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“I have to make it back; my kid's got this exhibition coming up that I need to see.”
Jake only remembered Mav’s intriguing motivation for surviving the mission after they had already returned to shore. At the time he had been too distracted to take much note of the reason itself, or how buck wild the entire concept was, but now that he had more free time than he knew what to do with (courtesy of the leave they had been granted as thanks for a job well done), he had taken to fixating on it in a way that he was kind of embarrassed to acknowledge.
It had been said in the middle of a panic stricken last hurrah the squad had had in the ready room of the carrier the night before the mission had taken place. Everyone had been slightly out of it, bug eyed and anxious, talking about anything and everything they could think of with the hopes of distracting themselves for just a moment longer. Jake had kept himself off to the side – still uncertain about his place in the team after the rollercoaster of an experience their training had been, and too nervous by far about the fact that he might die in the morning to pull off his usual Hangman shtick with any success – so Mav hadn’t even been talking to him directly when he had shown up to reprimand the squad for not being asleep yet.
In hindsight, it seemed paternal instincts had driven him seek them out like that in the first place, which he had to have learnt from somewhere.
But still.
It was weird to think about him caring that much.
Someone (Jake hadn’t noted who thanks to his efforts to pretend like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation) asked Mav what motivated him, and boom, bombshell dropped, gaping faces staring back at him. He had told them to get some rest and then disappeared like nothing happened.
The mission took precedence then, and in the following days recovery had been a priority, so it made sense to Jake why his brain took so long to circle back to what was in actual fact a pretty big fucking deal.
In no particular order, the points Jake was struggling to come to terms with included:
Mav having a living, breathing child out in the world, just hanging around waiting for their dad to return from a suicide mission.
There being some kind of exhibition that Mav had deemed important enough to dodge death for, and that he hadn’t elaborated on the contents of that event in any way, shape, or form as yet.
Some woman having made an active decision to procreate with Mav, or the state being delusional enough to have approved him for adoption, or whatever other frankly mind-boggling scenario that had left him with a kid.
Mav’s priorities, which were questionable at best on a good day, and the fact that surviving the mission just because he hadn’t wanted to die hadn’t topped the list.
No insight having been given as to when or where said exhibition was taking place, leaving Jake stuck in a confusing loop of wanting it to have already happened so he could move on with his life, and hoping it hadn’t so that there was at least a miniscule possibility he might be offered an invite to attend and get at least some answers to satisfy his ever-growing sense of curiosity.
Oh, and just in case it hadn't already been mentioned, the fact that Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was literally a father.
Safe to say Jake didn’t have a lot going on in terms of mental stimulation throughout the first week of his leave and, since most of the squad had already decided to fuck off home or elsewhere on holiday, his prospects for that changing any time soon weren’t looking all that positive.
Sue him, thinking about this helped him avoid facing his own problems.
It was one of those mystery scenarios he assumed he would never hear more about unless he ever dug up enough courage to ask Mav directly – which, yeah, not happening – so Jake had tried to resign himself to getting lost in other distractions.
That is, until the universe decided to shine a light on him and his inexplicable problem in a way that truly had him believing in guardian angels for the first time in his life. And yes, he was aware of the irony, considering that this situation came off the back of a week where he had been put into countless near-death experiences just for the navy's entertainment. Go figure.
He and Javy had been hanging out in the Hard Deck, enjoying their last night together before Javy headed off to Austin to reunite with his girlfriend (he would have left sooner if not for the guilt he admitted he had been feeling about leaving Jake on his own, since Jake was unwilling to third-wheel, as well as the fact that Amanda had a schedule busy enough to rival theirs and had instructed Javy to organise his visit accordingly). Jake was happy for him in that perpetually single at least not everybody's on their own kind of way. Besides, Amanda was a Saint so it was hard not to love her, and Jake refused to accept Javy's pity, no matter how deserved it might be, so he had been resigned to his situation with as little complaining as possible.
Nevertheless, he was staring down the barrel of two and a half weeks of alone time until the squad returned for the end of leave get-together they had planned, and he wasn't looking all that forward to it. Then, boom, yet again enter Maverick: “if you've got nothing better to do Saturday night you should come to my kid’s thing. He’s worried no one will show up, so the more people I can convince to come the better.” Mic drop, off he fucking disappeared again.
It was like he wanted to give Jake an aneurysm out of sheer frustration at the lack of information he was sharing.
Jake was one question down (date confirmed, time and place as yet unknown), but a million more had sprouted in its place and he still had another few days to fill before he had any hope of understanding a single goddamn thing.
***
The time turned out to be early evening, the venue an upscale art gallery in the centre of San Diego.
It was so far from what Jake had been expecting he had to triple check the details Mav had texted him before going inside just to reassure himself that he was in the right place.
Not even a full day after that half-assed invitation at the bar, Mav had dropped him a series of texts getting increasingly closer to begging him to show up because Bradley (his kid’s name being another juicy gem of information Mav had unwittingly offered up in the middle of said texting) was putting a lot of pressure on himself for this event to be successful. Apparently, the more people they could confirm would be going the less stressed he would be.
In all, Jake had made a few assumptions.
First and foremost, that Bradley had to be young, surely, if the insecurity Jake was picking up on through Mav's texting was anything to go by. And secondly, that it was some kind of artsy event, maybe a performance of some kind if he was truly unlucky. A dark, evil voice at the back of his mind whispered that Mav was setting him up to suffer through torture in the form of something like am-dram or improv, and Jake had whiled away a few hours considering all the nasty ways he would dispose of Mav’s body should those thoughts ever become reality. On the back of this line of thinking, Jake had believed the address he was given would take him to maybe a community centre, or theatre, or pretty much anything but the swanky gallery that he ended up walking into behind a handful of dolled up socialites he prayed he would never have to talk to.
Thank fuck Mav had had the foresight to tell him to dress fancy.
Not black tie, but presentable were the instructions he had been given. Jake had taken it rather literally, opting for black slacks and a maroon button up he had been told on multiple occasions he looked stunning in with the way it contrasted against his skin. He felt good, too good really considering everything that had happened over the last few weeks. With how pleasantly surprised this evening had already left him, Jake found himself getting more excited than he usually would be for what was shaping up to be a pretty standard fine-art exhibition.
Jake knew planes, not art. But that wouldn’t stop him from making the most it. Especially not when he had already made suggestive eye contact with a number of interested parties as he made his way inside. It felt like it would be a successful evening.
And not just for Jake.
He could already tell Bradley had had nothing to worry about. There were dozens of people milling around waiting for the event to officially begin and more still arriving. Jake found himself relieved on behalf of the guy, even though he didn’t know him. Mav’s anxiety about the whole thing has evidently been more infectious than Jake had anticipated.
Jake found himself walking into an oversized foyer, accepting a small leaflet with information about the event on it from the statuesque woman handing them out as he passed her by. Large double doors stood shut at the far end of the room with a velvet rope decoratively placed before them, indicating that this was where the real show would be taking place.
That didn’t mean there wasn’t work on display for guests to appreciate whilst they were waiting however. The lighting was soft, lending the atmosphere a greater sense of intimacy, with small spotlights dotted around to highlight the works which Jake assumed were being featured. Nothing of note particularly took his interest as he surveyed his surroundings, but he supposed that was to be expected when this was just the appetiser.
Mav had told him he would already be there by the time Jake arrived, and that he’d come find him when he could. At the risk of looking out of place, Jake made for the small bar in the corner of the room, more from a desire to have something to do with his hands than because he actually needed a drink to get through this. There weren’t many people gathered around it yet, so the wait was blessedly short.
Jake’s attention snagged on the guy leaning backwards against the counter surveying the rest of the room as he stepped up to order, curiosity winning over his irritation at how in the way he was. He attracted enough attention, to make him worth looking at twice… or more than that. Jesus. Now that Jake was giving him due consideration, everyone else he had seen tonight had become beige and forgettable. Flouting the dress code with an obnoxious red Hawaiian shirt, soft doe-like eyes which had an edge of steel behind them that Jake was already obsessed with, arrogance in spades as he very blatantly gave Jake a once over whilst he waited for his drink.
“Put that one on my tab, Raj.”
If nothing else, his forwardness was doing all kinds of good things for Jake.
The bartender (Raj, apparently, though he had no name tag so Jake was interested to find out how this guy knew it) placed the whiskey Jake had ordered in front of him with a raised eyebrow at the guy and a soft “got it,” nodding to Jake as he moved to serve someone at the other end of the bar.
Jake picked up the glass, swirled the liquid around, took a sip, fixed his most indifferent smirk on his face (lest he come across too easy), and finally turned to tip an imaginary hat in the guy’s direction with a proper Southern intonation in his voice as he said, “much obliged.”
The guy hummed with what seemed like a knowing smile. “So, how gently do I need to do this?”
God, Mav would be getting a massive thank you for dragging Jake to this event when he finally found him. The course of the evening had just taken a thrilling turn. Though they were already stood closer than technically appropriate for polite company, Jake leant in further still for the sake of being able to whisper in his ear.
“Be as rough as you want darlin’.”
Jake swallowed back a smirk at the way that made the guy shiver, still trying to maintain that air of indifference.
“You’re just like a dream come true, aren’t you?”
“Pleasure to be of service.”
The guy’s eyes flickered from Jake’s face to a point over his shoulder, and back again with a shameless grin. “Raj’s about three seconds from hosing me down.”
“Oh yeah?” Jake didn’t bother looking away to check what was happening behind him, “Raj someone I need to be worried about?”
“Nah, swings the wrong way for starters.”
“Good. I don’t like sharing.”
The guy’s gaze raked over Jake again, lingering at the base of his throat where the top button of his shirt was open.
“Me either.”
The guy snagged Jake’s glass from his hand and straightened to put a small measure of distance between them, for propriety’s sake if Jake had to guess, and took a sip himself, appearing to enjoy the lack of reaction from Jake as he just tilted his head to watch what he was going to do next.
“So, what brings you here tonight?” Jake raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the attempt at small talk as he silently enquired whether or not that was obvious. The guy rolled his eyes looking anything but bothered. “Don’t be difficult. Is it the art, or are your motives more interesting than that?”
“I’m here as a favour.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“There’s really not that much to it, the artist is my CO’s kid. I was all but ordered to cancel my plans for the evening because they were worried no one would show.”
In the most flattering way, Jake hadn’t thought it possible for the guy to look any more fascinated by him, but it turned out he could. “Not sure whether to be impressed by the dedication to your job, or feel a little bad you got roped into this.”
Jake chuckled, now that the initial intensity of their conversation had started to die back – not lost, he hoped, but simmering below the surface until a more suitable time when it could be revisited with the proper dedication it deserved – it turned out this guy was quite sweet.
“It’s neither, really,” Jake shrugged as the guy hummed in response. “He saved my life, least I can do is help keep his kid happy.” The guy’s eyebrows raised with evident surprise and Jake found himself more grateful than ever for the air of mystique his career afforded him. “Besides, I have a feeling it’ll be a pretty successful evening,” Jake paused just long enough for a little heat to slip back into the guy’s gaze as he considered what Jake was implying, before looking around them and adding, “turns out they had nothing to worry about.”
Jake grinned at the sight of the slight flush starting to show on the guy’s cheeks, wondering how much further he would have to push before it started spreading elsewhere. As he mimicked Jake's glance around the room however, a frown flickered across his face, as if he had only just registered how many more people had arrived while they had been otherwise preoccupied.
“I think you might be onto something there,” he said as he took another sip of what had once been Jake’s drink and checked his watch, frowning again as he saw whatever the time was. Jake opened his mouth to return the courtesy of asking what brought him here, eager to continue their conversation, when the guy turned to signal Raj’s attention. “Would you get…”
“Jake.”
“Would you get Jake here,” the guy flashed Jake a smile as he said his name like it was something precious, “another drink please? He seems to have lost his.”
Though he looked less than impressed, Raj did as he was asked.
Jake felt a little stupefied by the change in direction again, part of him grating at the fact that he had so quickly lost control of the situation and the another part wildly excited by how well the guy was handling him.
The guy edged closer before any real frustration could set in, lifted Jake’s chin with a hooked a finger, and murmured, “there’s something I have to go do. Come find me later?”
Jake nodded, unwilling to speak lest his voice betray him.
The guy disappeared off into the crowd while Jake was left wondering what the fuck had just happened. A glass hit the counter beside him, startling him out of his introspection. Jake’s eyes snapped up to see Raj studying him with a look which felt like a mixture of pitying and assessing.
“He does that with all the girls, doesn’t he?”
Raj, to his credit, laughed, breaking out of whatever judgemental spell he’d been under. “No. I’m trying to work out what makes you special.”
Jake couldn’t say he’d been expecting that response, but he was anything but disappointed by it. He offered Raj a wink as he picked up the glass, and raised it in thanks before stepping away from the bar to circle around the room, take in some of the work on display, and ostensibly search for where the guy had disappeared off to. Jake hadn’t thought the red of his shirt could be lost so easily, but it was almost like he’d imagined him for all the signs there were that he existed now.
Mav found him whilst he was trying to puzzle out the point of a painting made up of overlapping squares in varying shades of grey. Slapping his shoulder, he greeted him with a wide grin, “Hangman, good to see you.”
“Is this Bradley’s?” Jake asked with a gesture at the painting.
Mav gave him an odd look, presumably at the lack of greeting mixed with such a blunt non-sequitur, but checked the wall and pointed out the label affixed to the wall beneath it which listed the name of a different artist, alongside the title of the painting, and what must have been some kind of explanation for what had inspired it to be created.
“His stuff is in the other room, we’re about to kick off now.”
“Right, it’s just- am I missing something? Is this supposed to be good?”
“Hell if I know kid,” Mav patted his shoulder, prompting him to follow as they posted up in a prime position just to the side of the main doors, “your guess is as good as mine.”
“Real helpful Mav.”
“Honestly, I know shit about art. This is Bradley’s world, I’m just here to be supportive.”
Jake considered it and, yeah, that about summed up how he was feeling. “Cheers to that,” he said, clinking his glass against Mav’s and chuckling at the shared look between them. He was grateful for the comradery more than anything. At least he wasn’t the only one here tonight completely out of his depth.
There was a noticeable lull in conversation, as if some invisible signal had been given, and the doors opened to reveal the guy stepping forwards to a wave of applause. The. Guy. The one Jake was convinced he had already dreamed about riding off into the sunset with.
His attitude now seemed demure in a way Jake hadn’t thought he would be capable of based on their earlier conversation.
Gone was the cockiness, the assuredness, the sense of belonging.
In its place an unfounded level of hesitance that Jake would have been entertained to see if it hadn’t already triggered an inscrutable urge within him to go whisper platitudes in his ear until he started believing in himself again.
The guy, Bradley – Jake’s mind was lagging over putting that connection together just because he’d made so many incorrect assumptions about what Mav’s son would be like and he was now struggling to reconcile that with the reality in front of him – murmured out a greeting, stumbled his way through an introduction for his work, and offered some acknowledgements and thanks, before stepping aside to allow his guests to enter the room before him.
Jake couldn’t lie to himself and pretend he had more than a vague understanding of what Bradley had said, too busy calculating all the different ways this evening could end up being incredibly humiliating for him. The biggest concern of all being how dead he would be should Mav get even an inkling about the type of unsavoury thoughts which had been running though his mind since the second he had met Bradley.
Following Mav’s lead, Jake wandered into the exhibition space, hyperaware at every moment of his proximity to Bradley as he started networking like the good artist he was supposed to be.
The room itself was worthy of attention. More than Jake was able to give it. His preoccupation with the artist did the work a disservice it didn’t truly deserve. At least at first. Mav stopped him in front of the stand dominating the centre of the room. It had a large sculpture on it, breath-taking, in a way that made Jake start to think he might understand a little more what art was about.
“It’s made out of plane parts.” Mav said, chuckling as Jake’s head snapped to look at him. “They all are. He scavenges all the spares I don’t have any need for every time he visits my hangar.”
It was a plane. A fighter jet. A delicate, metallic sculpture of an F-16, replicated out of what Jake could now tell was a mismatch of parts from different aircrafts. It was intricately crafted with such minute attention to detail Jake couldn’t fathom how long it must have taken to create. This one was the largest in the room, the pièce de resistance, drawing the crowd’s attention as they contemplated Bradley’s efforts. The way it was displayed on the stand, it looked like it was mid take-off with its nose pointed to the ceiling. There was a fluidity to the structure from where some of the larger panels had been warped and manipulated to lend weight to the illusion of it setting off into the air.
“It’s so detailed.”
Pride beamed out of Mav in a way Jake might have felt jealous of if he thought about it for too long.
“C’mon, my favourite part’s over here,” Mav directed him towards one the of the far corners of the room.
Jake made an effort to actually pay attention to his surroundings a bit more, taking in the litany of sketches, photographs and mechanical diagrams covering the walls, as they passed them. Design concepts and reference points, he assumed. There were more of those small labels beneath each artfully displayed cluster which would probably have provided further clarification on Bradley’s process, but Mav didn’t allow him to linger long enough to check.
Before Mav had even stopped moving, Jake understood. The corner he had led Jake to was filled with creativity. Wire structures in all sorts of styles hung from the ceiling at varying heights, each of them depicting a different aircraft with that same level of careful construction Jake assumed must be Bradley’s trademark. Mav stood at the centre of the display surrounded by the small models, a quizzical grin on his face as he waited for Jake’s reaction.
“I have to admit this is not what I was expecting when you asked me to come here tonight.”
“In a good way?”
“Bradley’s definitely found his niche.” Jake stepped up to what he had recognised as a tiny F-14 and smiled, “how is it this looks in better shape than the one we flew in?”
Mav rolled his eyes, refusing to take the bait about criticising the museum piece that had saved their lives during the mission. “The fighter jets are his favourites to make, he has dozens of these at his studio just littered about the place.”
“He’s very talented.” Jake smiled at the way Mav lit up at the complement again, wishing he could say so to the artist himself.
“Been drawing them since he was about yay high,” Mav held out a hand just below his knee, “used to sneak him on base sometimes and he’d sit there for hours watching the jets take-off just surrounded by sketches.” Jake could picture the sight and a wave of fondness swept through him. “That’s why he was so worried about tonight.”
Yeah, that was something Jake could understand. If it had been such a big part of his life for so long… Jake could only imagine the pressure Bradley had put himself under to ensure this all went off without a hitch. He looked around himself again – taking in the animated way most people were responding to the exhibits, the low-level chatter thrumming through the room, the fact that Bradley was still engulfed by people waiting for a chance to speak with him – inordinately pleased on his behalf that things appeared to be going well.
Jake split with Mav soon after that, heading off on his own to take it all in, wondering if the art might give him any more insight about the man behind its creation. At times he was able to overhear conversations from other attendees, sometimes confused by the criticisms they were making because of the excessive use of terminology, as if they were just trying to sound smarter than they really were, but mostly overjoyed by their appreciation of Bradley’s work.
He was staring at a canvas on the back wall when Bradley found him a couple of hours later, contemplating the mastery Bradley had over each of the different mediums he had applied himself to. It was abstract (at least that was the word he heard someone else use to describe it), a smorgasbord of lines and colours that somehow gave off the vague impression of a plane in flight. Jake had never been one for creativity, he wasn’t quite able to relate to the depth of imagination it must have taken Bradley to put together this one piece, let alone the entire exhibition, and had been trying to form some kind of impression beyond that of vague appreciation, so that when this moment came, he would be able to wow Bradley with some insightful commentary. In the end however, all he was able to do was smirk at the hopeful way he looked at him.
“Colour me impressed, Bradley.”
“You like?”
“I do.” part of Jake had worried Bradley might get bored with him if he wasn’t able to make some witty remark about the quality of his work, but he was relieved to see he just looked pleased with his honesty. “Good night?”
Bradley huffed out a laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe it, as he said, “yeah, it’s been amazing. Managed to make some sales, and lined up some commissions, so…” he trailed off, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“People have been buying stuff?”
“That’s, uh, kind of the point.”
“Right, duh.” Jake scraped a hand through his hair as he realised how out of his depth he was. “Honestly, you could tell me anything was going on and I’d believe you. I know shit about art.”
“You sound just like Mav.”
“I never want to hear you say that again.”
Bradley laughed and held up his hands as if conceding the point, “can I get you another drink?”
“No, I-”
“Oh,” Bradley’s face fell as he cut Jake off, before he could finish his sentence. He had the audacity to look awkward like he thought he might have misread the situation. “Okay.”
Jake rolled his eyes at him, “it’s my turn, dumbass, you got the last one.” He grabbed Bradley’s hand and pulled him towards the bar. “Besides, it’s your night. It’d be bad form if I didn’t buy you a drink at some point.”
“You know, there are nicer ways of doing that,” Bradley said, but Jake could tell from his tone he was teasing.
They were nearing the bar by that point so Jake signalled to Raj, who looked pained by the sight of them standing together again but nodded to acknowledge the order. Jake had put together by this point that they must be friends, or at least know each other well enough for him not to take offence to that reaction.
He turned back to Bradley once he was done to ask, “you want nice?”
“Absolutely not.” Glasses thunked down between them. “Raj might appreciate it though.”
“Fair enough,” Jake said, feigning innocence for the time being. “Do you have much left to do tonight?”
“Just some tidying up once everyone’s gone.”
Jake grinned, aware that there weren’t that many people left around them, “we don’t have to make Raj suffer for much longer then?”
Any response Bradley was about to make was cut off by Mav’s arrival, “glad to see you guys found each other.”
Jake tried not to begrudge his presence, and ignored the mocking look Raj gave them as he dropped off a drink for Mav too, listening in as father and son caught up. They both made an effort to include Jake in the conversation, which he appreciated, but there was only so much he could contribute when he was missing a lot of the context they had about the work that had gone into this evening. Not that it was all that necessary anyway, Bradley seemed to be trying his very best to get rid of Mav sooner rather than later.
It took longer than Jake would have guessed it would for him to pick up on how much he was third wheeling. In fact, Jake was quite disappointed by how unsubtle he ended up having to get for Mav to finally take the hint.
“So, are you telling me I won’t get to channel my inner French girl then?” Jake asked after Bradley admitted that portraits weren’t really his thing. By that point, the gallery had emptied apart from the four of them, and most of the tidying Bradley had mentioned was long since done. Raj, stacking the last of the used glasses in the dish washer, almost choked in his attempt to not react. Mav frowned at him with confusion that only cleared up once he clocked the look on Bradley’s face. While Bradley, for his part, went very still, the lust in his eyes warring with his evident amusement at how brazen Jake had gotten. He unfroze enough to raise an eyebrow at Jake as if to say really?, and Jake shrugged in response, trying to convey to Bradley that nothing he had been doing was working and that it wasn't Jake's fault he had had to step in, before adding, “or just that you need more practice?”
Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but Mav was faster. “I don’t want to be here when you answer that question.”
“I second that,” Raj said as he dug a set of keys out of his pocket to throw at Bradley. “Don’t forget to lock up, dickhead,” he added before scuttling out of the door behind Mav without a backwards glance.
Jake liked to think he would have felt ashamed of his actions if not for the triumphant look on Bradley’s face now that they were alone. As it was, he just sauntered towards the door, full of confidence about where this was headed. Bradley caught Jake just before he could grab the door handle, spinning him around to crowd him up against it, all consuming and dominating, too eager by far to wait for anything to happen until after they had left the gallery.