips. “I’ll be okay; just know that I’m missing you.” 

“I’m allowed to worry,” Bradley breathed as he leaned his forehead against Jake’s. “It’s only three days. Promise you won’t starve because you’re too stubborn to cook?” 

“There are leftovers from last night and the night before,” Jake’s eyes fluttered closed as Bradley’s hand fell to his hip. “I’ll be okay as long as you promise me dinner when you get home.” 

“I can do that,” Bradley frowned. “Think they’ll kick me out if I miss transport?” 

“Three days,” Jake chewed on his bottom lip. “Call me tomorrow?” 

“The minute I can,” Bradley leaned down and pulled Jake into a deep, lingering kiss. “Remember, food in the front is good. Food in the back might make you sick.” 

“Fuck,” Jake heaved into the toilet for the fifth time that morning, his stomach rolling and his body having nothing left to bring up. 

After this wave of nausea passed, he blindly felt around the floor in the dimly lit bathroom- he’d only had time to turn on the light above the sink- looking for his phone. His options at the moment were limited, his gastrointestinal tract a ticking time bomb, but he knew he at least needed someone, anyone, to stop in. 

Coyote wasn’t busy; Natasha was with Bradley on the carrier. He also wasn’t the most nurturing of Jake’s friends, regardless of what people assumed about the other single-seater. Jake needed empathy at the moment, not someone telling him to pay more attention when given information. 

Halo and Omaha would be decent options, but both were currently on leave in different states. 

Fanboy did owe him, but he wasn’t going to subject the younger man to his battle with food poisoning. He might owe him, but he doesn’t owe him that much. 

Jake’s phone hovered over his message thread with the one person who would drop anything if he or Bradley ever needed anything. A man who loved his aviators like his own children, even when he had one grown goofball of a Godson who would always come very first. 

Jake was lumped in as 1B now that he was Bradley’s boyfriend. 

Can you come by the house? 

Jake’s stomach didn’t let him wait for a reply but instead sent him reeling over the toilet, and he felt his stomach cramp and cave at the lack of substance to return to the world. He was achy and tired of the vomiting and curled into a ball on the floor and closed his eyes. 

“Jake?” A quiet voice rang through the bedroom and pulled Jake from his semi-slumber. “You up here, kiddo?” 

“Yeah,” Jake croaked, throat raw from his fits of vomiting. “In here.” 

“Christ, kid,” Maverick flipped on the overhead light, and Jake winced at the sudden brightness. “What have you done to yourself?” 

Jake groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him, and he waited for the vomiting that never came. Maverick had crouched down next to Jake instantaneously, one hand resting in the middle of Jake’s back and another on his forehead, feeling for a fever. 

“You’re not warm,” Maverick hummed. “Anxious?” 

“Sick,” Jake groaned as Maverick helped him into a sitting position against the side of the bathtub. “Food poisoning.” 

Maverick frowned as he took in Jake’s appearance. He was pale and sweaty, his hands shaking as he struggled to keep his composure and not throw up on Maverick. It was a challenge, as his stomach ached and rolled, but he took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth- just like Bradley had shown him to soothe his anxiety- and closed his eyes. 

“What’d you eat?” Maverick probed. 

“Somethin’ Bee told me not to,” Jake flushed red. “Forgot about the containers in the front being the stuff we didn’t need’ta throw out.” 

Maverick shook his head and brushed Jake’s sweaty hair from his forehead before standing up, his knees cracking and popping and eliciting a weak laugh from Jake. 

“Don’t even, kid,” Maverick chuckled. “Some day your knees are going to sound just like this.” 

“Bee’s already do,” Jake smirked. “Must happen when you get old.” 

“I’m going to get you a little bit of water, and then I’ll help you to bed,” Maverick deflected lovingly. “Think you might be done?” 

“Still nauseous as fuck, Pops,” Jake grumbled. “Bed’s better than the floor, though.” 

Maverick nodded and turned on his heels, leaving Jake on the bathroom floor, anticipating his return. After sitting up, his stomach churned and constricted, leaving Jake struggling to maintain his composure. However, after the breathing exercises and centering himself on the cool floor, the wave passed. Hopefully, after 12 hours of nausea and vomiting, he was in the clear. He also didn’t want to count his chickens before they hatched, get Maverick’s hopes up, or throw up on his bed. 

“Let’s get you up,” Maverick returned to the bathroom and extended his hand. “Get you to bed.” 

Jake was uneasy on his feet as Maverick hoisted him from the ground and wrapped an arm around his waist. With a deep breath, he helped Jake to his side of the bed, peeled back the covers, and settled him against a small stack of pillows against the headboard. On the bedside table, there was a bottle of Pepto, a glass of water, and a bowl of applesauce. 

Jake scrunched his nose as Maverick produced a plastic mixing bowl. 

“That’s the popcorn bowl, Mav,” Jake grimaced. “I’m not throwing up in that.” 

“It’s a universal tool, Seresin, and I don’t want you to throw up on yourself if you end up feeling sick after the water and applesauce,” Maverick scolded. “Get comfortable. You’re going to be here the rest of the day. I called out.” 

Jake nodded, tears pricking his eyes as he thought about Bradley in the middle of the ocean, unable to be home with him while he was feeling so terrible. 

“Have you heard from Bee?” Jake asked softly. “Haven’t gotten to talk to him yet.” 

“Cyclone sent word that they’re there, and they’re in one piece, just like we thought they’d be,” Maverick sat on the edge of the bed and patted Jake’s knee. “Now tell me what happened that has you so sick.”

“As long as you swear you won’t tell Bradley,” Jake groaned. “It’s stupid.” 

“I promise I won’t tell Bradley,” Maverick crossed his heart and raised his hand in a salute. “Now spill.” 

“I ate really old leftovers,” Jake mumbled. “That Bradley reminded me were very old and needed to be thrown out when we cleaned out the refrigerator after he got back. I zoned out before they were lifted out, and I was too busy semi-spiralling to comprehend what he said.” 

“Something I’ve done before,” Maverick laughed heartily. “Penny left takeout in the fridge from Pasta Jay’s, and I thought it was fresh. Turns out it was a couple of weeks old. I turned myself inside out while you and Brad were on your weekend trip.” 

“Stupid is as stupid does,” Jake shot Maverick a sly smile. “I’m kidding, of course.” 

“Bold words coming from someone in the same position I was a few weeks ago and who just asked me to promise not to tell his partner what he did,” Maverick raised an eyebrow before handing him the plastic cup of applesauce. “Eat this slowly. Stop if you feel nauseous. And then try a few slow sips of water. If you keep that down, I’ll make you toast.” 

“What’s with the diet?” Jake tentatively took a small bite. 

“It’s a BRAT diet; use it for the stomach flu,” Maverick explained thoroughly. “Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast. We’re starting small since the two of you need to get some damn groceries.” 

“It’s a Thursday evening after-work activity,” Jake sighed sadly. “And it’s Thursday evening. We grocery shop together.” 

“You two sicken me,” the older man shook his head with a smile. “Reminds me a lot of a few people I used to know. Miss ‘em every day, but Brad picked up on a lot of their habits and routines whether he knows it or not.” 

“Goose and Carole?” 

“Grocery shopped every Sunday, I’d take Bradley to the park near hear, and we’d play on the swings for hours before he finally got tired,” Maverick smiled fondly. 

“I miss him.” 

“I miss him, too,” Maverick ruffled Jake’s hair much like he would Bradley when he was young and feeling unwell. “But he’ll be home in two days. And you’ll be feeling better in the morning. That sitting okay?” 

“It is,” Jake nodded. “Thanks for coming over. I know this isn’t what you were expecting.” 

“I cleaned up vomit every time that boyfriend of yours would eat too much candy and run around the house,” Maverick laughed. “His mom didn’t do “sick,” and his dad would throw up when someone else was throwing up.”

“Another thing that seems to be genetic,” Jake laughed heartily. “We know how Bradley is.” 

“We definitely know how Bradley is. But I also know how you are,” Maverick stared at Jake and winked. “I’m proud of you for asking me to come over instead of suffering on your bathroom floor alone and dehydrating yourself.” 

“It’s easier now,” Jake nodded. “My mom and dad always took care of me, but when you’ve been flying solo for so long, you kind of forget that you can ask people to be there for you.” 

“You and Brad are both learning the same lesson. It’s not an easy one, but you’re making me proud,” Maverick smiled. “Let's give this a few minutes now that you’re done. I’ll sit up here with you, and you let me know if you’re feeling bad.” 

Jake nodded. 

Minutes passed, and his stomach seemed okay with the sustenance, and when he tried the water, everything seemed to stay where it was supposed to be. While it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d thrown up, he was happy not to revisit his “lunch,” and he leaned back against the pillows. 

“How long were you sick before you asked me to come over?” Maverick looked up from his book.  

Jake stared at the man seated in the corner who had drug a chair in from the office. With a defeated look spreading across his face, he attempted to recall the time he spent on the bathroom floor before giving in and asking Maverick for assistance. 

“Like 7 hours,” Jake admitted timidly. “Thought it was going to be a one-off, and then I was so sick I couldn’t do anything. You must’ve gotten here right at the end.” 

Maverick hummed in acknowledgment and placed a bookmark in between the pages of whatever novel he’d picked up off their shelves. 

“Next time,” the seasoned aviator and Godfather of the Week stretched his legs out in front of him. “Why don’t you let me know you’re sick before you spend 7 hours camped out on the bathroom floor?”

“I don’t want there to be a next time,” Jake played with the edges of his duvet. “Bradley’s usually here when I’m sick, and he can clock it hours before I’m actually sick. I don’t like it when he’s not here, and I’m stuck wishing he was.” 

“Two days,” Maverick reminded him. “Little birdie told me he might be able to call this evening.” 

“Who’s the birdie this time?” 

“Slider’s on the carrier,” Maverick shrugged. “Pays to have some friends who are still brass, still looking out for me and my kids.” 

“Would Slider really let him call me?” 

“Slider would throttle him if he didn’t call you,” Maverick grinned. “You’re part of the family now, too, kid.”

Chapter Text

It was nearing the anniversary of his mother’s death, and Jake and Maverick both noticed the change in Bradley’s demeanor. He wasn’t sleeping well, his appetite fluctuated, and he was overly anxious about his health, flying, and teaching. Instead of shrugging it off as an annual occurrence, Maverick took the opportunity to invite the couple to his hangar in the Mojave along with his friends from the Top Gun class of 1986. This time of year was difficult for all of them, but for the first time in nearly two decades, his Baby Bird was home, and he wanted to do everything he could to comfort him. 

“So what do you think?” Maverick asked with a small smile. “Humor an old man and join me and the boys at the hangar? See the Mustang and some of my other projects?” 

“That sounds good, Dad,” Bradley half-smiled but was buzzing with excitement. 

While Bradley had spent a little time there with his Godfather as they navigated their rocky relationship, Jake had yet to get up close and personal with the space or the treasures it held. Bradley had told him about the bikes, the Jeep, and the P-51, and Jake was eager to climb into the plane, even if he couldn’t take to the skies in her. 

“I think it’ll be great for both of us,” Jake grinned. “If you let me take her up, it’ll be the best day of my life.” 

“Absolutely not,” Maverick smirked. “You can be my backseater, though.” 

“After that shit you pulled on the mission? Not a chance,” Jake winked. “Bradley said it was terrifying.” 

“It was! I don’t know how my dad did it for all those years,” A ghost of a laugh escaped Bradley’s lips. “You’re insane.” 

“They boys are excited to see you again, Bird,” Maverick added gently. “It’s been a long time since they’ve had you around, and I think Slider is more excited than I’ve ever seen him; he’s happy you’re home.” 

To add to the excitement, Jake was finally going to meet the rest of Bradley’s unorthodox and patchwork family; Admiral Rick “Hollywood” Neven, Admiral Ron “Slider” Kerner, Captain Leo “Wolfman” Wolfe, would all be waiting for them upon their arrival. 

Over the last two years, Bradley had opened up to Jake about his family life- the loss of his parents, being adopted into Maverick’s world, and the fallout with his Naval Academy papers. He didn’t speak much about his childhood, and Jake knew there were open wounds still left to heal, but excitement radiated from him as he thought about catching glimpses of Bradley’s childhood. 

After all, his mother had broken out the baby photos after meeting Bradley for the first time. 

“I’m excited to see them, too,” Bradley whispered. “I just hope it’s as good as you think it will be. I-I don’t think I could handle being yelled at this weekend.” 

“Yelled at?” Jake squeezed his hand under the table as the three ate dinner at Maverick and Penny’s. “Why would they yell at you?” 

Bradley shrugged. 

“There won’t be any yelling,” Maverick bumped their feet together. “I promise.” 

They found themselves in Jake’s truck that Saturday morning, the Bronco in the shop for a general tune-up, and Bradley was suspiciously quiet. He’d been withdrawn since the evening, and Jake didn’t want to press the issue because of Bradley’s fragile mental state. He didn’t know if Bradley was anxious, worried, or sick, but he knew something was bothering his partner, and it worried him. 

“You okay?” Jake reached for Bradley’s icy hand. 

“Anxious to see everyone,” Bradley confessed quietly. “It’s been a while… fifteen years a while…” 

“It’s going to be okay,” Jake squeezed his boyfriend’s hand tightly. “I know you’re anxious, but I’ll be right there with you the entire time. But is that all that’s bothering you?” 

“I have a headache,” Bradley sighed and leaned against the cool window. “It’s been a weird morning in my brain, and my head hurts.” 

“There’s Excedrin in the glove box,” Jake brushed his thumb over Bradley’s scarred knuckles and held on tightly. “Take a couple so they kick in before we get there. Worst case, see if you can nap in the trailer.” 

Bradley nodded and started to dig through the glove box after Jake hesitantly released his hand. He found the small, white, and green bottle with ease and dry swallowed two of the pills before Jake shoved a water bottle into his hands from the cup holder. 

“You’ll give yourself an ulcer,” Jake commented. “At least follow them with some water?” 

Bradley nodded and took tentative sips of the cool water, hoping Jake didn’t notice. On top of the headache, his throat hurt, and his chest felt tight. It was all indications of a cold, but he didn’t want to ruin the thoughtfully planned weekend Maverick had in honor of his mother. Her death haunted Maverick, and the decision he made to honor his wishes ruined their relationship when Bradley needed him the most. It was a redeeming moment in their healing relationship, and Bradley didn’t want a cold to waste their time together. 

“You been up in the Mustang?” Jake attempted to shift the conversation to something lighter. 

“No,” Bradley sighed, his eyes closed as he let the coolness of the window continue to seep into his warm skin. “I-I don’t want to be in the back seat of an airplane again. But he won’t let anyone fly it.” 

“Oh,” Jake breathed. “I didn’t think about that.” 

“It’s okay,” Bradley reached for his hand. “I can’t handle the thought of not being in control if something were to happen again.” 

“I understand,” Jake squeezed three times. 

I love you. 

“It’s silly in the grand scheme of things,” Bradley admitted, exhaling for several seconds to stem his anxiety. “Maybe someday I’ll be okay with it, but right now I’m just… not.” 

Jake nodded in understanding, his eyes fixed on the dusty road ahead. It was a drive to the hangar from their house, admittedly, but they were nearing their destination. Jake could feel the anxiety radiating off his partner and could feel Bradley’s leg bouncing even as they drove. He wished he could pull over and wrap Bradley in a hug, protecting him from his thoughts, but as they continued on their journey, Bradley finally began to doze off as the road lulled him to sleep. 

An hour later, Jake pulled up in front of the large building, jaw-dropping at the monstrosity before him as he shook Bradley’s knee to rouse him from his slumber. 

“We’re here,” Jake’s voice was soft as he carefully woke Bradley. “You can finish your nap inside.” 

Bradley lazily blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, and he stretched, “I think I’ll be okay without finishing the nap. Looks like we beat my uncles here.” 

“Must have,” Jake deduced based on the lack of other vehicles. “You going to be okay getting here before them? You look a little pale.” 

Bradley nodded as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle, his legs feeling weak beneath him as Jake came to his side and pulled him into a hug. The pressure surrounding his body was comforting and grounding. He leaned his weight against Jake, who held him impossibly close, hoping to put even a few of Bradley’s broken pieces back together before they entered the hangar. 

“You two going to come inside?” A voice, one not recognized by Jake but known by Bradley, pulled them from their moment. “We’ve been waiting on you.” 

“Fuck,” Bradley breathed. “That’s Slider, and I feel like I’m about to be cornered.” 

Jake released Bradley from his stronghold and laced their fingers together. He didn’t comment on how warm Bradley felt in his arms; his partner ran hot most days, but this was an elevated warmth that raised concern. 

“C’mon,” Jake encouraged. “The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can relax, and I can look around.” 

Bradley scowled at his boyfriend, no malice behind the look. Jake could hear the shaky inhale and squeeze Bradley’s hand tighter as they approached the hangar, Slider watching dutifully as the pair came, and he grinned. 

“Hey, Baby Bird,” Slider smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Bradley stopped in his tracks, unsure if he should approach the man waiting eagerly, his arms open for a hug. Jake nudged him forward, their previously laced hands separated as Jake’s moved to the small of his back and brushed gently over his spine. 

“Gonna give your Uncle a hug, or do I have to stand here all day?” 

Bradley took three tentative steps forward before glancing over his shoulder and looking back at Jake, who encouraged him. Bradley’s legs, still trembling, carried him further toward his uncle, who wrapped him in a tight hug. 

“Missed you, kid,” Slider whispered as Bradley trembled. “So much more than you’ll ever know.” 

Bradley nodded against Slider’s shoulder, his eyes damp as Jake joined the pair and stood quietly to the side, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans. 

“You feel a little warm,” Slider commented as the pair pulled apart. “You feeling okay?” 

Bradley nodded, “Just have a headache.” 

“Tell me if that changes,” Slider spoke, his words firm before turning to look Jake up and down with a blank look. “This the boyfriend?” 

Bradley nodded again. 

“Reminds me a lot of Ice,” Slider laughed airily. “Seems like he’s decent on the surface. C’mere kid.” 

Jake approached the pair and wrapped an arm around Bradley’s waist before standing before Slider and narrowing his eyes. 

“Hangman, uh, Jake Seresin, sir,” Jake extended his hand for Slider, who shook it firmly. 

“Fly with Brad?” 

“Yes, sir,” Jake nodded. “We even share an office, sometimes a bed.” 

Bradley elbowed Jake in the ribs, and Slider let out a thundering laugh as he pulled Jake into a hug and welcomed them to the hangar. Jake stiffened, but after another chuckle from Slider and a comment about relaxing if he’s going to be part of the family, he settled. 

“Mav’s making some lunch. He figured you two didn’t stop to eat,” Slider pushed open the door, and Jake stepped inside, jaw hanging open in awe at Maverick’s home away from home.

“Holy shit,” Jake finally exclaimed. “You didn’t tell me it was this much of a museum!” 

“Wanted to surprise you,” Bradley kissed Jake’s temple. “You like it? Maverick’s kind of into tinkering with projects. He’s got some bikes over there, the Mustang, a Jeep…” 

“Yeah, yeah, I can see that,” Jake gasped. “Why’s there a full-fledged living room outside of the Airstream?” 

“I stay here sometimes,” Maverick walked toward the pair and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Depends on the day, but if I’m late working on her, I don’t want to drive a few hours back. What do you think?” 

“It’s incredible, Pops,” Jake grinned before they were both pulled into another hug. “Thanks for having us out.” 

“Welcome here anytime,” Maverick stepped back and looked Bradley up and down, scanning his body for signs of illness, injury, or discomfort. “You feeling okay?” 

“Why is everyone asking me that?” Bradley snapped. “I have a headache. Other than that, I feel fine.” 

“You look like you could drop at any second, Bee,” Jake squeezed his hip. “And now you’re shaking.” 

“I’m fine,” Bradley sniffled. “I’ll admit I’m anxious about today, especially since Hollywood and Wolf aren’t here yet, but I’m feeling fine.” 

“Then let me feel your forehead,” Slider approached the trio, hand extended to feel Bradley’s forehead, and the brunette ducked out of the way. “You’re not six. Stop avoiding it.” 

“I’m avoiding it because-” The door creaked open, and in walked Bradley’s other uncles, the gesture from Slider.

“Baby Goose!” Hollywood shouted, and Bradley winced at the sudden noise. “You’re here! I told you he’d be here.” 

Hollywood ran toward Bradley, the aviator bracing for impact, a soft “oomph” escaping his lips as his most affectionate uncle wrapped him in a hug and held him tightly to his chest. 

“I missed you so much,” Hollywood whispered. “I wanna know all about this boyfriend, too.” 

“He’s here; you missed him,” Bradley laughed, a cough threatening to escape his lips. “His name is Jake, Hangman, if you want to get technical. Let go of me, and you can meet him.” 

“Fine,” Hollywood grumbled. 

Turning on his heels, he saw Wolf already interrogating Jake, who looked wildly uncomfortable as the RIO asked him about flying and his intentions with Bradley. Hollywood joined him with a laugh and shook Jake’s hand. 

“ Save me ,” Jake mouthed over the head of Wolf, and Bradley shook his head. 

“ All you, babe ,” Bradley mouthed back. 

Maverick walked to Bradley’s side and pulled his son into a hug, frowning at how warm Bradley felt in his embrace. When Bradley’s forehead brushed Maverick’s cheek, he pulled away suddenly. 

“You’re burning up,” Maverick exclaimed. “Not sick, my ass!” 

“Shut up,” Bradley snapped. “I-It’s mom’s day. You planned this whole thing. I’m not sick, I’m stressed, and it’s fine. ”

“You ever heard the phrase worried yourself sick? Because that’s what I think the problem is,” Maverick squeezed Bradley’s forearm and guided him toward the old leather couch as Jake watched in confusion. 

“I knew it,” Jake grumbled. “You’re sick.” 

“Okay, fine, since you’re all going to crawl up my ass about it, I don’t feel great. My head hurts, and my chest feels tight, but it’s nothing more than a cold,” Bradley rambled. “I promise you, I’m fine.” 

“You could have the flu,” Jake plopped down beside Bradley and felt his forehead. “You’re hot.” 

Bradley swallowed thickly, leaned against Jake’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. The coolness of Jake’s hand resting on the back of his neck lulled him to sleep, the others watching on as the pair relaxed into the couch, and Jake took the brunt of Bradley’s weight as he fell asleep. 

“It’s been a rough week,” Jake admitted, eyes downcast as the four older aviators scattered about the “living room” where Jake and Bradley were. “I think he stressed himself out to the point of being ill.” 

“Did that a few times when he was a teenager,” Maverick reached across the coffee table and rested his hand on Bradley’s knee. “He didn’t know how to process the emotions he needed to, and it made him sick. Put him in the hospital a few times.” 

Jake looked up, a horrified expression on his face as he pulled Bradley closer and looked around the room at the somber pilots. 

“Losing his mom hit him hard,” Hollywood added. “He was young when his dad passed, but it was him and Carole his entire life; we stepped in where we could, Mav especially, but it was the two of them, thick as thieves.” 

“He talks about her a lot. I wish I could have met her,” Jake whispered, his hand rubbing up and down Bradley’s arm. “She sounds like a wonderful woman.” 

“She was,” Slider wiped at a tear trickling down his cheek. “Tore all of us up, but we tried to be there the best we could for Brad. Fucked it up real good on occasion, but other times it was nice to get him to smile.” 

“He’s been doing well lately,” Jake half-smiled. “Seems like therapy is working wonders.” 

Maverick nodded, “I’ve seen a big change. It’s nice to see him happy. You make him happy, kid.” 

Jake swallowed, his eyes stinging with tears as he looked down at Bradley’s sleeping form. Making eye contact with Maverick, who gestured toward the trailer, Jake gently woke Bradley, his boyfriend stretching his neck and his eyes fluttering open. 

“Why don’t you go to sleep for a little bit?” Jake’s lips brushed over Bradley’s warm forehead. “Mav can get you some cold medicine? If he’s got the kind you can take.” 

“I always do,” Maverick stood from his seat and entered the trailer, digging through the cabinets. 

“Sorry ‘m ruining the day,” Bradley sniffled. 

“You’re not,” Jake soothed. “I promise. I’ll keep your uncles entertained while you let the meds get into your system.” 

“Kay,” Bradley curled back into Jake’s side. “You’re warm.” 

“That’s the fever,” Slider moved to Bradley’s other side, a hand gently rubbing Bradley’s back. “Mav found some meds; think you can wake up long enough to take them?” 

Bradley shook his head. 

“You need to, darlin’,” Jake whispered, his hot breath fanning Bradley’s cheek. “For me?” 

“Mmmm,” Bradley hummed. “Can I go back to sleep?” 

“Yeah,” Jake soothed. “Take your meds, and you can go back to sleep?” 

Tentatively taking the medication and a bottle of water from Maverick, mind drifting to what happened the day in the Ready Room, he swallowed harshly and took the pill, eyes heavy with exhaustion. He leaned back against Jake, who nudged him back awake, helping him stand and leading him toward the trailer, where Maverick met him. 

“Bed’s in the back,” Maverick brushed the damp curls from Bradley’s forehead. “Need help?” 

“I got ‘em,” Jake took most of Bradley’s weight and practically carried him to the bed. 

As his boyfriend sunk into the mattress and pulled the blankets up to his chin, Jake sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back. He felt sad for Bradley; all his boyfriend wanted to do was celebrate his mom and reconnect with his found family, but his cold took him out at the knees, and now he was curled in his Godfather’s bed. 

“Go to sleep, honey,” Jake carded a hand through Bradley’s messy curls. “We’ll be outside when you wake up.” 

“‘S inconvenient,” Bradley sniffled. “Wanted to spend time with ‘em.” 

“You will when you wake up,” Jake continued to brush through Bradley’s hair. “I promise.” 

Chapter Text

“This is pathetic ,” Natasha stood in the doorway of the living room, two reusable grocery bags looped over her arm and a smirk on her face. “You both look like someone kicked your dog.” 

“We’re sick,” Jake rasped. “Called out all week. That key is for emergencies, by the way.” 

“This seemed like an appropriate time to use it,” their friend grinned. “Hadn’t heard from you for a few days, and when Mav asked me if I could take the newbies up, I assumed something was wrong or you’d gotten yourselves grounded for some hair-brained stunt. Didn’t envision this.” 

Jake and Bradley had taken up residence on their couch; Jake was sprawled across the left side of the sectional, and Bradley had usurped the right. There were tissue boxes on each end of the coffee table and discarded water and Gatorade bottles littering the rest of the surface. They’d ordered takeout last night, something easy on the stomach from a local sandwich shop, and their trash was balled up and dangerously close to falling to the floor. 

Bradley, despite the chatter, was still restlessly asleep, a blanket pulled to his chin and a pillow from their bed propping his head against the armrest. 

“I’m going to put these away; you stay put,” Natasha spoke firmly, leaving no room for arguing as Jake moved to help her. “You two are a downright disaster. Is there seriously nothing to cook here?” 

She was opening cabinets and drawers, and when she opened the refrigerator, she frowned. They’d been living on takeout since they both started to feel sick, and she rolled her eyes at the stash of Gatorade, bottles of water, and individual Jell-O cups. 

“What’d you two do?” She shook her head. “Order the bare minimum groceries? You don’t even have anything worth eating.” 

“We weren’t feeling it, but we ordered what we thought we needed at the time,” Jake’s voice was hoarse, and when he coughed, a shiver ran down Natasha’s spine. 

He sounded terrible. 

“Good thing I’m an incredible friend and went grocery shopping for you,” She quipped. “I’ll even stick around and make you a few meals to reheat if you’re a good boy and stay on the couch.” 

“I’m not a dog.” 

“Could have fooled me the way you mark your territory with Bradshaw,” She laughed loudly. “Is that what got you both sick in the first place?” 

“Not sure which one of us brought it home, but more than likely, our little sneak away at the Hard Deck didn’t do us any favors,” Jake jokes. “Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to.” 

“I wanted to,” She shrugged as she opened their medicine cabinet. “You don’t even have a thermometer? You’re both hopeless.” 

“In the drawer, not the medicine cabinet,” Jake coughed. “Junk drawer to the left of the stove, specifically.” 

“I don’t know how men aren’t extinct,” She mumbled. “Nothing’s organized, nothing’s in a logical place. These morons don’t even have groceries.” 

“I can hear you,” Jake sniffled. “And Bradley’s still asleep, so don’t wake him up. He’s down worse than I am, and he’s been restless since yesterday evening.” 

“He always gets sicker than most; even when we were in flight school, it would put him in bed for days,” She recalled. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit,” Jake laughed, doubling over into a cough before he could catch his breath. “Been worse, though. Just glad I haven’t gotten a migraine or anything.”

“When Mav told me I needed to do a few hops with the newbies, I figured something was up,” She put away the last of the boxes and pulled a blister pack of NyQuil and a blister pack of a cold medication she couldn’t pronounce, and returned to the living room. 

“Take this,” She handed Jake the pills and gestured toward his water bottle. “It’ll make you feel better.” 

“Yes, Mom,” He rolled his eyes and peeled open the medication as he watched Natasha crouch down near Bradley’s head, her hand running through his hair. 

“Hey, Bradshaw,” she whispered, her voice tender and soft. “Wake up for me.” 

Bradley mumbled in his sleep, burying himself further into his pillows before relaxing again under Natasha’s cool hand. 

“You need to take some meds,” She soothed, hoping he would wake up without her becoming unnecessarily loud or needing to shake his shoulders. “It’ll help you feel better.” 

“No,” Bradley’s congestion-laced voice was strained. “Sleep.” 

“You can go back to sleep in a little bit,” Natasha cooed, her hand resting on Bradley’s cheek. “Right now, I need you to wake up and take these so we can get you feeling better.”

“Tash?” His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled lazily. “What’re you doin’ here?” 

“Taking care of two helpless idiots, apparently,” She brushed a thumb over Bradley’s warm, flushed cheek. “You two are hopelessly bad at taking care of yourselves.” 

“In our defense, we got sick out of nowhere,” Jake said, leaning against his pillow and watching the interaction between the best friends. “We didn’t have time to prepare.” 

“Never been sick simultaneously,” Bradley’s voice cracked, and she winced. “Gimme the meds, Tashie, I’ll take ‘em.” 

“You get one free pass on the Tashie remark,” She peeled the back off the blister pack and dropped them both in Bradley’s hand. “Next time I hear it, I’ll… well, I’ll figure it out.” 

“Love you,” He grinned cheekily, taking the pills with the water that cooled his burning, raw throat. “Thank you.” 

“I love you too, Bradshaw,” She ruffled his hair. “Now that I’m here and in babysitting mode, you two rest.” 

“We don’t need babysitters,” Jake pouted. “We’re competent grown men who can survive on our own, believe it or not.” 

“That remains to be seen,” She squeezed Jake’s shoulder on her way past his side of the couch. “You need someone to hold it together here while you’re both down, and I’ve got it. Unless you want me to call Maverick to come hover.”  

“No,” A harsh cough escaped Bradley as he flopped back onto his pillow. “He’ll smother us. I’d much rather have your tough love.” 

“I have plenty of that to give, especially knowing you have a junk drawer . How do you both find anything?” Exasperated, she returned to the kitchen and watched over the bartop as both of her friends sat up. 

“We have a system!” Bradley croaked. “You can’t diss the system.” 

“And we know where everything is because it’s in logical places!” Jake added with a huff. “You’re just mad because the thermometer is in the junk drawer. Cabinets are for dry goods and boxes, not thermometers.” 

“You’re both the biggest pains in my ass,” She rolled her eyes as she washed her hands. “What do you want to eat? I have stuff for chicken noodle or tomato soup, or I can make my mom’s chicken, cheese, and rice.” 

“Tomato,” Bradley grinned. “Add cheddar?” 

“Only for you,” she laughed. “Jake?” 

“Works for me,” he sniffled. “Please don’t burn our house down. We like our house.” 

“Maverick warned me that Bradley can be a handful when he’s sick,” she raised her hand to silence her friend as he attempted to protest. “But he didn’t tell me that you are also a menace and a twit.” 

“Twit? What is this? 1960?” Jake glared in her direction. “And we’re both charming little angels, wouldn’t you agree, babe?” 

“Don’t know where Maverick gets permission to call us a pain in the ass, but we’re basically perfect,” Bradley grinned. “You love us too much actually to believe it.” 

“I wish I didn’t,” she deadpanned. “You both give me heartburn.” 

“There’s Omeprazole in the cabinet for that,” Bradley quipped. “Hope you can find it in our ‘disorganization.’” 

“I hope you start sneezing and never stop,” Natasha’s face was blank as she glared in Bradley’s direction. “Lie down and go back to sleep; I liked it better when you were silent.” 

“You’re who woke me up!” 

“I regret it already,” she half-smiled. “Both of you, rest; I’ll bring you soup when it’s ready as long as you stop being annoying.” 

Both men relaxed on the sofa, each dealing with their ailments as they listened to Natasha mill about the kitchen and prepared lunch. Bradley was arguably more exhausted than Jake, his body constantly crashing hard when feeling unwell, and Jake was dealing with more congestion and coughing than his counterpart. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Jake sniffled as he looked across the couch at Bradley, his eyes watering just before he sneezed. “You can choose.” 

“Can we watch When Harry Met Sally? It was one of mom’s favorites,” Bradley sighed. “I’m tired.” 

“Your mother had great taste,” Jake smiled warmly at his partner, who appeared to be drifting off to sleep again. “I’ll put it on, but if you fall asleep, I’m finishing it without you.” 

“‘S fine,” Bradley yawned. 

Natasha watched with awe as the two existed in tandem, her heart fluttering as she remembered her conversation with Bradley over dinner. As his best friend, it was her job to give Jake shit, but she’d never seen him as happy as he was with Jake Seresin. His smile, for the first time in all the years she’d known him, reached his eyes. How much he adored, Jake was present in everyday interactions, coffee runs, and flight training. She could see the way a blush dusted across his cheeks when Jake came up in conversation (especially when he overheard two of the female Top Gun students whispering about how attractive Lieutenant Commander Seresin was). When she’s with Bradley, he regularly brings up Jake in the wake of his absence. 

Even as they were being lifted out to the Roosevelt to conduct carrier certifications, Bradley spoke of Jake like he was the most important thing in his small part of the world. 

As she was lost in thought, her phone buzzed. 

“Jake, why the hell are you texting me? I’m in your kitchen,” she snapped, no malice in her voice. 

“Just read it,” Jake sighed. “I couldn’t say it out loud.”

I want to marry Bradley. Will you and Javy help me pick out something nice?

“Of course I will, Jake,” She felt tears fill her eyes as she stirred the soup on the stove. “Just tell me when and where, and I’ll help you.” 

“Thank you,” he coughed. “I’m glad we have you.” 

“You’d be lost without me, and you know it,” she smiled widely. “I’m happy I can be here.” 

Jake nodded and leaned back into his pillow, his hands folded across his stomach as the movie played in the background, and he watched Bradley sleep. He was too scared to tell Maverick and Bradley’s uncles about the latest development in their relationship, but Natasha was safe. 

Natasha wouldn’t give him a shovel talk, at least not yet. 

In theory, she already had the day on the tarmac after Jake brought Bradley’s father up during training. The conversation still echoed in his head, her biting words telling him that Bradley deserved the world and that she would come for anyone who hurt him because he’d been through enough.  

He didn’t want to be the one to hurt Bradley ever again. 

“Do you want a grilled cheese to go with lunch?” Natasha’s soft question returned Jake to the present, the thought of a sandwich making his mouth water. 

“Yes,” Jake chirped. “Bradley’s back asleep, but we can still eat. Is that okay?”

“He needs to sleep this off, and cold medication makes him tired. But I know you know both of those things,” she started to work on their sandwiches. “Speaking of, have either of you taken your temperatures lately? Or do we need to do that, too?” 

“We haven’t at all, actually,” Jake blushed. “Too caught up in the moment, and neither of us had the motivation to get the thermometer.” 

“You’re both hopeless and helpless, all simultaneously,” she scolded. “I’ll bring it over with me.” 

“Thanks, Tash.” 

Minutes later, she returned to the living room with a tray holding two bowls and a plate with grilled cheese sandwiches, and water bottles were tucked under her arm. Wordlessly, she sat down next to Jake, placed the tray on their coffee table, and sunk into the plush couch. 

“I don’t know what it is about you two or if it’s just a man thing, but this is a sorry sight,” She joked. “But I love you both to the sky and right back down, and don’t know what I’d do without either of you.” 

“Don’t go gettin’ soft on me, Trace,” Jake nudged at her thigh with his foot. “We love you too. You’ve been there for Bradley since the beginning, and you keep us in line. And when the day comes for… you know… I know you’ll be right there with both of us, too.” 

“It helps that you have a lovely and kind best friend,” she shoved Jake’s foot from her lap. “Sit up and eat?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake pushed himself up on his elbows and eased into a sitting position, taking a bowl of soup in his hands. 

“You two exist in a way I never thought possible,” she verbalized the thoughts that had plagued her all day. “I don’t know what it is, and I don’t think I’ll ever know, but it’s endearing.” 

“What do you mean?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know how to take that.” 

“You both care endlessly for one another and know exactly what the other needs,” she reflected, thinking about the times when they had been sick or injured (independently) and had watched the other drop everything for their partner. “But when you’re both down and down bad, at the same time, it’s like you’re just helpless little babies. It’s cute.” 

“In his defense, I got sick first, and he did try to take care of me,” Jake blushed. “It lasted a total of 3 hours before I thought he was going to pass out in the hallway. Turns out he was trying to avoid the inevitable to make sure I was okay.” 

“Sounds like our Bradley,” she bumped their shoulders together. “Should I take his temperature while he’s asleep?” 

“Might be for the best.” 

She placed her bowl of soup back on the tray and pulled the thermometer from her pocket, moving to Bradley’s side and swiping the device across his forehead. 

101.1.

“It’s not bad, just a little high,” she relayed. “101.1, but if we keep him hydrated and pumped full of that cold medication, it should drop. Your turn.” 

Jake rolled his eyes and allowed her to repeat the motion as she sat next to him with a smirk. 

100.0

“Yours is lower, definitely something low-grade,” she winked. “100 even.” 

“He always has been hotter than I am,” Jake wiggled his eyebrows in Natasha’s direction. 

“You’re the actual worst,” she picked up her lunch and resumed eating, able to fully relax as she knew that both of her friends weren’t as sick as they looked. “But that’s why we keep you around.” 

“And we keep you around to play nurse. You’re way cuter than Mav.” 

“I want to go home,” she laughed. 

“We need you to stay.” 

“As if I could leave you two alone in this condition,” she leaned her head on Jake’s shoulder as they ate. “If you both decided to keel over simultaneously, no one would know.” 

“And that’s why you’re the grown-up.” 

Before she could respond, Bradley started to stir. With a shiver, he wrapped himself with the blanket and sighed, the smell of soup wafting through the room and forcing him awake. As he blinked rapidly and saw Jake and Natasha eating, he smiled. 

“My two favorite people all in one place,” his voice was soft and husky, and his eyes were rimmed red with illness and exhaustion. 

“Mornin’ Sleeping Beauty,” Jake stared lovingly at his partner. “Did we wake you up?” 

“No,” Bradley assured him. “I can’t breathe out of my nose, and it makes staying asleep kinda hard. That soup?” 

“It is,” Natasha sat her bowl down once again. “Would you like some?” 

Bradley nodded, and she patted Jake’s knee before she removed herself from the couch and went to work caring for the other sick aviator. 

“Feeling better?” Jake asked with concern. 

“A little,” Bradley frowned. “Not as achy, just congested, and my head still feels like there’s a construction crew operating a bunch of jackhammers.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake sighed. “Did the medication not help that? Doesn’t it have a pain reliever in it?” 

“The cough and cold kind doesn’t,” Bradley recalled. “But the flu kind does. Which one did I take?” 

“Let me ask,” Jake smiled. “Tash, did you give Bradley cough and cold or flu meds?” 

“Cough and cold, why?” 

“Can you bring the bottle of Tylenol in here when you come back?” Jake asked politely. “Pretty please?” 

“I can,” she rifled through the medicine cabinet, the red and white bottle coming into view. 

“Thank you,” Bradley coughed. “My head’s killing me.” 

She nodded and returned to her nursing duties, handing Bradley the bottle and his bowl of soup before she watched him take the medication, Jake’s watchful eye never leaving his partner. Bradley looked as miserable as Jake assumed he felt, and Bradley’s gaze landed on Jake, who looked worse for wear. They were quite the sight, the usually boisterous and animated aviators reduced to quiet, sickly men on their couch, but even in these moments, Bradley still looked at Jake like he hung the moon. 

“I can stay longer if you both need me, but I also have a laundry list of chores I need to do,” Natasha spoke, her eyes scanning her friends to ensure they weren’t distressed. 

“If you need to go, you can go. We don’t want to get you sick,” Bradley noted. “You’ve been here long enough to pick up our germs.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Natasha smiled. “You two can’t get me sick. I have an iron immune system. But I’ll leave once I start your dishwasher and throw in a load of laundry.”

“You’re the best, Tash. You don’t have to,” Jake reminded her. 

“I know, but I want to.”

Chapter Text

Jake had squatted beneath his plane and was checking his landing gear as part of his pre-flight routine when he heard shouts and commotion followed by a collapse of heavy, military-grade material behind him, and the shrill warning filled the hangar. 

"Watch out!" 

A thump of dead weight followed a sickening crack. 

His head snapped up, looking toward the commotion and the panic of the enlisted crew and the other pilots, and his stomach dropped with a violent, angry roll. Where his partner, who had just entered the building following his hop, had once stood was now a collapsed heap of aviator, and a flash of red filled Jake's line of sight, nearly sending him to his knees.

Blood. 

It was Bradley's blood. 

Jake, who prided himself on having a strong stomach, had his weaknesses. Just like Bradley had an aversion to vomiting, Jake had a strong aversion to blood. Stemming from incidents in his childhood, nothing could induce dizziness and nausea quite like the sight of sticky, red liquid, and he turned toward his plane with a wheeze. 

Among the chaos, he could hear Maverick's voice, and the tone and urgency signaled something was wrong, but he was frozen in place, crouched near his landing gear, and couldn't bring himself to stand, look, or move in the direction of his injured boyfriend. 

Through the buzzing in his brain, Jake heard the panicked cry of "Bradley!" as he choked back the encroaching sickness. He leaned heavily against the steel frame, begging his stomach to still as he listened to his friends and their commanding officer rush toward Bradley in a frenzy, the sight of the unconscious man frightening them. 

"Bradley!" Jake heard again, louder over the rushing in his ears. 

Maverick rushed toward where his Godson was lying on the floor, eyes struggling to flutter open and head bleeding profusely from where the snapped ratchet strap struck him. Jake stole glances, seeing Phoenix and Maverick kneeling by his boyfriend as they tried to focus his attention. 

Jake closed his eyes to drown out the sights and sounds of the accident, leaving his Captain and Bradley's best friend to help. 

"Hey, kiddo, look at me. Right here. Focus on me," Maverick tapped Bradley's cheeks as he came to follow his short unconsciousness. 

His head was heavy. 

"Wh' happen'd? Wh'r's Jake," Bradley whispered, his head throbbing with each rapid beat of his heart; he could feel Maverick's hand in his, but the rest of his body felt numb. "Jake's… Ow." 

His muscles were achy, and he couldn't remember how he ended up on the floor. He was confused by the lack of Jake, and his head felt warm and sticky as blood flowed steadily from his head wound. Bradley noticed the ringing in his ears, but he couldn't focus.

"Hold still," Maverick had his other hand resting lightly on Bradley's pale cheek as he attempted to help him remain focused; he could see the blood coagulating along his hairline, and he pushed back the memories of Bradley's father. "Don't try to move. Stay still; you could have hurt your head or neck."

"'Ake?" Bradley asked again, his eyes wildly searching the room for his boyfriend. "He's… n't g'd."  

Maverick and Phoenix shared a look of confusion, each unsure of the message behind Bradley's incoherent words. 

"He's here, he was doing his pre-flight. Do you want me to get him? What's not good?" Phoenix squeezed his hand other and brushed a thumb over his knuckles, her heart racing as Bradley continued to lose focus on their voices and his eyes wandered. "Do you need Jake?" 

"Blood," Bradley's words were slurred as Maverick tapped his cheeks and spoke to him in low, soft tones; his eyelids felt heavy, but he needed someone to know about Jake and make sure he was okay. "Lo's blood." 

"Yeah, you're bleedin' pretty good from the side of your head," Maverick whispered, his voice laced with concern and fear. "Keep your eyes open, Bradley. That ratchet strap buckle hit you in the head when it snapped. The medics will be here soon. Coyote went to get 'em after we saw it happen." 

"Doesn't like… blood," Bradley blinked sluggishly, his eyes fixed on Natasha as she held his hand and softly traced her thumb over his various scars on his knuckles and the back of his hand. "Jake, get sick." 

"Jake doesn't like blood? It'll make him sick?" Phoenix attempted to decypher, unsure of what her best friend was alluding to, but she could see the concern written across his now-bloody face as he sought out his boyfriend in a panic. "Is that what you're trying to tell us?

"Mhhm. S'like me with throwin' up b't 'oesn't like pe'ple knowin'," Bradley sniffled, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he looked around the hangar. "'M okay, wanna see Jake." 

"Don't try to get up, Bee," Bradley struggled against Maverick's strong hands as he attempted to sit up and look for his boyfriend. "Phoenix will go find him and check on him. Just lie down until we know what's going on. I don't want you to move too much if you're hurt."  

Phoenix stood, took a quick look around the hangar, and saw Jake leaning against the side of his jet, eyes closed, and his hands and forehead resting on the sun-warmed metal of the plane's body. He looked pale; sweat dripped down his temples, and she knew he hadn't been up in his jet yet. He was still in pre-flight when the accident happened, so there was no logical explanation other than feeling ill and attempting to stay upright. She had been surprised when he wasn't one of the first people to reach Bradley's side after the incident, waiting for him to rush toward Bradley's collapsed, bleeding form, but with the newly disclosed information, it made sense. 

Now she knew that Jake was avoiding the inevitable reaction to seeing Bradley- one that might cause other issues- and preserving his dignity. Seeing Bradley's blood dripping onto the floor of the hangar from the wound on the side of his head might have pushed his body over the edge. 

"Mav, you got it from here?" She asked with concern, her eyes flicking between Bradley and Jake nervously; she was torn between her best friend and ensuring his partner was handling the situation. "I'm gonna go check on him, maybe try to get him out of here." 

"Yeah," Maverick ran a hand through his Godson's sweaty curls. "Medical will be here soon. Keep your eyes open, Bradley. Don't fall asleep. Phoenix is going to find Jake. Hey, kiddo?"

Natasha paused and looked down at Maverick, who had tears in his eyes, "Yeah, Mav?" 

"I'll send you a message when you can bring Jake and come see him. I'll make sure you both know one way or another," he reassured her, sensing her hesitation. "We'll take care of him." 

"Thank you."  

Before she was out of earshot, she heard a muttered "my head hurts" and a sound from Maverick that was a mix of distressed and heartbroken, but her focus was on Jake and ensuring that he wouldn't throw up or pass out on the tarmac. With her "boys" in their own predicament, she left Bradley in Maverick's capable hands and approached Jake carefully. 

"Jake?" She whispered. "You okay?" 

"No," He gagged. "I can't look. If I look, I'll throw up, and then everyone out here will see me throwing up and wonder what's wrong, and if Bradley hears me throw up, he'll get sick, and he can't move around right now, not until medical checks him out and fuck Natasha… If I look in that direction, I feel like my stomach is about to turn inside out."  

"Okay, Jake, easy fix," Natasha said, looping her arm around Jake's waist and covering his eyes as she helped him stand up straight. "We're going to go inside to the Ready Room. Maverick has Bradley taken care of, and Javy went to get the medics. Don't look, and take a deep breath; keep breathing so you don't pass out." 

"I'm fine," Jake sassed, his voice hollow as he tried to pull away, and her arm tightened around him. "You should be looking after Bradley; he's who just got his shit rocked by a… a fucking ratchet strap that snaps! Do you know how much pressure it takes to snap one of-" 

"Maverick has him, and medical is on their way. He's okay, and you need someone too," She said firmly, cutting him off, her arm still around him as she pushed open the door and uncovered his eyes. "Let's go sit down and breathe. Honestly, you look a little green." 

Jake nodded weakly and let Natasha nearly manhandle him onto the couch, where he leaned back against the cushions, closed his eyes, and took a deep, shaky breath as he let his mind still and his racing heart slow. 

His brain was replaying the moment he heard "watch out," followed by a sickening crack, a cry of pain, and someone shouting his boyfriend's callsign. His stomach churned and rolled, and he could feel the nausea lingering, but as he continued to breathe and push through the memory, the sensations eased as he began to relax. 

To his left, he heard Natasha breathing deeply and matched his inhales to hers. 

"Just breathe for a little bit," he was consciously aware of the soft hand rubbing up and down his forearm, and while he wished it was Bradley, he relaxed under the touch. "Bradley's going to be okay, but you look like you're about to throw up." 

"Did it look as bad as it sounded? Did you see it? I was far enough away that I didn't see it happening, but I heard that thing hit him," Jake breathed. "I don't like blood; it makes me sick, but I wanted to be over there because it's Bradley. "

"It wasn't as bad as it sounded, but from where I saw it, he just… dropped," she attempted to reassure the panicking blonde. "By the time Mav and I got over there, his eyes were open, and he was coming around. What made you sick initially if you didn't see it happen, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"I turned on my heels to run over there, and I saw red, and he was on the ground," Jake croaked. "I don't know if it was blood, or a red shirt, or something, but I saw it, and my stomach became an Olympic gymnast." 

She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. She continued to put light pressure on his forearm as he settled down. She knew there were layers to Jake "Hangman" Seresin and that Bradley had peeled them all away, but the others were still learning. She knew he loved football, and his favorite color was green, but she didn't think he hated blood until Bradley mumbled the words amidst the chaos.

"Bradley only knows because I passed out in the kitchen when he cut his arm probably five weeks into our relationship," Jake laughed dryly. "He came in from working on the Bronco with blood dripping down his arm and the paper towel not stopping it, and I dropped like a sack of bricks. Came to him bleeding, crouched over me, and I threw up on his boots." 

"Jesus Christ, " Natasha laughed. "What a way to find out your boyfriend's deepest secret. Between Bradley and his aversion to vomiting and you with blood, you better hope your children are never sick and never injured." 

"Only like my fifth deepest, and we can swap out. I'll be the barf parent if he's the blood parent," Jake chuckled with a soft half-smile. "Thanks for checkin' on me, even when I know you wanted to stay with Bradley; I could see on your face that you wanted to be there." 

"I didn't want to stay with Bradley. That face was me choking back my issue," Natasha confessed, her free hand balled in the material of her flight suit. "I'm not a big fan of blood either. I saw my brother nearly slice his leg down to the bone, playing with a knife growing up. When Bradley told us you didn't like it, I took advantage of it to find you because I know the feeling. It makes me queasy." 

"Especially when it's someone you love," Jake's voice was barely a whisper and cracked at the end of his sentence. "Did he seem okay right when you left? Did he stay awake?" 

"He was awake and talking but confused and pretty sluggish. Maverick was keeping him awake, but I can't say he was alert," Natasha relayed her last memory of Bradley before she'd left to comfort Jake. "Slurred speech, looked a little pale, but he was awake and kept telling Maverick he was fine and wanted to find you- at least that's what I think he was saying." 

Jake nodded, his eyes watering as he thought about his boyfriend- injured and confused- lying on the hangar floor with his Godfather hovering and medics surrounding him as he wondered what was happening and where he was. He knew Bradley didn't like hospitals or medical intervention, but he hoped (even though he felt guilty about it deep in the pit of his stomach) that he was concussed and wouldn't put up too much of a fight if they needed to transport him via ambulance. 

"We don't have to go back out there," Natasha broke him from his spiraling thoughts. "There was a lot of blood because head wounds bleed quite a bit. It'll still be on the ground, and that'll still make you sick, I assume? I don't want to trigger something." 

"You'd assume correct," Jake sighed. "I never want to hear a noise like that ever again. It sounded like someone cracked his skull open and that I'd see his brain mushed up on the ground." 

"I'm sorry you had to hear it." 

"I'm sorry you had to see it," Jake countered. "Different doesn't mean one is less frightening than the other. He's your friend- hell, he's your brother. You didn't need to see that. And shit, Maverick seeing that? It wasn't good for anyone." 

"You're right. It was a tough thing to see," Natasha squeezed his arm. "He's going to be okay. Head wounds bleed a lot, so it might not be as deep or severe as it looked. I'm sure he's going to be okay." 

"He's a hard-headed son of a bitch, so he better be," Jake leaned his head on top of hers. "I hate it when shit like this happens to him. Not that it does very often, but since his plane went down on The Mission, I don't want to think about him being hurt. I don't know… what if he has amnesia or something?" 

"He knew he should look for you immediately, so I don't think we need to worry about amnesia. But I know how you feel," she affirmed. "It's hard, especially with what we do for work. Can I ask you something?" 

"Shoot." 

"What kept you from having this reaction that day after-after he and Mav went down and came back? When they crashed onto deck, he was bleeding from a couple of places," She asked in earnest. "Wasn't that the same? It was hard for me to stomach. Even seeing him in medical after the fact was hard." 

"Pure adrenaline and absolute joy that he wasn't dead," Jake admitted. "The fear of losing him and the joy of seeing him alive, in front of me, and basically in one piece won out. Sitting with him in medical, watching them help him and take care of him, something was different because I knew he was still alive after thinking he wasn't coming back."  

She hummed and looked up at Jake, who was still a little pale and sweaty, but his personality was returning full force. He wore a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, and his hands were still trembling, but he was slowly returning to the present. She worried about her friends; Bradley and Jake were an unusual pair who spent the better part of several years hate-flirting and playing emotional Jenga until one of them inevitably caused the collapse. 

The collapse was the day in the Ready Room while they were preparing for the mission, and Natasha didn't know if they'd ever come back from that. 

Following their return, the Jenga tower rebuilt itself, pierce by piece with their careful hands. 

And now, here they were, madly and wildly in love, each of them confessing that they wanted to marry the other, and she was in a front-row seat to the deep, unmatched love they shared. Jake looked at Bradley like he was the only person in the room, and Bradley looked at Jake like he hung the moon. As their close friend, she witnessed it all and was proud of them. 

That also meant she was there to comfort the other or the pair when the situations arose. Today, she was Jake's shoulder to lean on as Bradley was cared for, and they waited for news. Jake, who was worried about Bradley but needed someone to worry about him, looked worse for wear and anxious, two things Natasha knew she could remedy.

"He's okay," She whispered. "I know that was scary, but he's okay. Do you want some water? You're still a little shaky. It might help." 

"Water would be nice," Jake mumbled, his adrenaline from the situation starting to crash. "Has Mav said anything? Like a text or something? Have we heard from him?" 

She glanced down at her phone and shook her head but noticed a message from Javy: "Jav did. I'll look at it once I get you sorted. Mav told me he'd get us a message one way or another, and Javy might be the other part of that." 

As she dug through the jam-packed refrigerator, Jake pulled a knee up to his chest and let his other foot fall on the coffee table that had, admittedly, seen much better days than the ones it experienced in the Ready Room. He took a few deep, steady breaths as he focused on the present moment, knowing there was a message from his best friend, before returning to his thoughts of his boyfriend. 

A cool plastic bottle was thrust into his hand and pulled him back to the present, and he greedily took a long drink. 

"Javy said they're taking him to Balboa. They want to do a couple of scans of his brain and two of his skull to rule out a severe injury," she relayed. "Maverick rode with Bradley, but Javy will take us to the hospital if we want to go. He was conscious and speaking short sentences; knew where he was, but not what happened." 

"Surprised my phone hasn't been ringing," Jake frowned as he pulled the device from his pocket. "I'm his emergency contact, but Maverick is too, so they might have skipped over it if Mav told them what happened… But I'm still… I don't know."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. No news is good news," she hugged him from her spot on the couch. "He's okay, and they'd call you if he weren't." 

"I'm still not feeling 100 percent about that one. He's getting his brain scanned, and that sounds pretty bad," he attempted to laugh, squeezing her back. "If he's still got blood on him at all, be prepared to catch me before I drop and end up putting myself in the hospital too." 

"I'll catch you, my damsel in distress," A deeper voice rang through the room as Javy leaned against the doorway. "Still not a fan of blood? Hoped maybe you'd grow out of that, seeing as you passed out with your ass out a few years back." 

"Still hate it almost as much as I hate you," Jake smirked, letting Natasha pull him to his feet and steady him as he swayed. "Didn't think I'd still be dizzy, though. Even thinking about blood right now or talking about it is about to send me head first into the communal bathroom toilet." 

"Take a minute," she encouraged. "That was a lot in the last half hour. Those bathrooms are disgusting, and I don't want you to end up in there." 

"Thanks, Tashie," he grinned. "Love that you care so much about me that you don't want me to have my head in a toilet." 

"I love you enough. I don't want you to feel unwell at all," she said sincerely. "Take it easy, though. Slow if you're still light-headed or nauseous." 

He nodded and leaned heavily against her as Javy moved toward them to take some of Jake's weight from the smaller pilot. He'd only seen Jake this sick from an incident once, and it happened while someone on his fight crew cut their leg open during routine maintenance. He'd barely descended his ladder before nearly collapsing into his arms.  

Jake knew that his friends had him and that worrying about Bradley was inevitable. They walked slowly to Javy's car, his legs dragging with each step that they took before he finally felt the nausea subsiding. The shock to his system, however small, drained him of all energy, and he was barely awake by the time he was loaded into the back seat and buckled in. His head ached, but he remained silent, knowing that Bradley was probably crippled by a headache so intense it sent flashes of white across his vision, much like Jake's migraines sent him reeling. 

"Feeling okay?" Javy's voice broke the silence as he looked at Jake intently in the rearview mirror. "You seem a little out of it." 

"Just a little tired," Jake openly admitted to the pair. "I started thinking about what happened, which made me sick. I'm worried about Bee."

"I just got a text from Maverick," Natasha relayed as she read through the information on her phone. "They've ruled out any traumatic brain injury and aren't seeing any signs of swelling of the brain or skull fractures. He was hit hard enough that he has a severe concussion and 12 staples in his head."

"Is he awake? Coherent? Did he say anything else?" Jake leaned forward on his knees and craned over her shoulder, trying to look at her message as she swatted him away. "I need to know how he's doing." 

"I was getting there," She glared. "He's sleeping on and off and still a little confused when he wakes up. When he is awake and coherent, he's talking more and making more sense. He's asked for both of us a few times. Horrible headache, nausea, and dizziness are pretty common, and he's experiencing all three."

"How far away from Balboa are we?" Jake started bouncing his leg nervously. 

"Not very," Javy replied firmly. "But you're going to work yourself up if you get over-anxious, and I'm not gonna be the one to tell Bradshaw you can't see him because you're sick."

"Just tell me," Jake snapped, his chest aching. 

"Ten minutes. And Mav said to tell you they washed most of the blood off his face and out of his hair," Natasha stepped in and cut the tension of the conversation. "Gave a green light for us to come up immediately since you're one of his emergency contacts, we just have to check in at the desk." 

"And Mav promises Bradley's okay?" Jake pressed for more information. "You're not leaving anything out?"

"Jake, if you don't sit your white ass down and stop panicking, I'll turn around," Javy scolded. "You don't look good, and we're worried about you. Let  us worry about you because I will make you scrub vomit out of my upholstery if you cause a scene and get sick." 

"Javy," Natasha snapped. "You're not helping." 

Jake sunk back into the seats and picked at his cuticles, one of which was raw and bloody from his panicking in the Ready Room. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking about blood, Bradley's blood, pouring from what he now knew was a significant head wound. 

"Can you pull over?" Jake whispered. "Please?" 

"Yeah, sure, give me like-" Javy scanned the road for a place to pull over and panicked as he heard Jake gag. 

"Now, ideally," Natasha's tone was tense and protective. 

Pulling onto the side of the road between NAS North Island and Balboa, Jake wrenched the door open and took in the fresh air. With his head between his knees to calm his swirling stomach, he felt a cool hand on his neck as he begged the feeling to pass. 

"Breathe through it," Natasha soothed. "It's okay." 

"I'm gonna throw up," Jake mumbled, his mouth watering and his stomach rolling. "I don't have anything in me to throw up at this point, but I'm gonna barf." 

"Just breathe," Natasha gently rubbed the back of her friend's neck as he took deep, shaky breaths and pushed air out of his mouth. "Let it pass." 

Jake felt the seat behind him move with added weight, and he felt the strong hand of his other best friend land on his shoulder, massaging it. "You doing okay?" 

"Do I look okay, Javier?" Jake snapped. "I'm trying not to throw up yesterday's lunch on the side of the road." 

"Noted," the shoulder massage continued as Javy, Jake, and Natasha sat silently and waited for Jake to call the shots. 

"I texted Maverick and let him know we were stuck in some traffic; what you tell them is up to you," Natasha whispered. "I didn't tell him anything else." 

"Thanks," Jake slowly sat up and leaned heavily against Javy. "God, I can't even close my eyes without seeing his face covered in blood. I didn't even see it happen, and it's all that's burned into the back of my eyelids." 

"It's okay," Natasha said as she stepped out of her side of the car and stood next to Jake's open door. "We aren't expecting you to forget it happened. Just breathe with me for a bit, and then we can see Bradley. Sounds good?" 

Jake nodded with his eyes pinched closed. 

"I can still hear it hitting him and the sound of dead weight dropping," Jake's voice cracked, his eyes stinging. "I can't believe that happened." 

"It sounded and looked worse than it was, according to the medics," Javy reassured his friend. "He's going to be okay. Might have to watch him for a few days, and they'll probably keep him overnight for observation, but his hard head saved his ass." 

Jake nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. 

"I don't want us to start driving again until we know you're okay," Natasha whispered, taking Jake's hand. "Can you take a few more deep breaths and tell me about your nausea?" 

Jake nodded and inhaled deeply, "it's gone. Just tellin' myself he's okay." 

"Are you sure?" Javy asked from his other side, his voice laced with concern and frustration. "You look pretty pale, Jake. I don't want to risk anything." 

"I just wanna see my boyfriend," Jake sniffled. "See with my eyes that he's okay because the one glimpse I got of him was his body lying on the hangar floor." 

"I understand," Natasha squeezed his hand tightly. "I want to see him too. But Mav and the doctors are there caring for him, and we're taking care of you right now. Okay? Do you think you'll be okay if we start moving again, or do you want to sit for a bit more?" 

"I don't know," Jake started to cry. "I really don't know." 

"Hey," Natasha squeezed into the seat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "He's okay." 

"It could have killed him," Jake whispered. "Something like that could have killed him." 

"I know," She soothed. "But it didn't. He's alive, maybe a little banged up, but aside from the stitches, concussion, and some nasty symptoms of the concussion, he's okay. Bradley's still here. He's still here with us." 

Jake leaned his head on his shoulder and didn't notice when Javy slipped from the back seat. The car doors were closed, and they pulled back onto the highway. As he leaned against Natasha and was still wrapped in her embrace, he listened as she spoke gentle, soft words of encouragement and reassurance, reminding Jake that Bradley was okay and they'll see him soon. 

That everything was fine aside from his head laceration and concussion. 

"Thank you guys for being my friends," Jake whispered as the car entered the hospital's parking lot. "I don't know what I would do without you." 

"Throw up, probably," Javy joked, and the three exited the vehicle. Jake swiftly walked toward the door, and the three nearly tumbled inside toward the reception desk. "We're glad we can be here, Jake. Do you want us to stay, or do you want some time with Bradshaw?" 

"Please come with me," Jake's eyes were soft as he turned toward his friends. "I'd really like it if you'd go with me; I think Bradley would too, and probably Maverick." 

"We'll stay then," Natasha hugged him again before they approached the receptionist. 

"We're here to see Lieutenant Bradshaw. He was brought in, and his Godfather was with him," Natasha spoke for the trio as Jake steadied his breathing. 

"Captain Mitchell informed me you'd be coming in at any time. He's waiting for you down the hall at the elevator. You just missed him," she smiled warmly. "It's through the doors on your left." 

"Thank you," Jake whispered as he clung to Natasha's hand. 'Tash, hang on just a second?" 

"Sure, Javy, will you go find Mav and tell him we'll be there in just a second?" Her hand still in Jake's, she watched as Javy patted his best friend on the shoulder and slipped through the doors toward the elevator. "Everything okay?" 

"I just need a second," Jake confessed nervously. "I'm scared to go up there. I just need a little bit of time to breathe. And I wanted to say thank you." 

"For what?" She squeezed his hand and looked up into his sad, green eyes.

"Being here today, taking me away from the chaos, and coming with me to the hospital," Jake rushed out. "For making sure Javy was here and I was okay. For loving Bradley as much as you do, just like his sister. For keeping us all together when we're falling apart." 

"Breathe," She soothed. "It's what you do for your people, Seresin. I wouldn't just leave you here." 

"I know, but I still wanted to say thank you," He pulled her into a hug and held her close. "Today was one of the scariest days of my life. And I wouldn't have been okay without you." 

"Bee's just fine," She soothed, gently massaging the knots in his upper back. "You're okay. It's all okay." 

"I know," he leaned his forehead against her shoulder. "It's just scary." 

"It is, but he's asking for you and wanting to see you. He's okay," she whispered. "Let's go find Mav and Javy and see your boy, okay?" 

As they stepped through the door, Jake caught sight of Maverick and Javy first. The older man was waiting outside the elevator, a tiredness about him that screamed adrenaline crash and worry, but as his eyes fell on his aviators, a soft smile spread across his sun-aged skin. He looked exhausted, but his hands were free from Bradley's blood, and he'd changed his shirt into a standard-issue Navy t-shirt, likely given to him by the hospital, and the sleeves of his flight suit were tied around his waist. 

"Hey, you two," he gestured for them to approach him. "Javy said you were coming. I'm glad you're here. Bradley fell back asleep again; the concussion and pain medication are keeping him more out of it than with it, but he's asked for you several times. Especially you, Jake. He's worried about you." 

"About me?" Jake croaked as Maverick pressed the up button, and the doors dinged open. "Why is he worried about me? He's the one who-who…" 

"Breathe," Maverick clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "He's worried about you, but I need you to breathe for me right now before we go in there. I don't want you to get sick." 

"Mav, I don't like that look," Jake confessed as the elevator doors opened, and they entered the bright, sterile hallway. "I hate it, to be honest." 

"He's okay, Jake," Maverick gently grasped his forearm and stopped him from walking. "I promise." 

"I believe you," Jake whispered as he returned the hug. "He scared the shit out of me. And I just really, really don't like blood." 

"That's what he kept saying to me when he started to come around more," Maverick rubbed his back gently. "That's why he was worried about you. He didn't want you to be sick over it because he was hurt." 

"I didn't throw up for a change, but I felt like it all day," Jake broke the embrace and took a deep, shaky breath. "He's… all cleaned up?" 

"He is," Maverick and the trio stood outside the door. "You can come in with me. They're not limiting visitors. We don't want to wake him up. His brain needs rest to heal, and he's been dizzy and nauseous when he's awake. The lights and the monitor sounds were bothering him, too." 

"Sounds normal for a concussion," Javy whispered as Maverick pushed open the door and ushered them inside. 

As Jake's eyes landed on Bradley, he stopped in his tracks. 

On the bed, clad in a hospital gown with a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm and a few different monitor leads connected to his chest, was Bradley. He had a thick, white bandage wrapped around his head, but his facial features were soft, and his eyes fluttered beneath his eyelids. An angry, purple bruise formed at his hairline that disappeared under the bandage, but aside from the visible doctoring of the injury, he looked angelic. 

"Oh, Bee," Jake whispered as he walked toward the side of Bradley's hospital bed. 

"He's doing well aside from the nasty concussion and staples in his head. You'll need to bring him back in a week or so to have them removed," Maverick informed him as Natasha and Javy took up a post on the opposite side of the bed in two plastic chairs. "He'll need plenty of rest at home for recovery, and before he can get the staples wet, you'll have to cover them. The doctor can tell you more when she does her rounds." 

"How long will he be grounded?" Natasha asked cautiously, knowing her friend would be anxious to get back in the air. 

"They're not sure," Maverick tugged Jake's arm until he was seated opposite his friends, and Maverick plopped down in the fourth chair. "It's a severe concussion, so he'll have to undergo a few tests to be cleared to make sure he's fully functioning before he can get in a jet." 

"He's going to be upset," Jake whispered. "When can he come home?" 

"Tomorrow afternoon," Maverick squeezed Bradley's limp hand as his Godson slept. "Keeping him overnight for observation ensures he's okay before they release him into the wild. If you need me, I can be there." 

"You act like we can't care for ourselves," Jake chuckled. 

"I question that myself," Natasha grinned as they gathered around Bradley's bed and took in his appearance. "He looks better than I expected, except for the monstrosity around his head." 

"Precautionary to make sure there's no residual bleeding," Maverick explained. "You okay, Jake?" 

"Yeah," Jake breathed. "Just worried about him. And I don't… I don't love blood, honestly."

"That's all we could get out of Bradley for a while," Maverick patted his knee. "More worried about you losing your lunch on the tarmac than letting the medics take care of his head."

"Doesn't mean I'm not worried," Jake frowned. "I'm always worried about him." 

"Stop't," Bradley, whose sudden consciousness startled the four others in the room, brought a small smile to Jake's face. "'M fine." 

"Yeah," Jake took his hand gently in his own and kissed Bradley's knuckles. "And I'm the King of England." 

"Your Majesty," Bradley's whiskey-brown eyes fluttered open and looked around the room, taking in the sudden fullness of the space. "Hi." 

"Hey yourself," Natasha rubbed her warm hand up and down his forearm and looked him over carefully and Maverick and Javy stepped out into the hallway silently. "How are you feeling, Bee?" 

"Like I got hit by a truck," he rasped. "Jake?" 

"I'm right here, darlin'," Jake slid closer to the edge of the bed and tried to hold Bradley's unfocused gaze. "I was worried about you, you know." 

"Didn't want you to get sick," Bradley confessed sadly. "'S scared but knew you'd get sick." 

"I had it under control," Natasha grinned. "You can't ever scare us like that again, Bradley Bradshaw." 

"Forgot to duck," he tried to joke, a laugh catching in Jake's throat and escaping as a sob. "Heard 'em too late." 

"Don't," Jake dipped his head forward while clutching Bradley's hand like a lifeline, tears streaming down his face as his adrenaline crashed and his emotions overtook. "Don't joke about this, Bradley. You could have been seriously hurt." 

"'Sn't, though," he slurred slightly, his eyes locked on Jake with a dopey smile. "'M here." 

"Yeah," Jake squeezed his hand. "You're here." 

"'Nd you d'dn't get sick." 

"And I didn't get sick," he gently brushed his thumb over Bradley's knuckles. "Our friends took good care of me while Mav and the medics got you here." 

"Owe 'em dinner," Bradley's eyes fluttered again, his head pounding, ears ringing, and body exhausted. "Tired."

"Yeah, we do," Jake whispered. "Go to sleep, darlin'. We'll be here when you wake up. You need rest." 

"'Kay," As Bradley drifted off to sleep, Jake could feel a warm hand rubbing soft circles on the small of his back. "Take care of 'em?" 

"I will," Natasha's free hand was massaging Bradley's calf muscle as he spoke, her other hand never leaving Jake. "We're all gonna be okay." 

"Mhhm," Bradley fought sleep unsuccessfully and drifted off under the watchful eye of his family. "Love you, guys." 

"I love you too," Jake sighed. "So much, Bradley. So, so much." 

Chapter Text

“I learn something new about you every day,” Phoenix smirked. “One day, it’s learning you’re in love with Bagman; another day, it’s finding out you're a soccer superstar. I wouldn’t have believed either if you’d told me a year ago.” 

“I wasn’t a soccer superstar. I played to stay in shape for baseball,” Rooster chuckled. “I just happened to be good at both of them, and Uncle Tom wouldn’t let me bum around in the offseason. He encouraged it.” 

“I still can’t get over you calling Admiral Kazansky, Tom,” Phoenix grimaced. “It sounds like it should be wrong, even if he did raise you alongside all your other weird Uncles.” 

Someone clearing their throat behind the trio caught their attention, and a deep blush spread across Phoenix’s tanned cheeks. 

“One of those weird uncles is right here,” Maverick laughed. 

“To be fair, you’re his Godfather, not his uncle,” Hangman retorted. “So that doesn’t make you one of his weird uncles.”

“You can call Rear Admiral Neven his weird uncle if you’d like. I have him in my favorites,” The older man grinned. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from Bradley’s boyfriend since he hasn’t been able to give the shovel talk.” 

“I’m alright,” Hangman’s eyes widened as Maverick gestured for him to take his phone. “I think I’ll cut my losses for the day.”

“He’s all bark,” Bradley wrapped his arm around Jake’s waist and squeezed his hip. “Even at my worst, he and I got into yelling matches, but 20 minutes later, he’d cool off and apologize. I’m sure he’d only give you a little bit of shit.” 

“I’m sure Wolfman would give you more trouble than Hollywood,” Maverick shrugged. “One of these days, you’ll have to find out, Hangman. We can’t keep hungry wolves away forever.” 

“Throw one a steak then,” Hangman huffed. “And I’ve met Wolfe, you know this.” 

“Yeah, but not as Baby Bird’s boyfriend,” Phoenix grinned. And I, for one, am so interested to see how that story plays out.” 

“Shut up and get our game started,” Jake frowned, leaning into Bradley’s side. “The others should be here…” 

Jake’s statement died off as he saw the rest of their friends approaching with bags, a cooler, and beach chairs. Their excitement grew as they approached the small group of aviators and their CO. Where Maverick went, trouble was sure to follow- or, at the very least, something competitive- and they were surprised to see the dark-haired man among the crowd. 

“Who invited the old man?” Payback dropped his towel and chair with a thud on the sand. “I thought this was young guys only?” 

“Then why is Bradshaw here?” Fanboy laughed. “He’s old as hell, and I don’t hear you complaining.” 

“He’s also about to kick our ass at soccer,” Phoenix confessed. “I thought we finally found something the golden couple would be bad at, but I digress.” 

“You can’t all be as talented, athletic, and hot as we are. Sometimes it’s best to accept defeat,” Hangman raised an eyebrow at his friend. “And that’s what you’re doing, right? Because I won’t lose to my boyfriend. I call dibs on his team.” 

“You can’t call dibs on teams!” Coyote exclaimed. “That defeats the whole purpose of a fair game! Absolutely not doing that shit, Hangman.” 

“I dabbled in soccer,” Bob confessed. “Three-time all-state Striker. Sisters got me into it when I was a kid playing at the Y, and it stuck with me through high school. Pretty good at it, to be honest.” 

“Seems we have our fair fight, gentlemen and lady,” Coyote ruffled Phoenix’s hair as she pinched his side. “Bob and Rooster can be captains. But Bob gets to pick first, and if he doesn’t pick the right person, we will have to suffer through that. ”

“That?” Fanboy questioned. “There’s no context for that. ”

“I mean that,” Coyote gestured toward where Rooster and Hangman had separated themselves from the group. 

Bradley’s arms were wrapped around Jake’s waist, and their foreheads rested together as they engaged in a quiet, private conversation. It wasn’t surprising that Jake looked at Bradley like he hung the moon, even though Rooster and Hangman were arguing insufferably over every in-air maneuver. 

“Break it up, lovebirds,” Coyote shouted. “We want to enjoy today, not watch you grope each other on the beach.” 

“We save that for home!” Hangman yelled, his middle finger extended toward his best friend. “We’ll be over there in a minute.” 

Groaning, Coyote turned his attention back toward his friends, “I mean that. So Bob, can I count on you to choose wisely?” 

“Do you think they’ll get into it if they’re on opposing teams? That’s almost worse than watching that… display,” Maverick rolled his eyes. “He gets this from his father, his biological father.” 

“Unsure, but it’s always fun to see them piss each other off. I don’t have to know what goes on when they get home as long as Hangman’s ruffling his feathers. It’s good for him,” Phoenix added as Hangman and Rooster broke their embrace and walked toward the small gathering. “Breaks him out of his shell.” 

“Don’t have to quit talkin’ about us on my account,” Hangman drawled. “We know you love us.” 

“As much as I love a splinter under my fingernail,” Fanboy glared at them. “Tell me I didn’t drag my ass out of bed this early to stand around and watch you two make out?”

“No, we’re here to play soccer,” Bradley deadpanned. 

“We have three rules,” Coyote noted. “All discussed without your input because you were too busy doing… whatever that was.” 

“Bob and Rooster are captains,” Maverick interjected. “No complaints.”

“And Bob gets first pick since he’s younger,” Phoenix elbowed Rooster in the ribs. “Perks of being the young guy.” 

“That’s ageist,” Bradley snapped. “Are you serious?” 

“He’s not even that much older than you, Coyote, why are you giving him shit?” Jake interjected, his hand falling to the small of Bradley’s back. “And besides, I like older men.”

“Oh, we know. And ageist doesn’t exist in beach soccer unless Rooster throws out his back… again,” Coyote stated. “Bob picks first; you’re both captains, and the first one to three wins.” 

“We never decided that,” Fanboy furrowed his brow. “Who decided that?” 

“I did,” Coyote grinned. “That way, one team can’t get waxed by the other for some reason. Now, pick up the ball, and let's go; I don’t have all day.”

“You actually do,” Hangman said, clapping his best friend’s shoulder. “You have all day because you’re here, and you know beach day lasts all day.” 

“I pick Hangman!” Bob announced loudly. “That’s my first pick.” 

Jake’s mouth hung open as Bradley looked between their friends, “you set us up.” 

“Call it self-preservation, Baby Goose,” Maverick patted his Godson’s back. “Who you picking?” 

“I’ll take Coyote,” Bradley sighed. 

“Payback.” 

“Phoenix.” 

“Maverick, can’t have both old guys on the same team.” 

“So funny,” Bradley rolled his eyes. “I’ve got Fanboy.” 

“That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” Coyote kicked the ball that lay at his feet lazily. “Stop pouting and show us your soccer skills, Big Bird.” 

“That’s new,” Phoenix laughed. “I like that one; it’s some of your best work, Coyote.” 

Taking a bow and blowing the crowd a kiss, Coyote picked up the multi-colored soccer ball and tossed it in Bradley’s direction. 

“They picked first. It’s only fair we start with the ball,” he shrugged. “We can play it where it lies. And since we’re all not on leave, it’s best we keep this from getting too rough.” 

“I don’t want to report to Cyclone on Monday that his aviators took each other out playing soccer,” Maverick snorted. “I don’t think that would go over well.” 

“It wouldn’t go over at all,” Bradley grumbled. “Fine, I’ll agree to the terms and conditions- with one adjustment.” 

“Absolutely not,” Jake said, jumping into the conversation. “Whatever you were going to say, you’re going to forget your idea.” 

“Fine,” Bradley licked his lips playfully. “Guess the winner isn’t taking the loser out for dinner tonight. I was wanting those fajitas at Mi Mexico.” 

“You’re baiting me,” Hangman stepped closer toward his partner. “And it’s…”

“Nope,” Coyote stepped between the two and rolled his eyes. “Save this for home. There are children here, and Bob doesn’t want to see your weird form of foreplay.” 

“You’ll understand when you’re grown up,” Rooster laughed. “But until then, we can be on our very best behavior. Right, Jay?” 

“Right, sweetheart ,” Hangman blew Bradley a kiss before returning to his team, and Rooster turned toward his. 

“None of that during the game, Bradshaw,” Phoenix scolded. “But way to get in his head. Great technique. Just a little less tongue next time.” 

Bradley blushed as they hashed out a game plan before signaling the others that they were ready to begin. It wasn’t as competitive as they’d assumed, Rooster and Bob easily carrying both teams on their backs while the rest struggled to keep up. In their minds, they were helping more by staying out of the way than trying to be part of their team. 

It wasn’t until their fourth game, when the sun sank lower in the sky, that the exhaustion of physical activity caught up with most of them, and the activity slowed. Maverick and Fanboy had stepped away from the game, the older man going home to take a phone call and Fanboy exiting shortly after to speak to his sister and nephew. 

“Stop making eyes at your boy,” Coyote said as he stood next to Hangman, his hands on his hips and cheeks flushed red. “It’s gross.” 

“Have you ever seen him look like this before?” Hangman smiled. 

“I have, actually. Dogfight football, remember? We’ve all seen him with his shirt off. It’s not that special,” Coyote joked. “You’re down bad.” 

“I’m down worse than a crashed F-18,” Hangman confessed. “I love him.” 

“We know that.” 

“No, Javy, I love him,” Hangman emphasized. “More than anyone I’ve ever been with. This is the end of the road for me.” 

“Well, your end of the road just went down hard,” Coyote said, pointing toward where Rooster and Bob were lying in the sand, the ball between them. It looks like they got a little tangled up.” 

“You good, babe?” Jake shouted. “Looks like it hurt!” 

Bradley gave him a thumbs-up as he stood with a grimace, his hands on his knees as he regained control of his breathing and gathered his scattered, slightly scrambled thoughts. His back ached, and Jake could see how he stretched to the left and right, trying to loosen the sore muscles. His tanned skin was caked in sand on the left side. 

“Why don’t we call it a day?” Hangman looked toward his partner and back to his friend. “Seems like it might be the time.” 

“Rooster, your old ass want to go home or keep playing?” Coyote ignored Jake’s remarks and stared intensely at his friend. “Seems like you’re hobbling around? You break a hip?”

“So funny!” Bradley brushed as much sand as possible from his arm and chest. “But I do think I’m ready to call it a day.” 

“Us too,” Bob added, jogging up the beach as the others straggled behind. “We can do this again sometime, though. Had a good time.” 

“We’ll see you all back here next weekend?” Payback asked excitedly. “Only a few more weeks before it starts getting dark early, and it’s too cold to have fun.” 

“It’s not even that cold here, man,” Bradley slung his arm over Jake’s shoulder, a pained expression still on his face, and kissed his temple. “We’ll be able to have a bonfire at some point.” 

“Glad you’re familiar with the area,” Bob smiled warmly. “You doing alright? My ass hurts from that fall.” 

“I'm just sore,” Bradley reassured his friends. “I’ll be fine in a few days. You’re the most competition I’ve had in a while!” 

“You as well, Rooster,” Bob extended his hand. “Until next time?” 

“Until next time,” Rooster smiled. “You ready to head home? We can call in that takeout and settle in for the evening?” 

Lost in thought as he watched their friends leave the beach, Jake nodded lazily as he leaned against Bradley’s shoulder. 

“Jake?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I asked if you want to pick up takeout and settle in at home,” Bradley reiterated. “You seem distracted.” 

“I am,” Jake breathed. “I am thinking about how fun this is, how much I enjoy our friends, and how much I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Bradley kissed the top of his head and held him close. “But I’m hungry, and that tumble hurt more than I thought it did. My back kind of hurts. So I’d like to get home and relax.”  

“Yeah,” Jake whispered. “Sounds great. You sure it’s just your back?” 

“For now, my back is the only thing that hurts. I might be singing a different song about it in the morning, but I’m okay,” Bradley assured him. “I’ll let you know if that changes.” 

“You better,” Jake’s hand fell to his boyfriend’s hip. “Can I drive?” 

“Your wish is my command,” Fishing the keys out of his pocket, Bradley handed them to Jake, who furrowed his brow and stared at the brunette in confusion. 

“You never let me drive,” Jake pressed for more information, his mind still wondering why Bradley would let him get behind the wheel of his beloved Bronco. “You said I’m too hard on the clutch.” 

“You just need practice,” Bradley shrugged, the corner of his mouth teasing a half-smile. “This is a great time for you to learn more about her since I’m gonna let you take care of her while I fly out to DC for that conference. She’ll need someone to drive her.” 

“I forgot about that,” Jake pouted as they strolled toward the bright blue Bronco. You’re walking funny- almost like a limp.” 

“I landed directly on my hip, Jay, and I’m old, remember? That was the theme of the day? Tell Rooster how old he is and call him an old man?” Bradley chuckled. “I’m just sore. I’ll be okay.” 

“If you’re lying to me, I’m going to find out,” Jake opened his door as they climbed into the vehicle. “You can’t hide things from me now that we live together.” 

“I hide plenty from you. That’s why you’ve never found your birthday, anniversary, or Christmas presents,” Bradley teased. “You’re not very good at snooping around.” 

“Your health is different than a damn gift, you big, dumb chicken,” Jake shot him a look of frustration. “If it’s something more, tell me.” 

“I’m just sore. But if it makes you feel better, you can play nurse when we get home, and you can check me over,” Bradley wiggled his eyebrows. “Especially in bed.” 

“Not the time,” Jake snapped. “I’m worried about you.” 

“And I’m trying to redirect that worry with humor,” Bradley reached for Jake’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m fine, and you’re going to do great getting this girl back home. Just be gentle with her clutch, and it’ll be a smooth ride.” 

“You’re sure?” Jake hesitated as he started the engine. “You’re sure you don’t want to drive?” 

“Why? You scared?” Bradley pushed back, knowing Jake was too proud to admit he was scared of doing anything to mess up Bradley’s vehicle. 

“I’m not scared,” Jake shot back anxiously. “I just know how much you like to drive her.” 

“I like her but love you, so I trust you to get us back home. Just like you’re driving your dad’s ranch truck, remember? She’s just a bit more sensitive,” Bradley explained, his voice smooth and even. “You’re doing great.” 

“Sounds like you’re talkin’ to a spooked horse,” Jake frowned as he shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking spot. “I know how to drive a manual transmission. I just don’t want to tear her up and give you more tuning up to do.” 

“You won’t,” Bradley assured him. “I just need the clutch to last a while. I don’t want to replace that and the brakes all at once.” 

“Not funny,” Jake grumbled. “I’m easy on the brakes.” 

“I’m not,” Bradley shrugged. “I drive her a bit harder than I need to sometimes, ‘specially when I’m late getting home to you. Makes stopping at that damn stretch of lights a bit harder.” 

Jake reached for Bradley’s hand, squeezing it, his eyes still fixed on the road. It was a smooth ride home, just as his boyfriend had predicted, but Jake's heart beat faster than normal when the brunette took a bit longer to get out of the seat and stand. 

“Something’s wrong,” Jake commented as Bradley stretched and ambled toward the stairs. “Your back that locked up?” 

“A little tight, yeah,” Bradley said, falling into step with the blonde. “I’m going to take a couple of Tylenol when we get inside. I might shower in a bit to see if it’ll loosen up. It doesn’t feel great.” 

“Was that so hard to admit?” Jake laced their hands together as they took the three stairs to the porch. “Since when do you double-step the stairs?” 

“Since my back got fucked up during a beach soccer game,” Bradley rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. I’d tell you if there was more than muscle aches and some pain in my leg.” 

“You’re stubborn as shit is what you are.” 

“Learned from the best.” 

“Mav was no role model,” Jake quipped. “He’s not even a role model now, just Navy lore.” 

“I meant Uncle Tom,” Bradley winked. “Stubborn old ass till the day he passed.” 

“Go sit your ass on the couch. I’m going to call in that food in a bit, so decide what you want,” Jake spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument from the other aviator. “You look like you could drop dead.” 

“Jake,” Bradley grasped his wrist and stopped his rambling. I’m just a little bit sore and kind of out of sorts. I’ll let you know if it gets worse when the adrenaline wears off or if the Tylenol doesn’t help. Is that okay?” 

“As long as you don’t forget to tell me,” Jake led Bradley into their home as he squeezed his hand. “Contrary to your belief, you matter too. Especially when you’re limping around like you…” 

Bradley winced as he stepped forward, “I’m fine; I just stiffened up a bit while we were standing.” 

“Your back or your leg? You’re favoring the right one,” Jake observed, his eyes scanning Bradley’s figure. 

“My leg and knee are a little stiff,” Bradley sighed. “I’m noticing the knee more now than earlier, and it doesn’t feel great.” 

Looking down at Bradley’s right leg, Jake squinted and examined it closely. He reached down to press on the right side, and Bradley let out a yelp of pain. 

“It’s pretty swollen,” Jake concluded. “But you’re walking on it, so it probably isn’t anything major. Sit. This why you didn’t want to drive?” 

“Some, but not all of it,” Bradley shifted his weight, testing the strength of his right leg. “I promise you, I wasn’t lying. I can see that you don’t believe me, but please believe me.”

Jake stared intensely at Bradley while they stood in the entryway, Bradley leaning heavily toward his left side and Jake’s eyes roaming Bradley’s body for signs of other injuries. He believed him enough, but not entirely sufficient, to think he would be fine, pain-free, and mobile in the morning. 

“Go sit on the couch, yeah?” Jake squeezed Bradley’s forearm. “I’ll order dinner for delivery so we don’t have to get back out again. I want you off your leg.” 

Nodding, Bradley moved forward on his own accord, his knee buckling under the weight it was now bearing. Jake, who lurched forward to assist, saw the pain flash across his partner’s tanned skin and flush his cheeks. 

“I don’t like how this looks,” he said as he helped Bradley remain upright and ushered him toward the couch. “I think there’s more than just a tweak.” 

Bradley shook his head, his eyes pinched shut in pain, “it’ll buff.” 

“You’re a child,” Jake scolded. “Do I need to call Mav? Let him know that one of his solo pilots can barely stand up, let alone walk. Or do I need to call him as your dad and let him know that his stubborn, bullheaded, pain-in-the-ass son is hurt and won’t take care of himself?” 

“Is there a secret third option?” Bradley winced. “I’d like to opt out of both.” 

“There’s no secret third option!” Jake nudged Bradley to sit with his leg outstretched. “There could be some serious damage, Bradley!” 

“I know,” Bradley scrubbed his hands over his face. “And I know how long I’d be out of my jet if something is wrong, Jay. I-I can’t. I can’t do that.” 

“Sweetheart,” Jake said, sitting beside Bradley’s foot and running a hand up and down his shin. “Your health is more important than being in a plane. You know that, right?” 

Bradley swallowed thickly and nodded, his hand reaching for Jake’s as he took a deep, shaky breath. 

“Is it bad?” Jake whispered, his hand squeezing his partner’s. “You look pale, and you’re sweating.” 

“Um,” Bradley swallowed again. That step back there, something felt off, and now it’s pretty bad. I don’t want to move it again; it’s not great.” 

“Hey,” the blonde whispered, his hand still resting on Bradley’s shin. “Why don’t we go get it checked out at least? Confirm that there’s nothing structurally wrong with your knee, and see if they can brace it or give you something to ease the pain?” 

Taking another deep breath, Bradley shook his head.

“I know you don’t like hospitals,” Jake continued gently. “but I don’t like seeing you in this much pain for the sake of stubbornness. I know it’s a sensitive subject, one I’ll never know the true feelings you feel, but I’m worried that you’re seriously injured. And I don’t want this to be something we need to fix and it gets worse.” 

“I,” Bradley whispered, his hand laced with Jake’s. “I need to fix it. You said we.” 

“The collective we, yes,” Jake smiled warmly. “We’re in everything together. It sounds less scary when you say we. We can get your knee checked out and fix it.” 

Bradley blinked owlishly at his partner, a lazy smile spreading across his face and the grimace of pain long gone. “I love you, " he said. 

“I love you too,” Jake stood and sat next to his boyfriend, their thighs touching and hands finding one another again. “So what if we go get this knee looked at? Give us both some peace of mind?” 

“Jake, I,” Bradley was cut off quickly.

“I know,” Jake soothed. “I know you don’t want to go, but you need to. I’ll be there the entire time, and I can call Mav and have him meet us there.” 

“Don’t ruin his evening,” Bradley sighed. “He’s with Penny. That was his phone call.” 

Nodding in understanding, Jake leaned his head on Bradley’s shoulder and squeezed his hand. The tension in the room had nothing to do with the pair and everything to do with the crippling anxiety Bradley feels about medical intervention and hospitals. Though addressing them in therapy was working wonders- and previous interactions showed that the brunette would be in shambles over the mention of a hospital- he was still unsure how the upcoming trip would play out. 

“I know you’re scared,” Jake pulled his partner close. “But it’s for the best, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you or lead you astray.” 

Bradley nodded weakly. 

“Do you want some help getting to the truck?” Jake’s words were soft and encouraging, bringing tears to Bradley’s eyes with how gentle he was around such a sensitive subject. “I’ll help you.” 

“Please?” The older aviator’s voice was filled with pain and anxiety, his eyes searching Jake’s face for comfort. “It hurts.” 

“I know,” Jake leaned in and kissed his forehead. "But it’ll be better soon.” 

Nodding, Bradley adjusted his position on the couch, and Jake wrapped an arm around his waist. Together, they stood gently, and just as Bradley’s knee gave way a second time, Jake stood firmly beside him to keep him upright. 

“We’ll take it slow,” Jake encouraged. “Ready?” 

They limped toward Jake’s truck slowly, Bradley sucking in a sharp breath with each step they took toward the driveway and when his weight shifted to his “bad” leg. It wasn’t far, but based on his partner's reaction, Jake knew he was in more pain than he had previously assumed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me it hurt that bad?” Jake questioned, his hand never leaving Bradley’s as he exited the driveway and pulled onto the street. “It’s pretty bad.” 

“It didn’t hurt that bad until I let it get stiff,” Bradley whispered, his head leaning against the window and his leg outstretched. Adrenaline kept me from feeling too much. I wasn’t hidin’ anything, I promise.” 

“But you’re in pain?” Jake’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead, listening for any further signs of discomfort or distress in Bradley’s voice. “You sound like you are.” 

“I am,” Bradley breathed. “And anxious. It's not a great combination when I want to take off and get out of somewhere, and my leg is all busted up.” 

“It’s probably just sprained,” Jake rationalized. 

“Could be fucked up six ways to Sunday, and we don’t even know,” Bradley retorted. “This is going to fuck with my flight hours.” 

“You have plenty,” Jake countered. “You don’t need to worry too much about it, darlin’. You only need to worry about getting better and letting people care for you. We’ll be there in a bit. Why don’t you try to rest? Maybe relax a little bit? I know that when we get there, it’s going to be tough. I just want you to be comfortable.” 

“I know,” Bradley whispered. I just, Jake, I don’t like not flying. It took me a long time to get here- longer than usual.” 

“I know,” Jake squeezed his hand again. “I know it did. But you’re here. You’re a Lieutenant Commander, and you’re going to be just fine. I promise. Do you want me to have them bring out a wheelchair when we get there, or can you make it in just the two of us?”

“I can make it,” Bradley hadn’t realized that they were nearing the hospital until Jake signaled to turn into the parking lot, finding a space close to the doors to make Bradley’s walk shorter. 

“Okay,” Jake glanced over at his partner, whose eyes were screwed shut from attempting to bend his knee to exit the stopped vehicle. “Need some help?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley grimaced. “It’s pretty locked up.” 

Jake made his way to the other side of the truck before Bradley struggled further with his knee. Opening the door and helping his boyfriend ease his legs outside of the vehicle, he wrapped an arm around his waist as Bradley’s injured limb made contact with the pavement before the other, his knee giving out almost immediately. 

“See, this is bad,” Bradley attempted to joke as they limped toward the Emergency Room door. “It’s gotta be bad.” 

“Or we can wait for the doctor to tell you what’s wrong before we jump to conclusions,” Jake reminded him, depositing all 6’3 of the aviator in a hard, plastic chair. “I’ll go check you in so you don’t have to stand. Don’t… move.” 

“I'm not planning on it,” Bradley sighed, his head leaning back against the wall. Can you help me…”

Before Bradley could finish his sentence, a chair was in front of him, and Jake was gently lifting his leg by the ankle and extending it. Even though it hurt, Bradley knew that propping up his leg was for the best, and he took a deep breath, willing the waves of pain and nausea away as Jake pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Five minutes tops,” Jake brushed a thumb over Bradley’s cheek. “I promise.” 

Bradley left the hospital on crutches in a full leg brace four hours later. During their waiting period, Jake saw a side of Bradley he wasn’t sure he liked; he was pale, agitated, and fidgety, and even when Jake was speaking to him, he seemed to be miles away. The pain he was feeling was written across his face, and his hand squeezed Jake’s periodically as it washed over him. 

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Jake soothed. “We’re the only ones in the waiting room now that the kid with the broken arm went back.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley whispered, his eyes closed and his head leaning on Jake’s shoulder. “Hope so.” 

“You okay?” Jake laced their fingers together and rested their intertwined hands on his thigh. “How can I help?” 

“It just hurts,” Bradley exhaled. "I don’t like it here. There's not much you can do.” 

“I know,” Jake squeezed his partner’s hand. “But we’ll get to go home soon. Once they check this knee out, we’ll be home free.” 

“I don’t want an MRI,” Bradley sniffled. “Or anything like that. Mom, she…” 

“I know,” Jake whispered, kissing Bradley’s temple. It’ll be okay. You’ll have to have one to know what’s going on in there, to fix it all.” 

“Just reminds me a lot about being in palliative care with her,” Bradley let a tear trickle down his cheek, with no intention of brushing it away. “Makes me miss her sometimes, but mostly reminds me so much of the end of her life that it scares me.” 

“This isn’t like this, honey,” Jake did his best to keep his composure, but seeing Bradley vulnerable and upset broke his heart. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know that it will, it’s just… hard,” Bradley sniffled. “Thank you for being here so I don’t have to do this alone. When Mav was deployed, I spent a lot of time at the hospital alone.” 

“Feeling better now that your pain medication has kicked in?” Jake helped Bradley into the house, a small bag in his hand containing Bradley’s prescription painkillers. 

“Mhhm,” Bradley mumbled, his eyes drooping closed as he was seated gently on the end of the sectional, his leg propped in front of him. “Feel’n nothin’.” 

“Better than the pain you were feeling?” Jake asked gently, sitting beside 

“Much,” Bradley flopped toward Jake and bumped his head against his shoulder. “Love you.” 

“I love you too, Bradley,” Jake’s warm hand fell on his cheek. “So much.” 

“Enough to do this forever?” Bradley whispered, his mind muddled by pain, medication, and exhaustion. 

“Well, not seeing you hurt,” Jake’s heart was pounding in his chest at Bradley’s slurred confession. “But I like being on the couch with you, doing life with you.” 

“Good,” Bradley grinned lazily. “I wanna do that too.” 

Jake raked a hand through Bradley’s messy curls and pulled him close, careful of the fully braced leg, and let him rest against his chest with a sigh. Unbeknownst to Bradley, there was a ring hidden in the bottom of his helmet bag- albeit not the best place, but the safest- was a gold engagement band. He’d purchased it on a whim with Javy one Saturday afternoon after browsing several different jewelry stores, but the moment never felt right to take a knee. 

Bradley was special and deserved a special proposal. 

“Wh’nev’r you’re ready,” Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed as he fell into a medication-induced sleep. “‘Ll say y’s.” 

“I’ll say yes too,” Jake whispered, hand never leaving Bradley’s curls. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Chapter Text

The Dagger Squad joked that Jake had a sixth sense for Bradley’s distress; at the sign of anything potentially wrong with his partner, Jake was on high alert, watching for signs, symptoms, and ailments that meant Bradley was suffering, even in the slightest. 

In the middle of the night, it was no different. He was a light sleeper; with a lengthy career in the Navy under his belt, Jake was sure his body didn’t know how to fall into a deep sleep, and it made him hyper-aware of nightmares and restlessness from the man in bed next to him. As he rolled over to run a warm hand up and down Bradley’s back as the older pilot tossed and turned, something that typically eased his partner’s subconscious worry and urged him to sleep, he jerked back at the heat seeping through the thin t-shirt and frowned. 

As he slept restlessly, Bradley was shivering and running an intense fever. 

“Jake,” Bradley's soft, scratchy voice pulled him from his thoughts as the curly-haired brunette molded into his side with a whine. “Don’ feel good.” 

“It’s okay, Bee, I know,” Jake kissed the crown of Bradley’s head as he rested on his chest. “I think you’re running a fever. You’re pretty warm.” 

“Hurts,” The whispered words escaped Bradley’s lips with a weak cough. “Cold.” 

“It’s the fever,” Jake soothed, his hand resting on Bradley’s hip and thumb tracing patterns over the bare, warm skin. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.” 

“Warm,” Bradley curled impossibly close to Jake’s side as his partner wrapped his arm around him, letting him melt into his side. “Love you.” 

“I love you too, Bradley,” Jake raked his free hand through his boyfriend’s sweaty curls, pausing to hold the back of his hand to his forehead. 

“‘S nice,” Bradley continued, unaware of the anxiety building within Jake as he struggled to get comfortable under the cool hand and light hold around his waist. 

“Yeah,” the words were soft, and Jake knew Bradley didn’t hear them in his fever-laden state, but as his hand brushed through the bessy curls and he paused with each movement from his partner, he knew how much he loved the intimacy. “This is nice.” 

As Bradley dozed, Jake leaned against the headboard with tired eyes and an anxious heart. As the minutes ticked by and he glanced down at his sleeping partner, Jake made the executive decision to call Bradley in sick. His fever was raging as the sun crept over the horizon and illuminated their shared bedroom, and if his breathing and congestion were any indication of the severity of his illness, Bradley was better suited to stay home and would only make himself sicker if he ventured to base. 

It wasn’t ideal, and Jake knew if Bradley was thinking clearly, he’d push back on the impromptu sick day, but as the blonde peeled himself away from his boyfriend’s vice-like grip to shower, shave, and call Cyclone, he could see the discomfort written across the other’s face. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Jake soothed as Bradley whined in the absence of his partner. “I’m just going to shower. It’s okay.” 

With another whine, Bradley buried his face in Jake’s pillow before drifting back to sleep. 

Usually, Jake relished in mornings like this. Rooster wasn’t Rooster because he was a morning person, and while Jake would rise moments before their shared alarm went off every day, Bradley would snuggle further beneath the duvet and sleep just a little bit longer, a little bit deeper, even when he should be dressing for a day on base or for Saturday errands. Instead, he’d jolt from his slumber a little later than he was prepared for and rush through a morning routine, grabbing the bagel that Jake would leave on a paper towel for him and the to-go mug of coffee before they left for work together. 

Jake hated seeing Bradley sick and restless, and as he watched over his shoulder while pulling his flight suit from the closet and dressing for the day following his quick shower, he could see the flush across his partner’s cheeks and wished there was a way to take it all from him so he could sleep peacefully and heal. There wasn’t much he could do to help, the Bradshaw Special typically needed medical intervention and to run its course, but his brain screamed to at least get medication in Bradley before he left. 

Jogging downstairs, dressed in his flight suit that had the arms tied around his waist, he started coffee and grabbed two oblong red pills and a glass of water for his partner before tucking the thermometer in his pocket and quietly returning to their bedroom. 

“Bradley,” Jake gently shook his boyfriend's shoulder as he shivered under the thick duvet. “Darlin’, wake up for me, please.” 

As Jake gently nudged Bradley without any response, his heart raced with anxiety, fearing the worst. Earlier in the night, when Bradley had woken up trembling, whining, and drenched in sweat, he was nervous. Jake had been reluctant to disturb his partner and refrained from urging him to take a hot shower or check his temperature. Now, as the heat emanated from Bradley's back and shivers gripped his body, Jake's concern deepened. He couldn't shake the worry that Bradley might be slipping into a fever-induced coma rather than just caught in a fever dream.

The soft whimpers escaping Bradley's lips, accompanied by the involuntary convulsions, hinted at a state of semi-consciousness. Jake tried to rouse him with a gentle shake of his shoulders. His fears escalated until Bradley finally stirred, responding to Jake's efforts. Dazed, red-rimmed eyes stared back at him.

“Hm?” Bradley’s fever-filled eyes shone even in the dark, and Jake raked his fingers through the sweat-matted curls. “Jay?” 

“Hey, Bee,” Jake whispered, continuing to soothe Bradley’s fever-riddled body. “I called you in. You’re really sick, sweetheart. I’ll cover your hops, and you can stay home and get some rest. You were awful restless last night.” 

“Sick?” The raspy, painful words muttered by his boyfriend broke Jake’s heart. 

“Yeah,” The blonde mumbled. “You woke up in the middle of the night, do you remember?” 

Bradley winced with a shake of his head, feeling the dull ache in his skull and the mounting pressure behind his eyes. At that moment, he looked so young, much younger than Jake had ever recalled him looking when battling illness, injury, or internal turmoil. His honey-brown curls clung damply to his forehead, and his eyes held a glassy sheen. As heat radiated from Bradley's forehead, Jake's cool, calloused hand instinctively brushed the hair away, soothing the discomfort.

“I think your fever set in about 0200,” Jake explained gently, Bradley leaning into the cool palm that found his cheek. “You curled back into me and went to sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you to check. Can I get a check now? I brought the thermometer upstairs and water with your meds.” 

Bradley nodded, his eyes fluttering as Jake’s thumb brushed over his flushed cheek. As he stared lazily at his partner, the thermometer brushed across his sweaty forehead and beeped; the red light flashing caught Jake’s attention immediately. 

“Fuck,” Jake breathed, glancing at the numbers. 

103.5.

“Wha’?” Bradley croaked, his eyes meeting Jake’s in fear. “‘S wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Jake palmed his cheek. “You’re running a pretty nasty fever, but it’s going to be just fine. You’ve probably got your semi-annual Bradshaw Special. I don’t think your stress is helping.”

“Hand feels nice,” Bradley mumbled, eyes slipping closed under Jake’s gentle touch. “‘S cold.” 

“I bet,” His thumb stroked over Bradley’s cheek, hoping to provide any sort of small comfort to his sick partner before he had to leave for base. “Would an ice pack over your eyes help? It might make the headache go away.” 

“‘M cold,” As fate would allow, Bradley shivered violently below the blankets as Jake considered his options for comfort. “Freezin’ in here.” 

“It’s because you’re sick, sweetheart,” Jake sighed. “Can you sit up and take some medicine for me? It might help with your fever.” 

Struggling against the weight of the blanket and the tangled sheets around him, Bradley allowed Jake to ease him into a sitting position against their headboard, and he took a deep, shaky breath. A series of harsh, hacking coughs rattled Bradley, the gravelly sounds coming from his chest alerting Jake to a potentially serious issue. Jake ran a hand up and down Bradley’s forearm until he settled. 

“You really don’t feel good, do you, sweetheart?” Jake perched on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting on Bradley’s arm. 

Bradley shook his head, his nose running and his eyes watering. 

“Take it slow,” Jake handed him the bottle of water and placed the two pills in his hand. “These will help, I promise.” 

With a trembling hand, Bradley accepted the glass of water and a couple of pills, his expression momentarily reflecting discomfort. Jake observed the situation with hidden anxieties, hoping the bout of coughing wouldn't resurface. Bradley cautiously took another sip, and Jake couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern for his partner. In the time he'd known Bradley, and in the time he'd loved him, Jake had grown accustomed to the "Bradshaw Special" manifesting twice a year. Bradley's immune system seemed to succumb to the occasional cold or flu, in contrast to those around him who shrugged off the common sniffle or sneeze and rebounded quickly.

During these semi-annual bouts with the flu-cold-plague combination, Jake couldn't help but feel a pang of helplessness as he watched Bradley endure the discomfort triggered by the mysterious combination of illnesses while he remained healthy. He wished he could do more than administer medication on a strict schedule, bring him water when his was empty, and attend to his every need; the reality was that all Jake could do was be there, offering support when Bradley needed someone close.

“Hey,” Jake breathed, his worry growing when Bradley’s dazed look wandered around the dark bedroom. “You with me, Bee?” 

“Hm?” Bradley’s eyes shot to Jake, his hand grasping the water bottle still slightly shaking. 

“There you are,” Jake peeled Bradley’s hand away from the bottle, setting it on the bedside table. “Are you okay with being here by yourself today? I have to go, but I can call someone to come sit with you. Slider or Hollywood, maybe?” 

“‘M ‘kay,” Bradley slid down the headboard and pulled the blankets close to his chin. “Gonna sleep.” 

“Okay,” Jake tucked the blankets around his partner and kissed his fevered forehead. “I’ve got to get going so I can be there before our students arrive. It’s a bad look to be late and then yell at them when they’re late. Will you call Mav or someone if you need company? Or if you think you need to go to the doctor?” 

Sleepily, Bradley nodded and let Jake hover for one minute longer. 

He knew he wasn’t well, but his mind felt foggy, and his head hurt too much to think clearly about just how much concern his partner might carry. Between the head injury from several months ago, the knee injury that just recently had him cleared for duty, and now whatever illness he’d contracted, he didn’t want Jake’s uneasiness about leaving him alone in his current state to intensify and impact his performance in the air. 

“Darlin’, I need to know that you’ll call someone if you need them. I’m going to be in the air all day,” Jake reiterated, his voice firm as he gazed down at the bundled-up pilot. “Can you promise me that?” 

Jake could tell that Bradley was only half aware of what was going on around him as he peered over the thick blankets and met Jake’s gaze. He was pale, save for the flush splashed across his cheeks, and his eyes were unfocused and tired. 

“Bradley Nicholas,” Jake snapped his fingers, hoping to receive his full attention. “Promise me you’ll call Mav, Slider, or Hollywood if you need someone to come to the house.” 

“‘Ll call Sli,” Bradley wheezed. “Prom’se.” 

“I hope you remember what you’re saying to me,” Jake’s voice was barely a whisper as he squeezed his partner’s hand. “I really need you to remember saying this to me because if you don’t, I’ll throttle you.” 

“Bein’ mean to me,” Bradley sighed. “I’ll ‘member.” 

“I’ll hold you to that. I have to go, okay? Get some sleep,” Jake placed one final kiss on Bradley’s forehead, still anxious over the temperature of the skin, and slipped silently from their bedroom, leaving the brunette behind. 

As Jake picked up his helmet back, his brain screamed at him to stay home and call them both in; to tell Cyclone that his partner needed him. It wasn’t often that Bradley was unaware of what was happening around him. Years of being in the Navy, sleeping on carriers, and being around soldiers made him vigilant and overly aware of his surroundings, and Jake was no different. But seeing his dazed eyes trying to focus on something in the room rattled Jake more than he would ever admit out loud. 

Selfishly, he needed Bradley healthy, preferably before the weekend. He had plans for them, and after a week of sneaking away to learn to cook Bradley’s favorite dinner from Penny, he felt his heart sink as he thought about postponing his plan. He hated the Bradshaw Special, but now he wished it was something that never existed because seeing Bradley sick, with glassy, tear-filled eyes and raspy breathing, tugged at his heartstrings. 

He loves Bradley Bradshaw, and he’ll be damned if the Bradshaw Special ruins his plan to propose to him over the weekend. 

Jake incessantly checked his phone on his drive to base, worried that Bradley needed him the moment he left the house or was confused by his absence and waking up alone. He was aware that Bradley wasn’t quite with it when he left for his day but knew that he’d rather rip his own arm off and beat himself with it before asking for help.

Jake knew that his partner was prone to suffering in absolute silence, and that scared him more than anything. Now, as he turned onto base and flashed his ID to the MP at the gate, he was kicking himself for not casually stealing Slider, Hollywood, or Wolf’s phone number from his boyfriend’s phone so he could put Bradley’s illness on the radars of the retired aviators.  

He was early, as he always was when he arrived sans Bradley “No Concept of Time” Bradshaw, and when he sauntered into the Officer Mess, he looked around for Phoenix, Coyote, and Bob, his usual breakfast companion, and hoped that one of them would be there to provide some sort of comfort to ease his racing thoughts. Before he could clock their location, he was accosted by Phoenix, holding a cup of crappy base coffee, who wore a look of concern on her face that was apparent to everyone in their proximity. 

“Jesus, Hangman. You look like shit,” she was clearly exasperated, her hand resting on his upper arm as she assessed his appearance. “You okay?” 

The dark circles under his eyes were a dead giveaway of his exhaustion, and the frown he wore indicated that there was something deeply troubling him. She looked him up and down, his appearance slightly off-kilter and his eyes semi-bloodshot, and she made one of two assumptions: they were fighting, or Bradley was sick. 

Based on the glaring lack of Bradley Bradshaw, and the fact that the pair never fought so intensely they didn’t make up before bed, she deduced that they were dealing with illness but waited for Jake to come to her. 

“Long night,” he sighed. “Just had a really, really long night.” 

Instead of responding, Phoenix wrapped her arms around Jake’s waist and pulled him in for a hug. He relaxed into the embrace, his cheek resting against the top of her head as her small, cool hands ran up and down his back in a small act of comfort. 

“Bee’s sick, isn’t he?” She whispered, breaking the hug. “You never sleep well when he’s not doing well.” 

“Yeah,” Jake sniffled, the emotions from the previous late-night bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, he’s sick. And I-I have everything planned for the weekend, Phe. Dinner, wine, the ring that’s been stuffed in my helmet bag. Now I’m worried this is going to turn into something major, and we’ll have to put it off.” 

“I know, Jake. I know how ready you are to do this, but we can’t trust Bradley’s immune system as far as we can throw it. How bad is it?” She ushered him toward an empty table to their left and shoved her cup of coffee in his hands. “You need this worse than I do.” 

“Thank you,” He nodded. “It’s bad enough he woke up in the middle of the night, but I didn’t have the heart to do anything other than hold him. I called him out this morning, but couldn’t call both of us in. Cyclone already dangles fraternization and conflict of interest over our heads when we’re one toe out of line, I couldn’t let it look like we just wanted more time together. And now, if I tell Maverick, he’ll hover, and Bradley won’t want that. And I don’t have his Uncles’ numbers, so I came to base after leaving him with the instructions to call one of them if it gets worse. He said he’d call Slider…” 

“And you believed him?” Phoenix pressed carefully. 

“What the hell else was I supposed to do?” Jake took a long sip of his coffee and grimaced. “He wasn’t great when I left, his fever was almost 104. I’ll try to call him between hops today and check in on him, maybe go home at lunch.” 

“We have the Big Brass on base today, Jake,” Phoenix reminded him sadly. “They want to meet with all of us who aren’t on leave today. Mav was supposed to remind us Friday and forgot, he caught me in the hallway this morning.” 

“This is just getting better and better,” Jake’s shoulders slumped as he took in the new information. “Mav’s going to have kittens- claws first- when he finds out Bradley is sick, and he can’t go see him.” 

“Between the two of you, someone will take care of him, even if it’s not his Godfather and his soon-to-be fiance,” Phoenix smiled softly. “You doing okay? You’re not feeling sick or anything?” 

“I feel fine; I don’t usually get this as Bradley does,” Jake reminded her. “And based on the time of year it is, the stress he’s been under with the new class, I think we’re looking at the Bradshaw Special.” 

“Damn the Bradshaw Special,” she sighed. “This probably isn’t the time to ask, but how has he been sleeping in general? I know you wake up with…” 

“No nightmares to report as of lately, just being sick and restless last night. He’s been doing really well on the sleep front, especially working with Cook and doing the breathing exercises and no screens before bed,” Jake spoke honestly, pride swelling in his chest. “He’s getting a lot better.” 

“You have a lot to do with that,” she noted. “I know you think you’re just a partner in it all, but you’re helping him. I know that right now you think you’ve abandoned him when he needs you, but it’s not going to be anything he thinks twice about. Because at the end of the day, you’ll go home, swing by the grocery store and pick up soup, juice, and cough drops, and go home to him.” 

“I hate how you can read our minds. That shit’s real creepy,” Jake smiled. “Thank you.” 

“I’m here for you, Jake, both of you,” she squeezed his forearm across the table. “And I know you’re down on yourself about this weekend maybe not happening. But don’t borrow trouble, alright? If we have to postpone, we’ll figure it out. He won’t say no just because it’s a weekend later.” 

“Promise?” Jake smirked. “Because I’m nervous, and now he’s sick. I wanted this to be the most special weekend of his life, even if it’s just proposing in our kitchen after I make dinner. He deserves the world, and the world always finds a way to shit on him or my plans.” 

“He’d say yes if you asked him mid-flight over the comms while his superiors are listening,” Phoenix grinned. “Don’t work yourself up over it. As much as I don’t trust Bradshaw to ask for help, I trust that he will today. Something in my gut tells me he’s going to have someone taking care of him over at the house when you get home.” 

“And we’ll be preoccupied by the brass?” 

“And we’ll be preoccupied by the brass,” she confirmed. “Drink up and go get your shit ready for class. Mav wants to get us in the air early so we can have some decompression time before we’re the Navy’s prized aviators again.” 

“Who’s working today, anyway? I know Javy is off, and now Bradley is out. Are we the only two wrangling students today?” Jake drained the styrofoam cup and tossed it in the nearby trash can. 

“Me and Bob, You, Payback and Fanboy,” She looped their arms together as they walked down the hallway, Jake’s helmet bag slung over his shoulder. “Should be enough to handle the ego and testosterone that’ll flood the classroom in about 20 minutes.” 

“This group is a handful, I’ll give them that,” Hangman laughed as they stopped in front of his office door. “Thank you, again, Tash.” 

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she patted his shoulder before leaving him in the confines of his dusty, shared office that lacked Bradley’s larger-than-life personality. 

Sighing, he fished his phone out of his pocket, hoping for a message or missed call, but the home screen was eerily blank, and he felt his stomach swirl with concern. He trusted Bradley, but his lack of communication made him nervous and brought back memories of Bradley pulling away when he was sick, anxious, or hurt. He knew they’d moved past it; that was long gone after they moved in together, and Bradley realized he couldn’t hide anything from his partner, and their lines of communication were always open. 

If the bedroom door was shut, Bradley needed a moment to himself and was usually met in the kitchen by Jake, who extended a warm smile and opened his arms for a hug. If Jake was listening to music in the office, he was decompressing, and Bradley would wait on the couch with a beer or bottle of water, depending on the time of day. Their system worked, and Jake would be ruined if it suddenly stopped. 

Brass on base today, I’ll be MIA. Call someone if you’re not feeling well. I love you. 

Tossing his phone in his helmet bag, he locked the office behind him after picking up a pile of manilla folders and tucking them under his arm. He loved teaching, and the opportunity that Top Gun afforded him was remarkable. He was able to remain stationed in San Diego with his boyfriend, flying with the dream team Dagger Squadron. It was rare for the Navy to be accommodating, but after the Uranium Mission, anything was possible. 

Including falling in love with Bradley Bradshaw and making him his husband. 

“Seresin!” As he rounded the corner, he caught a glimpse of Maverick, helmet bag in hand, and a look of confusion on his face. “Where the hell is Bradley? Cyclone said he’s sick?” 

“Woke up feeling a little under the weather,” Jake lied. “Didn’t want to spread it around, and knows we have plans this weekend so he decided to rest instead of show up here and make it worse. What’s up?” 

“Nothing, I just haven’t heard from him this morning when I sent him a message to let you both know Brass is here,” Maverick frowned. “How sick are we talking? It’s the time of year when he’s prone to getting pretty damn sick.” 

“Just a cold,” Jake lied again, hoping to convince Maverick that his boyfriend was fine and didn’t need anyone hovering. “Told him to give me a call if he gets worse so we can get him to the doctor. Knew we’d be flying today, so he said he’d call me, or Slider.” 

“And you believe him?” Maverick raised an eyebrow. “Kid’s been a nightmare with asking for help since he was a child.” 

“I believe him enough,” Jake shrugged. “But the sooner we wrap up the day, the sooner I can get home and check on him, so…” 

“Lead the way, you’re the instructor,” Maverick smirked. 

Guilt gnawed at Jake’s stomach; he hated lying to Maverick, but if he knew how sick his Godson was, he would have left immediately and broken down their front door to check on him. He knew Bradley needed rest, and having a hovering Maverick at his bedside might set off a wave of frustration, anxiety, and anger that none of them were currently equipped to deal with, not this close to the weekend. Jake was treading lightly, even if he was convinced he was making a mistake by trusting Bradley with his own health based on the condition he left him in, but there wasn’t much they could do. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay home with him,” Maverick commented as they entered the classroom. “Kind of surprised me to see you.” 

“Politics and semantics, Mav,” Jake sighed. “We’re coming off a weekend, and Cyclone plays the conflict of interest card whenever he can and lets us know that this is a very… conditional agreement. I didn’t want him to think I called us both in just so we could have a long weekend. It sucks, but there’s not much I can do.” 

“He’s still giving you both trouble with it?” Maverick furrowed his brow. “I thought he’d cooled off once you were both promoted, and it wasn’t a Lieutenant and Lieutenant Commander… situation.” 

“Our stunt last week put us back at square one. He still hates the Cobra, apparently,” Jake chortled. “We probably didn’t make the best choice. But we did learn from you.” 

“You’re funny,” Maverick rolled his eyes. “Got your phone on you in case he calls?” 

Jake nodded. 

“Did you let the boys know that Bradley might be calling them?” 

Jake’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I still haven’t asked Bee for their numbers. They scare me.” 

“You’re proposing to one of the most important kids in their life this weekend, and you haven’t asked him for their numbers?” Maverick laughed. “You sound more and more like Ice every day. He didn’t even call Sarah’s dad by his name until their first child was born.” 

“What can I say?” Jake dropped his files on the podium. “I like having my balls intact, and I don’t love being threatened with castration if I hurt Bee’s feelings– which I won’t.” 

“They’re a bit intense,” Maverick patted Jake’s back. “But they mean well. I’ll shoot them a message and include your number. Expect a couple of texts, but leave warning them about Bradley to me. I’ve got you covered.” 

“Thanks, Mav,” Jake smiled warmly. “You’re a pretty good Father-In-Law.” 

“ Future Father-In-Law,” Maverick chuckled. “We like you, kid, you’re good for Bird, and he’s good for you. He’s going to be fine.” 

Jake swallowed thickly, and with a nod, he and Maverick separated as his students flooded the classroom and took their seats. Doing his best to push his anxieties to the side to remain focused on instructing and safe in the air, Jake hoped Bradley would follow through with his promise. 

—

As the noon hour rolled around, Bradley groaned and forced his eyes open in a fevered haze. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus, left in the road, and flattened by a steamroller. He was freezing, his head ached, his eyes burned, and he felt like there was a 2-ton elephant sitting on his chest. As he attempted to sit up, his arms betrayed him, and he fell flat against the pillow and coughed harshly. 

He wanted Jake; Jake always made everything feel better when he was here. His boyfriend was warm, and on days when Bradley wasn’t feeling like himself, Jake would pull him into his side and hold him close as he worked through his inner turmoil while pumping him full of fluids; other times, he would push cold medication on his sick-laden body and swap cold rags on his fevered forehead. 

Today was different because there was a glaring absence of Jake as he rolled over onto his side and looked around the room. 

“Jay?” He croaked, his throat burning as he called for his partner. “Jay?” 

The house was eerily quiet, and there was no sound of the shower or scent of too-strong coffee wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. Bradley’s heart raced as he untangled himself from the sheets and threw off the blanket while searching for his phone. 

When he found it, the time read 1224. 

Bradley’s fever clouded mind started to slowly put the pieces of the puzzle together. He remembered a short conversation that morning, Jake’s cool hand resting on his cheek as he informed him that he was taking a sick day and to call someone if he needed to go to the doctor. 

Judging by the coughing, fever, and body aches, Bradley assumed the time to go to the doctor was long passed, and that he likely needed to go to Urgent Care to start treating his illness as soon as possible, even if it was the last place he wanted to be. Everyone knew if he willingly walked himself into a clinic, hospital, or medical center, something was wrong, and as he struggled to recall the information Jake relayed that morning, he knew something was wrong. 

Sighing, he knew it was just that time of year. His immune system had always been weak, and with each new class of Top Gun students, he would succumb to stress and a minor cold and end up sicker than anyone ever imagined. This time was no different. 

Pulling his phone off the charger, his blurred vision made it nearly impossible to scroll, and the screen made his eyes water. He remembered promising Jake he’d call someone if he wasn’t feeling well, but the name was slipping his mind. Stopping at the first name beginning with a J in his recent calls, Bradley’s thumb hovered over the name and pressed. 

It rang and rang and rang. 

Just as Bradley was about to hang up and try Maverick instead of his partner, a voice that was definitely not Jake echoed through the speaker. 

“Hey, Bradshaw! What’s up?” Coyote’s far too upbeat tone made Bradley wince. “Thought you were working today.” 

“‘Yote?” Bradley rasped. “This’s Jay’s phone.” 

“Nope, it’s definitely not. But shit, man, you sound like hell. Are you okay? Where’s Jake?” Coyote’s best friend instincts kicked into high gear as he heard the confusion in his friend’s boyfriend. 

“Thought I’s callin’ ‘im,” Bradley coughed. “‘M sick, he said ta call.” 

“He said to call me?” Coyote laughed. “Or did you think you were calling him?” 

“Called the last person,” Bradley croaked and Coyote noticed the slight wheeze in his breathing. “With a J.” 

“And that would be me,” Coyote informed the sick aviator. “You called me yesterday about setting up a Sunday tee time at Torrey Pines since I have the connection. Wanted to see if we could get a group together. You okay, Bradshaw?” 

“No,” Bradley succumbed to his cough, and with each violent hack, he struggled to control his breathing and keep his bearings straight. “Sick as fuck.” 

“You sound sick as fuck,” Coyote said seriously. “I’m not on base today, I had some leave to burn before they took it away from me. Do you need me to come by the house?” 

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Bradley breathed. “Call Jake?” 

“I can call him, man,” Bradley could hear rustling in the background of the call, followed by a door closing and the click of a lock. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Is the front door unlocked?” 

“Key’s in the planter by the steps. The fake rock,” Bradley coughed again. “‘M in bed. Jake told me to call some’ne an’ I don’ ‘member who.” 

“It likely wasn’t me, but we’ll make do,” a car started, and Bradley sighed. “I’ll be there soon. We’ll talk more then, and I’ll give Jake a ring. Okay?” 

“‘Kay,” Bradley sniffled. ‘Thank you.” 

“No problem, Bradshaw. It’s what friends are for,” The line disconnected, and Bradley attempted to take a deep breath as he leaned against the pillows on their bed. 

Before he knew it, he was jarred awake by footsteps on the stairs after dozing back off, and the creak of the door indicated there was a new presence in the room. He didn’t dare open his eyes in fear of triggering another brutal headache or round of coughing, but he felt the mattress dip near his feet. 

“You look like shit,” Coyote said quietly, his hand resting on Bradley’s shin. “What do you say about a trip to Urgent Care? I talked to Jake, he filled me in on what’s going on. Said it surprised him because you were supposed to call Admiral Kerner.” 

“Fuck,” Bradley coughed weakly. “‘M sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, Jake said you’re pretty sick and running a nasty fever. Wants me to check it before we get you out of bed,” Coyote picked the thermometer up off the nightstand. “If it’s anything higher than the 103 this morning, we’ve gotta get you to the doctor.” 

Bradley nodded, his throat aching and his ears ringing as the cool plastic swiped across his forehead. 

“Yep, we’ve gotta get you to the doctor,” Coyote confirmed. “You’re encroaching on melt your brain high, so let’s get you up. You’re not naked, are you?” 

“Fuck off,” Bradley grumbled. “‘M wearing pants.” 

“Good, that makes this easy. We’re going to sit you up,” Coyote slid his arm behind Bradley’s shoulders and helped ease him into a sitting position. “Tell me if you need a break.” 

Bradley nodded weakly as Coyote helped him out of bed and looped an arm around his waist after his legs nearly gave out. He was exhausted from the walk down the stairs, and by the time he was wearing shoes, he could barely keep his eyes open. He struggled to catch his breath as he sat on the bench inside the front door and leaned against the wall, fighting back coughs and gags as his lungs ached. 

“Need a little more time?” Coyote asked gently, his hand rubbing circles on Bradley’s back. “That was a pretty nasty coughing fit.” 

Bradley shook his head, and locking the door behind them, they made their way to Coyote’s car. He hated this; he hated feeling weak in front of his friend and needing his help with something as simple as getting into the passenger seat of a car. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, and his vision was blurry, but he trusted Coyote to get them to their destination even when he was terrified of the outcome of the visit. 

“Doing okay over there?” The deep voice pulled Bradley from his spiraling thoughts. “You look pale.” 

“Hurts to breathe,” Bradley leaned against the cool window and closed his eyes. “I hate Urgent Care.” 

“Jake filled me in on that too,” Coyote patted Bradley’s thigh. “Gave me a list of breathing exercises and grounding techniques that you both do when it gets too overwhelming. He promises he’ll be home as soon as he finishes his last hop; no staying late to finish his reports or evaluations. We just have to get through this part together, and we’re home free.” 

“I trust you,” Bradley coughed. “Just don’t let ‘em give me somethin’ I’m ‘lergic to.” 

“I have the list,” Coyote smiled softly. “Jake sent everything over. He’s really worried, but I told him I’ve got it under control and to finish his day. And I told him I’d let him know if you’re okay with him telling Maverick or if you’d rather he stay out of the loop for now.”

“Out of th’ loop,” Bradley wheezed. “Or he’ll show up at th’ house. Don’ want him hoverin’.” 

“I’ll let Jake know as soon as we’re at the clinic,” Coyote stated. “Jake said he’ll bring home some soup from the deli that you like, and Orange Juice. Anything else you want to request?” 

Bradley shook his head, sparking a new wave of coughing. 

“Get some sleep, Rooster, we’ll be there in a few minutes, but you need to let yourself rest,” Coyote ended their conversation. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

The rest of the fifteen-minute drive was filled with stifled coughs, wheezing, and restlessness. Coyote, who remained vigilant, looked over at Bradley from time to time to reassure himself that the man was still breathing, and not melting into the seat. He could feel the heat radiating off the arm that rested on the console, and he was now concerned that this trip would result in admittance to the hospital instead of returning home to rest. 

Choking down his own personal fear of somehow killing Jake’s soon-to-be fiance on the short trip to the clinic, Coyote pulled into the closest open parking spot and gently shook Bradley awake. The red-rimmed, glassy eyes that stared back at him were confused, but as Bradley’s brain slowly caught up to their situation, he shivered in his seat while staring at the sign on the side of the building. 

“I don’ wanna be ‘ere,” Bradley mumbled. 

“I know you don’t particularly enjoy this element of your life, but you’re gonna go in there, and we’re gonna get you feeling better,” Coyote spoke firmly. “Jake will kill me if we get this far, and then you refuse treatment. And I particularly like being alive.”

“Same,” Bradley coughed. “Might as well get it over with.” 

“This is a lot easier than Jake said it was going to be. He was sure I’d have to drag you in there kicking and screaming,” Coyote recalled. “You must really feel like shit.” 

“Never fel’ worse,” Bradley’s words were weak and raspy as he reached for his seatbelt. “‘M gonna freak out inside.” 

“I’m hoping you’re too out of it for that to happen, Bradshaw; I’m surprised you even know where you’re at,” Coyote joked, and Bradley attempted to roll his eyes. 

“Urgent Care,” Bradley recalled quietly. “Hell on Earth.” 

“Okay, drama queen. I checked you in online, so we at least know our wait time. Shouldn’t be more than 20 minutes. Think we can live with that?” Bradley nodded as Coyote exited the vehicle and rounded to his side, helping him to his feet. “Easy.” 

“I got it,” Bradley mumbled, leaning heavily on his friend. “Sucks.” 

“I know it sucks, but it’ll suck even worse if you try to avoid being here. So let’s put our big boy pants on and get inside,” the younger man encouraged. 

It was a slow walk to the waiting room where Bradley was immediately handed a mask, and they were instructed to take a seat and wait, but as they attempted to get comfortable in the hard, plastic chairs, Bradley’s leg bounced wildly, and he began to pick at the skin around his fingernails. 

“You okay?” Coyote placed a hand on Bradley’s bouncing knee. “You’re going to bounce yourself out of your chair.” 

“I’m ruinin’ Jake’s weekend plans,” Bradley sniffled, his voice muffled by the mask. “I know he’s got somethin’ planned for us, and this is gonna make him mad.” 

“Has he ever gotten mad at you for being sick?” Coyote raised an eyebrow at his friend. “I don’t think he’s going to be mad, but he’s pretty worried.” 

“Always inconvenient,” Bradley continued, his eyes darting around the waiting room, looking for somewhere to focus. “Excited about ‘em.” 

“Jake’s excited to spend time with you even if you feel like shit. He’s head over heels in love with you, and being sick isn’t going to make him like being around you any less,” the other man spoke sincerely as Bradley finally, painfully, made eye contact. “He loves you.” 

Looking at the sincerity on Coyote’s face was enough to bring Bradley to tears. His heart ached at the thought of canceling the carefully laid plans Jake had created, even if he wasn’t sure what they entailed, and he hated being in the waiting room of an Urgent Care without his boyfriend. The sharp smell of anesthetic stung his nose and made his eyes burn, and as they sat, his pulse raced. 

“Bradley?” Coyote asked softly. “Are you okay?” 

As tears trickled down his cheeks and were absorbed by the blue mask, Bradley shook his head and continued to cry. Being sick and vulnerable around others wasn’t his strong suit, but as he sat with his boyfriend’s best friend, something inside of him snapped with the intensity of a thousand rubber bands. 

“I hate disappointin’ ‘im. Hate worryin’ ‘im even more,” Bradley confessed, his brown eyes conveying every emotion his words couldn’t. “An’ ruinin’ his plans makes it worse.” 

“You haven’t ruined anything, and I don’t think you will. You just need some fluids and some medicine,” Javy spoke, losing every last trace of Coyote’s humor to diffuse the anxiety his friend was feeling. “We’re gonna be alright, and we’ll get you back home to Jake in no time.” 

Sniffling hard and fighting back a cough, Bradley nodded and leaned his head back against the wall with a sigh. He hated this, he hated being the one who was always sick and in need of more than just a day of rest. His immune system, weak on a good day, was a traitor that could pick the worst moments to rear its ugly head and cause trouble. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Tell me what’s going on in your head, Bradshaw. Let me help,” Coyote’s voice was a beacon of hope in Bradley’s current situation, and he hung on every word. 

“I just,” Bradley swallowed thickly. “I hate disappointing him.” 

“You think being sick disappoints him?” Javy asked carefully and saw the weak nod in response. “He’s disappointed you’re sick, but he’s not disappointed in you, Brad.” 

“I hate worryin’ him too,” Bradley coughed, hoping that his name would be the next one called and he would be put out of his misery soon. “Deserves better.” 

“He deserves the love you give him,” Javy soothed. “He’s not disappointed. Worried? Yeah. He lost his shit to me before he had to go. But he’s not mad or disappointed or anything else your fever is concocting in your brain.” 

Bradley nodded. 

“Bradley?” Javy asked, approaching foreign territory. “Do you… would a… you look like you need a hug. Can I hug you?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley wheezed. “That’d be nice.” 

Leaning over the armrest of their chairs, Javy wrapped his arms around Bradley and winced at the fever that was still ravaging his body. As Bradley relaxed into the embrace and leaned his head against Javy’s shoulder, he let his friend comfort him in a way he was unaccustomed to unless it was Phoenix. Javy’s hug was unique; his hands didn’t rub soothing circles on his back like Natasha’s did, but he was held firmly against a broad chest and a hand landed on the back of his neck. 

“Thank you,” Bradley whispered. “For everything today.”

Before Javy could respond, Bradley’s name was called, and the pair slowly followed the nurse to a small exam room where Javy’s hand didn’t leave Bradley’s thigh unless they were separated by space. Call it a six sense he’s adopted from years of being friends with Jake Seresin, but Javy could tell when something was bothering someone before they willingly admitted their discomfort. 

He could tell that the moment a needle surfaced, and an IV was mentioned, Bradley was seconds from panicking. 

“You need the extra fluids,” Javy said gently. “It’ll be fast; they’ll get you what you need, and the results of those swabs and exams will come back before you know it. Just lie back, and they’ll set it up.” 

“Your friend is right,” The nurse spoke sweetly. “We’re going to get this set up while the doctor looks at the tests, and we’ll find out what kind of nasty infection or virus you’re fighting. Do you get sick like this very often?” 

“Couple times a year,” Javy answered for his friend. “This one got him overnight.” 

“Your lungs and chest sound rough,” she commented. “I can hear the wheezing from where I'm at through that mask. We’ve had lots of kiddos in with respiratory infections and bronchitis. I’m betting you picked something nasty up in passing.” 

“Makes sense,” Bradley coughed. 

Forty-five minutes later, Bradley’s discharged with instructions to go home and rest, drink plenty of water, and pick up his two prescriptions at the closest pharmacy to his house. With a little more color in his cheeks and seeming a bit more coherent, he sinks into the seat of Javy’s car and frowns. 

“It could be worse than Bronchitis and Strep Throat paired with a Sinus Infection,” Javy tries to lighten the mood as they make their way to pick up the scripts. “It could be Pneumonia or something.” 

“You’re right,” Bradley sighed. “I just hate being this sick when I get sick. And now I’m taking meds that historically make me very nauseous.” 

“Your nurse will be waiting at home when we get there, he just left base. You feeling up to some smothering?” Coyote laughed as Bradley’s mustache twitched at the corners, and his lips curled into a small smile. “I don’t think he’s going to let you out of bed.” 

And Coyote was correct. The moment the pair stepped into the small home, Jake was at Bradley’s side. He took the small white bag from his best friend and, after depositing them on the counter with Bradley in tow, placed his cool, calloused hands on each side of his boyfriend’s face, giving him a quick once-over.

“You’re lots cooler than when I left you this morning,” Jake noted. “Jav, what did the fever spike at?” 

“Almost 105, fluids brought it down quite a bit,” Javy said as he perched himself on the arm of the couch. “Bronchitis and Strep, along with a Sinus Infection. Everything he needs is in that bag, but he could probably go for another hug.” 

“I’m right here,” Bradley whined. “Stop talkin’ about me like I’m not.” 

“I’m just getting all the information you might not tell me,” Jake scolded. “Since you told me you’d call your Uncle Slider today, but instead, Javy is calling me about dragging your ass to Urgent Care.” 

“In my defense, I don’t even remember you leaving this morning,” Bradley grumbled, Jake’s thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m feeling better now. Less like shit and more like roadkill.” 

“You’d think roadkill would feel worse,” Javy laughed. “You two good from here? I’m hungry and want to get home to some dinner.”

“I think we’ve got it,” Jake smiled. “Thanks for taking care of him.” 

“It was nothing, just don’t do that again, Bradshaw. Your lips were turning blue while you were coughing, and I’m not keen on giving you the kiss of life,” Coyote laughed. 

“I won’t,” Bradley smiled softly, his cheeks dusted pink. “And thank you, for everything you said earlier.” 

“If you need the reminder, you know where to find me. Rest up and feel better so you can enjoy your weekend.” 

As the door clicked shut behind Coyote, Jake wrapped his arms around Bradley, who melted into the hug, his lips ghosting over Jake’s collarbone. Standing in the middle of their living room in each other’s arms was one of Jake’s favorite moments, but knowing it was tainted by the now low-grade fever still put a damper on the thought that, come this weekend, they’d be standing in the living room, and Bradley’s left hand would don a gold engagement band. 

“Do you want to tell me what he meant by that?” Jake whispered, swaying them both softly. “Or is that a Bradley/Javy conversation I’m not privy to?” 

“I was just freaking out about you being mad at me for maybe ruining our weekend. But right now, I just want you here,” Bradley whispered. “I missed you. You make being sick better.” 

“I’m not mad at you. And you’re not ruining the weekend. A very wise firebird told me not to buy trouble,” Jake kissed his temple. “Let’s get you up to bed, and I’ll bring our dinner upstairs.”

“Okay,” Bradley relented, breaking the hug and sauntering toward the stairs. “Hey, Jay?”

“Yeah,” Jake laced their fingers together before they made their way up the stairs. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” Bradley grinned. “I just like looking at you.” 

Chapter Text

"Mav?" Rooster popped out from under the P-51. "You're acting weird." 

"How am I acting weird, Bradley?" Maverick raised an eyebrow and stared in the direction of his Godson. "If anything, you're the one acting weird. Are you sure you're feeling better, or are you just pretending so Jake doesn't cancel your plans?" 

"Compared to Monday? I feel like a million bucks, old man," Bradley laughed and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Seriously, what gives? You're hovering and staring at me like you're about to burst into tears."

Sighing, Maverick felt his knees pop as he gingerly sat on the floor near where Bradley was now, leaned back against the wheel of the plane, and looked at his Godson with a new fondness written across his face. He'd promised Jake he wouldn't allude to any surprises or plans, but as he reflected on the last 36 years of Bradley's life, he struggled with the bubbling emotions and immense pride that consumed him. 

Goose and Carole's son was growing up, and he was going to get married. 

"When you were little, we used to talk about your dad a lot," Maverick began, his eyes watering. "How much he loved you and your mom, and how proud of you he'd be. No matter the accomplishment, I knew he would have been so, so proud of you, Bradley." 

Swallowing thickly, Bradley nodded and felt his eyes fill with tears. 

"That doesn't change now," Maverick continued. "If anything, he'd be so proud of not just the Aviator you are but the man you are. Your mother would be too. And Bradley, I'm proud of you." 

"Don't," Bradley croaked, his voice raspy from his illnesses that week. "Don't do this to me right now, Mav. I-I had all sorts of shit planned, but Jake's ring isn't back from the jeweler yet, so they're delayed. And now…" 

"Now what?" Maverick encouraged Bradley to continue his thought. "What's going on?" 

"He took great care of me this week; he always does. I don't deserve that," Bradley sniffled. "I love him, Mav, more than I've ever loved anyone. But the longer I have to wait for his ring and can't take him out to the beach and… maybe I don't deserve it at all." 

"Hey," Maverick nudged Bradley's foot with his own. "Stop thinking like that." 

"It's hard not to when everything this week feels like it's gone so fucking wrong," Bradley sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the landing gear. "I want what Mom and Dad had so badly." 

"You're going to have that with Jake, kiddo," his Godfather did his best to ease his spiraling mind. "He'll love you the same if you propose tomorrow or eight months from now. I promise you." 

Nodding weakly, Bradley fisted his hands in his jeans and took three slow, deep breaths. Knowing that he'd made them weeks ago, he was nervous about Jake's plans but pivoted to something "closer to home" after Bradley's sickness that left him at less than 100%.

"I feel guilty he changed our plans just because I'm still not back to healthy," Bradley whispered. "Knowing him, and I know him pretty well, he had something elaborate prepared for the weekend, but now we're sticking closer to home because I still kinda feel like shit. Do you know what they are, or are you my oblivious distraction?" 

"Oblivious distraction," Maverick lied. "I know Penny knows, but no one tells me shit in that household. I just show up at the time I'm given." 

"Mom used to do the same thing," Bradley laughed wetly. "Just tell you to be at our house, and you'd show up fifteen minutes late. I always got so excited seeing the bike show up. It was all I looked forward to for days when she told me you were coming for dinner." 

"Those days were the highlight of my life," Maverick squeezed Bradley's forearm gently. "You were the highlight of my life. Still are." 

"I missed you a lot when, after, you know? Never thought we'd get back here or almost die, but," Bradley breathed deeply. "I love you." 

"I love you too, Bird," Maverick smiled fondly and slid closer to Bradley on the floor. "And Seresin isn't too bad either." 

"You know you love him, too," Bradley smiled despite the unshed tears. "Thought you might kill him before the Mission, but he's come a long way the last couple of years." 

"He has and loves you more than life itself, kiddo," Maverick rubbed soft circles on his back. "Reminds me a lot of your mom. Fiery loves a Bradshaw with a mustache and no taste…"

"Easy, I'm picking your retirement home in a few years," Bradley grumbled. 

"Few years? I haven't even retired from the Navy, and you're going to throw me in a home?" Maverick feigned offense. "You brought dress clothes, right? Jake gave you those instructions?" 

"I did," Bradley raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're an oblivious distraction?" 

"As oblivious as possible when he said to make sure you don't come home grease-stained and smelling like you ran fifteen miles in hundred-degree heat," Maverick echoed Jake's instructions from Thursday afternoon. 

"I don't look that bad," Bradley huffed. "You're the one with a grease stain on your forehead because you damn near crawled into the engine."

"He's trying to do something nice for you tonight, Bradley. That's all he told me," Maverick admitted. "He knows you weren't feeling your best this week and wants to do something nice. I promise that's all it is." 

"I feel like you're both sneaking around behind my back," Bradley raised an eyebrow. "But if you really don't know what's going on, I'll take that for what it is, and I'll shut up about it. I don't know why I need to wear dress clothes in my own house, but I'll shut up about it." 

"Speaking of dress clothes, you didn't bring one of your shirts, did you? Jake's instructions were no loud prints," Maverick laughed, knowing he wouldn't entirely like the answer. 

"I brought one that's… less loud?" Bradley grinned. "He said nothing crazy, not that I had to forego a patterned shirt altogether."

"Not the pink and blue one that makes you look like you work for a Colombian drug cartel?" Maverick narrowed his eyes and stared intently at his Godson. 

"No, not the one that looks nice under the blue suit," Bradley rolled his eyes. "It's the short-sleeved button-up with the big yellow flowers and some green leaves. You know the one. You bought it for me ."

"Oh, so the one Hangman says makes you look like a Miami Mafioso?" Maverick chuckled. "And let me guess… the white pants?" 

"They're not white; they're cream-colored," Bradley deadpanned. "And the shoes." 

"He'll have to get over it then," Maverick laughed. "I told him you'd show up presentable, and I guess that works for presentable." 

"Do you want me to go home and get the blue suit and shirt? I can go home and get the blue suit, and you can explain to Jake why I'm dressed that way," Bradley smirked. "I think it looks nice." 

"So did your dad almost 40 years ago," with a pat on Bradley's back, Maverick smiled. "What you have picked is fine. Just don't get the pants dirty here before we leave." 

"Yes, sir." 

As the afternoon passed, Maverick stole glances at Bradley, who was elbow-deep in repairs on the P-51 and thought painfully about the man's parents and how proud they would be of their son. Tonight was going to be a pivotal moment in Bradley Bradshaw's life, one that would solidify the presence of Jake Seresin in their lives forever. As Bradley tinkered with the underbelly of the old plane, Maverick could see the small changes in Bradley's appearance and body language, even after the nearly two-year-long relationship continued to grow. 

When Jake was around, Bradley looked lighter. His shoulders were relaxed, and the lines in his forehead softened. He laughed and smiled more, was open with the people around him, and his affection toward his partner poured into everyone around him. 

He was loved, and he loved, and Maverick was finally back in his front-row seat. 

"You're staring again," Bradley's voice pulled Maverick from his thoughts. "Starting to get a little bit creepy."

"I wasn't staring; I was thinking," Maverick turned to face Bradley, who had an undetectable emotion written across his face. 

Something between love, gratitude, and grief. 

"Thinking about?" Bradley questioned, wiping his hands on the rag in his back pocket. 

"Your mom and dad," Maverick confessed. "How proud they are of you, even if they can't be here to celebrate your accomplishments with us. Your mom would be beside herself with pride. Goose, too." 

"Do you think they'd like Jake?" Bradley asked bluntly, his eyes glassy with tears. "I think Dad would." 

"Your mom would love him, too," Maverick confirmed. "They'd be head over heels for your boyfriend, and he'd love them right back. Just like John and Laura love you." 

"I think they tolerate me at best. I-I want to marry him. I'm still waiting on Dad's ring to get back from the jeweler who came down with some bug, but as soon as it's in my hands, I'm proposing," Bradley admitted shyly, a blush creeping over his cheeks. 

"I don't think there's any logical reason to assume his parents don't like you, Bird," Maverick was now standing before his Godson, a hand on his shoulder. "That's just your fight or flight response trying to kick in. They love you; Jake loves you. Penny, Amelia, and I love you. You're loved, kiddo." 

"Aside from you and mom, I've never… felt that from anyone else. Not like with Jake and his parents," Bradley breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. "It's scary." 

"The best things in life are," Maverick smiled warmly, squeezing Bradley's shoulder. "Go take a shower and get ready." 

Bradley turned on his heels toward the bathroom, but before he parted, he turned and wrapped his arms around Maverick and buried his face in the crook of his Godfather's neck. 

"You okay?" Maverick whispered, a hand running up and down Bradley's back, the other cradling his neck. "What's wrong?" 

"I love you," Bradley whispered. "So much, Mav." 

"I love you too, Bradley," Maverick whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Go get ready." 

Maverick could sense Bradley's nerves and anxiety as the pair separated, and his Godson sauntered toward the trailer with a glance. He knew Jake's plans; at this point, unless you're Bradley Bradshaw, you'd have to live under a rock to avoid his scheming. He'd spent evenings with Penny learning to cook, picked out a beautiful, brushed gold engagement band with Coyote and Phoenix, and had Bob pick up a bottle of wine during a weekend trip to Napa with his sister. 

Jake's perfectly laid plan couldn't go wrong. All Maverick had to do was return Bradley, clean and smiling, and everything would be set in motion. And, when Bradley exited the trailer following his shower, Maverick's eyes filled with tears that he quickly scrubbed away. 

"This look okay?" Bradley asked nervously. "I should have brought a different shirt since you hate this one, and I don't want to disappoint Jake, but nothing I can wear is good enough, and…"

"Breathe," Maverick grasped Bradley's forearm gently. "We just give you hell because it's fun. Not because we don't like it. You look great, sweetheart." 

"You mean that?" 

"I do mean that," Maverick smoothed the collar of his Godson's shirt. "You look fantastic, Bradley. Jake's going to be pleasantly surprised and really happy it's not your Colombian Cartel suit." 

"Shut up," Bradley blushed. "You're my ride, so we might as well get this show on the road?" 

"We've got to adhere to Jake's timeline, so let me check and see if he's ready, and then we'll get on the way," Maverick pulled out his phone and was met with a text from Penny. 

Jake's ready when you are. 

"And it looks like he beat me to it," Maverick chuckled. "Get your stuff, and we'll get you home to your uptight, schedule-oriented boyfriend." 

"At least someone around here has some structure," Bradley smiled. "Today was nice. Thank you for letting me hang out with you for a bit." 

"Did we have a choice?" Bradley climbed into the passenger seat of Penny's car, and Maverick tore off down the road to "beat traffic" while fiddling with the radio. "Any preference on the station?" 

"Nothing shit," Bradley grinned. "I think I'm going to try to take a nap. Knowing Jake, and I know Jake well, the evening doesn't end with dinner." 

"I don't need to know what you do behind closed doors, even if you are an adult. Just make sure you're," Bradley cut Maverick off by throwing a hand over his mouth. 

"We had this talk when I was 14; we don't need it again," Bradley joked. "Just get me home in one piece so Jake doesn't have an aneurism, and then go home to Penny. And you're the one who needs to be safe, not me. We can't get each other pregnant." 

"Okay, that's the line that we're toeing, let's not cross it," Maverick flushed a deep red. "It's not like that." 

"Keep telling yourself that," Bradley yawned, the sun warming his skin as he leaned against the window. "Wake me up when we're on my street." 

An hour later, Maverick signaled to turn onto the street where the Bradshaw Bungalow was nestled among the houses. The familiar drive is one Maverick frequently made when he was younger or when he wanted to check up on the vacant home while Rooster was deployed, and he didn't want to show signs of life around the estranged pseudo-son he raised. The house was warm and familiar, seeing short-term renters come and go through the bright yellow front door but always belonging to the mustached aviator in his passenger seat. 

"Bradley," Maverick whispered. "Wake up. We're about home." 

"I've been kinda awake the whole time," Bradley grumbled. "It's hard to sleep when someone keeps staring at you and hitting the rumble strips every few miles." 

"I never said I was a good driver," Maverick shrugged and threw on his turn signal just before the driveway. "It's way easier to ride a bike." 

Yawning and stretching, Bradley raked a hand through his styled curls and took a deep breath. He radiated nervousness, something Maverick saw frequently when he was a teenager, and was anxious for surprises or gifts. 

"It's just dinner," Bradley whispered to himself. "Just dinner with Jake." 

"You're acting like this is a first date, not a meal with your long-term partner," Maverick parked the car in the driveway and turned to face Bradley. "What's going on in that head? Talk to me." 

"There's not anything going on," Bradley sighed. "Just doubting myself. I talked to Dr. Cook about it last week when I realized the ring would be late." 

"When it's here, it'll be here. Don't let this one small fluke convince you not to propose," Maverick patted his thigh. "You deserve to be happy, Bradley. Jake makes you happy." 

"And what happens when that's taken away too?" Bradley croaked. "I don't want it to be." 

"It won't be," Maverick soothed. "Let's talk about this more later. Jake is staring out the window, wondering why you're not inside. Call me tomorrow, and we can talk. Okay?" 

Nodding, Bradley hesitated to open the car door and, with a deep breath and a shaky exhale, finally exited the vehicle after grabbing his small duffle and closing his eyes. 

"You coming inside? Or do I have to drag you in?" Jake poked his head out the door with a million-dollar smile plastered across his face. 

"Oh, shut up," Bradley grinned as he waved goodbye to Maverick. "I'm coming." 

"You're late," Jake wrapped his arms around Bradley as he dropped his bag inside the door. "You said you'd be here…"

"I'm early, actually, by about ten minutes," Bradley cut him off with a grin, pulling Jake toward his chest and holding him close. "You made salmon for dinner? It smells wonderful." 

"You made Salmon for dinner?" Bradley grinned, pulling Jake back toward his chest and holding him close. "It smells wonderful." 

"A favorite for my favorite," Jake kissed his boyfriend's lips, smiling. "Mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and I picked up a pie from the bakery today. Have your seal of approval?" 

"Of course," Bradley whispered. "Even if it's awful, you put the effort into making it, and that's what I appreciate the most." 

"Hey," Jake smiled menacingly. "I'll have you know the trial run was delicious. I made it for Penny and Maverick while you were on your deathbed." 

"I thought I was special," Bradley feigned offense, his hand over his heart. "But my dad got to try it first?"

"Penny taught me how to make it," Jake admitted, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "I wanted everything to be perfect tonight. I brought our date night to us since you still look a touch pale, and your cough is lingering." 

"I love you," Bradley whispered, resting his forehead on Jake's as he embraced his partner in the entryway. "So, so much." 

"And I love you, so, so, so much, Bradley," Jake breathed, his heart pounding in his chest as he thought about the monumental question he would ask later and how it would change their relationship forever. "I can't wait to do this with you forever." 

"Awfully bold statement, Seresin," Bradley laughed. "C'mon, I want to see this spread. It smells fantastic, and Maverick and I ate leftovers for lunch." 

"So the bar is on the floor?" Jake teased. "Hopefully, it'll be better than leftover pasta." 

"Anything is better than leftover pasta," Bradley laced their fingers together, and Jake led him toward the dining area where he'd set the table, and a smile tugged at Bradley's lips. "Jay… honey." 

"Do you like it?" Jake's voice was soft, and his hand fell to the small of Bradley's back. "I-I found the dishes in the cabinet a few months ago. Do you remember? You were telling me about them." 

"I remember," Bradley croaked, looking at the now vintage blue and white dishes and crystal glasses on the carefully laid table. "They were my mom's favorite… we ne-never used them unless it was something important. What…” 

"Tonight is important," Jake said, leaning against his boyfriend's shoulder and watching the flame flicker on the navy blue taper candles. "You're important. How much you love me and how much I love you is important." 

"Thank you," Bradley's voice was a whisper that Jake barely caught. "This is perfect. You didn't have to do all of this for me." 

"I know I didn't, but I wanted to. Do you want to eat or just stare at the table?" Jake teased, nudging him toward his chair. "Everything's ready, and I have a bottle of Caymus to go with our meal." 

"The Cabernet from our vacation?" Bradley's eyes were wide. "I thought we finished that on our anniversary." 

"We did, but Bob picked up a bottle a few weekends ago and brought it over when I told him about our date night," Jake smiled. "Go sit. I'll bring it over. Now isn't the time to fly back to the perch."

"You think you're funny," Bradley rolled his eyes and sat at their small dining room table. "You're damn close to your own stand-up special." 

"I'm a delight; you love me for it," Jake winked. "I'd kill a stand-up set, and you'd be there in the front row because you love me that. Damn. Much." 

"Jake, every day on base is your one-man stand-up special, and I haven't skipped one yet," Bradley chuckled, the subtle aroma of salmon, garlic, and lemon wafting through the air. "Did I mention this smells absolutely fantastic?" 

"You might have," Jake, carefully carrying two glasses of wine, smiled softly as he placed one in front of his partner. "And you can tell that I made it myself… still steaming." 

"So that's how I'm supposed to know it's not takeout?" Bradley grinned, clinking his glass against Jake's. "Just because it's steaming?" 

"Door Dash never gets here in time for it to stay this hot," the blonde shrugged as he sipped his wine. "Our pizza was barely warm last week. Do you think they'd get this much food here, and it still has steam rising? Try again." 

"If you're waiting for me to say Grace before dinner, you've forgotten I'm not religious," Bradley smirked. "But I'm also not fond of food poisoning, so you've gotta take the first bite." 

"I take full offense to that, Bradley," Jake rolled his eyes. "Eat. This isn't the only thing I have planned for this evening." 

"You're not going to stop after the wine and dine? Jake, I'm a gentleman," Bradley squeezed his boyfriend's thigh under the table. "Are you going to let me in on these plans of yours, or is everything a surprise that started with being kidnapped at the ass crack of dawn?" 

"Just eat," Jake sighed. "It's nothing special, but I think you'll like it. I hope you are anyway; if you don't, I'm a pretty bad boyfriend." 

"You could put on a movie and curl up next to me on the couch, and it would still be perfect. You know that, right?" The seriousness in Bradley's voice startled Jake, but when he saw the soft look on his boyfriend's face, he knew that he was making the right decision. "Anything we do together is perfect." 

"Even flying the canyon run when we first got called back?"

"Well, maybe not everything," Bradley rubbed soft circles on Jake's knee with his thumb. "Everything after we got off that shitbox carrier has been though." 

"I'll accept it," Jake cut into the salmon with a warm smile and nodded toward Bradley's plate. "I slaved away over this and cleaned the house; the least you can do is try it." 

"I just want to look at you for a minute," the brunette whispered. "It's kind of my favorite thing to do." 

"Sap," Jake grinned. "I love you." 

"I love you too." 

The couple ate silently, Bradley smiling with each bite as Jake watched for his silent approval. It was delicious, even better than Bradley could make himself, and he was beaming with pride as he finished the last bite on his plate, took a final sip of his wine, and grinned. 

"What did you think?" Jake asked nervously. "Was it good?" 

"You know I'd eat just about anything put in front of me, but that was one of the best meals I've ever eaten, sweetheart," Bradley turned in his seat to face Jake. "Thank you for doing this." 

"No need to thank me," Jake smiled softly. "I wanted to do something nice for you, and I know this is one of your favorites. Think of it as a… pleasant surprise." 

"I was pleasantly surprised," Bradley reached toward Jake's hand resting on the table and laced their fingers together. "I could get used to at-home date night. This was perfect." 

"Well, I am relatively perfect. Perfect eye-sight, perfect teeth, perfect…" Bradley cut him off with a squeeze of his hand and a gentle kick under the table. 

"Yeah, yeah, you're too good to be true," he chuckled. "Want to know what would make it even better?" 

"What?" Jake cocked his head to the side and stared at his boyfriend. "Something I could have done differently?" 

"It'll be perfect if we don't get food poisoning," Bradley laughed heartily. "If we spend our night with heads in separate toilets, it's 100% your fault." 

"Oh, you're hilarious," Jake stacked their plates together, the porcelain clinking in his hands. "It'll be perfect because not only am I going to make you dinner, I'm going to clean up, too." 

"You don't need to do that," Bradley attempted to take the dishes from his boyfriend. "You went through all the trouble to cook, and I know the house is cleaner than when I left. Let me wash the dishes."

"Nope," Jake moved the plates from Bradley's reach. "Tonight's all on me, darlin'. Cooking, cleaning, dishes, it's all on me. You sit there and look real pretty and tell me about your day." 

Raising his hands in defeat, Bradley watched as Jake carefully rinsed the blue and white dishes in his hand and placed them in the drying rack. He was cautious, careful to a fault, with his mother's favorite pieces, and Bradley's eyes welled with tears as he watched Jake treat them with care.

"We worked on the Mustang," Bradley's voice cracked. "Chatted a bit about life. But I mostly spent the day elbow-deep in grease and grime tweaking the engine. It was nice." 

"You didn't blow it up? You have a reputation for destroying multi-million dollar aircraft," Jake winked, rolling up his sleeves to start on a few other dishes before he loaded the dishwasher. "I'm surprised Mav lets you as close to that thing as he does." 

"We didn't even get it off the ground, you ass," Bradley scoffed. "And besides, that was one time. And in my defense, it was to save my dad." 

"Okay, okay," Jake grimaced. "I forget that small detail sometimes because I try to black that whole window of time out since I thought you were dead. "

"I'm alive and well, sweetheart; no need to worry," Bradley said, blowing a kiss in Jake's direction. Bradley saw the look of pain flash across his face. "I didn't mean to bring that up." 

"It's okay," Jake sighed. "It's not a happy memory for any of us. We sat 'round thinking you were dead and you're… very much not dead. I want to keep it that way." 

"I also prefer being alive," Bradley frowned. "Are you sure you don't need any help? I can load the dishwasher or at least dry the baking dishes?" 

"Nope," Jake towel-dried his hands before tossing the dishtowel over his shoulder. "My mess, I'm cleaning it up." 

"We always split the chores," Bradley whined. "I feel like I should be doing something." 

"You are," Jake opened the dishwasher and rolled out the top rack, the wine glasses fitting perfectly in his organized chaos. "You're sitting there, looking very, very handsome, and telling me about your day. That's all I need you to do." 

"You're sure?" Bradley frowned. "I feel like I…" 

"Nope," Jake spoke firmly, his hands shaky with the upcoming monumental question. "Please let me do something nice for you?" 

"Okay," Bradley swallowed thickly, feeling guilty for pressing the issue. "Mav was telling me about how you think my blue suit makes me look like a Colombian Drug Lord. You want to tell me more about that?" 

"It's the truth, and you know it," Jake laughed heartily. "I was worried that's what you'd wear tonight. It's an eye sore and a headache rolled into one very bright blue package." 

"I think it looks nice," Bradley raked a hand through his hair as he looked Jake up and down. "I never say anything about the green pants you have." 

"They're so dark they almost look black," Jake shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with those pants. You like those pants." 

"I like your ass in those pants," Bradley clarified, a twinkle in his eye conveying his underlying message. "They do look very nice on you." 

"Everything looks nice on me," Jake continued, loading the dishwasher, his mind thinking unholy about Bradley stripping him of the pants on their short weekend trip to Malibu. "And they look even nicer on our floor." 

"I won't deny that," Bradley agreed quickly. "But we have different tastes. You still love me, and I still love you. Even if you dress like my grandpa." 

"Okay, Magnum P.I., that's enough," Jake laughed. "No more digs at the wardrobes of the others. I call a truce for the evening. I have other plans for us, and if we get to bickering about your shirts and my pants, we'll never get there." 

"Now I'm intrigued," Bradley leaned back in the dining chair, crossing his legs. "Load the dishwasher faster, will you?" 

Jake playfully rolled his eyes and rolled out the bottom rack, looking for a space for the large baking dish he'd just rinsed. He was sure he could make it work as he organized plates, baking sheets, and silverware. Loading the dishwasher was a nightly routine, but Bradley's morning hap-hazard placement of his coffee mugs and breakfast dishes drove him up the wall. With the final placement of the glass Pyrex dish, he felt a sharp slice across the palm of his hand. 

"I'm," Jake gasped, afraid to look at what he was sure would be a bloody mess. "I-I'm, yeah. I'm trying." 

"Jake?" Bradley caught sight of the paling face of his boyfriend and was quickly on his feet. "What did you just do? What happened?" 

"I cut my hand," Jake whispered, his eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling. "I can't look." 

"Okay," Bradley's arm was around his waist instantly. "Okay, we're fine. It's going to be fine. Breathe, Jake." 

"I'm trying," Jake gasped, his eyes watering and his stomach rolling. "I can't look at it. If I move my-my hand…" 

"Close your eyes," Bradley's warm hand wrapped around his forearm. "Close your eyes, and I'm going to move your hand. Keep breathing." 

"Okay," Jake whispered. "Don't tell me how it looks. You can't… I can't…" 

"I won't," Bradley soothed, his voice soft and gentle. "Just close your eyes, sweetheart. I'm going to get a towel to cover it up so you can't see it after I look, and then we'll decide what we need to do." 

Nodding, Jake squeezed his eyes closed, and Bradley slowly and methodically maneuvered his hand from the dishwasher and glanced down. 

It wasn't good. 

At first sight, Bradley knew that Jake would likely need stitches for the inch-long cut across the thin skin of his palm. Blood was quickly bubbling to the surface and dripping down Jake's fingers and onto the stark white dishwasher door. Thinking back to his first-aid training, he grabbed the dishtowel from Jake's shoulder and wrapped it around his hand, closing Jake's fist around the fabric. 

"I need you to take two deep breaths," Bradley instructed, searching for something to secure the towel in place. "I don't want you to open your eyes yet." 

"Is it bad?" Jake croaked. "It's bad, isn't it?" 

"No," Bradley lied. "It's not bad. But I need you to do your best to keep your fist closed around the towel while I look for another one."

"Fuck," the blonde could feel the prick of tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologize," Bradley dug through a drawer and found a dark-colored hand towel. "I put the knife in there this morning. I wasn't thinking." 

"Not your fault," Jake felt a tear trickle down his cheek. "I don't feel good."

"I know," Bradley wrapped the other towel around Jake's bloody hand, hoping to disguise the mess underneath. "Keep your eyes closed. We're going to go sit down, and I'm going to have Mav come by the house with Penny. Just don't open your eyes."

"I'm trusting you not to run me into the wall," Jake attempted to joke, his voice filled with panic and pain. 

"There's that sense of humor," Bradley kissed his temple before leading him to the cool, wooden chair. "Just sit there, and don't open your eyes. I mean it." 

"Don't worry, I won't," Jake said weakly, his eyes still closed as he rested his head on his uninjured hand. "Can you bring the trash can over here?" 

"Are you about to get sick?" Bradley's voice filled with panic. "Jake, please don't look at your hand. I am begging you, don't look at your hand." 

"Just in case," Jake sighed. "I don't need us both down for the count, but my stomach is rolling, and I don't trust it." 

"Fucking hell," Bradley grumbled to himself. "I'm going to put it on your left, and then I'm going to step out and call Mav. Don't look at your hand, don't even peek." 

"I won't," Jake snapped. "Is it that bad?" 

"You're going to need stitches. Let me call in some reinforcements, and we're going to be fine," Bradley's voice was sharp as he looked in Jake's direction. "Three minutes tops. I promise I'll be right back." 

As Bradley stepped onto the back deck, his hands were trembling, searching for Maverick's contact in a list that was usually easy to navigate. Instead, he fumbled with the call button and glanced over his shoulder through the large windows above the sink to keep an eye on Jake as the phone rang through. 

"Hello?" Maverick's voice was concerned as he picked up the call from Bradley, who should be completely occupied. 

"I need you to come over," Bradley said quickly. "Jake cut his hand, and if he throws up, it's game over. He's going to need stitches, and you should probably bring Penny just in case." 

"We'll be there in 10 minutes," Maverick was already on his feet and motioning to the door on his end of the line. "Don't let him look at his hand." 

"I'll see you in a few." 

Ending the call and turning on his heels toward their small home, Bradley was two steps in the door when he heard Jake gag and throw up. With a cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck, he could feel the bile rising in his throat as he darted through the kitchen toward the downstairs bathroom, where he nearly fell face-first into the porcelain bowl in front of him before following suit. 

As he listened for Jake's voice to confirm that he was finished, something the blonde had grown accustomed to doing if they were both getting sick, Bradley swallowed thickly and leaned heavily against the wall. 

"Jake?" Bradley called through the cracked door. "You good?" 

"Think so," Jake croaked, his voice hoarse and filled with anxiety. "Are you?" 

"As long as you don't do it again," Bradley laughed dryly. "I'll be there in just a second, okay?" 

"'Kay," Jake mumbled, spitting again into the garbage can before straightening his shoulders and closing his eyes. "'M sorry." 

"Don't," Bradley crouched before his partner and moved the injured hand back to the table. "You looked, didn't you?" 

"Unfortunately, I made a small error," Jake attempted to joke with his boyfriend, the pain in his voice nullifying any humor. "I shouldn't have." 

"Don't do it again," Bradley placed his hand on Jake's knee and squeezed. "Mav and Penny are going to be here in a few minutes. Stare at the ceiling if you need to open your eyes, but don't look at your hand." 

"Sir, yes, sir," Jake said weakly. "I won't." 

"Good," Bradley stood and softly kissed Jake's hair. "We're quite the fuckin' pair, aren't we?" 

"God forbid we have to take care of ourselves one of these days," Jake teased. "Whatever would we do?" 

"Die, probably." 

This wasn't how Jake anticipated the evening going; he thought he'd be curled up on the couch with his newly minted fiance by now. The gold ring he was still carrying in his pocket would shine in the lamplight as it found a new home on Bradley's ring finger, and Jake would occasionally brush his thumb over the new piece of jewelry as the taller, older man lounged across the sectional and held his hand. 

No, slicing his hand on a paring knife was precisely the opposite of what Jake assumed would happen in the kitchen that night. But as Bradley sat beside him, a grounding hand on the back of his neck and the other covering the injury as they waited for Maverick and Penny to arrive, he made the most of his current predicament, and his love for Bradley Bradshaw grew. 

"Mav's here," Bradley whispered, his thumb brushing over the short hairs on Jake's neck. "I'm going to let them in. You're looking pale right now, and I don't want you to throw up again." 

"No promises," Jake swallowed, the nausea building as Bradley stood and walked hastily toward the front door. 

Just as Bradley stepped outside to usher in his Godfather and Penny, he heard Jake vomit. 

"I can't go back in there right now," Bradley took a deep inhale through his nose and released it slowly. "I've already thrown up once. I can't do it again." 

"Divide and conquer," Maverick looked toward Penny. "You stay with my kid; I'll take the other one." 

"That sounds good," Penny confirmed, her hand guiding Bradley away from the door and the sounds of Jake vomiting. "Are you doing okay?" 

As the pair sat on the old, wooden porch swing, she let Bradley lean into her side and rest his head on her shoulder. He nodded weakly, not speaking the words of guilt swirling around in his brain and threatening to cause a spiral he'd been avoiding for days. 

"Not how I thought tonight was going to go," Bradley whispered, finally finding his words. "Dinner was great, though. Jake did a nice job." 

"Only nice?" Penny teased. "He'd been working on that recipe for weeks with me. I thought it was delicious." 

"It was," Bradley smiled softly as he heard movement in the house. "Just didn't expect to see it again so soon. I'm glad we have leftovers." 

"When Maverick said you'd called, he was pretty agitated. Jake told us he'd have you occupied all night, and the moment your name flashed across the screen, he assumed the worst," Penny squeezed the man next to her in a half-hug. "I'm glad it wasn't worse." 

"I joked that the night would be perfect if we didn't end up with food poisoning," Bradley snorted. "This is somehow worse than that." 

"It's never easy to see someone you love not feeling well," she continued. "He struggled this week while you were sick, and this was his idea to help." 

"It helped more than you'll ever know," the brunette aviator confessed shyly. "Can I tell you something?" 

As Penny opened her mouth to respond, her cool hand landing on Bradley's forearm in comfort, the front door opened, and a pale, sweating Jake leaned heavily against Maverick. He looked terrible; his eyes were glassy and unfocused, but with the support of Bradley's Godfather, he could take two short steps onto the front porch and stand a bit straighter at the sight of his boyfriend. 

"We're going to head to the Emergency Room and get this stitched up," Maverick's tone was calm and even in control of the entire situation. "Depending on the wait, it could be a couple of hours, but I'll have him back in one piece soon. Penny, are you okay to stay here?" 

"We'll hold down the fort and take care of the mess in the kitchen," she smiled, standing in front of Jake and Maverick while Bradley looked on. "Feel better, sweetie." 

"Penny," Jake whined softly. 

"We'll talk later," she said, wrapping her slender arms around his waist and hugging him. "You still have time. It's okay. Nothing's changed; you need to get that hand taken care of." 

"I know," He sniffled. "Just wanted to do it tonight." 

"You still can," She rubbed his back gently. "We'll be here when you get back." 

Nodding against her shoulder and taking a shaky breath, Jake stood and allowed Maverick to help him into the seat of his truck before they took off toward the Emergency Room at Balboa. It wasn't ideal, but as Maverick drove down the street and away from the house, Jake relaxed more in his seat, and tears welled in his eyes. 

"I fucked that one up," Jake laughed to himself. "No way he'll say yes after I made him throw up his proposal dinner." 

"He'd say yes if you threw up on him," Maverick countered. "Nothing's fucked up, you know that, right? If anything, this is exactly the Seresin-Bradshaw mess you should expect." 

"Not the time," Jake grumbled, his eyes looking anywhere but his hand. "I wanted to do this tonight, to surprise him and spend the evening together. You told me he wouldn't want anything flashy; this was the least flashy thing I could think of." 

"So do it tonight," Maverick shrugged. "No one said you can't propose when we get back." 

"My hand does," Jake frowned. "The blood all over our kitchen probably says that too. The fact that your girlfriend is cleaning up my barf and that Bradley also threw up."

"Semantics," Maverick grinned cheekily as they continued their drive. "Besides, Penny has a child. She's cleaned up barf before." 

"You think you're making this better, don't you?" Jake leaned into his seat. "He probably won't even say yes." 

"He'll say yes," Maverick reached over and clapped Jake on the shoulder. "We might have been separated because of my stupid mistake for nearly two decades, but I still know my son. And I know what he looks like when he's in love. He loves you, mangled hand and all." 

"So you think I should still do it, then?" Jake continued to stare out the front window. 

"I do," Maverick confirmed. "Don't think too hard about it…" 

"Just do, I know," Jake muttered. "You give much advice out other than that?" 

"You're a little shit," Maverick smiled. "But you're a great addition to our little patchwork family, kid. We love you." 

Back at the house, Penny took control of the situation in the kitchen and instructed Badley to stay clear of the area until all traces of vomit were gone, including smell. She found the lemon cleaner under the sink and lit a candle while she cleaned up, and once the trash can was soaking in the bathtub and the air smelled cleaner, she motioned for Bradley to help her finish what Jake had started. 

"It looks like you stabbed him," she joked, opening the dishwasher and seeing the blood. 

"I did," Bradley leaned against the counter. "The knife, I left it in there point-up after breakfast. It's my fault the evening's gone to shit." 

"Bradley Bradshaw," she stood up and wiped her hands on her leggings. "Don't you start that. You're not responsible for Jake's injury." 

"No, I'm just an idiot," he raked a hand through his tousled curls and sighed. "I was late this morning for my follow-up appointment with the doctor and didn't think about the…" 

"Nope," she nudged him toward the dining room chairs. "Come on, come sit." 

Doing what she asked without arguing, Bradley plopped in the chair he previously occupied over dinner and dropped his head in his hands with a sigh. Staring at the young man, Penny felt a pang in her chest as she recalled just how excited Jake was for the evening and his plans for proposing. 

"Did I ever tell you about the first time Maverick asked me to marry him?" She asked, her hand rubbing slowly up and down Bradley's back. "It was an hour before he shipped out, and he tossed me one of his dog tags. He said, 'Let's get married when I get back,' I told him no." 

"Probably with good reason," Bradley whispered. "He was a bit of a mess back then." 

"He was, but if he asked me that way again, I'd say yes," Penny smiled warmly. "Messy isn't always bad, and one sliced hand isn't enough to make Jake never love you again. Someday, you'll look back on this dinner, and you'll both laugh. Just like I laugh every time I think about Pete Mitchell throwing me a dog tag and asking me to wait for him." 

"But Jake wasn't proposing; he was doing something nice for me because I've been sick all week," Bradley looked up at her with tear tracks on his cheeks. "And somehow, I messed it up. He'll never marry me, Penny. You know that, right?" 

"I think you're wrong, sweetheart," She soothed. "That reminds me, what did you want to tell me on the porch?" 

"That I've already fucked up my proposal for Jake because the jeweler who has my dad's ring to size it and polish it is late getting it back to me," Bradley rambled. "I can't even get that right. Nothing about this is right, and it's all going to shit, and…" 

"Breathe, honey," She continued to rub his back as his anxiety took hold. "I think it's going to work out just fine. That boy loves you with his entire being. He spent three different nights at my house this week trying to figure out, quote, how the fuck you cook salmon. I think that speaks volumes." 

"Everyone I love leaves," he admitted openly. "I don't want Jake to leave, too. I'd rather he break my heart now than tug me along." 

"He's not going to leave because of one messy dinner," she said. She felt her heart ache as she listened to Bradley's inner doubts and worries bubble to the surface. "What do you have planned?" 

"A walk on the beach with him some night after dinner," Bradley whispered, his voice small and pained. "His sister insists on nothing fancy because that's not who Jake is. I know it's not either. I want to ask him alone on the beach behind the house. It's our favorite spot." 

"I think it's beautiful," she grinned, knowing what the later half of the evening was supposed to entail. "I think you should do it as soon as the ring is back from your jeweler. Mav told me you had it, so I'm not surprised you're thinking about this."

"You're not serious," Bradley looked up at her with glassy, tear-filled eyes. "You're serious?"

"I'm incredibly serious, sweetheart," she smiled warmly. "I think he's more inclined to say yes than you think." 

Waiting was never Jake Seresin's strong suit, and neither was patience. As he sat in the triage room- they bypassed the waiting room when Maverick sweet-talked the nurse, and Jake nearly vomited on his own feet- he thought about ten different scenarios in which the evening went exactly as he'd planned. Sensing his stress, Maverick smirked and looked up from the chair along the wall. 

"What are you going to say to Bradley when you ask him to marry you tonight?" Maverick goaded. "Surely you've got something romantic." 

"It was going to be sweet," Jake sighed, his hand wrapped in layers of gauze as he hoped someone would walk through the door and put him out of his misery. "A lot of words that he needs to hear every day of his life." 

"Give it a practice run?" Maverick's attempted distraction did nothing to ease Jake's mind, but he stared at the blonde on the hospital gurney, hoping for a breadcrumb. 

"I was going to tell him that I've loved him for most of the time I've known him," Jake frowned. "And he deserves to be loved freely and openly for the rest of his life. I was going to wing the rest, believe it or not." 

"I believe it," Maverick grinned. "Want me to stick around and film it since you can't get your camera set up without him knowing now?" 

"I think Penny would be better at technology, but you can take some pictures if you want," Jake shrugged. "Just make sure to keep my, what was it? Mangled hand? Out of the frame." 

"What kind of person would I be if I didn't include your hand so you had to tell the entire story of your proposal to your squadron? I'm not leaving anything out," Maverick continued to tease his future Godson-in-law. "I'm proud of both of you. This is a huge step you're taking, Jake. And whether you believe me or not, Bradley also wants to take this step?" 

"Fuck, did I steal his proposal?" Jake sat up straight, his leg bouncing against the bed. "He wasn't… shit, are you serious Maverick?" 

"I don't know what he's up to, but he's mentioned marriage in passing. Mentioned working on the house, too, which is huge for him," the older man smirked. "Don't think too hard about…"

"Jake Seresin?" A doctor in a white coat poked her head into the room. "I hear you need someone to stitch up your hand?" 

"Yes, ma'am," Jake silently thanked his lucky stars that the conversation with Maverick had abruptly ended. "I don't do great with blood." 

With a nurse in tow who had a sealed suture kit, a tray was rolled over to his bedside, and he was carefully eased onto the bed by Maverick, who had appeared to his left. 

"We're going to have you lie down in case you get dizzy or pass out," the nurse explained as she set up the tray before him. "Your blood pressure and heart rate are a little bit high." 

"I really don't like blood," Jake whispered. "At all." 

"You're not the first, and you certainly won't be the last," she said gently. "I'm going to unwrap your hand. I recommend not looking at it if you're queasy, but if you feel like you're going to get sick or pass out on me, let us know." 

"Okay," Jake looked up at Maverick, who was squeezing his free hand. "Mav?" 

"Yeah, kiddo?" 

"Distract me with anything other than talking about proposing to Bradley, will you?" Maverick laughed heartily and dove into a story about flying over the Persian Gulf. Jake was barely aware of the bandages and bloody dishtowels being pulled away from his palm. 

"Doing okay?" The nurse asked as she discarded the bandages and put pressure on the cut with gauze while the doctor prepared her equipment. 

"Peachy," Jake sighed. "Hurts a little." 

"Once we give you the local anesthetic, it'll feel much better," she assured him. "This might sting a bit while we clean away the blood. Just take some nice, deep breaths." 

Doing as he was instructed, Jake winced when the antiseptic stung the wound and felt a pinch and a prick in his palm before the appendage started to numb. Twenty minutes later, he left the emergency room with six stitches, a wrapped hand that resembled a mummy, and instructions to keep the area clean and dry for the next week while they waited for the injury to heal. 

In another twenty, he bounced his leg anxiously as Maverick pulled back into the driveway with a smile. 

"You ready?" Jake's head shot up, and he stared at the yellow front door of the home he shared with his partner. "You look better already." 

"Is there any blood on my clothes?" Jake asked quickly. "I don't want to do this if I'm all bloody." 

"Not that I can see. I think Brad had you wrapped up tight before you could get anything on your pants," Maverick gave him a quick once over before turning off the ignition. "It's going to be fine. Just ask him if you can speak in the kitchen and roll with it from there." 

"And you're going to take pictures? Penny's going to get a video?" Jake confirmed, ensuring he'd at least get this piece of the proposal puzzle in place before he entered the house. "You texted her, right?" 

"I did," Maverick nodded. "She said everything's all cleaned up. Bradley hasn't changed yet, and he's half asleep on the couch. She's going to get everything on video from the hallway." 

"Okay, good. That's good," Jake's nerves were shot. "And you swear this is a good idea?" 

"It's a great idea," Maverick opened his door and motioned for Jake to follow. "You've got this. Don't think about it; don't give yourself away. Just go in there and do the damn thing." 

Trudging up to the door, it was opened quickly by a worried Bradley, who hugged Jake and held him close. As he allowed his breathing to steady and his mind to slow, he realized that tonight was the perfect time to do what he'd set out to do the entire evening. 

Make Bradley his future husband. 

"How bad was it?" Bradley ended the hug and looked Jake up and down. "They let you keep your hand?" 

"Six stitches," Jake raised the mummified hand into the dim hallway light while Maverick snuck behind the pair. "Hand's still intact. I can't fly for a bit; I have to keep it dry. You know the drill." 

"That I do. My head was the same way," Bradley leaned in for a soft kiss. "I'm glad you're all fixed up. Maybe we can finish dinner?" 

"We can, but I want to talk to you first," Jake grabbed his hand with his uninjured one. "Come with me to the kitchen?" 

"Yeah," Bradley trailed slightly behind him, watching Jake navigate the living room. 

Oblivious to the people around him, Bradley missed as Maverick shot Jake a smile. Penny gave him a thumbs up as he led his partner to the kitchen where, just over two hours ago, he sliced open his hand and convinced himself he was making a mistake. 

"What's up?" Bradley leaned against the counter, his hand resting on Jake's hip. "Everything okay?" 

"Everything's perfect," Jake smiled, his eyes twinkling in the kitchen light. "I have something I need to ask you. And I need you to listen carefully before you answer me." 

"I already said we could get a dog soon," Bradley winked.

"Bradley," Jake breathed deeply with his good hand in his pocket, pulling out the ring. "I'm serious." 

"I'm listening," the brunette's heart was hammering in his chest as he watched Jake remove his hand from his pocket and kneel on the floor. "Jake-" 

"Let me talk," Jake held the brushed gold band in his open palm. "I promised you two years ago that I'd be your wingman when we became a permanent squadron, but the last two years as your partner have made me the happiest man in the world. The first time I looked at you in Pensacola, I wanted to get to know you; I didn't go about it the best way. When you finally let me in, when it finally clicked, I knew no one else in the world would make me feel as loved, valued, and important as you do. And I promised myself that I'd do my best to make you feel as loved as you deserve. I don't want to be just your wingman or your boyfriend anymore, Bradley. I want to be your husband. To love you like this for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?" 

Chapter Text

“So what’s the issue? He proposed, you said yes, and you’re getting married,” she said firmly, her voice lacking the empathy that Bradley was anticipating. “It seems like you’re making something big out of nothing.” 

“I wanted to do it,” Bradley sighed, a feeling of defeat washing over him. “I had dad’s ring sent off, had a plan to take him down to the beach, take a walk, all of it. I was too slow, again.” 

“You weren’t too slow, Bradshaw,” she laughed lightly. “He just had his plan in place, and yours hit a roadblock. You can still propose, you know? Nothing in this unwritten rulebook of yours says you can’t.”

“I don’t want him to think that I’m only proposing because he did,” the brunette ran a hand through his curls, lightly tugging at the end out of frustration. “I don’t want him to think it’s some half-ass attempt at still doing something when his was perfect.” 

“He won’t,” Phoenix scolded. “If you think that, then you haven’t been paying attention. He proposed because he wanted to, not because he was impatient. He’s not going to think you’re doing it because he did. And if you still think that, or he gives that vibe off after you do it, tell him your original plan. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“The worst part is, I don’t even give a shit that he proposed first. It was the easiest yes of my life,” Bradley sniffled. “I care because I wanted to do something special for him for a change, and he beat me to it.” 

“Not everything is a competition. As competitive as you two are, I’m not surprised you feel this way, but love isn’t a competition. There’s no winning,” she reminded him gently. “Just do it when the ring is back to you. You don’t have to wait. You could show up at the office, drag him out to the tarmac, kiss his life out, and shove a ring on his finger, and he’d love it.” 

“You know I won’t do that,” Bradley chuckled. “But I know that the minute that ring is back in my possession, it’s going on Jake’s finger. I’m not waiting around.” 

“Good boy,” she teased. “You feeling better?” 

Before he responded, Bradley let the cool ocean breeze encapsulate him. Inhale for five, his therapist always told him, and exhale for four. The smells and sounds of the ocean always comforted him, and he took a moment to regroup and recenter while he was on the phone. Everything that happened the night before swept him off his feet, and he felt stuck in the current. 

He was going to marry Jake Seresin. 

“Bradley, you there?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley smiled to himself, twisting the ring he now wore. “Yeah, I’m, yeah. Jake will probably wake up soon and wonder where I’m at since I left him asleep in bed, but I needed to talk to you more than I needed to stay restless and itchy.” 

“Itchy? What did he do, give you fleas?” She giggled. “You two are the worst. I love you both so much, but you’re the worst.” 

“He didn’t give me fleas; I’m just anxious,” he confessed. “Thank you, Tash.” 

“You can call me any time you’re about to have a mental breakdown, you know that,” she spoke softly, warmth filling Bradley’s body. “It’s me and you against the world.” 

“I know, but thank you anyway,” he reiterated. “I’ll see you Monday?” 

“Monday, breakfast. I want to see that ring.” 

As he hung up the phone and slipped it into his flannel pajama pants pocket, he gazed over the ocean as the morning sun glistened. Their residential neighborhood was quiet, calm, and inviting. When he’d first moved into the small bungalow with his mother, he was young enough that he didn’t remember the mornings she spent outside as she mourned the loss of his father. The house was comforting, warm, and inviting as he grew older. A herd of his friends were there weekly, lounging on old furniture and tracking sand after days spent surfing. 

After his mother passed, this house became a sad reminder of what he’d lost- his parents were gone before age 16, and his Godfather followed with the pulling of his Naval Academy papers. It wasn’t until Jake stormed into his life, blonde with a sharp smile and witty comebacks, that the house felt like a home again. Pieces of Jake gradually took their place among fragments of the Bradshaw family. Shoes by the front door, keys in the bowl, and his favorite blanket across the back of the semi-new sectional sofa were permanent reminders of how loved he was. 

It felt whole, and the ring on his left hand was a burning reminder that it would stay whole forever. 

Closing his eyes and inhaling, he took in this quiet moment of reflection and allowed his body, mind, and soul to relax after absorbing Phoenix’s advice. She was correct; Bradley was overthinking the planned proposal and ring delay. He knew Jake would be satisfied with a quiet night on the sofa watching a movie where Bradley would slip the ring on his hand, but he wanted to do more. 

“Good morning,” a raspy voice startled Bradley from his thoughts as Jake placed two steaming mugs on the railing in front of them. “You’re out here early.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley said, wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist and pulling him close. “Good morning.”

Jake grinned before leaning in and gently kissing Bradley’s lips, smiling the entire time. They loved quiet weekends when neither of them had responsibilities, and chores could take a backseat to spending time together, but this was their first morning as fiances and their first weekend with a wedding on the horizon, and Jake wanted to soak it in. 

“Hi,” Bradley giggled, and Jake melted into the hug. “Sleep well?” 

“I didn’t even feel you get up,” Jake admitted sadly. “You might steal Bob’s stealth pilot reputation if you keep sneaking out on me. I thought you left me in a panic over last night.” 

“Nope,” Bradley rested his chin on Jake’s shoulder. “You’re all hurt and sad about your hand. I’ll wait until you’ve removed the stitches before I do anything like that.” 

“Not funny,” Jake nuzzled into the soft material of Bradley’s t-shirt. “You promise me you won’t change your mind.” 

“Not in a million years,” Bradley whispered. “I love you too much to change my mind.”  

Jake continued to hold him as the coffee cooled, and before the pair separated, he took Bradley’s hand in his, looking at the ring in the sunlight. 

“It’s perfect,” Bradley whispered. “You did great.” 

“Thank you,” Jake blushed. “It looks pretty damn great on your hand. Did you solve all the world’s problems out here this early? Or create more?” 

“Somewhere in between,” Bradley kissed Jake’s temple. “Thank you for the coffee. And thank you for coming to find me out here. I was a little lost, and you always seem to find me.”

“I know you, and I know you don’t get up before the sun unless you didn’t sleep or something’s bothering you,” Jake frowned. “Which one was it?” 

“A little bit of both,” Bradley reached around Jake for his coffee mug and motioned toward the weathered patio furniture. “But Tash talked me down, and I’m feeling better, or talked me up, I guess.”

Humming, Jake sat next to his partner, curled into his side, and propped his sock-clad feet up on the small table, and Bradley wrapped him into his side with a gentle squeeze. The pair drank their coffee in silence. Jake sneaked glances at the gold band on Bradley’s finger and smiled lazily as he rested against his chest. Bradley, unbeknownst to Jake, was eyeing his bare ring finger. 

“What if we don’t do anything today?” Bradley asked with a yawn. “Stay in our pajamas, eat breakfast, and lounge on the couch. I just want to be with you, and you have a bum hand anyway.” 

“Using my hand as an excuse to avoid laundry?” Jake lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “Honestly, after last night, there’s nothing I want to do more than spend every single minute of today with you. We can even reheat our leftovers from dinner and try it again.” 

“I’d be okay with that,” Bradley kissed Jake’s head. “Thank you for making me the happiest I’ve ever been, Jake. This house hasn’t felt like a home in a long time, but you being here… it feels like it’s finally somewhere that makes me happy instead of breaking my heart.” 

“You’ve thanked me a lot this morning, darlin’,” Jake observed. “Something’s going on in your head that’s making you feel sentimental or sad. I can see it in your eyes. Talk to me, Bradley.” 

A crooked smile crossed Bradley’s face, and he pulled Jake closer, letting him lean further into his side and rest his head on his chest. He pondered momentarily, choosing his words carefully so Jake didn’t think less of his current mental state before taking a deep breath. 

“My mom bought this house after my dad died,” Bradley sighed. “It wasn’t just a place for us because Dad died. It was a place for us to feel grounded because of the accident. We never locked the door and never had to worry about someone barging in who didn’t love and care about us as much as my dad did. It was the place my friends came after school, the place where I felt safest, and it was where my mom- my mom died. Being here alone’s been so lonely, but as you moved in, that sadness faded away. It’s home again, and you’re the reason why.” 

Jake felt hot tears sting his eyes as he listened to the heartfelt and emotional explanation provided by his fiance, and his heart ached as he considered all the times that Bradley sat alone in an empty home where he’d watched his mother take her last breath. It was his refuge, but Jake's first mission was to add comfort to that safe zone. He wanted Bradley to reclaim his childhood home and make it his own. 

“I know it’s outdated,” Bradley added. “It could use a coat of paint and other updates, and some rooms need an overhaul. But my mom wanted to do all those things when she was alive, and I can’t bring myself to do it without her.” 

“What if we do it together?” Jake asked gently, not wanting to upset Bradley unintentionally. “We could start small.” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet; I’m sorry,” Bradley’s cheeks were red with shame. “I’d need to think about what we want to do and how we want to do it. Some things are pieces of her I’m not ready to part with.” 

“I understand. Please don’t apologize,” Jake soothed. “We can work at your speed. And if that means three years from now, I’m still scared I’ll fall off the back step, I’m okay with that.” 

“Really?” Bradley looked up with tears in his eyes. “You’re okay with just talking about it for now, even if I’m not ready to do it yet?”

“I’m okay with going your speed on this one, Bradley,” Jake squeezed his partner’s knee gently, resting there as he spoke. “We don’t have to do anything if that’s what you’re comfortable with. But don’t be upset with me; it’s our home now. We can renovate while paying tribute to your mother. Knock off the projects she always wanted to do before she got sick.” 

“I’d love that, sweetheart,” Bradley sniffed quietly. “We can talk more about it today if you want. I don’t know if I’m not ready for it or scared of it. Being scared of anything is hard when you’re with me.” 

“I’m right here,” Jake smiled. “Always and forever, that ring on your finger is a promise.” 

“Easiest yes I’ve ever said,” Bradley yawned again. “Shit, I’m not used to being up like this on the weekend.” 

“Lack of sleep catching up with you? We can finish our coffee and go back to bed. You probably need some extra rest,” Jake encouraged, his thumb rubbing soft circles on Bradley’s knee. “I’m okay with a lazy weekend, and so is my hand. It’s kind of starting to hurt again.” 

“Do you want me to grab you something for the pain?” Bradley asked quickly. “I know they sent you home with some Ibuprofen, but it might make you sleepy. We can…”

“Breathe, darlin’,” Jake smiled, squeezing Bradley’s knee again. “I took one while I was making our coffee. It’ll kick in soon, and we can go snuggle.” 

“Snuggle, huh?” Bradley smirked. “I thought I was a human furnace, and you didn’t like it when we snuggled?”

“I said no such thing,” Jake gasped, mouth agape and wide eyes. “Where did you get that idea?” 

“The way you peel yourself away from me in the morning and whisper ‘why is there so much sweat’ when you think I’m still asleep,” Bradley kissed him again. “Let’s go back inside, stud.” 

After depositing their empty mugs in the kitchen sink because Jake hesitated to open the dishwasher, and Bradley understood his apprehension, the brunette led his partner up the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the unmade bed awaited them. 

“Are you serious about this lazy day?” Bradley asked, folding back the blankets so Jake could get comfortable before tucking him in. “I’m not complaining, but I want to make sure before I’m sawing logs. I’m exhausted.” 

“I’m more than sure,” Jake opened his arms for Bradley to join him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything besides marrying you than I am of this. I don’t want to go anywhere.” 

“I couldn’t ask for a better Saturday,” Bradley climbed into bed and pulled Jake to his chest. “How’s your hand? Hurting less?”

Jake curled further into his fiance and allowed Bradley’s arms to wrap around him. "It's not as bad. I know we’ll have to unwrap it later and clean it, and I don’t know if I’m ready. It wasn’t great last night. I can’t imagine it looks much better now.” 

“I’ll take care of it as long as you promise not to look,” Bradley whispered. “I don’t want a repeat of last night for either of us.”

“It makes for an entertaining story to tell our friends and our future children,” Jake kissed Bradley’s jaw as his partner’s eyes closed. “Might even work it into my vows. Tell everyone how my beautiful, incredible future husband can take charge in a crisis but might throw up.” 

“I’ll be crying so much I won’t even notice if you’re making jokes and taking digs at me,” Bradley pulled the blankets around his shoulders and relaxed into the pillows. “You make me the happiest man in the entire world.” 

“I try my best every day,” Jake breathed. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Are you going to sleep?” Jake asked gently. “I don’t want to leave you in bed awake when we agreed we’d spend a lazy morning together. You were restless last night, Bee.” 

“I’m going to try,” Bradley sighed. “It’s just, you know.”

“Harder to sleep when something has you worked up or anxious?” Jake looked up at his partner with a frown, his warm hand on Bradley’s cheek. “You can talk to me about it, always.” 

“It’s not as big as my brain is making it seem; that’s the worst part,” his words were laced with sadness as he spoke. “I’m marrying you, I love you, everything is damn near perfect, but my brain… it just won’t get on the same page.” 

“Do you want to try one of your,” Bradley cut Jake off with a quick shake. “You don’t have to.” 

“I’d rather be awake than a zombie or having nightmares. I-I know you worry, but I don’t want to wake you up screaming and shaking,” the brunette confessed. “You can sleep, sweetheart. It’s okay if you want to go back to bed.” 

“Will you try to? For me?” Jake begged softly. “You look tired.” 

“I’ll give it my best shot. The phone’s on the nightstand, TV’s off. I probably just need to do some of the breath work Dr. Cook suggested,” he frowned. “Don’t keep yourself up on my account, Jay. You need to rest.”

“No more than you do,” Jake retorted, his thumb brushing Bradley’s cheek. “You’re exhausted. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t wear it well.” 

“Not for lack of trying,” was the weak reply, any temptation to argue dying on Bradley’s lips. “I’ll try my best, Jake, I promise. But I can’t promise I’ll find sleep as easily as you’ll find it. I regret not addressing this when I was younger.” 

“What do you mean,” Jake lazily traced patterns on Bradley’s chest. 

“After dad, mom had me see a child psychologist, and after mom, Mav made me go to counseling,” Bradley sighed. “But I never told them how bad my sleeping is when I’m anxious, and now I tell Dr. Cook, and we try everything, but it seems like it’s too late.”

“Then we keep trying,” Jake yawned. “Don’t give up, Bee. We’ll figure it out and help you get some sleep. What’s got you anxious now?” 

Everything.

“Nothing in particular this time,” Bradley lied. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. We can sort this later.”

They didn’t sort it later, and when his Monday morning alarm went off, and Bradley was nowhere to be seen in their bedroom, Jake knew something was wrong. He hadn’t felt Bradley get out of bed, something uncommon for the light sleeper, and when he saw his partner half asleep on the couch nursing a cup of coffee with dark circles under his eyes, Jake’s heart shattered. 

“Bradley?” Jake spoke softly as he entered the living room, his coffee in his uninjured hand. “When did you come downstairs? I didn’t hear you get up.” 

“Bout 0200,” Bradley whispered. “Didn’t want to wake you, you were sleeping hard, and-and I know you’re bummed you’re not in the air till the stitches are out.” 

Sitting next to his partner, Jake wrapped an arm around Bradley and pulled him close, the older man resting his head on the t-shirt-clad shoulder with a soft sigh. He looked mentally and physically exhausted, and Jake worried that this would bleed into the work week and make it unsafe to fly a jet. He considered telling Maverick about their predicament but didn’t want to overstep until he could observe Bradley in the air for himself. 

“Why don’t you call in sick today?” Jake encouraged. “Stay here and try to get some rest?” 

“I was out most of last week, and they can’t be down two instructors,” Bradley reminded him, and Jake nodded in sympathy. “I’ll try to nap in the Ready Room over lunch. It's just been a bad brain week.” 

“Want to talk about it?” Jake continued subtly urging his partner to open up about his worries. “I’m right here, Bee. It’s just me. There’s nothing scary about me.” 

Jake’s encouragement was met with silence, and he knew better than to push Bradley Bradshaw into a zone of discomfort. While they’d hashed out their grievances and even attended a few therapy sessions together so their conversation had a moderator, Jake knew there were paths they did not take and lines they did not cross when it came to Bradley’s mental health. While few, those were unchartered territory, and Jake wasn’t willing to start a fight over something like his sleeping habits after just asking the man to marry him. 

“I'm okay, Jake.” Bradley closed his eyes as he rested. I have a lot of feelings, and none of them are wrong. Just have me wound a little tight.” 

“Why don’t you go shower then? See if that helps relax you and wake you up a bit. I’m worried about you flying when you’re this tired,” Jake admitted openly, hoping to start a dialogue. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

“If you’re okay with driving, I’ll try to take a power nap on the way to base,” Bradley’s hot breath fanned across Jake’s collarbone as he curled closer. “Don’t want you worrying about me.” 

“I signed up for worrying about you when I asked you to be my boyfriend, and now I’m locked in because you’re going to be my husband,” Jake’s raspy morning voice soothed Bradley, and he knew it, so he continued to speak in low, hushed tones. “It’s going to get better. We’re going to find something that works.” 

“I hope so,” Bradley breathed a heavy sigh. “This sucks.” 

“I know,” Jake carded a hand through his hair before helping him sit up. “Go shower and take a little time to breathe. We can head to base when you’re ready. I’ll shower down here.” 

Nodding, Bradley rose a bit uneasy on his feet. Jake, careful with Bradley’s mental state, pulled him into a tight hug around the waist and held him close as they stood in the middle of their living room. Bradley inhaled shakily. 

“I’ll be ready in a half hour,” he whispered, his face buried in the crook of Jake’s neck. “Love you, baby.” 

“Love you too,” Jake squeezed his waist. “So much.” 

Jake’s mind wandered as he got ready for the day. He shaved, scrolled through different natural sleep remedies while he brushed his teeth, and thought in-depth about what they’d tried—hot showers, a bath, decaf tea, essential oils in a diffuser, and a strict bedtime routine—while he showered. As he stepped into his flight suit, he considered other options, including calling his mom. 

His father, who had suffered brief episodes of insomnia while Jake was in high school, seemed to have found a remedy that worked, and he was interested in picking his parents’ brains to help his partner. 

“Jake?” Bradley’s tired voice called through the door. “You ready?” 

“Just finishing up,” Jake sighed. “You?” 

“Yeah,” Bradley rapped twice on the door before stepping away and flopping on the sectional while Jake exited the downstairs bathroom. “It’s weird getting ready at the same time.” 

“I don’t know if I like it, but because of its implications, I think I hate it,” Jake admitted as he crouched beside Bradley. “Feeling any better?”

“Less brain fog, but still tired,” he yawned. “I’ll nap on the way there and over lunch. If it gets too bad, I’ll see if I can bribe Coyote to take the afternoon hops.” 

“Ask him when we get there,” Jake smoothed his curls and kissed his forehead. “C’mon, stud, let’s go to work.” 

Groaning, Bradley peeled himself off the couch and picked up his helmet bag and jacket, preparing for the rain that afternoon before sauntering to the truck. He was quiet, Jake noticed, far more silent than usual. Bradley wasn’t quiet; he walked with heavy steps, his laugh was loud, and his voice carried through the halls and classrooms. He was a bit clumsy, often banging dishes together in the skin as his hand slipped, and he would drop his shampoo in the shower and startle Jake regularly. A quiet Bradley meant something was wrong, and Jake knew what the issue was. 

Bradley was exhausted, and nothing they were doing to help his insomnia was working. 

As he drove with Bradley slumped in his seat and leaned against the window, Jake observed out the corner of his eye for signs of distress. He felt helpless, in a sense. It wasn’t like him not to have an action plan or know how to help his partner. That was one of his favorite parts of their relationship; they had a mutual understanding of the other’s needs and could often pinpoint exactly what the other was struggling with before they asked for help. Aside from his quick-witted sense of humor and adventurous spirit, it was his favorite thing about Bradley–he always knew what Jake needed and cared for him. 

This was his least favorite part of existence, though. Even though many never get to break through Hangman's facade and see Jake Seresin, he is a helper by nature. The youngest of three, he stuck to his mother like glue and learned to garden, clean, and care for others. As he pulled onto base and flashed their IDs, he struggled with the inner voice telling him to let Bradley sleep but knew the two needed to report before 0800. 

“Bradley,” Jake turned in his seat and squeezed his fiance’s forearm. “We’re here.” 

“Fuck, already?” Bradley whined. “You drive too fast.” 

“Took her the speed limit the whole way,” Jake frowned. “You have any morning hops?” 

“In the air by 0930,” Bradley stretched and moved to open his door. “I’ll be okay, Jay. I promise. I know when to tell someone I shouldn’t be in a jet, and if that means they send me down to medical, it might be a good place to start.” 

Nodding in silent agreement, Jake allowed Bradley to take the lead. He followed him to their shared office and watched Bradley collapse in his desk chair with a loud, tired sigh. 

“Coyote will take your morning hop if you go get some sleep,” Jake noted. “I-I might have texted him before we left. I’m sorry.” 

“Really?” Bradley breathed a sigh of relief. “You did that for me? And he’s okay with it?” 

“I did,” Jake stood near his desk. “I’m worried about how tired you are, and I don’t think it’s safe for you to fly.” 

“I didn’t realize my whole body felt like this until I woke up from my very short nap,” Bradley confessed, his eyes watering. “I need this to get better sooner rather than later.”

And fuck, if that didn’t break Jake’s heart. 

“Tonight, we’ll try something different,” Jake said, sitting on the edge of Bradley’s desk, his hand on the brunette’s neck. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. We’ll keep trying until we find what works. I promise.” 

When Bradley looked up at him, silent tears trickled down his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot. Jake could almost feel the exhaustion radiating off his partner and knew that even though this was only a short, three-day spell, he knew they were in deep. 

“I’m so tired, Jake,” Bradley’s voice broke as his name fell from his lips. “I’m so fucking tired.” 

“I know,” Jake pulled him into a hug. “I know you are.”

“And I don’t know why I’m anxious enough this is happening,” Bradley continued to cry, tears soaking Jake’s flight suit. “I just want to sleep.” 

Jake ran a gentle hand up and down Bradley’s back as he cried, the other still firmly on his neck. He was lost but didn’t want to involve Maverick and further stress Bradley to his breaking point. He knew they’d eventually get through this, just like they always did, but it would be difficult if they couldn’t pinpoint Bradley’s anxieties. 

“Why don’t you see if Dr. Cook has some availability today?” Jake encouraged. “Maybe she can help you dig a little deeper and see if something is bothering you subconsciously that might be winding you up.” 

“You’re perfect,” Bradley sniffled. “Thank you.” 

“I love you,” Jake replied. “I love you, and we’ll figure it out.” 

Jake kept a watchful eye on Bradley for the majority of the day. Jake found himself buried under a mountain of paperwork when he was finally in the air that afternoon. Jake listened carefully over the comms to ensure his partner was safe. Based on the students' reactions when one got tone-lock, he knew that Bradley was off his game, but he didn’t realize how bad it was until they returned home that evening. After an hour in the makeshift study, Bradley walked out of the room and closed the door with glassy eyes and red cheeks but remained silent.  

He needed help remembering where he kept specific knives in the kitchen. 

He didn’t remember that he needed to call Maverick about coming over for dinner that weekend so they could celebrate with their parents. 

He forgot to bring his helmet bag in from the truck. 

His shirt was on backward. 

As dinner was halfway cooked in the oven, Bradley remembered that he hadn’t set a timer. 

It was off the mark, and Jake studied him carefully from his seat on the couch as he took deep, rhythmic breaths–in and out–to settle his mind before he shut his phone off for the evening. Their first attempt at helping Bradley sleep was small: no screen time after 1900, decaf Sleepy Time tea, and his breathing exercises. 

And for all they tried, they were met with failure. 

They maintained the no screen time rule every evening and added a different element. On Tuesday, they tried a hot shower, and Jake massaged Bradley's shoulders and back, encouraging Bradley to close his eyes and breathe deeply until his body and mind relaxed enough to sleep. But still, on Wednesday morning, Jake woke to an empty bed, Rooster’s spot cold because of its extended vacancy, and found his partner nearly asleep on the office floor, his yoga mat still beneath him. 

Wednesday night, they mixed it up. Jake and Bradley hit the gym before returning home in hopes of exhausting Bradley’s mind and pumping his brain full of enough endorphins to ease his mind. It helped, briefly, with the forgetfulness and brain fog. Still, just as Jake thought he was about to win the lottery with the lavender oil diffusing through their bedroom and an exhausted Bradley, he felt his partner roll away in his semi-asleep state and slip from under their blankets. This time, he followed him, and they curled together on the couch, Jake begging the universe to let his fiance sleep. 

Thursday was Jake’s breaking point, and he finally called his mom. She gave him sage advice: His father would take a hot bath before bed, and she invested in a weighted blanket for his recent nights of restless sleep. 

As Bradley nearly dozed off at his desk, Jake watched him struggle to finish his reports and grading and researched weighted blankets for Bradley’s weight, age, and height before finally breaking the painful silence. 

“Are you okay if I take a short walk? I’m feeling a little… restless. I want to go up with y’all, but I can’t, so I want to watch the hop. Coyote is fine with covering you for the rest of the week. He knows you’re struggling. We can all see it.” 

“Tell him thanks if you see him,” Bradley whispered. “I-I owe him one.” 

“It’s what a team does, darlin’. You’d do it for anyone else; I know you would,” Jake walked to Bradley and extended his hand. “C’mere.” 

Bradley melted into the hug, his limbs heavy and eyelids fluttering as he forced himself awake. He shouldn’t even be on base, but after burning a week off, he needed to make an appearance. If they chose to send him home, he wouldn’t refuse and would catch an Uber or Lyft back to the house, but he needed to be there for the time being. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit. Cyclone’s evaluating today, so Mav’s in his office if needed. He’s worried about you, too,” Jake kissed Bradley’s jaw. “Talk to him if you need to.” 

Nodding against Jake’s shoulder, Bradley whined when the sudden warmth disappeared, and Jake exited the office. Collapsing back in his desk chair, he was on edge as he waited for a phone call from his jeweler. He knew that was the root of his anxiety, but he didn’t understand why it was manifesting so aggressively. Dr. Cook suggested an underlying theme- loss. He’d lost his parents; his mom had lost his dad. She poked at the open wound, encouraging Bradley to talk more about loss, but it always circled back to his father’s ring that should have been safely back in his possession by now. 

In a sweet twist of fate, Bradley felt the phone on his desk start to vibrate, and as he glanced down, relief washed over him in waves. 

Cecilia’s Fine Jewelry

Anxiously, Bradley fumbled with the phone before shakily pressing the answer button. 

“Is it ready?” He couldn’t contain his anxiety, not with the exhaustion he was feeling deep in his bones. 

“It’s ready. Would you like to pick it up today?” The woman on the other line asked sweetly. “We have it ready for you, with a discount for delayed delivery.” 

“Yes!” Bradley exclaimed. “I, uh, yes, ma’am. That would be great. I can be there in an hour tops.” 

“It’ll be waiting for you.” 

Clamoring to his feet and nearly tripping over his desk chair, Bradley pushed through his vision as it blacked out around the edges and the way his limbs felt weak and wary to race to Maverick’s office. He was breathing heavily as he leaned against the doorframe and knocked rapidly. To his surprise, and Maverick’s, he nearly collapsed in his Godfather’s arms while talking a mile a minute. 

“It’s ready! They called Mav, and they called me. Just now, they called, and it’s ready,” Bradley rambled as Maverick manhandled him to the old leather couch and pushed him onto the cushions with a grunt. “Mav!” 

“Bradley Bradshaw,” Maverick snapped. “Breathe. Take a breath, and let your heart rate slow down and your body catch up to your mind. You look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“I’m fine,” Bradley snapped as he attempted to sit up but was met with resistance. 

“You’re not,” Maverick snapped back, equally as frustrated. “You look like dog shit, and I’m worried you’re going to pass out in my office. I know this side of you, kid. I’ve seen it since you were a teenager, and your very worried fiance stormed in here this morning telling me Coyote was taking your hops. Not asking me, but telling me. What’s going on?” 

“I’ve been worried about Jake’s ring and proposing. I know it’s all semantics, but I’ve been terrified since he asked me and slipped this ring on my finger that I’d blown my chance to do the same. And then I started thinking about dad, and how he died, and mom and how she died, and I lost it a bit, but I, they called me about his ring. It’s ready,” Bradley felt his head start to swim as he rambled, his heart beating wildly in his chest as Maverick took his arm in his hand, two fingers falling on his pulse point. 

“Your heart is freaking out, kiddo,” Maverick soothed. “Just take some nice, deep breaths for me. Slow, in through your nose, good, now out through your mouth.” 

Following his Godfather’s lead, Bradley relaxed and felt the world's weight fall from his shoulder. As comforting as that would be on an average day, this wasn’t a regular Thursday, and as Bradley’s anxiety faded, his exhaustion increased tenfold, and his eyes felt heavy. 

“There we go,” Maverick’s voice was gentle and patient. “So his ring is back?” 

“Yeah, I want to go get it. I said I’d be there in an hour,” Bradley yawned, his eyes drooping shut. “I didn’t think this’d happen.” 

“I knew it was coming, and so did Jake,” the older man laughed. “Let’s go get it and get you home. I’ll drop you by your place after I give Jake a call. He in your office?” 

Bradley shook his head, “wen’ for a walk.” 

“I’ll call him then,” Maverick smiled as he hoisted the taller pilot to his feet and ushered him to the door with an arm around his waist. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s pick up that precious cargo and get you to bed.” 

“Kay,” Bradley frowned as they walked through Maverick’s office door. He heard footsteps moving quickly down the hallway. “Jay?” 

“Bradley?” Jake’s hands were on his cheeks, and green eyes met brown. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m taking him home,” Maverick said quickly to avoid revealing Bradley’s big secret. “He came to my office carrying on about something and then crashed. He needs to be in bed, nap, and drink water.” 

“Anything specific?” Jake asked, his brow raised. “Or nonsense? The last time this happened, he spoke gibberish before falling asleep on the living room floor.” 

“Nothing of concern,” Maverick said, taking more of Bradley’s weight. “Help us to the car? I drove it in case of rain. I'm glad I did, all things considered.” 

“Yeah,” Jake slipped under Bradley’s other arm and helped them to Maverick’s waiting vehicle. 

He was concerned about the crash, watching as his partner’s eyes slipped shut as soon as he buckled in the car's passenger seat. With a light kiss to the temple, Jake closed the door and rounded the front to speak with Maverick, whose hands were shoved in his flight suit pockets. He bounced on the balls of his feet.

“What happened?” Jake asked directly. “Seems like a pretty quick crash.” 

“Jake,” Maverick said, placing a hand on his forearm. “I don’t know what happened before he came to my office. I want to take this as a blessing in disguise. I know it’s not ideal and that you’re worried. I get that, kid. But he’s sleeping, and I will take him to your house and put him to bed. If we’re lucky, this is a turning-the-corner moment, but keep up whatever you’re doing at home.” 

“Okay,” Jake sighed. “Thanks, Mav. Take care of him for me?” 

“You got it.” 

Maverick didn’t bother turning on the radio as he drove to the jeweler, and Bradley slept soundly against the window. He was almost dead to the world, the only sign of life coming with the puffs of air escaping his lips as he fogged up the window. He knew that Bradley was exhausted; he’d had three extensive conversations with Jake during the days prior that indicated it as snowballing rapidly, and nothing they were doing even scratched the surface of insomnia. It was a battle Maverick fought when Bradley was a young teen. The boy stayed awake for days before the inevitable collapse, but he hadn’t witnessed this for years and didn’t know how to help. Fortunately for the pair, Bradley stayed asleep as Maverick pulled into a parking spot in front of the store. Unfortunately, he’d have to wake his Godson to go inside and sign for the ring. 

“Bradley,” Maverick whispered. “Kiddo, hey, we’re here.” 

“Five more min’tes,” Bradley mumbled, the sun's warmth blanketing him. 

“We’re here to pick up the ring. I can’t go in and sign for it,” Maverick said gently. “You’ve got to wake up for just a few minutes, and then we’ll go home and get you to bed.” 

“You’re on th’ list,” Bradley said barely coherently as his brain threatened to drag him back under. ‘You do it.” 

“I can sign for it? Will I need your credit card?” He asked. “Bradley, focus for just a minute.” 

“Here,” he dug around in his pocket and fished out his wallet, his eyes still closed. “Use the Chase.” 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” the older man said hesitantly, turning the wallet over. “Is that what you want?” 

“Put you on there in case I needed you to do it,” Bradley was a little more verbal, but his eyes were still closed, and his shoulders were relaxed. “Please, Dad?” 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Maverick looked over his shoulder at his sleeping Godson before he entered the jewelry store, looking around for an employee or someone to assist with his pickup. It was an awkward exchange with the woman at the counter, but when he explained the situation, she happily retrieved the ring he hadn’t seen in over 30 years. 

“You want to take a look at it, sir?” The woman asked with a bright smile. “We polished and reshaped it for Commander Bradshaw.” 

With a deep breath, Maverick opened the box and was met by glistening gold pillowed by navy blue. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts as he stared at the ring that used to live on Goose’s left hand and would soon find its place on Jake’s. His heart swelled with pride as he thought about the man sleeping in the passenger seat of his car and the path he’d traveled to reach this moment in his life. 

“It looks perfect,” Maverick breathed. “What’s the damage?” 

“I’ll ring you up so you can get that ring home to the young man who brought it in,” she grinned. “Right this way.” 

A few moments later, Maverick left the jewelry store feeling lighter and smiling; the ring box was tucked securely in his pocket. Bradley had paid top dollar for the ring resizing, modification, and, as he now knows, engraving, but it was small compared to the joy his Godson would feel once the ring was securely on Jake’s finger. 

“Hey,” Maverick whispered as he slid back into the driver’s seat. “Rooster?” 

“‘M ‘wake,” Bradley mumbled. “You get it?”

“I did,” Maverick passed over the small ring box and his Godson’s credit card. “It looks great. Now let’s get you home so you can rest.” 

“‘Kay,” Bradley yawned. “Sounds good.” 

The drive to Bradley and Jake’s was quiet, Rooster snoring softly against the window as Maverick took turns toward the bungalow. It was the most at peace he’d seen his pseudo-son in days, especially coming off the illness that wracked his body the week prior. He knew sleeping was difficult; insomnia was something the younger Bradshaw struggled with in his youth and apparently in adulthood. 

“We home?” Rooster’s voice broke through Maverick’s thoughts as he flipped on the turn signal. 

“Good as,” Maverick smiled. “Feeling better?” 

“Exhausted,” Rooster sighed. “I want to climb in bed and sleep for a year. Jake still at work?” 

“He is,” Maverick confirmed as they rolled into the driveway, and he shut off the vehicle.” He’ll be home at his usual time. There is no reason he should be hung up on base today. Do you have big plans for tonight?” 

“I’m proposing as soon as he walks in this door,” Bradley yawned. I’m not waiting for any perfect moment. I'm just going to drag him out to the beach and propose at sunset—something easy. And once it’s done, maybe my brain will shut off.” 

“God willing,” Maverick opened his car door, and Bradley followed suit. “You good to get inside, or do you need my help?” 

“I think I’ve got it,” Bradley smiled lazily. “If you don’t hear from me, I’m asleep. And if you don’t hear from me after…” 

“I don’t need to know,” Maverick grinned. “Go take care of yourself. Take a shower, nap, and relax. You need it.” 

“I’ll do my best,” the younger man chuckled. “Thank you, you know. For doing all this for me.” 

“It’s never a problem,” Maverick nodded. “But you’re welcome.” 

As Bradley sauntered toward the front door, maverick watched in awe at the man his Godson had become. He was no longer the little blonde boy with model planes sitting on his shoulders but a grown man rebuilding his life and finding his own family. Sadly, Maverick reflects on the decisions that could have, and almost did, taken this away from him and silently scolds himself for not clearing the air earlier. 

As he pulled out of the driveway, a smile plastered on his face, he couldn’t wait to get home and tell Penny about the latest development in their son’s life. 

Inside, Bradley felt the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. He was lighter and more exhausted than in the last two weeks. As he stripped from his flight suit after placing the ring box on the dresser, he could barely keep himself upright. Bradley pulled the half-dead device from his pocket, knowing he needed to communicate with Jake, something he’d started doing more over the last year when he was going to nap or be away from his phone. He smiled at the barrage of messages already on the screen. 

I’m home, healthy, and tired. I’m going to take a nap. I love you. 

His phone buzzed almost immediately in response. 

I love you, too. 

With a tired sigh, he sank into the mattress, pulled the soft blankets around his body, and drifted into a peaceful sleep, something that had been evading him over the week. His mind, finally at rest, was still excited about the small gold ring on his dresser, and his dreams depicted the future he’d always wanted. 

He slept soundly until he heard Jake’s gentle voice beside him as the mattress shifted under the new weight. 

“Bradley?” 

“Mmm, you’re home?” Bradley blinked lazily, a smile plastered across his face. “Hi.” 

“Hey,” Jake ran his fingers through Bradley’s messy curls, stopping to scratch the top of his head. “Have a good nap?”

“The greatest,” Bradley stretched and moved to sit up. “I wanna go to the beach.” 

“Can I change first?” Jake laughed. “There’s a lot of daylight left. And you’re only in your boxers. Not that I mind the sight, but we can’t get arrested for public indecency.” 

“You have 10 minutes, and then I want to go,” Bradley smiled cheekily. “I want to get out there before the rest of the neighborhood is. The sun’s going to start going down, and I want to watch it together. We haven’t done that in a while.” 

“That’s not even enough time to shower,” Jake complained. “It’ll be setting for a while.” 

“Jake,” Bradley squeezed his hand and looked up with pleading eyes. “Please. Ten minutes. Strip and change, and we’ll go out there.” 

“How dare you pull this on me,” Jake ruffled his hair. “You know I can’t say no to the puppy dog eyes.” 

Grinning, Bradley pulled himself from the warmth of their bed and pulled on a pair of jeans he’d discarded on the floor and a University of Virginia sweatshirt from the dresser. He didn't want to make a big deal, so he carefully removed the polished gold ring from the box while Jake retreated to the bathroom and tucked it safely in his pocket. The ring box found a new home in their top drawer. 

“You gonna tell me why being out here is such a huge deal?” Jake tugged on his quarter-zip pullover. “The sun sets every night.” 

“And I want to see it tonight,” Bradley shrugged. “C’mon.” 

Taking Jake’s hand, Bradley led his partner through the house and out the back door toward their beach entrance. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the ring settled on his left hand burned in a way he’d never noticed. 

Jake would have one of his own resting on his hand in a few moments, symbolizing their love for one another. 

“You’re being weird,” Jake lightly elbowed Bradley’s ribs. “Did that nap hard reset your brain?” 

“No,” Bradley huffed. “Well, kind of. It helped. And I know I will sleep better tonight than I ever have in my entire life because you’re here. And you’re always going to be here. And I never want you not to be here.” 

“Bradley, I proposed to you, but do you still think I don’t want to be here?” Jake whispered as they walked toward the shoreline. “The purpose of proposing is to say I want to be here.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bradley released Jake’s hand and stopped suddenly. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. But you came along, barged into my life, and derailed my plans.” 

Jake, who was a few steps ahead of his fiance, was scared to turn around and see Bradley flushed and angry, furious with him for intruding on his business and life. He was afraid that Bradley had second thoughts. 

“Including this one,” Bradley added, shocking Jake back to awareness. 

“What do you,” Jake’s voice failed him as he turned on his heels and saw Bradley kneeling in the sand, a gold ring in his palm. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley smiled. “Jake, I was in love with you from the moment I met you, but it took a push to get me there. You push me every day to be a better man and a better partner. But I don’t need a push this time; I’m ready. I think you said everything I wanted to say when you asked me to marry you, and now I don't know what else there is to put into the universe other than how much I love you, and how I want to spend every perfect day and shitty sleepless night with you by my side. Will you marry me, too?” 

“This is why you weren’t sleeping?” Jake let Bradley take his hand, and he grinned. “Because I beat you to the proposal, and you were worried?” 

“Jake,” Bradley whispered. “Please answer my question even though I already know the answer.” 

“Yeah,” Jake sniffled, tears pricking his eyes. “I’ll marry you too.” 

Slipping the gold band onto Jake’s ring finger made Bradley’s heart race. As he stood and felt the warm palms cupping his cheeks, he allowed himself to melt into Jake’s tender kiss. It was perfect, simple, and beautiful, and Bradley was happier than ever. 

“So, how long have you had the ring?” Jake smiled. “It’s perfect.” 

“It was my dad’s,” Bradley whispered, leaning his forehead against his partner’s. “So, about 34 years.” 

“Bee,” Jake breathed. “Your dad’s?” 

“I was going to propose two weeks ago, but there was a hangup with the jeweler, and I didn't get the ring back until today. But once I found out it was ready, my body said sleep, so technically, Maverick picked it up for me.” 

“You were faster than me,” Jake grinned. “For the first time.” 

“Yeah, we’re not doing that right now,” Bradley kissed him again. “But now that it’s finally done, and you’ve agreed to marry me… who’s the better pilot?” 

“Your Uncle Rick,” Jake teased. “I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. A whole damn lot, if I’m being honest.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to lie to me if you didn’t,” Bradley teased. “C’mon, let’s go back inside. The sun’s going down anyway.” 

“Isn’t that what you wanted to watch?” 

“No, I wanted to propose. The sunset was a bonus. The same with the video I set up back in the sand, so I need to go get my phone,” Bradley smiled. We needed at least one version where your mangled hand isn’t on display.” 

“You’re a mess,” Jake watched as Bradley picked up his phone, dusted it off, and ended the recording. “But I am so happy you’re my mess it makes me almost cry.” 

“Almost?” Bradley teased. “There are tears on your cheeks, sweetheart.” 

“Shut up,” Jake kissed him. “I love you.”