Chapter Text
May 2025
Bradley can’t believe it actually happened.
After years - and he truly means years - Payback is getting married. To the woman that he’s been dating since he was 16, with whom he has three kids. After years of teasing, of pretty much already being married in every way but in name, the two surprised everyone with an out-of-the-blue invitation to the wedding.
It’s a destination wedding in Italy, which immediately shortens the guest list. Payback had told him at the bachelor party that, after years of being each other’s life partner and person, they see this wedding as something just for them. As a way to recommit themselves to each other and their family, amongst their closest friends and family. And while Rooster is touched to be considered part of the close circle, it all leaves him feeling just a bit bereft.
Because, with Payback getting married, Bradley is fast approaching being the only single friend. It’s something he’s used to, a role he’s filled on and off in his friend groups since high school. But it’s starting to become a bit sadder now that he’ll be 41 in a couple of months. Not for him, but he’s starting to get weird looks at events. His friends’ kids have even started asking him about it.
Maybe it’s a trait he got from Mav. The perpetual singleness. But now, even Maverick has settled down; he and Penny got married three years ago, and he’s lived with her and Amelia for coming up on five years now. His godfather is reveling in the settled life; he keeps broaching the concept to Rooster on phone calls and during dinners.
“You know,” Mav had started casually a couple of weeks ago, “one of Penny’s friends from her yoga class just finalized her divorce.”
“Okay?” Bradley figured if he played dumb enough, Mav would drop it.
“Penny was going to give her your number. She’s apparently very cute and very fun.” Mav smiled encouragingly, and Bradley rolled his eyes.
“I don’t need your help getting a date, Mav,” Bradley insisted. It’s true; he can pull pretty well still, when he wants to. That hasn’t stopped Maverick from trying to set him up with everyone, from the new bartender at the Hard Deck to his mailman’s son.
Maverick rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you out. When was the last time you had a relationship that lasted more than two months?”
Bradley opened his mouth to protest and then realized he couldn’t. Because the last time he had a relationship that lasted longer than a free trial for HBO was...Jake, all those years ago.
“See!” Maverick seized the opportunity. “Now that you’ve been promoted and have all that extra free time with fewer deployments, don’t you want someone to spend it with?”
“I spend it with you,” Bradley protested.
Mav shot him a look. “Sue me for wanting more than this,” he gestures between the two of them and then out to the empty hanger, “for you. Don’t you think it’d be nice? To have someone to come home to?”
Sometimes, Bradley does. When he comes home to an empty house and a cold bed, he thinks about how nice it would be to share his life with someone. But the concept of forever still feels like nails scrapping against a chalkboard in his veins, so, for the most part, Bradley ignores that base human instinct.
“Nah,” is what he said to Maverick instead of attempting to explain his crippling fear of the future. “Besides, you didn’t settle down until you were, like, 60, so I think I have some time.”
“Yeah, but now that I have, I can’t imagine why it took me so long.” Mav’s eyes had gone soft and mushy, and Rooster resisted the urge to poke fun. “Just,” Mav started up again before Bradley could gag, “I worry about you, kid. I want you to be happy.”
Mav seemed genuinely concerned, and Bradley’s heart swelled with it. It felt good to have Maverick’s worrying gaze on him and not squirm under it or run away from it.
He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me, Mav,” he insisted. “I am happy. I have a lot of people I love in my life.”
Bradley hadn't been lying. The evidence is all around him, here at Payback’s wedding. All of his friends, and his friends’ families, gathered together to celebrate one of them.
Bradley’s been to a lot of weddings over the best few years. A lot. But this is one of the most extravagant. The gaudy setting and the foreign location seem to make everyone more romantic than usual, and Bradley can’t look in any direction without seeing couples all over each other. He gets it; weddings are very romantic settings, and the ceremony was lovely. But he’s 40, for god's sake; he could deal without the excessive PDA at this reception.
After his third time accidentally glancing over at Javy and Nat in each others’ laps, Bradley starts looking for the only other person at this wedding that he knows will be there alone.
He and Jake were sat at different tables, both clearly used as seat fillers since they both came alone. Once the slow dancing starts, Bradley makes his way over to the other pilot. He plops down in the seat next to Jake and turns to him, about to greet him, but Jake beats him to the punch.
“It’s the end of the world as we know it,” Jake says gravely, sloshing his whiskey around in the glass. Bradley thinks that perhaps the other man has had too much to drink.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, quirking the corner of his mouth up.
Jake sucks down the dregs of his glass. When he pulls it back, his lips are wet with whiskey. Jake licks them off.
“Payback getting married,” Jake offers, as if that’s any kind of reasonable explanation. “He always claimed he and Marta were never getting married. And here they are. Marital bliss.”
Jake gestures to something behind Bradley, and Bradley turns to see Reuben and Marta, dancing together slowly and whispering in each others’ ears. There isn’t even music. The whole thing should be disgustingly cloying, but, as he gets older, Bradley finds himself less and less cynical about love. Maybe he’s softening, like the edges of his belly.
Bradley shrugs. “I think it’s cute.”
Jake raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “You do? Didn’t you once tell me, and I quote, marriage is for suckers, unquote?”
Bradley snorts. “That was like ten years ago. Maybe I’ve changed.”
Jake’s face shifts. “So, what? You on the market? Trying to find someone to ride out this life with?”
“Hardly,” Bradley scoffs. “But I can’t fault other people for wanting it.”
Jake takes in the scenes around them, couples slow dancing across the floor, giggling into each others’ ears. He shrugs. “I guess. Still seems a little ridiculous to me.”
“Here, here.” He raises his beer up to Jake, who cheers him with the ice clinking around his empty glass.
He and Jake tried, off and on, throughout the end of Bradley’s 20s and a bit of the beginning of his 30s. They had the same conception of relationships: that they’re for suckers. It worked pretty well for casual sex and was pretty disastrous for anything else.
It fell apart the final time right before Jake left for Top Gun. Bradley had loved him. He doesn’t know much, but he does know that. And Jake loved him back. But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough to make the prospect of a long-term anything harder to swallow, enough for either of them to be willing to commit to anything.
There weren’t hard feelings, not really. Just the awkwardness of no longer knowing someone like the back of his own hand. The few times they bumped into each other over the years ranged from awkwardly cordial to downright hostile, depending on the energy they brought. Top Gun, the second time around, bordered more on hostile.
Jake had explained to him, later, after they were all safe, that he had been hurt about how much Bradley had kept from him during their relationship. Bradley had apologized, but he also didn’t really see the problem. The two of them were hardly in a relationship; they were two people with similar goals and similar worldviews who bumped up against each other for a few years.
They’re friends now. Something clear and definable. They’re not stationed out of the same base, but they see each other enough to warrant the label of ‘friends.’ Besides, as they all rise through the ranks and fly less, they see more of each other. It’s easier to do so with more predictable schedules.
“The ceremony was nice,” Bradley offers to fill the lull. Silence between them has become more comfortable over the years, but Bradley still prefers to fill it.
Jake hums noncommittally. “Yeah, they seem happy, at least. Wish they would play some better music, though. Who’s dancing to this?”
Bradley tilts his head back in laughter, letting the slow, melodic tones of Roberta Flack wash over him.
“Couples,” he points out, and Jake rolls his eyes.
“It’s just you and me now, I guess,” Jake shrugs.
“You and me what?” Bradley asks, confused about the turn in subject.
“The singles table. Just you and me, with no plus ones.”
“What happened to Griffin?” Bradley furrows his brow. The last he had heard, second hand from Nat, was that Jake was three months into a relationship with a history professor named Griffin. Three months for Jake Seresin is practically an eternity.
“Eh, didn't work out. He asked me when we were getting serious.”
“Ah,” Bradley chuckles. “The Lieutenant Commander Seresin alarm bell.”
Jake raises his glass in cheers. “You know it.”
That’s another reason the end of their relationship was about as amicable as it could get. Neither of them sees long-term relationships as their future. They never really got into the why; Bradley thinks his why is pretty obvious. He's sure, if he tried, he could figure out Jake’s. He’s always been the best at peeling back the layers of Hangman to find Jake.
They understand each other intuitively, in a way they both fought against early on. As he gets older, Bradley finds he craves that kind of easy dynamic.
“So I guess we have to stick together, then,” Bradley says after a beat.
Jake raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t respond. It doesn’t matter; Bradley knows it’s a request to elaborate.
“At all these events,” he clarifies. “It gets old being the only single person. It would be nice to have someone to turn to when they make everyone pair up.”
Jake smirks. “Miss me that much, Bradshaw? If you want another chance, you just have to ask.”
Bradley snorts in laughter. He knows Jake is just teasing. “Please, in your dreams.”
Jake takes a meandering look down at Bradley, pausing on the bulk of his arms under his shirt and the strain of the buttons around his chest. Bradley knows he’s aging, knows that he’s becoming softer and grayer. Jake doesn’t seem to mind, though, based on how his cheek flushes when he flickers his eyes back up to Bradley’s. Bradley smirks.
“I’ll see you there.” Jake winks. “But, in all seriousness, that’s a very kind offer, Bradshaw. I’m not sure how many of these events we’ll both be able to attend, but I like the idea. Us perpetual singles need to stick together.”
“Exactly,” Bradley replies. “Maybe it’ll stop Fanboy from trying to set me up with every second cousin’s roommate’s yoga teacher he comes across.”
Jake snorts. “Damn, I thought I was special. Turns out, he tries to set everyone up with Mandy.”
Bradley laughs, and Jake joins him, both of them reveling in the silliness of the whole situation. Bradley figures that, if this is what the rest of his life is like, pairing up at events with Jake, it doesn’t seem so bad.
June 2026
It takes nearly a year before Bradley and Jake can put their new arrangement to the test. It turns out, when everyone in your friend group is in the Navy, it’s pretty difficult to arrange group gatherings.
That isn’t to say that they don’t run into each other. Thee are smaller events that they find each other at and catch up. As their friends hurtle towards the inevitable settled life, Bradley finds himself clinging to this friendship with Jake more and more.
About a month after Payback’s wedding, Nat gets promoted to Commander. Two months after that, she finds out she’s pregnant. As a result, she and Coyote relocate out to Virginia for her new post and buy an absurdly nice nouse. Jake helped them pack up in Lemoore and then met them in Virginia to help them move in. It was nice to see Jake there, and Bradley’s happy that his friend is moving closer to him. He could tell, though, that Jake was upset to be losing Javy.
Jake’s warmed up over the years and has fully integrated himself into their friend group. Still, Bradley knows that there’s a part of Jake that still views himself as the loner with only one friend. The person with high walls and sharp edges, defenses so high that no one can scale them. Javy was the first person in his life to even try. And so, even though Jake is now surrounded by people who have made it over the wall, none of them will ever be able to replace Javy. He’s a little worried for Jake, but the other man reassures him on the ride to the airport that he has friends now, and that he’ll be fine.
In March, about five months after Nat and Javy move east, they host a baby shower.
It’s the first time they’re all together since Payback’s wedding, and the vibe is much more casual. The crowd is a mix of the couple’s families, a few friends from outside work, and then all of their pilot friends and their kids. Except for some of Javy’s younger cousins and Jake, Bradley is the only single one there. In fact, he’s one of the few people here without any kids.
It’s hot and humid in early June, especially in Virginia, but still, Javy and Nat host the party in their expansive backyard. Bradley shows up a little late; he had to finish something up at the base before he could come over. By the time he gets there, all the kids are running around, screaming and playing. He drops his gift off on the table, says hi to Javy and Nat, and starts scanning the crowd.
Jake has the weekend off, and he had told the group chat that he would fly in from California. Bradley’s pretty sure he’s staying with Bob, since Fanboy and his partner are currently crashing in Bradley’s spare room, and Payback did the smart thing and booked a hotel for his giant family.
Bradley can see Bob’s twins, two 4-year-olds named Allison and Michael, chasing Payback’s youngest around the makeshift softball diamond, but he doesn’t spot Jake. He’s about to give up and go deal with Mickey and his husband being mushy by the drinks table when he feels a clap on his shoulder.
When he turns around, he sees Jake, holding out a beer and grinning.
“Hangman!” Bradley exclaims, probably too excitedly, and grabs the proffered beer.
“Jesus, that happy to see me?” Jake teases, eyes twinkling. He gestures with his hand not holding a beer, and Jake follows him to the outdoor couch in the corner of the deck. It’s blessedly free.
“You know, I’m mostly happy to be talking to someone who hasn’t spent extended time with a five-year-old in the past 24 hours. It seems to warp your brain.”
“Hey now, you don’t know what I get up to in my free time,” Jake smirks, and Bradley pulls a face.
“Really weird thing to say, dude.”
Jake scrunches up his face and then is hit with the realization, jaw going slack as he laughs. “Babysitting, man. I meant babysitting. Bob had me watching the twins while he and Melissa brought George to the doctor.”
Bradley furrows his brow in concern. “Everything okay?”
Jake waves it off. “Yeah, just one of the million tests you have to do when the baby is in the first six months of their life.”
“Damn, a kid seems like so much fucking work.”
“Right!? And I’m too damn old for the shit they put you through.”
“You’re too old?” Bradley asks incredulously. “I’m 42. My knees hurt just watching Payback pick up his kid.”
“I’m not that far behind you,” Jake argues. “I can’t believe Coyote is willingly entering fatherhood so close to 40.”
Bradley glances over to where their two friends are sitting at the table, crowded together under the shade of the umbrella. Nat, at eight months, is obviously pregnant, sitting with her feet propped up in another chair and leaning her back against Javy’s side. Javy has an arm slung over her, his hand resting on top of her belly, over Nat’s own hand. It’s a picture of domestic bliss. Bradley’s heart warms for them.
“Eh,” he shrugs, “they seem happy.”
Jake follows Bradley’s gaze, face softening when he spots his friends. “Yeah, they do,” he agrees quietly. “Can you believe that they ended up being the one for each other? Years of dealing with,” Jake doesn’t elaborate, just gestures between the two of them. “But they ended up together.”
Bradley wonders if Jake’s thinking the same thing as him. About how anyone observing their little quartet early on would assume it would be the two of them that ended up together, not their best friends. Still, Bradley thinks it worked out for the best. He and Jake would’ve torn each other apart.
“They probably fell in love while complaining about us,” Bradley jokes, and Jake laughs.
“Glad our relationship swerved some kind of purpose.”
Bradley holds a hand up to his chest, affronted. “How dare you disparage us?”
Jake raises an eyebrow. “Please, we were a disaster.”
Bradley tilts his head in acquiescence. “But we were a fun disaster.”
“Sure,” Jake snorts. He holds out his beer. “Here’s to being a fun disaster.”
Bradley clinks his bottle against Jake’s.
November 2026
Maybe if Bradley had anyone in his life who was older than him while he was in his 20s, he would be more adequately prepared for how much of middle-aged life is just going to friends’ kids’ birthday parties. As it is, he spent most of his early adult life cut off from Maverick and without anyone vaguely parental or even uncle-like to warn him about the never-ending social calendar of a 42-year-old.
He really shouldn’t be shocked at this point, but he still lets out a noise of surprise when he opens the birthday invitation, thinking to himself, another one?? Normally, Bradley wouldn’t prioritize yet another friend’s kid’s party, but it’s the twins’ fifth birthday, and he has the weekend off. Besides, with his promotion coming up, he’s not sure how many more opportunities he’ll have to see Bob and his family regularly. So he sends off a quick RSVP and then immediately checks to see if Jake is coming. To Bradley’s relief, he is.
Five is the age when the kids are truly their own people, with their own interests and social life. Allison and Michael both have friends from kindergarten, as well as some from the neighborhood, and they’re all stuffed into Bob and Melissa’s living room. Some are spilling out onto the back patio, despite the crisp November air.
It’s still early November, a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, so it’s not outrageously cold in Virginia. Still, when Bradley spots Jake, the other pilot is bundled up like it’s deep January. Bradley grins as he makes his way over, pushing past kids and parents to go out the sliding door and settle next to Jake on the patio chairs.
“Wow, you Texans really can’t handle the cold, huh?” Bradley teases as he plops down. The chair is a little too close to the ground, and he huffs as his body hits the cushions.
“You’re literally from southern California,” Jake bites back. “We at least get winters in Texas.”
“And yet, one of us is wearing a puffer jacket in 52-degree weather, and it isn’t me.”
Jake flips him off, then pulls his coat tighter around him, grumbling. Bradley just laughs at him and leans over to fish a beer out of the cooler a few feet from them.
They settle into a casual conversation, trading life updates back and forth and arguing about football. It’s nice to talk to Jake like this; Bradley hasn’t seen him since June, and they’re not really friends, so there hasn’t been a reason to call each other and exchange updates. He finds that he missed talking with Jake, missed his wry comments and his warm laugh.
Jake’s presence is comfortable. Familiar. They’ve known each other for almost 20 years at this point and have been everything to each other, from enemies to lovers to strangers. It’s nice to try a new dynamic for once—one of friends.
At some point, they get roped into coaching two teams for a mini softball game; the teams are comprised of their friends’ kids and some kids from the neighborhood. The kids make both of them pitch, staring each other down across the makeshift home base comprised of an old cardboard box.
The first inning, Jake shoots him a wink over the softball before pitching it, and Bradley, embarrassingly, whiffs it. On the next pitch, though, he makes contact with a crack, the ball sailing over Jake and the kids’ heads. When it’s Jake’s turn at bat, Bradley plays dirty pool, dragging his index and middle fingers down his tongue, licking along them to slick them up with spit. Jake’s eyes droop to Bradley’s mouth and stay there, even as Bradley releases his fingers to grip the ball and throw. He gets Jake out on three strikes, and Jake, in deference to their audience, sticks out his tongue instead of making any number of rude gestures.
Bradley only lasts one game before he feels tired, the running around the bases winding him faster than it would’ve just five years ago. Sometimes, he fucking hates getting old. He’ll look at Mav, in his 60s and still spry as a man in his 20s, and feel jealous. Still, though, he thinks it can be good to feel his age. It’s something his parents never got to do, after all.
He makes his way to the couch inside, letting the warmth of Bob’s living room ease the ache of his muscles from the cold, collapsing into it. Jake follows him, and his weight shifts the cushions, sliding Bradley more toward the middle. There are a few inches of space between them, and Bradley can feel the heat emanating from Jake’s flushed body, hear his soft pants as he tries to catch his breath.
“We’re too old for this shit,” Bradley jokes, and Jake laughs.
“Speak for yourself, old man. I could go another three rounds.”
Bradley looks over at Jake, raising a skeptical eyebrow, and Jake raises an eyebrow in challenge.
“I’m barely four years older than you,” Bradley protests.
“Exactly,” Jake emphasizes. He’s smirking, and Bradley’s suddenly struck by how young he looks. Like they’re 25 again, and Jake is smiling up at him from under his eyelashes in the dim light of some dive bar.
But then Jake drops the smirk and turns his face back to face away from Bradley, and Bradley sees the streak of grey hair right at his temple. As much as Jake seems like he’s forever young, acts like he’ll never grow up, he can’t escape the march of age. Just like Bradley can’t either.
“Ya know,” Bradley shifts the subject, leaning back on the couch, “they offered me a Commander position. It’s based out of Lemoore, though,” Bradley says casually, leaning back to watch the news hit Jake. The other man raises an eyebrow, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Is this your way of subtly bragging that you’re up for promotion before me?”
“Is it working?” Bradley responds cheekily, and they both laugh softly. It’s all in good fun; they both know that Jake will be promoted sooner rather than later.
Jake rolls his eyes. “Well, Commander Bradshaw,” he drawls, and Bradley tries to ignore the way it works its way up his spine, “don’t expect me to help you move in. We’re friends, but I'm not sure we’re at that level yet.”
Bradley gasps, affronted. “I didn’t even ask! Presumptuous of you to assume I would.”
“Who else do you know in Lemoore?” Jake raises a pointed eyebrow.
“Fanboy, Payback, plus a couple of pilots from my last deployment.” He’s not sure he's close enough to any of them to ask for their help moving in, but he’s mostly just trying to prove Jake wrong.
Jake pulls a face. “Huh, I guess a lot of us have ended up out there. Hadn’t realized how many there were.”
“Yeah, I’m excited to be around everyone,” Bradley admits. “Plus, it’s closer to Mav, and I’ve been missing California.”
“Lemoore is nothing like San Diego,” Jake warns.
Bradley shrugs. “Still, there’ll be good company.”
He smiles at Jake, soft and inviting. Jake smiles back.
July 2027
Bradley doesn’t find himself back on the east coast until Jenny’s first birthday in early July.
A couple of weeks after he saw Jake, Bradley accepted the Commander position, packed up his small house in Virginia Beach, and moved across the country. He did the drive alone, towing a U-Haul with his Bronco over 3,000 miles. It was a slog, especially as winter started to descend over the country as he worked west, but he didn't mind it. It was nice to see America like that, all of the states he'd ever been to and all the places he never thought he would go.
Bradley passed the time listening to music until his radio broke somewhere in Nebraska. Needing a way to occupy his mind, so he didn’t go insane looking at the vast nothingness of the mid-west, Bradley started calling people. He spent three hours talking to Mav, and then spoke with Nat and Javy for a little over 90 minutes before the cry of a baby pulled them away. Then, he bounced between his friends, before eventually landing on Jake. They spent four hours talking and arguing and sitting in silence together, and when Bradley pulled into his new house in Lemoore, Jake was there to help him unpack.
Ever since Bradley moved out to Lemoore, they’ve been hanging out a lot. He was new to the place, and Jake served as his guide. Soon, they became real, bonafide friends. Spending Sundays together watching football and lunches doing paperwork together. When Bradley finds a new restaurant he wants to try, or there’s a movie showing that Jake wants to see, they’re each other’s first call. It makes sense; here, like back in Virginia, all their friends are married with kids or otherwise settled. Bradley’s glad there’s another middle-aged single man out there whose interests align enough with his own that they can hang out.
Jake’s up for promotion next month. Thankfully, to a post that won’t move him out of Lemoore. Bradley’s gotten used to having the other pilot around, and he doesn’t want to have to readjust. Within the next year, all of them who flew the Mission will have reached Commander status. Sometimes, it still shocks Bradley. His life has felt so static for most of it. Like he’s existing, unchanging, and ungrowing. But all of them are growing, changing, aging. Getting promoted and settling down. He’s an age that he, frankly, never thought he would reach. And now he has to figure out what that looks like.
He didn’t think it would look like bordering a flight to the east coast, next to Jake Seresin, as they fly to Virginia to celebrate a baby turning one. But they’re baby Jenny’s godparents, and besides, Bradley misses his friends. It sucks being across the country from them. He wishes he could keep all the people he loves all in one place.
He also wishes he never had to fly. Obviously, he likes being a pilot. He likes the feeling of soaring through the air, of his stomach swooping as he defies gravity. He likes the control. There’s no control here, squeezed into an economy seat of a commercial plane.
By the time the seatbelt sign comes on, and they’re taxiing out to the runway, Bradley’s white-knuckling the armrest and breathing deeply, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He focuses on the navy blue seat in front of him, eyes honing in on where a stitch is coming loose at the seam, and tries to narrow his mind to that single point. As the jets whir to life beneath them and the plane speeds up, he feels fingers brush against the back of his hand and lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
Looking over, he sees Jake watching him with evident concern.
“Sorry,” he says, and his voice comes out strained. “I’m-”
“Scared of flying,” Jake cuts him off, flattening his palm over the back of Bradley’s hand. “Yeah, I remember.”
When they had dated, the very first time, they flew together for travel exactly once, to visit Jake’s sister. Bradley got off the plane and puked in the potted plant at the gate. Jake had teased him about it, about being a pilot who didn’t like to fly. They were never very gentle with each other back then.
“It’s better now,” Bradley says, and it’s not a lie, even as he feels the nose of the plane tilt upward and the pressure on his chest grows. “Just take-offs and landings, mostly. Sometimes bad turbulence.”
Jake nods slowly in understanding. “Okay, look at me,” he says firmly, and Bradley obeys, snapping his neck sideways and making eye contact with Jake. His green eyes are serious.
“Now, breath with me,” Jake says, holding up the hand that’s not on Bradley’s. “In and out.” Jake demonstrates by raising and lowering his hand, breathing audibly through his mouth.
Bradley tracks the movement, focusing on the steady rhythm of Jake's hand and the rise and fall of his chest. He focuses on mirroring his own breath, slowly cutting out any other stimuli to hone his attention on Jake. Before he knows it, he hears the ding of the seatbelt sign go off, and he blinks slowly into awareness.
Satisfied that Bradley seems back to relatively normal, Jake drops his hand and shifts in his seat, pulling his palm away from the back of Bradley’s hand. The cool plane air hits his exposed skin, and Bradley tries not to flinch. He turns away from Jake slowly, suddenly unable to handle his piercing gaze.
“Thank you,” Bradley says quietly, flexing his fingers on the armrest. “That was really helpful.”
“Yeah, of course,” Jake says quickly. “My sister’s kid sometimes gets panic attacks, and that always helps. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
They’re silent for a few minutes as the flight attendants come down the aisle to offer drinks, but once they’re passed, Jake speaks again.
“Do you know what it is? About planes, that get you like this?” Jake asks hesitantly, voice gentle.
Bradley tilts his head towards Jake and studies him carefully. There is no sign of that teasing from nearly two decades ago, just genuine concern and care. It feels easier now, to open up to Jake. Like he’s getting too old to worry about smoke and mirrors.
“I don’t know, it’s something I’ve never really liked doing,” Bradley starts. “Even as a kid, I hated flying. But ever since I became a pilot, it’s been worse. It’s like I know everything that can go wrong, every human error and unforeseen act of nature that can knock a plane out of axis. And I know that I should trust the pilot to do their job, but knowing something rationally and believing it emotionally are two very different things.”
Jake hums. “I’m glad it’s better than it used to be. That you’re managing it, at least.”
Bradley shrugs. “Still, I’m a middle-aged man who flies for a living and can’t take off in a plane without someone showing me how to breathe.”
Jake furrows his brow. “Hey, be kinder to yourself. There’s nothing wrong with needing a little help.”
“Yeah,” Bradley sighs, offering a small smile. “Thank you again.”
Jake smiles. “Any time, Bradshaw.”
January 2028
A couple of years after his marriage, Payback decided to leave the Navy. He works for some military contractor now, about 20 miles from Lemoore. Marta’s still a school teacher, and Payback’s job gives him much more flexibility to be home with his kids. Even though they all miss seeing him around base or on deployment, Bradley’s happy for the guy. Payback’s the first of them to get out, to settle down truly.
Bradley doesn't know if he’d ever be able to do it, to leave the Navy. When he was younger, he was single-minded in his goals, wholly determined to rise through the ranks and prove Maverick wrong. Flying, the Navy, has been this larger-than-life thing for most of Bradley’s adulthood.
But now, he’s not sure what he’s flying for. Sure, he likes it. Loves it. But it’s not about proving anything to Maverick or Hangman or anybody. And he’s higher up in his career than his father ever was. But the thought of a life outside of the structure and routine of the Navy seems so far away from any real possibility.
Besides, he’s not Payback. There are no children or wife at home, worrying about him and wishing he was there. If he retired, he would have to confront how empty his life actually is.
Payback’s daughter, Myriah, is turning nine, and for some reason, that means Jake and Bradley are expected at the party. Neither of them minds; at this point, any birthday means the reunion of as many daggers as can get the time off. And this time, it seems to be most of them. Even Bob flew out, his whole family in tow. The only ones who can’t make it are Javy and Nat, since their daughter came down with a cough a few days before the party, and they didn’t want to risk flying.
Bradley and Jake carpool to Payback’s, taking Jake’s car even though Bradley tried to convince Jake to let them take the Bronco.
“I am not driving to Payback’s in something older than you, Bradshaw,” Jake had insisted, and Bradley just rolled his eyes and conceded.
It’s unseasonably cold in California, and the party is held entirely inside. Stepping into the house, Bradley immediately winces at the shrieks that echo off the walls. Never in his life has he spent significant time around nine-year-old girls, and nothing could have prepared him for how noisy they are.
Jake, whose sister has a daughter around the same age, just laughs at Bradely’s horrified expression and drags him deeper into the house. Maybe a dozen of Myriah’s school friends are strewn throughout the living room, as well as Bob’s kids mingling with the crowd. The parents are all gathered in the kitchen, including Payback, who is deep in discussion with Fanboy about something that has both of them gesticulating wildly.
Jake dumps their gifts on the table and immediately grabs them both glasses of wine before leading them to the couch. He flops down and pats the cushion next to him. Bradley settles in, stretching his legs out in front of him after being in the car.
“You don’t want to say hi to anyone?” he asks, taking a sip of the red that Jake poured for him. It’s a little too sweet for Bradley’s taste, but he knows that’s what Jake prefers.
“Nah, they’ll be here all night. Besides, a free spot on the couch is competitive.” Jake raises an eyebrow, smirking at Bradley.
Bradley snorts. “Whatever you say. As if we weren’t just driving for 45 minutes.”
“Hey, we’re getting old,” Jake protests. “I have a bad knee.”
Bradley would tease him, but he knows that Jake's knee hasn’t been the same since he got back from his most recent deployment last month. He told Bradley that he landed wrong doing some training exercise in the gym, and the doctor told him he sprained it. As is, he’s started to get an ache in his left knee when the weather changes abruptly or he’s sitting for too long.
He studies where Jake’s hand falls over his knee, massaging the kneecap. It’s the leg farther from Bradley; otherwise, he would offer to help.
“Are you doing okay?” he asks.
“Eh, it’s mostly fine. Just sometimes hurts like a bitch when I’m taking too many G’s.”
Bradley’s eyes go wide. “You’re flying with it? They didn’t tell you to wait until it heals?”
Jake shrugs. “I think it’s as healed as it’s gonna get,” he admits. “Just think we’re at the age where we’ll never be able to bounce all the way back.”
“Exactly,” Bradley huffs. “So you need to learn to adjust. Adapt. Take care of yourself so you can last longer.”
Jake’s face softens, looking at Bradley with an expression he can’t read. It makes Bradley feel exposed suddenly, and he shifts on the couch cushion, turning away from Jake.
“Just,” he continues when the silence stretches for too long, “we’re not in our 20s anymore. Soon, you won’t even be in your 30s. It’s important that we let ourselves grow up.”
“I’m not gonna stop flying,” Jake says quietly, and Bradley realizes the absurdity of having this conversation now, here, surrounded by children on a couch that isn’t theirs. “If that’s what you’re saying, it’s not an option. At least not yet.”
Bradley rolls his eyes. “Of course, I’m not saying that. I’m older than you, and I’m not stopping anytime soon. But if we want to keep flying for a long time, we have to work smarter, not harder.”
He feels Jake’s eyes on him, so Bradley turns back. “Mav teach you that?” he asks, the corner of his mouth upturned.
Bradley huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, actually. And he survived a crash at Mach 10 in his late 50s, so maybe we should listen to him.”
“Okay, okay,” Jake concedes with a laugh. “No need to mother hen me, Rooster. I get it.”
Bradley’s overcome with a kind of nostalgia, this weird feeling of longing for something he’s not sure he's ever known. He can’t stop himself from practically blurting out, “you know, my dad’s full sign was Mother Goose. Because he was always worrying. I never realized that I was like that, too, until now.”
Jake smiles softly at him before teasing, “so you’re saying the nagging is hereditary?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Bradley laughs.
The two of them continue to converse quietly, staying in their little bubble amongst the chaos. Soon after Jenny’s birthday, Jake shipped out for a five-month deployment, and Bradley hasn’t seen him much since he got back. They take this time to catch up and exchange stories from their months apart.
Bradley hadn’t expected to miss Jake as much as he did. But when the other man was gone, Bradley felt the absence physically. Somehow, over the past couple of years, Jake has slowly worked his way up the list of people that Bradley cares about to be right near the top. He’s become increasingly reliant upon Jake’s friendship, on his comforting presence and engaging conversation. He’s glad to have Jake back.
Suddenly, a weight hits Bradley in the chest, and he ekes out an oof. Looking down, he sees Allison grinning up at him angelically.
“Uncle Rooster,” she starts, with that saccharine sweetness she’s learned to effuse her voice with over the past couple of years. It always has Bob giving her whatever she wants. “Can we paint Uncle Jake’s nails?”
Bradley looks over the top of Allison’s curls to see Payback’s daughter, Myriah, studying two different nail polish colors. One is a subtle light purple, and the other is a garish, sparkly yellow. He smirks.
“Well, Ally,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I’m sure he’ll say yes, but only if you paint them yellow. It’s his favorite color.” He caps it off with a wink, and Allison giggles.
She spins in Bradley’s lap, leaning towards Jake. She leans a bit too far, and Bradley wraps his hands around her to keep her from falling off.
“Uncle Jake!” she nearly yells, even though Jake was already looking at her, a barely concealed smile on his face. “Uncle Rooster said we can paint your nails. I promise they’ll be yellow!”
Jake looks up at Bradley, annoyance flashing in his eyes before he sighs and gets up. He picks Allison up, slinging her over his shoulder. “Sure, Ally. Yellow it is.”
Jake fucking hates yellow.
They come back about ten minutes later, and Jake holds up his hand for Bradley to observe, face resigned. Bradley pinches his mouth shut to keep from chortling at the sight. The color is pretty awful, but the real problem is how poorly the girls painted his nails. There are streaks all over his fingers, and the polish spills over onto his cuticles. Bradley’s pretty sure he could wear all black and walk down the middle of the road that night, and the cars would spot him because of how reflective his hands are.
“Quite the look you’re sporting,” Bradley smirks as Jake sits back down, holding his hands out to keep from smudging the polish. The care he shows warms Bradley’s chest.
“Laugh all you want; Jeremy’s gonna love them,” Jake says, and Bradley freezes.
“Whose Jeremy?” he asks carefully, racking his brain for any mention of the name during their conversation that day.
“He’s uh,” Jake flushes, avoiding eye contact. He looks down and studies his hands on his knees. “He’s my boyfriend, I guess.”
“You’re boyfriend?” Bradley asks, incredulous. “Where did you meet him? The middle of the Pacific Ocean?”
Jake rolls his eyes. “No, obviously not. We were, uh, seeing each other on and off for a bit before I left and then decided to make it official when I came back. We spoke when I could get phone access, and, I don’t know, I like him.”
Something burns in Bradley’s chest, an acrid feeling working its way up from his stomach to his heart and searing through his throat, making it hard to breathe and think and talk. Jake didn’t call him once over those five months. He clears his throat a couple of times, trying to keep the bile from rising.
“When were you gonna tell me?” he eventually asks, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
He sees Jake shrug his shoulder out of the corner of his eye. “I’m telling you now, I guess. I dunno; I didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t real.”
Bradley feels like he’s going to be sick. “And it’s real?”
“Yeah,” Jake confirms, and his voice is so soft, so hopeful, that Bradley can’t find it in himself to be upset. “It’s real. It’s good.”
“Okay,” Bradley says, swallowing around the burning feeling that he can’t quite define, and puts on a brave face. “Tell me about him.”
Jake lights up and spends the rest of the party telling Bradley all about his boyfriend.
July 2029
The following Fourth of July, Bradley offers to host. It’s the first time he’ll have a significant group of people over at his place, more than just a couple of friends or Jake. He figures that he can host since he’s the only of their friends that can clean up without worrying about children they have to care for. Well, except for Jake.
Over the past 18 months, he and Jake have been spending less and less time together. His relationship with Jeremy continues to deepen, to become more and more significant. Bradley, at some points, wants to tell Jake bitterly that he broke his end of the bargain. They no longer stick together at gatherings because Jake is always with fucking Jeremy.
Bradley, irrationally, unfoundedly, wants to hate Jeremy. For taking his best friend, for leaving Bradley the last single one, for being the one that Jake is finally ready for. But he can’t. Jeremy is, by and large, a good guy. He teaches at the same school as Marta, which is how he met Jake, and he’s generally funny, nice, and easygoing. Maybe a bit too easygoing for Bradley’s taste, but perhaps that’s Jake’s type now. Someone who doesn’t push back. Someone who makes Jake’s life smoother.
And there’s no denying that Jeremy makes Jake happy. Jake is joyful, in a way that Bradley hasn’t seen in a while. Every time he laughs at something Jeremy says or drops a kiss on Jeremy’s shoulder, soft and open, Bradley’s chest aches. He never, in his life, thought he would see Jake like this, domestic and settled. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Jake to get scared and run, to remember all the reasons he’s always had for why he doesn’t want to settle down. But it’s been over a year and a half, and it hasn’t happened.
Luckily, Jeremy couldn’t come to Bradley’s party. He took the week off to fly out to Michigan and visit his family. Bradley tries not to read to deeply into the fact that Jack isn’t going with him. Instead, he ropes the other man into helping him set up and clean up.
Bradley’s rented house has a pool in the backyard, a fact that is usually more of a burden than an asset. But all the kids love it, splashing around and screaming gleefully while the adults keep a watchful eye and get increasingly drunk.
Everyone made it out, even the east coasters, and it’s the first time all of them have been in the same place in a couple of years. They spend most of the day inside, away from the blistering heat and rambunctious kids, catching up. When the sun starts to set, Bradley leads Payback and Fanboy outside to show them where they can set up the fireworks they brought.
When he gets back, Jake is helping the parents gather the kids for dinner. Bradley pulls him away to help him grab the food from inside while he starts grilling hot dogs and hamburgers. He ties on the apron that Jake got him as a joke a few years ago, which has a picture of a plane, and says, ‘getting high is my job’. Jake snickered for three straight minutes the first time Bradley put it on.
Mav shows up, predictably, late, as the last burgers are coming off the grill. Jake is deep in conversation with Mickey’s husband about something, so Bradley hands Mav a plate, and the two of them grab a couple of lawn chairs next to each other.
“Where’s the better half?” Bradley asks.
“Amelia came home for the long weekend, so Penny took her sailing.” Mav pulls a face, and Bradley laughs.
“All these years in the Navy, and you still don’t like boats, huh?” he teases, and the older man shrugs, not the least bit sheepish.
“Hey, my realm is the air, not the sea.”
Bradley snorts but lets it slide. “How’s the Mustang?”
He hasn’t been able to get out to Mav’s hangar in a while, and he misses working on the old plane. It was a good task, early in their reconciliation. A way to be in the same room and focused on a common goal without having to worry about awkward lapses in conversation. Bradley grew rather attached to the vintage plane; he was thinking of asking if Mav would let him take Jake up in it.
“Good, flying well. But if you have a weekend free, you should come by. I think the engine could use a tune-up.”
Bradley nods. “Yeah, yeah, I should have some time soon. I was thinking of bringing Jake next time. He was curious about the plane, and he’d probably enjoy a ride in it.”
Mav raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” he asks, like he knows something Bradley doesn’t.
“It’s not like that,” Bradley protests, even as he feels something akin to dread take root in his stomach.
Mav raises an eyebrow. “It’s not? You two spend a lot of time together.”
“He has a boyfriend,” Bradley hisses. “And besides, neither of us wants that. Marriage, forever, all of it. It’s not in the cards.”
Mav’s face softens. “Bradley, you’re getting older. It’s okay to want something to come home to.”
Bradley rolls his shoulders back, trying to shake this line of questioning. “I’m fine, Mav. I’m happy,” he insists, and it’s not a lie. “Besides, with this job, I never want to...disappoint someone.”
Prioritizing his own desires, whatever they may be, over the possibility that he could leave his partner and never return, is, to Bradley, fundamentally selfish. He doesn’t want love so badly that he’s willing to risk hurting someone like that.
Mav is clearly about to say something, probably in protest, but then Jake calls Bradley’s name, and he takes the out. He winds his way across the crowded backyard and finds Jake sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. He has a sparkler in each hand, and he passes his own off to Bradley as he settles next to Jake.
He hasn’t been in the pool all day, and the water is colder than he thought it would be. When he gets his feet in, Bradley hisses at the cold, but slowly relaxes into it.
“Wanted to make sure you didn’t miss the show,” Jake explains before Bradley can ask why he called him over.
“Ah, thanks,” Bradley smiles. “Any reason we’re sitting on concrete instead of a lovely padded chair? This is going to be murder on my back.”
Jake throws his head back in a laugh. “Best view,” he explains, gesturing in front of them at the large expanse of open space that is home to Payback and Fanboy’s fire display.
Bradley eyes it warily. He’s really hoping they don’t have to call the fire department tonight. Though, he knows that the captain of the station is pretty cute.
Bob walks by and lights Jake’s sparkler with a butane lighter, and Jake holds it out to pass the flame onto Bradley. Bradley studies it, sparkling in the dark night, and admires the shadows it casts across Jake’s face. In this lighting, Jake looks older. His wrinkles are more prominent, the gray hair more noticeable. Both of them have clearly aged; Bradley’s uniforms have gone up a size or two, and he knows Jake’s have too.
As Bradley ages, he finds he prefers this. Bodies that show their age, people who look less like magazine models and more like themselves. As hot as Bradley found Jake in their 20s and 30s, with his rippling muscles and hard planes, Bradley thinks he might like this version of Jake more. Especially when Jake stretches up and his shirt rides up his side, exposing his love handles.
Payback announcing the show is about to start snaps Bradley’s attention away, and he looks away, face flushed. If Jake noticed, he, thankfully, doesn’t say anything.
The first firework goes off, and Jake flinches, almost imperceptible. But Bradley has decades of knowing Jake, and he spots it immediately. His body has turned in on itself slightly, and Jake’s face is hard, like his jaw is clenched. Bradley would bet money that he’s grinding his teeth.
“You okay?” he asks cautiously, and Jake stills before responding.
“Yeah, yeah,” he confirms, but Bradley still feels uneasy. He doesn’t push, though. Just waits for Jake to continue, which he eventually does.
“You know, it’s been ten years since the mission.” Jake’s not looking at Bradley, but instead studying the reflection of the sparkler in the water. “Ten years. And yet sometimes, I still wake up with the smell of smoke in my nostrils and the sound of your jet going down.”
Bradley sucks in a breath. “Jake,” he starts, unsure of where he’s going. He wants Jake to know he’s okay. He wants Jake to know he’s not alone. But Jake continues without letting Bradley get anywhere.
“Those first few years, I couldn’t do fireworks. They would go off, and all I could hear was you or Mav getting hit, both of you going down. It’s fine, now. Well,” he amends with a chuckle, “not fine, but better. Manageable. Definitely easier with you here, in front of me. Like it’s a reminder that everything went fine. That we all made it back okay.
“Sorry, you didn’t ask for this,” Jake says suddenly. “Sorry,” he repeats, squeezing his eyes shut and then letting out a long breath.
Bradley sees him retreating, back behind his walls, and he wants Jake to understand that it’s okay.
“Three years after the mission, I woke up screaming Mav’s name every night for a week straight,” he says, and Jake turns to look at him, expression unreadable. “I ended up having to stay with him on his lumpy couch, just so I could hear his breathing and know he was okay. It’s been ten years, and I, too, still have dreams. Dreams where Mav died before I got to him, where we were shot down by enemy SAMs. Dreams where you don’t make it to us in time.
“So I get it,” Bradley continues, and Jake just keeps watching me. “And if you ever need to call me or something, to remind yourself that it’s still real, just do it. I’ll always pick up.”
Jake opens his mouth and closes it, his green eyes shining in the dark. “And if you ever wake up in the middle of the night and can’t remember what’s real, call me, too. We can be there for each other.”
Bradley smiles, weak and wet, and Jake returns it. He doesn’t realize the fireworks are over until the kids splash back into the pool, spraying them with water and extinguishing their sparklers.
December 2029
Jake turns 40 in early December.
Bradley, with all the knowledge of Jake that he’s accumulated, assumed Jake would want a big celebration. A whole day with him as the center of attention. But a month before Jake’s birthday, he tells Bradley that he doesn’t have anything planned.
“Nothing?” Bradley asks, incredulous.
They’re at a sports bar in between their houses, watching the Sunday slate of NFL games. The Cowboys and Eagles both already played earlier, so now, the games are mostly background noise as they catch up and gossip. Bradley had teased Jake about not getting an invite to his birthday party, which is how he learned about Jake’s lack of any plans for his birthday.
Jake shrugs, looking nonchalant. “It’s not a big deal. I dunno, what’s so great about aging?”
Bradley rolls his eyes. “Of course, 40 is a big deal! It’s a hell of a lot further than a lot of people make it to, and it’s not lame to celebrate it.”
Jake shifts in his seat, focusing on the TV above the bar rather than Bradley’s face. “I just don’t want to burden people,” he says quietly. “They shouldn’t feel obligated to come to a party just because I’m entering a new decade.”
Bradley opens his mouth to protest, but then Jake whoops at something on the TV, clearly a ploy to shift the conversation. So Bradley lets it drop but makes a note to call Jeremy when he can. They need to start planning.
It’s short notice, but almost all of their friends, bar Mav, who is on vacation, and Fanboy, who’s deployed, are able to come to Bradley’s house the Saturday before Jake’s birthday.
Bradley enlisted Jeremy to distract Jake and get him to the party on time, so he spends the day decorating his living room with garish balloons and the most ridiculous party decorations he could find at Target. He feels frantic, a kind of nervous that he can’t understand settling under his skin. Bradley wants Jake to enjoy this, to see how many people love him and want to celebrate him.
By the time Jeremy texts him that they’re on their way, under the guise of picking up a book he wants to borrow, the nerves have settled slightly. Now, Bradley’s mostly anxious with anticipation. Payback’s teenager, Jackson, offered to film Jake’s reaction, and Bradley can’t wait to have that memory forever.
Bradley left the door unlocked, and when he hears the door latch, he shushes everyone. It doesn’t work perfectly; the kids are all giggling, the energy building off each other as they wait giddily for their uncle.
When they round the corner into Bradley’s open-concept living room and kitchen, everyone screams ‘surprise,’ the kids shooting off the party poppers that Bradley let Payback convince him to buy. He tries not to wince too much at the mess they make on the floor, the kids already trampling over them.
Jake looks out at the crowd with genuine shock, his eyes misty as he takes in the group in Bradley’s living room. His eyes fall briefly on Bradley’s, and Bradley sucks in a breath. Jake looks beautiful. Radiant, surrounded by love, and genuinely shocked by it.
Eventually, Jake moves on and scans the rest of the crowd before turning to Jeremy, who’s still standing beside him.
“Happy birthday, darling,” Jeremy says sweetly, and Bradley’s stomach turns at the endearment.
Jake pulls Jeremy in for a hug, telling him, “thank you so much.”
When he pulls back, Jeremy clarifies, “actually, it was Bradley’s idea. I just helped plan it.”
Jake furrows his brow and then looks back across the room to Bradley, shooting him a knowing look. Bradley just smirks, shrugging his shoulders as if to say it’s not a big deal. Jake opens his mouth, clearly wanting to say something, but before he can, he’s mobbed by their friends’ children, all wanting attention from Uncle Jake.
Jake’s pulled in every direction, and Bradley doesn’t get a chance to talk to him until hours into the party, after dinner but before cake.
It’s Jake that finds him, trying to get a jump on dishes while the kids fight for control of his Xbox and the adults start drinking in earnest. Jake slides up next to him, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Bradley’s elbows deep in soapy water, scrubbing down a serving platter that he’s pretty sure is his mom’s fine china. Jake wordlessly holds out a hand to take a dish, offering to dry, and Bradley shakes him off.
“Dude, it’s literally your birthday,” Bradley laughs. “You’re not doing dishes on your birthday.”
“Well, first of all,” Jake starts, grabbing the platter and holding it firmly, tugging it towards him, “my birthday isn’t for six more days. And second of all,” he manages to pull it loose. Bradley blames his wet fingers. “If it’s my birthday, that means I can do what I want.”
Jake pointedly reaches around Bradley to grab the towel, brushing his arm over Bradley’s lower back as he crowds close. Bradley focuses on the soap bubbles popping in the sink and breathes slowly.
“You’re ridiculous,” Bradley says when Jake pulls away, and his brain feels less hazy.
“Wow, it's my birthday, and you’re insulting me?” Jake teases, running the towel carefully over the dish before placing it on the rack.
“Your birthday isn’t for six days,” Bradley counters, and Jake laughs, body shaking with it as he grabs the serving spoon.
“Thank you for this,” Jake says when they’re down to the last few dishes. “I know that I wasn’t exactly excited about my birthday, but I really appreciate this. I mean it.”
He turns to Bradley, looking him straight in the eyes. The sincerity of it almost makes Bradley’s knees buckle, his legs go out and fall to the orthopedic mat he has in front of his sink to help his knees.
“Of course,” Bradley says, and his voice comes out hoarser than he meant, so he clears his throat before adding, “you deserve to see how much people love you.”
“Bradley,” Jake breathes out, his face almost devastated.
“That reminds me,” Bradley says quickly before this can devolve into something. “I have to give you my gift.”
He drops the last dish, a butter tray, and it splashes water across the front of his shirt. It’s already damp from the dishes, clinging to his body as he walks over to the hall closet to pull Jake’s gift out.
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it,” he explains as he hands over the cardboard box. It’s what it was shipped in; it had arrived three days ago, and with party prep, Bradley had forgotten entirely about wrapping it.
Jake waves off the concern and peels the tape back. Inside is another box. A shoe box. Jake shoots him a curious look as he pulls it out, balancing it in one hand and flipping the lid open. When he sees what’s inside, his casual smirk drops. Jake places the box down on the counter, studying the contents.
They’re a pair of cowboy boots. Honestly, the specifics go over Bradley’s head, but the brand was carefully vetted and apparently very good.
Jake still hasn’t said anything, though, just looked at the boots in silence. Bradley begins to feel nervous, so he starts talking.
“You said your old ones didn’t fit in your suitcase, and you had to leave them in Texas when you moved,” Bradley explains, even though Jake obviously knows that. “I called your sister for your size and style and stuff, so hopefully, they fit well.”
Jake runs a hand over the leather, tracing the grooves carefully, almost rapturously. When he responds, he looks up at Bradley. “They’re perfect,” he practically whispers in awe. “Does this mean you’re gonna let me take you line dancing?”
Bradley snorts, thankful that the comment broke whatever weird spell they had just been under. “In you’re dreams, Seresin.”
Jake blushes oddly at the comment, but before Bradley can say anything further, they’re interrupted by screams for cake. Bradley figures they better get on it before there’s a mutiny by the kids, so he pulls the cake out of the fridge.
It’s a custom order from Jake’s favorite bakery; Jeremy put it in, but Bradley was the one who requested they add a Longhorn to the design. Jake laughs when he spots it, so Bradley thinks the extra call to the bakery was worth it.
Bradley jokingly tells Jake that he’s going to light 40 candles, and Jake looks at him, appalled. Laughing, Bradley pulls out the real candles: a 4 and a 0, and lights them. Then, the twins lead them into a rousing rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’
Bradley stands back from it, across from Jake and behind a few of the kids. Jake has his boyfriend at his side, but as the song reaches its middle point, he glances up at Bradley.
Jake looks over at him, eyes sparkling with the flickering candlelight, biting the inside of his cheek as their friends’ kids belt out ‘Happy Birthday’ in the most untuned way possible, and Bradley realizes.
He’s in love with Jake.
It’s just like last time, hitting him like a stone sinking in his gut. A realization that something very, very bad is about to happen.