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Bradley knew the second he got the call for the special detachment that Jake Seresin would be waiting for him in the Hard Deck.
He readied himself to make an entrance, a late one at that, dressed to the nines in the shirt he knew Jake hated the most. He resisted the urge to hide behind his hands, to shut his eyes and count to ten, willing his innermost confidence as Phoenix called him over. He was glad she’d been called too, though not very surprised.
Despite his thankfulness for her being there, he could barely listen to what she was saying as her game of pool closed up and another one of the young naval pilots took her place. The Hard Deck was as busy as Bradley had always remembered it to be, Penny just as warm and friendly. She seemed slightly apprehensive when he’d waved over at her, but he pinned it to the streams of Top Gun and USNA graduated pilots walking through the door.
Bradley didn’t look around for Jake. They’d have their greeting soon enough; he was certain the other aviator was in the bar since Jake had always been the best of the two of them. He’d been missing from Bradley's portion of the world for so long that it ached to be once again in a space they’d shared for so many years, so many photos taken without Jake in them. Despite it all, he remembered every inch of Jake’s face, from his dimples when he smirked in that irritating, grating way to the thin scar along his shoulder.
Leaning back, Bradley watched the other pilots enthuse in their game distantly. If Jake was in town with all the aviators left alive and active, like he undoubtedly was, that meant they’d collected the best of the best for the special detachment. Despite the nonchalance of his peers, Bradley felt sick to the stomach with dread. The Navy had brought all of them into town, which only meant that whatever they were facing up against would be dangerous. Extremely dangerous.
He wasn’t sure he could work well with Jake trying to kill himself up in the air. Yet, he didn’t dare turn around and leave. They were sharing the same air for the first time in eleven months, and it only made him miss Jake more.
The first notes of Slow Ride felt like a punch in the gut, and Bradley almost keeled over when Jake sauntered around the pool table biting his lip like it didn’t burn to be all those few feet away. There was a strange inflammation of emotion within Bradley: the terror, the joy, the pain. He remembered feeling something similar when he’d burned all of the things Jake had neglected to take from his apartment: clothes he’d known the aviator loved most, photos and decor and the bottle of whiskey he’d bought for a date night that never came.
“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” The grief in his chest turned to embers in his throat.
“Hangman, you look… good.” Fondness burned its way into his voice.
“I am good. I’m very good.” Flames danced between them, drawing them closer together. “In fact, I’m too good to be true.”
Bradley lost track of how much he drank, but he knew it was far too much by the looks that Phoenix had been giving him from when he closed up his little musical act to when he had to stumble out onto the beach for fresh air.
Whether she knew it or not, he’d noticed her guarding him from Jake all night. Bradley picked up on Coyote doing the same thing for his own friend, but he didn’t have the same energy to instigate things as Jake did. It felt a little cold that he seemed to get the harsher hand, Natasha only sending warning looks whilst Javy seemed to physically become a barrier occasionally. Whatever Jake must’ve said in those eleven months had to be bad.
Sighing, Bradley rolled up the legs of his jeans, kicked off his shoes and sat at the beach far enough away from the Hard Deck that the busyness became only a hum. The tide was slowly crawling in, the rhythmic push and pull of the waves soothing to watch.
“You’re a fool.”
Bradley’s head whipped in the direction of the voice, loud and clear enough to be deliberately heard by him. There was no one else on the sands, not apart from himself and Jake Seresin, arms crossed over his chest as slow shivers broke out over his skin. Bradley ached to wrap him up but he’d drank too much to have a reasonable grip on his senses, so he stayed put.
“Oh yeah?” The voice he recognised as his own sounded mostly just tired. Jake rolled his eyes, visible even from a distance, and marched over to where Bradley still sat shell-shocked. He dropped onto the sand beside him, just a few inches away, smelling strong of tequila. At least they were both drunk.
“Phoenix apologised on your behalf. For tonight, not for…” Jake didn’t finish his sentence. Bradley couldn’t look at him anymore, or else he might’ve burned up entirely.
“I can do that myself.”
The other man laughed, sounding sweet and glorious. He was leaning back on his hands, the inches between them growing tight enough that Bradley could feel the warmth of his body. “No, you can’t. You’ve never been able to before, and that didn’t sound much like an apology, did it?”
Bradley shut his eyes as tight as he could and dragged one of his hands across the sand, feeling each grain before he felt fingers under his own. Jake didn’t pull away when he’d expected him to, letting Bradley slowly slot their fingers together. He’d always been good at putting Bradley in his place. “I am sorry, but not just for tonight.”
—
Mornings were always Bradley’s least favourite part of the day, no matter the situation, which meant it wasn’t easy for him to consider one to be a best. Yet, waking to warmth along the side of his body, a head on his chest, a hand drawing patterns over his sternum had to be the best feeling he'd ever experienced.
Even in a drunken morning stupor, Bradley knew who he was with. He knew he’d never take anyone else. But seeing an expanse of tan skin, blonde hair, and a thin scar along a shoulder blade put out the insistent flames of grief he’d felt for eleven months.
Jake glanced up at him, smiling wide with those dimples. “As I live and breathe.”