Chapter Text
Having everyone over to the hangar had seemed like a good idea when it first occurred to him. And for the first part of the day, it had been.
“Cut me some slack, Phoenix,” Hangman said with a grin. They were in the hangar, late afternoon sun slanting through the open bay doors, and pretty much everyone was several beers into the cooler they’d stocked that morning. Bradley was at the table with Phoenix and Hangman, and he was glancing between them with a wary look, obviously hoping the two were in the mood to get along. It tended to be 50/50 with them. Sometimes they were as close as siblings, and sometimes Maverick was just waiting for it to devolve into a fistfight. “I mean, really Nix. That was a lifetime ago.”
“Don’t call me that, Bagman. And it was two years ago, not really a lifetime.”
“Anytime before the special detachment, may as well be another lifetime. Come on, look me in the eye and say that mission didn’t change something fundamental. Back me up here, Rooster. Pops?”
“Leave me out of this,” Maverick said, taking a break from tinkering with the Mustang’s engine. Iceman was next to him, reclining against the plane. He was cutting chunks out of an apple. Maverick watched as Ice lifted a piece to his mouth and ate it straight off the knife.
That had no right to be as distracting as it was.
“What he said. We don’t need to rehash this.” Bradley groaned.
“Of course, you’d say that, Roo. But I’m the one who picked up the pieces when he broke your heart,” Phoenix snarked, and Maverick frowned. He hadn’t caught earlier just what she and Hangman were arguing about. Last thing he remembered was a fairly typical play fight about IPAs vs stouts and porters. He had noticed edge to Phoenix today that he hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “All I’m telling you, is that you better not even think about starting up again. We were all collateral damage last time you guys fell apart.”
“Careful now, Phoenix,” Coyote said, returning from the bathroom.
“You know I’m right. I know you had your own pieces of Bagman to pick up, even if he brought it on himself.”
Hangman was smirking and leaning back in his chair. Somehow, Maverick was sure his nonchalance was a front. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just that good. Any break-up involving me leaves the world a-shaking.”
“Exactly. So stop making eyes at Rooster.”
“I’ve been doing no such thing.”
“Nat—” Bradley said quietly, but Phoenix rode right over him.
“No one believes that. God, can’t you just leave well enough alone? We’re finally a somewhat stable group again, but you two get back together—it’ll last what, a few months? Then you’ll leave him hanging, and it’ll be the cold war between us all over again. You look me in the eye and honestly tell me different. Tell me you wouldn’t screw it all up again.”
It went deathly still. Hangman was just sitting there, looking at Phoenix, and Maverick had not known the man could look so white under his tan.
“I left him,” Bradley snapped. “For nothing he did. You want to blame anyone for blowing up our friend group back in the day, Natasha? Blame me.”
It was too late though. Hangman rose stiffly, and walked out the hangar doors. He veered off to the right, out of sight.
“The fuck just happened,” Maverick said.
“I swear, I didn’t know,” Phoenix rushed out.
Bradley set his beer down and wiped his mouth. “I can’t even look at you right now,” he said.
“Roo, hey. . . wait, I didn’t—”
“Yeah, you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t know what went down between me and him. I never said. You just assumed and then brought it up out of nowhere to pick a fight.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Not now.”
Maverick sighed and grabbed his keys from the toolbox. He tossed them to Bradley who caught them with a questioning look. “The blue one opens my liquor cabinet. The one in the study. Get that boy a strong drink and then go talk to him. Grovel a little, maybe.”
“Speaking from experience, old man?” Bradley called over his shoulder as he headed towards the house Maverick had constructed as an attachment to the hangar.
He didn’t bother replying, instead focusing his gaze on Phoenix. He could see it on her face, the dawning awareness of what she’d done. Maverick just hoped it was fixable. He’d gotten attached to this group of pilots. If it came down to it though, he knew whose side he was on.
Purchasing the hangar and getting builders to attach the house, had been an investment. One he hadn’t thought much about. He’d gotten a deal on it since it’d been in rough shape, building the house on the property had cost more than the property itself. Some good should come out of the money he’d inherited from Viper and Bradley hadn’t been in his life to spend it on.
There was nothing around for miles and miles, just the hangar and some deserted roads that were perfect for taking his bikes out on. The house he’d built was large. Eight bedrooms with another handful of rooms that could be re-arranged for people to sleep in, if needed.
The first year he’d had it, he must have had the ‘86 class and their families over a dozen times. He’d grown up not knowing what big family get-togethers were like. Having a place to host that kind of thing? Actually having those gatherings in his life? Was worth every penny he’d spent on it and then some.
He stared at the group message he’d composed, but not sent. “Planning something?” Ice had asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Inviting the kids to the hangar?”
‘Hm? Yeah. . . I thought it might be a good last hurrah before I let the brass make me an admiral. Just a day or two probably.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, half of them have already deployed though. And I’m sure the others have better things to do—”
“Send the invite and let them decide that.”
“Ice, sweetheart.”
“No, I know that look.”
“Come on, come with me. That way if they all ditch me, I’ll at least have you for company.”
Ice sighed. “I’m not a consolation prize.”
“No, you’re not,” Maverick had said, dropping the teasing from his voice. “I was going to ask you regardless. Besides, you’re always welcome anywhere I am. Goes without saying.”
Ice pressed a firm kiss to his temple. “Alright, I’ll go. If you send that message.”
And so he sent out the invite. The next day they were joined at the hanger by Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote—the only four who were nearby and didn’t have other plans. It had been fairly short notice, and told Maverick which of the group were most involved in whatever the kids had cooked up to get him to stay at Top Gun. Hopefully, this trip threw a wrench in their plans. It’d be fun to see them scramble a bit.
The morning had gone well, taking turns flying Maverick’s mustang and enjoying the fresh air while they were there.
Maverick had mentally patted himself on the shoulder, pleased that the kids were enjoying themselves. Because how could it go wrong?
Famous last words.
Bradley took his time making an old-fashioned for Hangman. Both because he knew he would appreciate a well-crafted drink, and because if it were him, he would want some time to himself before anyone chased after him. It was a good thing Iceman liked having a nightcap, if it were up to Maverick he’d stock the fridge with whichever beer he was drinking at the moment and call it good.
He exited through the front of the house, avoiding going back through the hanger. Mostly because he didn’t trust he wouldn’t say something he’d regret to Phoenix if he was near her again right now.
Not for the first time in the last few hours, he regretted Bob’s absence. It seemed to him that had Bob been there, Phoenix never would have lashed out like that. Wouldn’t have indulged in enough beers to be tempted. For all that she was his best friend, Bob tempered her in a way he’d never seen anyone else manage.
God knew he loved her, but sometimes her fire burned everyone in range. Particularly when she was feeling protective. Phoenix and Hangman were a little too used to slinging barbs back and forth. Mix in alcohol? It was no surprise the situation had escalated to causing real hurt. It was just such shitty timing, he and Hangman had reconnected after the uranium mission and while they hadn’t really talked, he’d hoped there was a chance to try again in front of them.
He walked down the strip, angling towards the alcove off to the right that Maverick had pointed out to them when they arrived. There was a fire pit and chairs out there along with an area for a grill. It had been left unsaid, but Bradley realized it must be where some or all of the barbeques he’d skipped were held.
Sure enough, Jake was sitting in one of the chairs, hands dangling between his knees as he stared into the empty fire pit. Bradley picked his way along the path and sat himself in the chair beside him. For a moment they were silent.
Bradley set one of the two drinks he’s made on the arm of Hangman’s chair. “Old fashioned, with extra cherries,” he said. “Good whiskey too, Iceman picked it—not Maverick.:”
He heard the quiet exhale that was Hangman’s laugh when he was trying to suppress his reaction. Bradley lifted his glass and took a sip. “I know it won’t fix anything,” he said, “but I’m sorry. I should have told Phoenix the truth back then.”
“I’m used to being the villain.”
They sat in more silence, the afternoon light slowly leaving. He wished he knew what to say, but what could possibly make this better? Hangman was often blamed, just because of the reputation that followed a callsign like Hangman. Some of it had been earned, in the same way Maverick had earned his early reputation. He’d heard stories of why and how he and Iceman hadn’t gotten along in the beginning, but he’d never let himself notice the similarities until the uranium mission training. It was impossible not to see once Maverick and Hangman were in the same room.
The woods nearby were full of early evening sounds, and the backdrop of crickets would have been nice if it weren’t for the lingering tension in the air. “Like I said, saying sorry won’t fix it,” he said finally. “But I am. You don’t deserve to be blamed for this and I’ve got no excuse for letting them all—”
“Stop,” Hangman said quietly.
“Stop what?”
“Stop being a martyr. Do I think you should have told Phoenix you left me and not the other way around? Sure. But you’re not responsible for any of them defaulting to blaming me. And I just—I don’t care about the why right now. Alright? Can we just sit here for a bit?”
He examined what he could see of Hangman’s face, the hard set of his jaw, and swallowed against the acrid taste at the back of his mouth. Phoenix and Hangman had fought before, but he’d never seen Hangman take it this hard. It was, he knew, likely because Hangman had actually started to let the others in behind his walls. Maverick’s lessons on teamwork and relying on each other had been hammered into them all, but especially into Hangman. And a consequence of that, was putting them all in a position to hurt each other worse than before.
It had only been a matter of time, probably, before something like this happened. Something to test whether the newfound closeness was worth the heartache when they weren’t getting along. . . Bradley took a long sip of his drink, and it tasted like the ashes in the firepit he’d turned his eyes to.
“She is sorry about it,” Bradley offered after a while.
“Probably.”
Bradley nudged him with his elbow, smiling when Hangman slanted a look at him. “Try your drink, I worked hard on that.”
He arched a brow in response, but raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Mm hm. This is good.”
“Too good to be true?”
“I don’t know about that. But it’s darn close.” He took another sip and tipped his head back against his chair, eyes on the clouds.
“Think it’s gonna rain,” Bradley said, leaning his head back himself. “Guess we won’t be doing any sunset flights, after all.”
“Not in the mood anyway.”
They sat there in silence, and Bradley watched out of the corner of his eye as Hangman slowly nursed his drink. He tracked the condensation from the glass as it traveled down his hand in slow rivers that disappeared into Hangman’s sleeve. If he noticed it at all, Hangman didn’t show it.
“Can we pretend it didn’t happen,” Hangman said finally. “Can we just erase that entire conversation and go back to. . . how it was this morning.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Thought you’d want her to apologize, is all.”
Hangman didn’t answer right away, then turned his head to look at Bradley, though he didn’t straighten up. “I don’t want to be at odds with your best friend, not if. . . you know. Not if we’re doing that thing we’re not talking about.”
Bradley snorted, and Hangman’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I know, I know. I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“I messed up. If—or when—we talk it out, is up to you, Hangman.”
“You can call me Jake, you know.”
Bradley tilted his empty glass, watching the last bit of ice in it slide around. “I’m angry with her. But if you truly just want to forget it, I’ll do my best.”
“I truly do.”
“You get to convince Coyote though, he’s pretty protective of you. Took him months to stop trying to kill me with his glare every time we crossed paths.”
“He’ll let it go if I ask,” Hangman murmured.
“If you so say so. . .”
“I’ll have the trip back to convince him. I think we’ll probably head back to base soon.”
“Please stay.”
“Not sure that’s a good idea. Some space sounds like the best plan.”
“If anyone leaves it should be Phoenix. Not you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I do. Stay. I’ll ask Phoenix to go, if someone has to, she’s sorry enough that she’ll go without an argument.”
Hangman blinked at him. There was a frown of surprise on his face. “You—what? Why? Look, asking her to leave is not you getting over being angry—”
“And you leaving, is avoiding not going back to how things were.”
“That’s. . . not the point.”
“Jake. It is. If you really want to go back to how things were, putting off being around Phoenix again isn’t going to do that.”
The use of his name had Hangman straightening up in his chair, though his gaze never left Bradley. “You really want me to stay.”
Bradley was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I do.”
“Okay, then.”
“Thank you.”
They fell into silence again, one that was typical of them. Not quite content, but not bristling with tension either. Eventually, Bradley stood and collected their empty glasses. “I’ll go let everyone know your plan to forget it all,” he said. “But, I want to say something first. Then I’ll pretend it never happened too. I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I never explained what happened between us because I was ashamed of myself. Not for any other reason. If I had realized how much the others were blaming you—you can be goddamned sure I would have shut that down immediately. Whatever else is between us, you don’t deserve to be the villain for that. And one more thing.”
“What else could there possibly be to say about this mess,” Hangman said with a sigh.
“One more. I want you to know, that it changed how I think of you. Somewhat.”
“Did it now.”
“Yep. You did something back there that I would not have done, would not have been capable of doing. Something I admire. You didn’t take the bait, you got up and walked out, and I. . .” Bradley stared down at his feet. “I think we both know I would have lashed out, if I had been in your shoes, said something I’d regret later, no matter how deserved in the moment.”
“What I’m trying to say,” he continued after a moment. “Is that you’re a good man, Jake Seresin. A very good one, maybe a better one than I am.” He looked at Hangman. He couldn’t see his eyes, the sun had shifted so that shade from the trees had stretched far enough to throw him into the shadows, but he knew somehow that Hangman was watching him carefully. “Anyway, we can forget the fight. But I’ll remember how it raised my estimation of how good a man you are even higher.” He turned to head back towards the house. “I’ll make sure no one brings it up to you, so just come back up when you’re ready.”
He started to move but had only made it two steps when he heard Hangman sigh, and say his name. It was so quiet it was more a breath than a word, just a whisper of Bradley.
He stopped, moved closer again until he was hovering behind Hangman’s chair. “What is it?”
“Thank you.”
Bradley shifted his grip on the glasses to cradle them in one hand, resting his free one on Hangman’s shoulder and squeezing it. Hangman’s hand rose to cover it, gripping back tightly. “You’ll stay,” Bradley whispered. “You’re not going to sneak off and leave once I go back, are you?”
“You’d ask Phoenix to leave if I want you to?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. I’ll stay, and. . . and Phoenix can too. If she’ll agree to not bring it up.”
Bradley squeezed his shoulder again. He resisted the urge to touch Hangman further. They might have taken to falling into bed again but he hadn’t earned the right to anything else. “My turn to say thank you,” he said, and let his hand fall away, stepping back. He started off again, before stopping right as he reached the path.
“And, Jake,” he said, hoping it wasn’t apparent how much he relished using his name. “Keep an eye on those clouds, according to Mav, storms can roll up quickly out here.”
“Always such a worry wart,” Hangman said. “I won’t be long behind you, I promise.”
“Good, wouldn’t want you to get sick—”
“Go on, shoo. Otherwise, you won’t have time to talk to the others,” Hangman said, and Bradley was relieved to hear a smile in his voice. He hoped that meant this trip could still be salvaged.
Maverick was lost in thought as he leaned against the porch railing, which was why he almost missed Bradley’s approach. Would have, if Phoenix hadn’t jumped up from the steps and caught his attention. “Rooster,” she called, when he had almost reached her, and Bradley stopped in his tracks.
“Should have known you’d be waiting,” he said, “you can save your apology, if that’s what this is about.”
“What, why? I fucked up, I know that and I’m so—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence, Bradley shook his head with a sharp look that Maverick had seen pointed in his direction for too often for his tastes, and Phoenix cut herself off with a sharp inhale. Bradley closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly getting a handle on his temper. “You’re off the hook,” he said quietly. Maverick had to strain to hear it. “Hangman wants to pretend nothing happened, go back to how we all were before. So you don’t apologize, or bring it up in any way.”
Bradley brushed past her and moved towards the house.
“Roo,” Phoenix said, “no. I want to apologize. I was out of line.”
He spun around and Maverick examined the tension in his kid’s shoulders, the way his hands flexed around the glasses. Hopefully, he didn’t break them, those had been a gift from Sarah.
“Doesn’t matter what you want,” Bradley said, and it sounded like he was speaking around a clenched jaw. “He just wants to forget it happened and that’s what I care about. So I’m going to go inside, wash these glasses, and see if I can help make dinner. Where we’ll all sit and talk and be normal.”
For a long moment, the two best friends stared at each other. Then, Phoenix nodded. “Alright, I won’t bring it up. I promise.”
“Good.” Bradley turned and headed this way.
Maverick waited with his arms crossed, not bothering to pretend he hadn’t been watching the whole time. Bradley climbed the stairs.
“Is he okay?”
“Such a dad,” Bradley huffed. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”
“Good,” he said. He reached out to rest his hand on the back of his neck, pressing a kiss to his forehead when Bradley ducked down out of reflex. An emotion he couldn’t name flickered across Bradley’s face, like he hadn’t consciously decided to do that. Some muscle memory never left it seemed. “I’m proud of you. Him too.”
“Thanks. Think you and the others can manage to not make this awkward?”
“Yeah, sure. You know, she really is sorry,” Maverick said, jerking his chin at where Phoenix was still standing. Her back was to them now, as she looked out over the horizon.
“I know,” Bradley sighed. “Will you. . .”
“I’ll check on her, and keep an eye out for Hangman. The others are probably in the kitchen. Don’t let Ice make a salad, he promised we could have fries with our steak tonight.”
“Steak?”
“Yeah, had planned to use the grill, but if it rains we’ve got a cast iron to cook them inside.”
“Sounds good.” Bradley stepped around him with a small smile, only to stop at the door, one hand on the knob. “Are you going to ask?”
“About whatever happened between you and Hangman?”
“Yeah.”
“Nope, but if you ever want to talk about it. I hope you know I’m here, kiddo.”
He watched some of the tension ease out of Bradley’s frame. “I might take you up on that, sometime. But not today.”
“Anytime, kid. Anytime,” Maverick said, mostly to himself as Bradley disappeared inside.