The Spare Who Wasn't

by RabidPlotBunniesAttackkkk

Summary:

Given Hangman’s personality, I think he would’ve sought out Maverick for an explanation after Rooster gets picked for the Mission. So of course Jake is going to be dramatic and angsty because we all love seeing our boys being put through the wringer. But don't worry -- it has a fluffy ending.

The meeting of the representations of Maverick may now begin! (Because I see Hangman as the embodiment of a young Maverick, before he lost Goose, and Captain Maverick as … well … Captain Maverick.)

Chapter 1: Desperation

 

 

 

 

Rooster’s going to die.  

As Jake stands in his and Javy’s little stall of a room on the carrier, knocking his forehead mindlessly and repetitively on the door, the thought echoes in his mind, bouncing against the insides of his cranium, echoing and getting louder and louder and louder, drowning out everything else.  

Rooster is going to die out there. He’s flying too slow, too conservative and even though Jake’d done everything right during training (technically), Maverick hadn’t chosen him, in the end. And while Jake is many things - cocky, handsome, a risky flier, the best of the best - he knows he’s lacking some things. Mainly, genuine connections with anyone else on the team except Javy. But that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have been chosen, does it? And he doesn’t want Rooster to die. Rooster and his stupid shirts and mustache. Rooster and his enthralling piano playing - Rooster, who used to be his friend before Hangman made the first in a series of mistakes. The most recent of which plays before his eyes.   

When he’d brought up Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, he’d thought he’d known the reason for the animosity between his colleague and their teacher. But he’d obviously been off the mark, hadn’t he? Because, while he’s done a lot of things that have gotten Rooster various levels of riled before, Bradshaw had never looked like he’d looked after Jake had brought up his Old Man. If not for the others, if not for Maverick, who, while devastated, had done his best to deescalate the situation, Hangman had had the feeling that Rooster would have ripped his throat out with his teeth (perhaps even literally). Any motivations he’d had for bringing it up in the first place, up to and including his need to be the best at everything, had not given him sufficient justification in this case.   

Because, once they’d left the room, all the others leaving him and Javy behind, even Coyote had looked at him with disappointment. Jake had thought he was going to say something, then, but instead, his best friend simply shook his head and headed off in a different direction from everyone else. And Jake had been left alone.  

The conclusion he had reached, later that day, covered in sweat from an intense workout, needing to work his body as his mind raced towards a conclusion he didn’t want to admit - mainly, that it had been a dick move from start to finish and that he was clearly in the wrong. But … he’d never been the type to apologize.  

The next morning after they’d played in the sand and everyone had been golden and young and free, Maverick pulls him aside at the bar afterward, looking at him in a way that made Jake feel known .  It had been weird.  

“Kid,” And Jake can’t even bristle like he usually would at the moniker, given his most recent sins. “Believe me when I say I’ve made a lot of mistakes, mainly because I had good intentions but went about solving problems in the wrong way.” Jake fidgets, but meets the older man’s eyes. He owes him that much. “Now you’ve seen how great of a team you all could be, out there on the beach today - but you gotta get past whatever it is that’s holding you back, Seresin.” Something sad and haunted comes over the Old Man’s face, gaze flickering to where the piano keys have just started being played by a certain barnyard fowl they both know and love. “Before it’s too late.”  

And then he’s gone, heading towards the bar to talk to Penny, who smiles indulgently at the man.  

Standing there among the others with the continued high of an actually fun day of training still making them all giddy, the actual reason for his actions floats to the surface of his mind, before he can push it down into the depths again. He’d done it because Rooster is going to get himself and maybe some of the others killed - he’s not ready for this. 

And in the here and now with that same thought on his mind, Jake goes in search of Maverick, determined to change the Old Man’s mind.  

Naturally, he runs into Hondo first, during his search. The Chief Warrant Officer had been a calming presence all through training and he and Maverick were always close, so it shouldn’t throw Jake off as much as it does when he gives Hangman Maverick’s room number, adding, with an indecipherable look, “He’s waiting for you.”  

They’ve got a very short window of time before the launch. Security is tight on this one - but they’ve got a bit more time before everything is set up for the four planes to launch and his own plane to be checked over. Besides that, the overwatch heli-plane has to be up in the air and calibrated before accurate information can start to be sent from it, information which is essential for Command to have a play by play of the Mission in real time.  

But … the clock is ticking.  

“He thought you’d want to see him,” Hondo says, looking almost relaxed among the chaos. He gives Jake directions to where Mav’s quarters are and Hangman feels his eyes watching him until he turns a corner.  

Coming up to the door, Jake has to pause, wondering if this is a good idea. Because he thinks he knows what Maverick was thinking when he chose Rooster - he was seeing the echo of a man long dead and buried. But he’s got to convince Maverick to change his mind - because Rooster isn’t ready for this. And he’d caught a glimpse of Rooster up among the chaos where Hondo had been, and the other man had looked lost in a way that Jake had never seen before. Therefore, Maverick should send Jake - because he had what it took to get everyone home.  

So he knocks.  

The familiar voice bids him enter and Jake does, seeing Maverick sitting at his desk, a small stack of sealed letters visible in a partially open drawer and his helmet sitting prominently on the bed. He smiles, tired and careworn, but full of warmth.  

Jake doesn’t give him a chance to say anything, blurting out his deepest fear, because it’s been rattling around in his skull for the past hour or so and he’s so afraid — “You have to send me, sir. Please - Rooster’s not ready for this.”  

The words flow over Maverick and Jake knows he hears, and perhaps also hears what Jake isn’t saying, because perhaps they’re the Old Man’s thoughts, too.  

Because here is a man who has grown old in a profession where men often die young. Which means it would be wise not to underestimate him. (And Jake knows he’s done that repeatedly during training, to his detriment.)  

“This is my last mission, kid," Maverick’s smile is sad but calm. “I know that - Cyclone knows that - and …" He swallows, looking away for a second. And Jake has the feeling that what he says next had replaced someone else’s name. “And now you know that, too. I’m here for the sacrifice play. I’m the ace up everyone else’s sleeve. Because if there is something I can do to make sure all of my students come home alive … I’ll do it at the cost of my own life.”  

And isn’t that humbling?  

“But, sir -” Jake stutters out, overwhelmed by his own fear and Maverick’s calm admission. “Why - ?”  

“I need you to be the spare, Jake,” Maverick tells him, looking his age, for once. Like he had when he’d stood over his wingman’s coffin, not a week before. “Because I need you to be there to get everyone home if I’m no longer there to ensure it.”  

He’s expecting to get shot down. Hangman realizes, nostrils flaring as his heart seizes. Up until this Mission, the thought of losing his fellow pilots - and it might be more than one, given the Mission parameters - had been an idea far from his thoughts. Even when he’d gotten his air-to-air kill, the type of plane the enemy had had, had not been much of a threat, but in this case, they’re going up against fifth gen’s this time around.  

“Sit down, kid,” Maverick’s hand is kind as he guides Jake to sit on the bed, their knees knocking together as he sits back at his desk. Blowing out a breath, Hangman tries to regulate his breathing. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”  

“I’ll do it.” Jake blurts out. Repeating, as Maverick looks at him, hope shining through his eyes. “I’ll cover them, sir.”  

Searching his face, eventually, Maverick smiles.  

 
—————————————————— 

 
“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin.” 

Maverick’s parting words and the tingle of his parting hug linger in Hangman’s mind and on his skin as he emerges into the sunlight above deck. Sunlight is something he will never take for granted again, he’s sure. And then he spots the Big Chicken.  

Rooster looks lost on a full deck of noise and people, walking on autopilot, helmet under his arm. There’s fear in his eyes Jake realizes as Rooster spots him, stopping a short foot away. He’s waiting for me to tear him down.  

“You give ‘em hell.”  

And while Rooster may not look any more or less lost, at least Jake’s words haven’t knocked the other pilot into an even worse headspace. Because even one mistake on this Mission has the potential to get the entire team killed.   

So Jake waits in his jet as the others take off, putting in his acknowledgments in the standard phrases of their job. And its hell, sitting there, hearing them walking the line between life and death and he mutters to himself as Rooster starts to fall behind. ‘Cum’mon, cum’mon.”   

Com’mon kid; don’t think. Just do .  

The shock that goes through Jake’s mind when Rooster responds to Maverick’s words, words that Maverick had said in response to Rooster’s plea to his dad, a plea Jake isn’t sure Rooster had been aware he was saying out loud, that shock is probably less than it would’ve been before his own talk with Maverick less than an hour before.  

Because Maverick’s implicit declaration that he was ready to die for his students had been a big pill to swallow, but the knowledge that he saw Rooster as his actual kid - it explained so much about the animosity between them during their last weeks of training.  

Or rather, it explained everything while still explaining nothing at all.  

Like, why were they at odds?   

Despite that animosity, they still moved in sync and Rooster trusts Maverick with his life and thrives on the older man’s approval.  

That’s it, kid. That’s it.  

Listening to the dogfight against the SAMs is even worse, as Jake pictures the chaos reflected by the massive overlapping noises on the comms. And then …  

Shit. I’m out of flares!  

Jake sits up straighter, mouth falling open as he listens, knowing that this is the moment that will change everything, once again.  

Rooster - evade! Evade!  

I CAN’T — THEY’RE ON ME THEY’RE ON ME!!  

….  

….  

MAV!! NO!!!  

A split second of silence and there is no noise in Jake’s head either before Phoenix confirms his suspicions.  

Maverick is hit! I repeat, Maverick is down!  

As they try to talk Rooster through it, the mustached pilot obviously in denial of what the other Dagger’s see as the obvious outcome of Maverick’s sacrifice play, Jake knows in his gut that, if Rooster is a much Maverick’s son as he suspects he is … Rooster isn’t going to leave Maverick out there - not when there’s a chance the Old Man is alive.  

 

 

 

 

He’s right.  

….  

….  

Rooster goes back.  

….  

….  

Rooster is shot down.  

“This is Dagger Spare requesting permission to fly air cover.” He requests again, knowing the remaining Dagger’s are heading back. But he is denied. Again.  

But … that just means he’s going to stay in his jet. Because … because Jake won’t settle for the most obvious outcome. They can’t be dead.  

“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin.”  

The words echo in his mind again. And he’s determined to earn that faith, so he’s going to remain in his jet until the Old Man pops up again, against all the odds, like he had on the training screen after Admiral Kazansky’s funeral and proved that the Mission could be flown.  

He’s going to make sure they get home.  

 
—————————————————— 

 
And Hangman does just that: pushing his aircraft to the limit once he’s finally allowed to launch (and he may be fudging a bit about the allowed part) flying like his ass is on fire. He makes it - just in time. 

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your savior speaking, Hangman grins in pure relief and pride as he emerges from the cloud of smoke. His second air-to-air kill. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened and that your trays are in an upright position.  

Maverick knocks on his window, giving him a thumbs up, while Rooster, who’s never at a loss for words, laughs. Hangman. You look good .  

I am good, Rooster. And his bones are singing with how right everything feels right now. I’m very good. Tipping his jet sharply and racing away . See you back on deck.  

So … they’re alive. Thanks to whatever mischievous magic Maverick has pulled out of his metaphorical hat and thanks to Hangman’s own intervention. As he lands and gets out to wait with the other Daggers and staff on the side of the deck, watching the Tomcat flyby the tower (and he can imagine what Cyclone’s face looks like), he knows that Maverick is landing on a wing and a prayer. Because, no matter how much shit they’ve all been through in the last couple hours, especially the adventures of Rooster and their intrepid Captain, it’s still up to the Old Man to actually land the old bird safely.  

Naturally, that’s when one of the engines goes out.  

With bated breath, they watch as Maverick pulls off the seemingly impossible, yet again. But as it slides and the fire crew goes to put out the steam that’s starting, there’s a sharp boom and the other engine explodes. It’s chaos on the deck.  

Chaos which ends with both Rooster and Maverick being carried down to the medical ward on stretchers. The Daggers gather outside, waiting for news. Because if they lose them after everything they’d survived, none of them know what they’re going to do.  

It can’t end like this.  

And it doesn’t. Thank God.  

Finally, they are allowed to see their colleagues, crowding around and between the two beds in the little room. Phoenix makes a beeline to Rooster, hugging him gently around the cast that’s keeping his upper left arm restrained against his chest, bandages showing over his med-bay issued sleep pants, covering his ribs. There are some shiny areas of reddened, burned skin that are slathered with medicinal cream, which she is also careful not to touch.   

Jake lets out a good-natured wolf-whistle when Rooster pulls the little spitfire partially onto his bed and kisses her senseless. “Get a room,” he jokes from his position by Maverick’s side, where he’d stationed himself.  

Drawing back from the kiss, letting Phoenix hide her face in his good shoulder, Rooster drawls, “You’re in my room, Bagman.”  

Hangman only grins. “Finally gotten off your perch, Bradshaw?”  

And Rooster’s smile when he looks down at Phoenix is the sappiest thing Hangman has ever seen. “Yep.”  

While the others crowd around the happy couple, Jake uses the noise to talk to Maverick.   

“I’m okay, kid,” the Caption assured him. “Just not as young as I used to be.” Allowing Jake to help him sit up better so he can watch his godson with fond eyes.   

Though he grips Jake’s shoulder, “Thank you, Jake. You did everything right.”  

All Jake can do is smile.  

 

 

 

 

“Anytime, Pops,” He smirks. “Anytime.”  

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Peace

 

 

 

 

 
“It was my last mission,” Maverick smiles at Jake as they enjoy beers, sitting at Penny’s bar several weeks later. “But … Cyclone has hired me to stay at Top Gun as a teacher.” 

“That’s great, Mav,” Jake smiles. Because he knows it’s a good fit for the Old Man. And given Rooster’s injuries as well as Maverick’s own bruises and such, they’re gonna be grounded for a while. And Maverick will want to be by Rooster, he’s sure.  

“Are you doing okay?” Maverick asks, watching him with that look he gets.  

Uncomfortable, Jake shrugs, trying to play it off. “Just some nightmares. I’m fine.”  

“You can call anytime,” Maverick says. “My doors always open.”  

Ducking his head, Jake can’t help the warmth that spreads through him at the Captain’s words. “Thanks, Pops.”  

Then Maverick smiles, nodding to something over Jake’s shoulder, so he turns to look. Rooster has just come in, arm still in his cast, though it’s been reduced in size a bit as things start to settle.  

“Though you’ll have to put up with Rooster for a bit, since he’s staying at Top Gun, too.”  

“Don’t worry,” Jake drawls. “We won’t bring any more fights into the hen house.”  

Maverick’s grin is wide and honest, “You’d better not or Phoenix will have something to say about it.”  

And Jake’s not afraid of Phoenix - he’s not! But he shudders at the thought of one of her talking to’s. He wouldn’t even deserve it …  

(Probably.)  

“Bagman.” Rooster acknowledges him with an easy smile which grows exponentially when he stoops slightly to give Maverick a hug, even though the Old Man is sitting on a bar stool. The older pilot is such a short ass. It’s actually kinda endearing, Jake has to admit. “You look … good.”  

Jake can only smile, taking a sip from his whiskey.  

“I am good, Rooster.” He leans forward, seeing Maverick’s indulgent smile at their banter. “I’m very good. In fact I’m —”  

“Too good to be true,” Rooster rolls his eyes as he says the now iconic line with the other pilot. “Yeah, we know.”  

And the evening passes with conversation and laughter.  

It’s nice, Jake thinks, leaning at the bar as he watched Penny and Mav enact yet another ‘mating dance’ - not that he’s against Pops getting some -- Rooster and Phoenix are playing cards with Fanboy and Bob in the corner, betting for potatoes chips, Coyote and Payback with their heads together about something by the juke box, a rip rolling tune soon filling the bar with noise. It’s nice to be part of something like this. Something almost like a family. That’s not something Jake’s had for a long time. Mostly, it’s just him and Javy against the world.  

Though … he hopes he won’t have to take Maverick up on his offer anytime soon.  

It’s comforting as much as it is terrifying - to be known, truly known, is not for the faint-hearted.  

 
—————————————— 

 
He knows this place.  

In his dress blues, he’d come for Admiral Kazansky's funeral. But it’s not that grave that he’s searching for. He knows, as you always know in dreams, that he’ll know what he’s looking for when he finds it. ‘It’ is a pair of graves. There’s a woman in front of them.  

She’s crying.  

'Phoenix?'  

'You! What are you doing here?!' She hisses, turning to look at him with burning eyes. There is only hate in her gaze, none of the begrudging respect or disappointment that he’s used to her looking at him with. 'You did this!'  

Did what? But the words don’t come out because he finally sees the names on the graves once she’s moved out of the way.  

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.  

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.  

But he’d saved them! … hadn’t he?  

And he’s sitting in his plane, suddenly above the sea, watching as the TomCat heads upward towards the sun, caught in a deadly cat and mouse game with the Fifth Gen. Fighter.   

He doesn’t get there in time.  

Opening his mouth to scream, he realizes that he has no tongue and his grief is silent, lost in the void.  

Mangled bodies fall into the sea.  

Mangled bodies fall into the sea.  

Mangled bodies fall into the sea.  

Scrambling out of the clawed cocoon of his covers, Jake scrambles to the bathroom. Finally free of the nauseating image that had cycled on repeat in front of his eyes for what feels like hours. Once he’s recovered from puking up his guts, he realizes that he’s not in his quarters on base. For one thing, the Navy had long replaced the funny patterned ’90’s style linoleum. Slumping against the wall, trying and failing to gather the energy to get up and go get a drink or go back to bed, he can still feel the absolute helplessness he’s felt during the dream. He sticks his fingers in his mouth, making sure he still has his tongue – because every time he tries to speak and break the silence, it’s as if he has become mute.  

God , that was a bad one.  

Mangled bodies fall into the sea.  

“Jake?” There’s a knock on the door frame and he looks up to see Maverick peering into the bathroom, dressed in just a T-shirt and boxers with fighter planes on them. If Hangman had had the energy, he’d totally make a joke about that. “You alright?”  

Even though he can feel the physical proof of the continual existence of his tongue, his fingers still stuck in his mouth in what is no doubt a strange posture for an adult, Jake can’t manage to answer. It must be obvious how pathetic he feels because Maverick comes into the bathroom, crouching down by him and feeling his forehead, making a concerned sound when he feels the trembling which has started running through Jake’s entire body.  

He’s just so tired .  

Tired of the dreams.   

Tired of not being enough .  

“I’ve got you, kiddo.” Maverick says, moving closer. “You think you’ll throw up if I move you?”  

When Jake shakes his head looking down at his trembling hands, missing Maverick’s concerned look, he’s surprised when the older man gets a hand under his knees and another behind his back and lifts .  

Maybe Maverick is secretly superman? Jake thinks, a little dazed as the shorter man carries him back to bed, sitting down next to him after he sets him down. The whole world is too much right now and he closes his eyes, focusing on the evidence of Maverick’s existence, the older man’s weight making the mattress shift under Jake’s back. The hand in his hair is a nice touch too.  

“You’re a bit warm, kiddo,” He opens his eyes when Mav feels his forehead. Turning to speak to Rooster, who still looks half asleep and who is peering around the doorframe of the guest room. “Can you get a glass of water?”  

Rooster disappears with a short, worried look at Jake. Normally, Jake would be fighting against the coddling - Hangman didn’t show weakness, he was the first to strike if it was exhibited with others, after all. But he’s been unmoored by the dream, and he still feels like his tongue is a foreign entity in his body.   

“Shhhh,” Mav’s hand, gentle and comforting wipes a stray tear as it falls down Jake’s cheek. “You’re okay, kiddo. Let it all out.”  

It’s not a full-on cry, it’s mostly just staggered tears streaking down his cheeks and he’s able to drink the water that Rooster eventually brings, disappearing after a low murmured exchange with Mav, too low for Jake to hear. Which is both good, because Jake doesn’t want to cry in front of Rooster, of all people, and bad, because if he can’t see Rooster, does that mean his dream is true?    

But Maverick is real and Jake is grateful that the older man knows what he needs, settling in beside Jake in the bed, even pressing a paternal kiss into his untamed hair. “Sleep, Jake. It’ll be better in the morning.”   

The order is easy to follow.  

 

 

He doesn’t dream of the sea.  

 
—————————————————— 

 
Maverick is worried about Jake. 

The younger pilot had reminded him of himself right from the start of the Mission, the snarky remark and the wink when the younger man had put four beers on his tab after Penny had rung the bell setting the tone for the relationship. Automatically, Mav had taken the Daggers under his wing, knowing that, if he didn’t push them to their limits and force them to work past their own weaknesses, they were going to fail. And failure meant death on the Mission.  

After Bradley, Jake had had the most to learn.  

And he’d blossomed once Maverick had figured him out. Seeing the young man continue to be non-verbal when he woke up the next morning after Maverick had discovered him in the guest bedroom’s bathroom, covered with sweat and pale as a sheet, had been deeply disturbing. Whatever his dream had been about, it had obviously affected Jake deeply.   

Maverick knows what it was probably about, but there’s only so much he can do to help, years of his own nightmares making him aware of how prickly he himself has been when anyone, even his friends, had tried to help him through the resulting emotional upheavals. But he does have an idea. He has Rooster text Coyote to ask if Jake has any favorite breakfast foods or restaurants, taking the phone when Javy calls.  

“Sir,” Coyote says. “Is Jake doing okay?”  

“He will be, given time,” Mav says. Glancing back through the hall to the sliver of open door to see Hangman still asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. “Has he said anything about nightmares? He had a pretty bad one last night.”  

“… I think we both know that Jake cares a lot, sir,” Javy says, “Though he’s really bad at showing it. And … this isn’t the first time he’s almost lost a wingman.”  

That tells Maverick everything the kid isn’t saying. And he’s read the report about Jake’s first air-to-air kill, curious about one of the other living pilots with that distinction on their service record. Mav himself is a different animal entirely, given his newly acquired Ace status, but he knows what emotional upheavals come with the accolades. When he’d gotten his first three during the Leyton incident, he’d already been so torn up about Goose that he hadn’t had the energy to worry about it on top of that deeper void. But the nightmares had eventually come, and Goose had become part of them, an echoing cry for help in the background noise of the dream during the dogfight, like tinnitus ringing in one’s ears.   

A cry for help that Maverick will never be able to answer, from a voice that he will never hear again.  

“Take care of him?” Javy asks, far away visiting his family. “He’s had enough people in his life who didn’t give a fuck - prove them wrong ... please?”  

“Only my best for you kids,” Maverick promises, a sudden lump in his throat.   

“… Thanks, Pops.”  

 
————————————————— 

 
Rooster sits in the sand with Mav, sunglasses hiding how closely he’s watching Jake dig in the sand.  

It’s a new feeling, to be worried about the other man. Because being worried about Hangman is not something Rooster had ever thought would be on his list of priorities. Not that it’s Hangman who he’s worried about - it’s Jake , the man underneath the persona who Bradley has never really seen before. Perhaps this is the man who Javy had become friends with and stuck with through thick and thin. And Bradley is worried about Jake. Just like Maverick is worried about Jake. The Old Man has been exuding the kind concern and supporting vibes that Bradley remembering under-appreciating when he was a kid - not that he isn’t reaping the benefits of Maverick’s pent-up affection, leaning into it went Mav reaches over casually to ruffle his hair as they both watch Jake in the sand.   

“Wanna go help him, Baby Goose?”  

“… think he’ll mind?” Rooster asks, glancing over at Maverick.  

Who gives a one-shouldered shrug, “Let him know that I went to get some ice cream for us.” Dusting off his swim trunks as he stands, giving Rooster a helping hand up before he takes off towards the sidewalk where a vender has parked their cart.  

“Get gummy bears if they have some!” Rooster calls after him. Turning back to approach Hangman, who’d concentrating very hard on the sandcastle he’s made with the random buckets and shovels that Rooster had dug out of storage in the garage. “Looks good, man.”  

Jake just looks up at him, a serious expression on his face, going back to using a popsicle stick he must’ve found in the sand to carve details into the smooth outer surface of the tower. And Bradley has to take a minute just to admire Jake’s creation, tamping down his worry at the other man’s continued silence.   

Silent Hangman is weird.  

But also … kinda endearing?  

(That was never a word he would have every associated with the younger man … but here they are.)  

Because Jake has made a three-tiered castle inside of an outer wall with four corner towers. He’s currently carefully carving murder holes and other details into the outer walls. With all the trained seriousness of a Naval aviator, Jake is absorbed in his task. So, the logical action on Bradley’s part is to start making a sea monster in the sand, headed towards the castle. And this is how Maverick finds them when he returns, holding several cones of ice-cream and a bag of gummy bears for Bradley.  

“That looks great, boys,” Maverick smiles, looking at their creations. He hands them their cones and settles in the sand nearby.  

They watch the waves crashing onto the sand for a bit, eating their treats at their own pace.  

Then, Jake speaks, a bit of ice cream on his nose, around a mouthful of ice cream. They’re the first words he’s spoken since yesterday.  

“’S’good!” He says, happily munching on the cone, a sprinkle now attached to his chin.  

And nothing could be better than this - to make sandcastles with the living to forget the dead.  

“Yeah,” Bradley agrees, reaching out to flick Jake on the side of the head, smiling at the annoyed look he gets in response. “It’s good.”  

 
 

 

 

In real life, there’s no such thing as a spare. There is always a void that would be better served by being filled by a friend. Because everyone should build bad-ass castles at least once with people who matter the most to them.  

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Thank you all so, so much for reading all my stories! But I have to end this chapter on a sad note. I start my senior year of college next Monday and since it's my last year I have to put a supreme effort into learning intermediate/advanced Japanese (which is what I am hoping to utilize to get a good job after school) and since that will require so much effort and focus, I have no idea when I will post again. I'm wrapping up everything else I've posted for other fandoms as well.

So thank you all so much for enjoying my humble offerings -- I loved writing them and it's made me so happy during stressful life events and general college stress to know that I've made other people happy with my stories.