Chapter Text
Jake wasn’t surprised to see the bunch that had ended up at the Hard Deck with him. Coyote had mentioned some of the other names he knew that had heard about this special assignment, he knew it would be a dick measuring contest at the first meeting. Him and Phoenix picked up right where they left off, like no time has passed. They hadn’t been at Top Gun all that long ago, but seeing her so soon just reminded him how small the Navy really was.
He was among one of the best, another Top Gun grad like the other pilots rolling in. As the other Khakis waltz to the pool tables, sipping their beers and sizing each other up, the pieces fell into place. This assignment was something that required the best of the best of active duty aviators. Something that required the big guns to go to a special training was something that made Jake’s blood burn with anticipation.
This was another chance to show what he was made of, why he was truly the best of the best. The rest of these guys (and girls) were going to be eating his jet wash before they deployed. And when on that deployment? Hopefully they’d be able to keep up with him.
Nat noticed him first. Calling him over by his last name, loud enough for the people at the bar to glance over at him as he walked in.
Jake took that as his cue to get back to the bar. He kept his gaze on Penny, nodding to the old timer that got him the free booze. He could feel Bradley’s presence in the room, the man was always bigger than his britches. The cool bottles in his hands were enough to distract him from the feelings of anxiety settling in his gut.
The bravado he’s had on all night only hardened more as he approached the back room again. He told himself that taking a break to queue up some hype music was just to boost the ambience of the bar, nothing to do with gaining more control over the situation.
“Bradshaw,” he started, sauntering up like his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest. “As I live and breathe.”
Staying on track with keeping his hands busy, he pulled the pool cue from Bob’s hands to line up a shot of his own. Breaking the tension first seemed to be a good way to keep his control up.
“Hangman…” he said, twang creeping in the back of his throat. Guess they were doing callsigns now.
“You look… good.” Something snarky playing on his lips, a tight smile.
A calculated response. Something he knew was going to throw Jake off his game. Two could play that game.
Jake lined up his shot, bent over clear on the table. “Well, I am good, Rooster,” the callsign burning on his tongue. He sunk his shot, looking up at Bradley for the first time in a long time. “I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”
He sauntered along the edge of the table, 1000 watt smile cracking his face while he maintained his eye contact. He knew he looked good, but damn did overseas make Bradshaw look incredible. He had an all over tan, skin peaking out from the wife beater under that hideous Hawaiian shirt. If he looked close enough, and he was, he could see the lines of a fresh haircut, maybe even a fresh trim off that ridiculous mustache he insisted on keeping.
“So…” Payback started, trying to break the tension building between the two. “Anyone know what this special detachment is about?”
“A mission’s a mission,” Jake said too quickly. “That doesn’t concern me.” He could feel Bradley’s eyes coming back onto him. He looked back at the table, feigning interest in the game that he really had no interest in.
“What I wanna know is who’s gonna be team leader.” He leaned over the pool table again, sticking his hips out a little more than he did the first time. Bradley was looking at him, he felt it. His eyes always had a sense of burning when he couldn’t see them.
“And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?” His eyes come back up to Bradley’s, his gaze challenging. Clearly, Bradley was rattled. Thrown off his game at Jake’s refusal to back down from whatever game they were playing.
“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”
Ouch. Low blow. Bradley knows about Jakes past. He knows he’s lost a wingman in the past during a mission he wasn’t around for. He was a young pilot, grounded for partying too hard the night before. His wingman was cleared to fly their sortie with another pilot he wasn’t used to. Next thing you know, his wingman, his friend, was downed due to a mechanical engine failure he couldn’t fix.
Low. Fucking. Blow.
He laughed. Dry and empty. His feet were carrying him over to Bradley, pushing him into his space.
“Hell, anyone who follows you will just run out of fuel,” he scoffed. “But that’s just you, Rooster, you’re snug on that perch.”
Bradley was smiling, not really laughing. The tightness in his face gave away the fact he knew they weren’t really talking about flying anymore.
“Waiting for just the right moment…” he took two steps closer, dropping his voice and getting close enough to smell that signature cologne Bradley always wore on a night out. “…that never comes.”
Bradley took in a deep breath, his eyes flickering to Jakes lips for one tiny, short second. A lesser man wouldn’t have noticed, but Jake knew him far too well to let him get away with that.
Check. Mate.
“I love this song.” He said, his smile feeling more real knowing he won this round. He walked away, not really caring about the destination. He just needed to feel Bradley’s eyes on him as he had his back turned. Another sign of his victory.
Some guy needed to be thrown overboard. The onslaught of emotions from the last 15 minutes had his blood ringing like it did before a long flight. He was antsy, needed to let his energy out. Showing off his strength on the old-timer might give him some type of that release.
Jake and the other Khakis migrated over to a booth while Bradley pulled out his favorite bar trick and took over the piano. He got the whole bar singing, wrapped around his finger like it was nothing. There was that charm he knew he had. A nice, southern boy, loose and fun enough to catch people’s eyes, but just polite enough that you can’t tell what wild urges he ahs running in his veins.
And Jake knows what he’s got running in his veins. Back when they were new at this. Fresh ensigns in Pensacola, they were competing to be in the sexiest aircraft the Navy had to offer. They had caught sights of each other during the first block of academics.
Jake was loud-mouthed, laid back, and overly confident with his skills. He was the guy in class that always wanted to go downtown, hit up his favorite string of bars 20 minutes away. Bradley was the quiet guy. A little older, a bit more mature than the rest of them. He would come out sometimes, but he would stand in the corner, hang in the back of the group to catch the stragglers that got a little too drunk.
It was so easy back then.
Jake had caught him in the corner of some line dancing bar, trying to get him to join him on the dance floor. He was wearing his best jeans, a worn pair of boots, and a black cowboy hat he picked up at a local souvenir shop. Bradley was looking at him hard all night, that same burning gaze he felt now, so many years later. Jake picked up girls on a normal night out, but that didn’t seem to deter Bradley from looking at him with less than innocent intent.
When Jake saddled up to him, Bradley gave him a shy smirk. The conversation was about the dancing their classmates were getting up to, how Bradley can learn something from them. Jake quickly steered the conversation to another dance they could get up to. He got up close into Bradley’s face, breathing into his ear with each whisper of the things they could be doing off the dance floor. The effect he had on the man was apparent.
Everything had come to a head when they made their way to the bathroom and found their mouths locked together in the handicap stall. They were fast, rough about it, kissing like they had never been so worked up before. Bradley’s hands were all over him, pushing the pace to get into his pants as quick as possible. When he unzipped his jeans, Jake had done the same to him and they were suddenly jerking each other off and panting into each other’s mouths. The sounds of other men in the bathroom, the knowledge of their classmates and friends outside, and the fact that he was kissing Bradley Bradshaw all pushed Jake to the edge.
Jake came first, covering Bradley’s hand and causing him to squeeze and jerk the other man faster. The feeling of Jake losing himself had made Bradley’s head fall back while his release covered their hands, coating them in even more mess.
It was a quick cleanup, luckily none of their mess had stained their shirts, but their pants were another story. The bar was dark and their friends were too drunk to notice the stains along their zippers. Both men were sated, smirking at each other as they kept drinking through the night.
From then on, they would catch each other on the off weekends, in the showers, or even (once) at each other’s place. Their training was long, but that pent up energy never went away. They found themselves falling into each other when they had too much free time on their hands. The base was busy with so many new pilots that people hardly noticed when they would disappear together. Quick handjobs in their cars, blowjobs in the bar bathrooms, and even some dry humping they got into in one of the study rooms on a particular long night.
It was easy.
Until it wasn’t.
Once they dropped fighters, their relationship… shifted. Training got harder and days got longer. Their fun quick nights had gotten busier while they studied together and helped each other with their mission planning. Their friendship bloomed as their training was moving at a quick rate, both of them showing potential to being honor graduates. Their fun, frisky encounters were replaced more often with casual, friendly banter over dinner and beer.
During one particular sortie, they were flying together in formation during a dog fighting drill. Jake had taken off, flying in a way that was too fast and loose for Bradley’s taste. Bradley was left behind, leaving him open to an attack by their instructors. The argument they had after their debrief was one for the books. Jake told Bradley he wasn’t taking enough risk to keep up in their program, that he needed to pick it up before he got dropped. Bradley told Jake he was reckless and was going to get himself and his wingmen killed because he didn’t care about anything other than his own performance.
The argument flowed from there. Jake bringing up things from their past, how Bradley was too scared to push their sexual relationship past quickies. Bradley was taken aback at the mention of their sex life, they had never talked about it before. But once it was mentioned, he pulled his own thoughts about it.
He said Jake was a selfish lover. That he was quick and rough, reckless in the way he fucked. Bradley couldn’t go further with someone who wouldn’t even take the time to consider their partner’s pleasure more than their own. The conversation kept coming from there. They said things to each other that cut deep, no pulled punches to spare their feelings.
The only good thing that came out of it was their call signs.
After that, everything about their relationship was business over pleasure and that made things… complicated. If they weren’t talking or fucking, what more did they have to offer each other anymore?
They never talked about it, all their friends knew is that there was something that had gone on between them. At their first duty stations, Jake had told Javy about what happened between them, leaving out any of the friendly stuff that made it seem like they were anything more than fuck buddies. He especially left out any part about Bradley calling him a selfish lover. He had a reputation to uphold.
He assumed Nat knew about it since she told Jake that she hated him with all her being during their time at Top Gun. Only someone who knew the things he said to Bradley Bradshaw after that bad fight could hate him that much.
And now all these ghosts from this part of his past have reappeared at this stupid bar.
From their booth, Nat said something to Bradley about moving in on some “hot piece of ass” at the bar before she did. A couple of the guys had laughed at Bradley going red at the comment, but not Jake. Jake looked Bradley square in the eyes, trying to read if he would hop off his perch and do something for once.
God knows the Rooster he knew wouldn’t be so bold.
But Bradley met his gaze and didn’t let it go. He brought his beer bottle up to his lips and took a long, calculated pull. Jake watched his mouth around the lip of the bottle and remembered all those things he could do with those lips, but his thoughts were interrupted by the image of his lips locking with that chick at the bar.
And Jake hated that thought.
Bradley put his bottle back on the table and turned on his heels, right to the hot piece of ass Nat pointed out.
Jake watched their interaction. It wasn’t more than 15 minutes, how quickly she had leaned close to him and whispered something that made him laugh and flush down his chest. Bradley threw some cash on the bar and took the girl's hand, nodding at the booth to let everyone know he was getting out of there.
Some people whooped at him, others rolling their eyes, but Jake? Jake looked at that girl and felt himself seethe with jealousy at how quickly she got Bradley off his feet.
He used to be able to do that with just a look.
As he watched them leave the bar and climb into Bradley’s old Bronco, he wondered if he could still make that happen.
Maybe this special assignment was his chance to find out.