Chapter Text
It wasn’t his fault. For once, it really wasn’t. He tentatively reached his fingers to his forehead, meeting a warm sticky fluid he was sure wasn’t supposed to be there. The intense pain filling his chest was being replaced by a creeping cold and his blurry vision was turning to a numb but blissful darkness.
Mavs final thought as he lost consciousness - he had really been looking forward to that steak. Oh - and Bradley Bradshaw was going to kill him, if he ever got the chance.
****
Maverick
To be fair, it was a minor miracle (and source of immense pride) that he had never crashed a motorbike in his life. Yep, never. I know right? Planes? Well, that was another matter - and to be fair, a general hazard of the job that had been his life and love for thirty plus years.
Despite what his superiors may have believed, he had never actually set out to crash anything. However, being a naval aviator was not a career you embarked upon if you were risk adverse. Neither was test pilot for a military collab with Lockheed Martin.
Man, he’d loved that plane! He mused, recalling the thrilling adrenalin rush of hitting Mach 10 (10.4 actually) in the Darkstar. The fastest man alive...
He turned onto the long, familiar stretch of the desert road heading home. He twisted the throttle of the Kawasaki, unable to stifle a grin as the torque hit him in all the right places.
The sun was low on the horizon, bathing the desert in the soft orange glow of golden hour. Living in the middle of nowhere definitely had its perks. You wouldn’t be able to do this in the middle of San Diego, he thought as he raced down the empty road the wind in his hair.
He had never been one for conventional living and the old Navy hangar gave him all the space, both mental and physical, he could wish for. It had been nearly two weeks since the mission that had changed everything. At least for him.
He was out. Finito. No more active service Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, U.S Navy. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It had only been a few weeks, he told himself, plenty of time for things to settle in.
As for the Dagger flight group and those involved in the special detachment, most had been sent back to their original postings or rotated onto the next. Phoenix was now in Lemoore with Bob. Hangman, Coyote and Fanboy were somewhere in the Pacific (location classified) and the others scattered to the four winds.
That was about all Mav knew and that much came from Rooster. Those directly involved in the mission were up for commendations, but the cogs of Navy bureaucracy turned more slowly when it came to handing out accolades, who knew? Not that this bothered him in the slightest, already content as the decorated Captain he was.
Speaking of Rooster, Bradley had been given his choice of posting. He could choose anywhere. Back to Japan, halfway across the globe from the bad memories? From him. Maybe even Europe?
He knew Bradley had always wanted to see Paris. He’d taken extended leave for the moment; he had a lot built up, so it was on a semi-voluntary basis. I guess that happens when you don’t have family to visit, and you’re posted halfway across the world. The rest he’d been tight lipped about.
Mav had promised on the carrier they would talk after the mission - and they had talked. They’d talked about pretty much everything at first. The weather, football, politics, even how long Hangman really took to do his hair in the tight ships’ quarters (that one really wasn’t a surprise).
Then, one evening after drinks in the Hard Deck before the others shipped out, it had turned into post-drink-drinks on Penny’s deck with just the two of them and they found themselves both nervously nursing their final beers of the night, both wanting to address it but unsure how to begin to tackle the giant Elephant in the room.
Finally, after copious amounts of alcohol on both sides, they had had it out. All of it, everything that had been building behind the repressive dam of stubbornness and anger that had blazed with unextinguishable fury for 15 years in Bradley Bradshaws mind. It wasn’t easy. For either of them.
There was shouting, a lot of shouting.
There were confessions and heartfelt apologies.
Maybe even a few tears on both sides if he was honest. How do you describe the feeling of finally being forgiven for something which caused a decade long rift?
The mission had made something clear to both of them though. Life was short.
It’s a cliché for sure, but when it comes down to it, it’s a true cliché. They had both lost so much. There had been so much pain, on both sides.
Now it was time to deal with that pain, which was really their shared pain anyway, together; to move forward together, as friends, maybe even as family again? It wasn’t all going to be smooth sailing but they’d both taken giant leaps in the right direction.
One such leap had been Maverick inviting Rooster to stay with him for a while. He had a spare room set up in the back of the hangar and it just made sense so they could start to navigate this new normal between them.
Rooster had agreed, under the proviso that he be allowed to purchase Mav a grill. Which was not the requirement Mav had been expecting.
However, it was made clear to him that it was tantamount to sacrilege to the state of California not to already own one. To be honest he’d been meaning to get one for years, but he was never stateside long enough to justify it.
So, up rocked Rooster with a big grin and a shiny bright red grill tied into the back of the Bronco and a worn khaki duffle containing 95% of his life possessions.
After berating Mav for his total lack of security again (the hangar door was permanently slightly open, despite the expensive contents that lay inside, not least the P-51 Mustang) he had raided Mavs tiny kitchenette.
It didn’t take long to realise that Mavs’ cupboard of ramen noodles was not suitable grilling material. He had been dispatched to the store in search of some suitable prime rib.
To be honest, this sounded pretty damn good with him, and he’d left Rooster to shower and settle into the guest room. Bradley had offered the use of the Bronco, but he’d waved it off. The fridge was full of beer, they just needed the steaks.
So, that was how he found himself on the 45, steaks purchased, enjoying the cooling desert breeze on the return journey. He smiled inwardly; things were finally looking up.
About goddamn time! He thought as the truck came out of nowhere, clipping the rear of the Kawasaki and sending it into a violent spin, launching Maverick skyward.
Rooster
Mav should have been back ages ago, he thought, finding it difficult to sit still on the worn leather chair.
I mean, how long does it take to pick up some steaks?
He’d enjoyed a cool shower, flicked through Guns and Ammo about five times and wandered around the hangar after setting up the grill.
He’d called a few times, but it was just going straight to voicemail, which wasn’t unusual if he was on the road, but that didn’t explain how long he’d been gone.
Checking his watch for the umpteenth time he realised it was now almost 9 pm. Two hours. The store was no more than twenty minutes ride away, thirty tops, and this was Mav, who’d taken the Kawasaki, so yeah - about fifteen or less.
Maybe he caught up with someone in the store? He wondered but quickly dismissed, he’d have sent a text at least and he knew Rooster was waiting for him back at the hangar. Mav wasn’t exactly great with small talk at the best of times and certainly not two hours of it.
A heavy feeling had begun to settle in his stomach, and it wasn’t just hangry.
He thought briefly of ringing Penny, but she was on a sailing trip with Amelia, so this seemed a little pointless. He was about to jump in the Bronco, picking up his keys and the cell to call Mav again, only to find it vibrating in his hand with an incoming call.
“Hello?” he answered slightly warily.
“Is this Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“Do you know a Pete Mitchell?”
He swallowed quickly, the pit in his stomach now filled with lead.
“Yes, he’s uhm.” he paused, not exactly sure what to say “he’s, uh family” he finished, surprised how not weird it felt to say that again.
“Is there a problem?”
“I'm afraid Mr Mitchell was involved in a road traffic collision earlier this evening.”
Oh my god. He knew something was wrong!
He swallowed thickly; his voice suddenly hoarse.
“Is he ok?”
“Can you come down to the hospital?”
“Yes, sure, of course, I’ll be down at once, St Marys?”
Why didn’t she say he was ok? His mind was spinning, the floor felt like it was suddenly shifting under his feet.
“Yes, thankyou Lieutenant.”
The nurse obviously didn’t want to say much more over the phone. What did that mean? Was that a bad sign? Was she not giving out more info for a reason?
“Uh, thanks for calling” he replied hanging up and quickly scrambling for his forgotten wallet on the coffee table.
Goddammit Mav, what have you done now?
Hadn’t they both had enough life and death incidents recently he thought as he fishtailed the Bronco out from the hangar entrance, entirely forgetting about closing the thing behind him. Not now. He couldn’t lose him now. Not like this. Not when they’d just found each other again.
Maverick
At first it was just this slow realisation that everything was hurting. Unfortunately, this wasn’t as uncommon as it should have been - and that wasn’t just because he was pushing Sixty.
Where was he? And oh my god, everything really did hurt. Already sure it was a bad idea, he opened his eyes slowly, pulling the nasal canula away from his face. Ok, so, a hospital. Damn. That was not good.
He was suddenly aware someone was sprawled in the chair next to the bed.
Bradley.
His heart swelled, Bradley was here. He was really here, at his bedside.
It took his sore brain a while to catch up with the events of the last few weeks.
They were talking again. He had Bradley back. He had his godson back. His son back.
This was the best new thing he still had to get used to. Right now, said godson resembled a giant land Octopus that had somehow wrangled himself into one of the standard sized hospital chairs, but he was real - and he was here. It was one of the best sights he’d ever seen.
Memories of all the other times over the last decade when he had woken to no-one but a stone-faced nurse niggled at his consciousness. Ice had also been there a few times, when he could, he tried to reassure himself.
It was never the same.
The heart-swelling comfort of Bradleys presence turned to instant worry. He looked like shit.
“Hey” he managed to croak out, realising he sounded like someone had shoved razors down his throat.
The pile of tangled limbs in the corner was suddenly leaning in towards him.
“Mav, you’re awake.”
His tone was somewhat flatter than he’d imagined it would be.
“So are you, I think?” Mav replied with a small smirk referring to Roosters sleepy face and ruffled hair.
He shifted his bodyweight up in the bed, wincing as he did so but he tried his best to hide it of course. Rooster scrubbed at his face with his hands and tried in vain to flatten the strands of his bed-head hair that were sticking up in all directions.
“Are you ok?” Mav raised an eyebrow at him.
“Am I ok?” Rooster scoffed, looking back at him like he had grown three heads.
“Mav, you got hit by a drunk driver!”
Bradley had somehow mastered the art of both looking entirely exhausted and incredibly angry at the same time. It was still tremendously endearing.
“...He went straight through the stop sign, didn’t even brake apparently” he continued, rising to his feet, “by all rights the doctor said you should be dead!”
There was a brief silence.
Ah, so that explained a few things, but more importantly, how was the Kawasaki? He wondered before Rooster continued, almost reading his mind.
“The bike is completely totalled by the way...”
Well, he shrugged inwardly, he was pretty much his kid, he knew he was going to ask about it.
“Ah, shit! Sorry about the steaks...” Mav remembered, apologetically.
He really was. He’d been looking forward to that all day, as well as spending some quality time with his godson.
“You think, you think I care about the...the fucking steaks?!” Rooster replied, suddenly angry and having to quieten his voice mid-sentence as a disapproving nurse with a trolley trundled past the end of the cubicle.
Rooster turned back to him.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?!” he continued in a low hiss as he walked to pull the cubicle curtain further around them for a modicum of privacy.
It was now the middle of the night, and the rest of the ward was quiet. Rooster retook his seat in the corner, combing his fingers through his hair, exasperated.
“Why are you mad at me?” he asked, confused.
Damn his head was hurting too.
“I’m not mad! - I’m...” Rooster stuttered, struggling to find the words and leaning to rest his elbows on his knees, pressing the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.
“Well, you sound pretty mad...” Mav continued.
He was starting to feel like it was hard to breathe, and he was slightly regretting removing the oxygen.
Rooster began pacing slowly in the cubicle again pinching his nose with his eyes closed. An awkward silence fell between them.
“So, ah, what’s the damage anyways?” he settled on.
Sounding maybe a little too upbeat in light of the situation. Rooster took a moment to reply, retaking his seat.
“Doc says you have four broken ribs, a mild concussion and a laceration of your liver” Rooster breathed out like he had been holding his breath,“and some road rash from when the bike slid, though the jacket took the brunt of it.”
He waved toward the back of the chair where his beloved leather bomber hung, admittedly, it had looked better.
“Damn” he rued quietly.
“Is that damn for you or the jacket?” Roo snarked.
“Both?” he replied, with another smirk.
His head was really starting to kill him, and Rooster was starting to look a little blurry.
“I love that jacket” he mumbled quietly.
“They said you had a close call” Rooster continued, “they were going to operate for the liver laceration but instead they decided its small enough to wait and see.”
Mav nodded meekly.
“Jesus Mav!...” Roo breathed before a long silence once again fell between them.
“I knew I should have gotten you to take the Bronco...” he berated himself quietly before continuing,
“I fucking knew something was wrong, I should have driven out there sooner...”
“Hey, Roo, there’s nothing you could have done” he said softly, “hell, there was nothing I could have done by the sound of it.”
He wasn’t having Rooster think any part of this was because of him.
“They said they think it was at least half an hour before anyone called it in” Rooster continued, “you were just lying there hurt in the middle of the road...”
“What about the guy who hit me?” Mav asked, trying to break up Roosters self-chastising.
“He’s got two broken legs, was trapped in the truck, couldn’t reach his phone apparently” Rooster replied sucking in a breath before continuing, “..dumb fuck was so pissed he probably wouldn’t have been able to dial 911 anyway” he snapped angrily, his fingers balling into fists,“but he’s alive” Roo added, “for now.”
Roosters’ eyes blazed with barely controlled rage.
Mav just nodded quietly.
The soft beep of the heart monitor was the only thing to ring out for several moments until Rooster spoke again.
“You scared me to death, Mav” he said softly, settling in the chair once again and meeting his eyes properly for the first time since Mav had woken.
He continued, “it’s only been...what? Days, really, since the mission.”
Roosters’ eyes were suddenly glassy and his vision far away.
“I’m ok, kid” Mav smiled weakly, “I’ve been through worse”
“Yeah, last fucking week...” Rooster huffed, starting to get worked up again “and while we’re on the subject, why didn’t you tell me you ejected at Mach 10 just before the mission?!”
“Dammit Hondo...” Mav said under his breath, he’d been hoping to keep that one quiet.
“10.4” he mumbled, though unfortunately loud enough for Rooster to hear.
He regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth, but he just couldn’t help himself.
Roo scoffed, “oh, sorry, 10.4” he sing-songed back at him before continuing seriously, “fucking hell Mav, you’re not invincible!”
“I know that Bradley, I don’t intend to get myself hurt you know.” he snapped back.
As if to make that statement sound even more like it was said by a petulant child it was followed by a violent cough that racked through his chest, burning his ribcage and throat.
Rooster was back at his side in a second, worry replacing anger.
He grabbed for the loose oxygen tube behind Mavs’ head and cupping his face, he carefully repositioned it back behind his ears.
“Just. Please” he started, “lie back and let me do this” he waved away Mavs’ hand as he weakly reached up to help.
“Sorry” Mav said quietly, Roosters’ calloused but gentle hands having an instant calming effect on him, his coughs slowly subsiding.
“What in the hell could you possibly be grinning about now?” Rooster said as he sat back and shifted the chair. As if it could get any closer to the bed.
“Nothing” Mav smiled, “it’s just…Nice, that’s all..”
Rooster tilted his head at him, his look a mixture of exasperation and unexpected softness as he found himself absently fixing the sheets covering him.
“What is?”
“You. Being here.”
He coughed again, the pain returning but he still couldn’t shift the smile from his face.
“Yeah?” replied Rooster with a small sigh.
“Well, I was actually looking forward to a steak dinner tonight, but the old man got himself in trouble again and I ended up here” he smiled ruefully.
“Oh yeah? Does that a lot does he?” Mav smirked, raising an eyebrow and playing along.
“Yeah, you could say that, he's a bit of a Maverick” he added.
“A Maverick huh?” Mav scoffed light-heartedly.
“I just wish he’d take better care of himself” Rooster said more seriously, quietly taking Mavs hand in his own, taking the older pilot aback slightly.
“He scared the shit out of me” Roo smiled, the exhaustion back on his face.
“I was just kinda just getting used to having him around again.”
“Oh yeah? Even when you end up in this stellar establishment at 3 am?” Mav gestured, wincing as he pulled his ribs with the movement.
“Well, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now” Rooster shrugged, looking him straight in the eye.
“He means a lot to me.”
Mav felt his heart swell all over again, he went to speak but a soft hand was placed gently on his chest.
“Just rest Mav, its ok” Roo said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Instead, he returned the firm grip on the hand which was still holding his and lay back with a contented sigh closing his eyes.
He wasn’t alone. It was real. He had Bradley back.
Almost better than a steak dinner, almost.
Rooster
He’d somehow eventually managed to drift into sleep in the uncomfortable chair at Mavs bedside.
It had been a whirlwind of information from the doctor and nurses and he swore half of it had gone over his head. He'd just wanted to see Mav.
It had taken what seemed like an age to be directed to where he was, only to find that he wasn’t there when he arrived. Taken for more scans apparently, so he’d tried to control his somersaulting stomach and settled into the chair for an even longer anxious wait.
The adrenalin crash had hit him like a ton of bricks and before he knew it, he was awoken by a soft but unmistakable voice.
“Hey”
“Mav, you’re awake” he replied groggily though his words sounded odd, even to him.
My god it was good to hear that voice. It was rough and gravelly, but it was unmistakably Mav.
His Mav. Alive and Infront of him - in a right state, but alive.
He’d feared, not for the first time in the last month, that he’d never hear it again. He had to stay strong though he told himself.
He wasn’t a thirteen-year-old kid again, he was a grown man now, goddamn it. Mostly, he wanted to throw his arms around the older man and squeeze him until he was thoroughly satisfied he was here and alive.
He was startled out of his musings by Mav though, who was continually surprising him these days. He had offhandedly made some come-back about his dishevelled appearance and he scrubbed his face with his hands, slightly embarrassed to have fallen so deeply asleep.
He tried to flatten the strands of his bed-head hair that were sticking up in all directions.
“Are you ok?”
Mavs face was scrunched into a worried frown and his eyes were anxiously raking him over. He was asking me?!
That was so goddamn Mav…Concerned about him when he was the one lying in the hospital bed. For a minute he was so caught off guard by the comment he was speechless.
He was taken back to the gut-wrenching moment he saw Mav’s F-18 swoop over his canopy, covering him from the SAMs first with his own flares, and then his own plane. He swallowed thickly.
It wasn’t something Rooster was used to these days, feeling these emotions again that he’d buried for years under a thick veil of anger. An anger that was comfortably familiar - and apparently harder to shake off than he realised.
“Am I ok!?”
He didn’t mean it to come out so angry, really, he didn’t, but the worry…the pure fear he’d felt shoot through him when he got that phone call in the hangar was bleeding out in apparently unpredictable ways.
All the way to the hospital, playing back the call with the nurse in his head, why hadn’t she said more? Should he have asked more? What was he going to find when he got there? Should he have called Penny? -
Had he just found him - only to lose him all over again?
He snapped back to the room, Mav looked if anything, slightly confused and maybe even a little disappointed at the lack of emotion in his voice.
Fuck. He was fucking this up, even now.
“Why are you mad at me?” Mav asked.
Yep, he was fucking this up, again.
How did he explain what he was feeling? How did he even begin to put into words that he had been so insanely scared that he had lost him after they had finally reconciled – and to a fucking car accident for fucks sake!
After everything that man had survived…a fucking drunk driver had so nearly taken him out.
He shook his head, managing to choke out some unconvincing reply that he wasn’t mad at him.
Mav was taking all this like it was no big deal, but thinking about the absolute fucking idiot that nearly ended his godfather for good was making his blood boil, again.
“He went straight through the stop sign, didn’t even brake apparently, by all rights the doctor said you should be dead!”
There was a brief silence.
He could almost hear Mav say it, he just knew he was about to ask about the state of the bike. He really loved that Kawasaki.
“The bike is completely totalled by the way...” He added, with a slightly sympathetic shrug in a poor attempt to soften the news.
Mav looked truly gutted.
He began pacing slowly in the cubicle again, trying to contain his emotions and feeling as though they were going to burst uncontrollably out of him at any moment.
He filled Mav in on what the doctor had told him, getting little reaction except when he mentioned his jacket had also become a casualty.
“Damn” Mav rued quietly.
“Is that damn for you or the jacket?” Roo snarked, unable to help himself.
Of course, Mav was more upset about his damn jacket than the state of himself. That was just Mav.
“Jesus Mav!...” he breathed, sitting back down.
He stole a glance at the older man, he was trying to hide it, but he could see he was having difficulty breathing, likely the four broken ribs he mused as he reached over on instinct to replace the oxygen, batting away Mavs hand as he tried pathetically to help him.
He was starting to come down from the adrenalin and the possible outcomes of what had happened and how much worse it could have been, were spiralling in his head.
He should have driven out to find him, he should have…done something.
Mav was looking at him like a wounded puppy.
God, he hated that look, it always got him good when he was younger.
“Roo, there’s nothing you could have done,” he said softly.
Fucking puppy eyes. He still wasn’t letting himself off the hook, whatever Mav said.
“Sorry” Mav said quietly.
He wasn’t sure if he was referring to the crash or to just now. He found himself faffing with Mavs sheets, unable to shake everything.
He looked up to find Mav grinning down at him like a Cheshire cat.
God that grin, he would have missed it so much.
It was just such a window to the mans’ soul. Every time you were subject to it you couldn’t help but feel his love radiating out.
Mav was joking now, coughing like a 90-year-old but he still couldn’t help himself.
He found himself smiling and joking back. It was nice. It was like a relief valve had been loosened in the room and he found his misplaced anger seeping away.
He considered the older man for a moment. God how did he manage it? The man had nine lives and still his first concern was always him. Had it always been? He wondered as he jibed back. He hadn’t thought so, all those years apart, he’d convinced himself that Mav must have hated him by now, surely?
The way he looked at him though, the way his hand twitched and his eyes lit with pleasant surprise as he took his hand gently in his, as though he still felt he didn’t deserve it. As though he was just happy he was there, let alone holding his hand.
It was breaking his heart and he had no idea what to say in return. Instead, he settled for;
“Just rest Mav, its ok. I’m not going anywhere.”
It wasn’t much and it wasn’t half of what he wanted, needed to say, but it would have to do for now.
It seemed to satisfy the older man and he had finally sunk back into the bed and closed his eyes.
He really wasn’t going anywhere, not with this man finally back in his life.
Now he that he had someone to lose again.