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He hadn’t been searching for them. He just found them by accident.
Ever since the mission, Bradley had been staying at Mav’s hangar; wanting to spend as much time with the older man as possible. Try and repair—make better—their relationship that had been practically non-existent for too many years thanks to their joint ability to not talk about things like goddamn adults.
Things had been okay. They were talking which was a start.
But the easiness that had been there when he was a child was missing. Bradley knows they’re different people—have been through too much not to be—and it’ll take time, but he’s worried that they won’t get back to that synchronicity that meant Mav used to be his favourite person to be with.
He still was.
But there was an invisible wall between them; something that was stopping them from being as close as possible.
And Bradley knows part of that is his fault.
It’s hard to get back to the platonic simplicity of before, when Bradley was nearly full blown in love with Mav.
He’d thought he’d gotten over him; putting the old adage of Absence makes the heart grow fonder to the test, and hoping it would prove wrong and he’d stop feeling so fucking fond of the insane pilot.
But as soon as he’d seen Mav again when he’d walked into their makeshift class room on the carrier, and seen those green eyes that he’d happily get lost in, and the handsome face that had aged like a fine wine; he’d known he’d had no hope.
Not that he hadn’t fought it, because he had. Channelling an anger he didn’t really feel anymore in the hopes of not having his heart broken again by letting Mav too close, but then the dumbass had gone and sacrificed himself; taking a missile that was meant for Bradley.
And Bradley had realised with a sudden, heart-wrenching clarity that Bradley would never get the chance to change his mind and wrap his arms around the man again, if Mav wasn’t alive for him to do it in the first place. So, he’d gone against orders and gone back for Mav, because whilst Mav might have made a mistake all those years ago; he’d only ever wanted Bradley alive and safe.
And Bradley couldn’t be angry at him for that.
Not anymore.
He’s not even sure now he ever truly had been. He’d just been upset that Mav had pulled his papers behind his back, and never told him why—because he never fully believed the ‘you’re not ready’ spiel. Not after Mav had spent every waking moment prior to that telling Bradley he could do anything he believed in; cheering him on from the stands at his baseball games, teaching him how to drive a car and a bike, paying for piano lessons, and taking him up amongst the clouds as soon as Bradley was big enough to safely fit in a cockpit.
As soon as they’d landed back on the carrier, Bradley hadn’t wanted to let him go; and because Mav had the biggest heart of anyone Bradley has known—a heart Bradley had realised way too late had been broken in half when Bradley had kicked him out all those years ago, just like his own—he’d happily let Bradley practically move in with him out in the middle of Mojave desert.
But, just because they were talking, and working on the P-51 Mustang together, and laughing and talking some more as they looked up at the stars, the night washing over them; didn’t mean that Mav was going to accept that Bradley no longer saw him as Uncle Mav. Had stopped seeing him that way when he was 16.
So, although they talked, they didn’t talk.
Not about the important things.
Bradley hadn’t asked again why Mav pulled his papers; felt like it would be almost rude to ask, after Mav had saved his life without hesitation. He’d forgiven him anyway, so it’s not like it mattered anymore. There was just that little niggle that was stopping him from getting closure.
And they didn’t talk about Bradley’s lingering looks as Mav wiped his face on the bottom of his t-shirt; exposing his abs and belly fuzz that made his mouth go dry. Or the charged silences that sometimes filled the hangar as they sat close to each other on the sofa and watched some crappy movie.
They were trying to do better, but years of bad habits and not-communicating were hard to break.
Which is how Bradley ended up snooping whilst Mav was out running some errand and had come across a box on one of the top shelves. Snooping to see if he could learn new things about the man who had fascinated him his whole life, and that Mav would probably consider boring or not worth mentioning, but to Bradley, were like nuggets of gold in the wet mud of a river bank. Considering its height—and Mav’s—he thought the box would’ve been dustier; tucked away and forgotten over the years. But it only had a thin coating of dust on it, like it had been opened some point in the last couple of months.
Bradley huffed out a laugh imagining Mav climbing on the side to reach it, and putting it back there; like the effort it took to get it down was part of the reason it was up there in the first place. Having it on a lower shelf would make it too easy to get to, and whatever was in there wasn’t easy.
When he took the lid off he knew he was right.
Because seeing a bunch of unposted letters with his own name on; written in Mav’s chicken scratch scrawl…yeah there’s nothing easy about that.
There was a whole bunch of them; envelopes in various stages of yellowing as time and no doubt various house moves had ravaged the previous pristine white of the paper. He walks in a daze to the sofa and falls back against the cushions, the box bumping against his thighs as his hands shake with the realisation of what he’s holding.
Taking them out carefully, he runs his fingers over the front of the top envelope—barely damaged and looking nearly new—and down over the sides until he feels the slight brittleness to the one at the bottom. The oldest one.
Flipping them over so the oldest letter is on the top, he opens it carefully. The envelope wasn’t sealed, so the folded paper slides out easily.
Taking a breath he opens it and swallows seeing it dated the day after he told Mav to leave and never come back.
July 2001
Dear Baby Goose Bradley,
I’m so sorry. More sorry than you’ll ever know.
It’s only been a day and I miss you like mad. I know I fucked up and I’ll never be able to take it back.
Just know I never meant to hurt you.
I know you need some space, so I’ll give it to you. I won’t mess up again. I promise.
Just know I’m sorry.
I hope you let me talk to you soon.
Love, Mav
Fuck. Bradley sniffed back tears. He could feel the pain and heartache that had seeped into Mav’s words as he wrote. The ink stains and crossed through sentences. The dried watermarks that Bradley was certain were from tears that Mav had been unable to stop from falling. In his own torment he hadn’t realised how badly Mav had suffered when he’d told him to leave and not come back.
Mav had always said the Bradshaws were his family, and by that point it had just been Bradley left. And he’d told Mav to go. And he hadn’t bothered reaching out in the years in between.
Neither had Mav, but then he’d assumed any attempt to contact him would be met with rejection from Bradley, because Bradley hadn’t suggested otherwise.
And yet still, one of the first things Mav had done after being kicked out of the house he’d come to think of as home after 18 years, had been to write down his feelings. The most emotional stunted man Bradley had ever met (even more so than himself) had poured out his heart to Bradley on paper, and the evidence was in his hand. 18 years later.
He carefully folded it back up and opened the next and the next and the next—
August 2001
Dear Baby Goose Bradley,
I know you said not to contact you, but it’s been a month and I just want to know you’re okay. I hear you’re going to be a pilot anyway—going the route I took. I knew that was always going to be an option, and I figured if I only pulled your papers, you’d still have that way open to you, and you….you wouldn’t hate me so much.
Shows what I know huh?
All I wanted was a bit more time where you weren’t going to be sent out on missions where I couldn’t protect you. I guess I couldn’t handle you growing up. Because if you grew up to become a man, then you’d no longer have the childish innocence that would blind you to my faults (and we both know there are many), and I wouldn’t lose you. Because I lose everyone.
I wouldn’t lose my Baby Bird who would have no more need for me. No 18, 19, 20-year-old needs their Uncle Mav around. And I knew the end was coming because you stopped calling me Uncle Mav when you turned 16. I just wanted more time with you on the ground before I lost you to the skies—where I could maybe lose you forever. And I know the irony because I lost you anyway.
And I know I’m a hypocrite because I get in the cockpit of a plane and I fly like I’m courting death itself, but I’m nothing compared to you.
I’m nothing without the people who make me great, and you have always been one of those people.
I’m just sorry I let you down.
I hope one day soon I can tell you this in person.
I’m so proud of you, Bradley. I know you’ll be a brilliant pilot.
Love, Mav.
March 2002
Dear Bab Bradley,
I thought of you today. Jerry Lee Lewis came on the radio and I thought about your dad playing the piano and belting it out even though he wasn’t the best singer (like I can talk), and your mom sitting on his lap and you smiling and clapping along. And then you learning how to play, just like him, and you’re so talented, Bradley. You could’ve been a concert pianist if you wanted to.
You always lit up a room whenever you played.
I loved watching you.
I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.
I always am.
Love, Mav.
January 2003
Dear Bradley,
Start of a new year, huh? Another year alone.
Try not to break all the girls and boys’ hearts when you kiss them at midnight. I know you always thought you were gonna be the ‘ugly, pudgy’ kid forever, but I know you’re gonna be a looker, if you’re not already.
Not that you care what this old man thinks, and why should you? I let you down when you needed my support the most.
I made a promise to myself that I would never tell you why I did it—figured I could handle the cold shoulder and the loneliness. But it’s been 18 months since I last saw you, I’m drunk, and I can hear fireworks as people celebrate a new year, and all I want is to hear you laugh and groan at some stupid joke I made, like you used to.
What’s new years for if not to break promises you make to yourself?
I know I’m a year and a half late telling you, and you wouldn’t even listen even if I was telling you this in person (not that I blame you), but here goes—
I pulled your papers because your mom asked me to the day before she died. She never wanted you to fly, not after what I did to your dad happened to your dad. And I couldn’t say no to her, not then. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to resent her.
I just never realised how much it would hurt having you resent me instead.
I miss you.
I hope your new year is better than mine.
Love, Mav.
July 2005
Dear Bradley,
Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Baby Goose. They would be too.
College Graduate. So fucking smart.
I was there. I saw you get your degree. Fuck, you’ve gotten taller. Handsomer too.
I didn’t hang around for you to spot me. Figured you wouldn’t want to see me.
Always knew you were the best of us, Bradley.
Love, Mav
April 2009
Dear Bradley,
Or should that be Rooster? Fuck, what a callsign, kid. Clearly they don’t know about your hatred for early mornings. Or has that changed too?
Ice sent me a photo of your Top Gun graduation photo, and god, I barely recognised you. The stache is new. You wear your dad’s shirts too? Surprisingly, it suits you. Told you, you’d be a looker.
I wanted to be there when they announced you as first place, but too many people know me there for me to be able to sneak in without you noticing me. And I didn’t want to ruin it for you by being there.
Didn’t want to make you sad, when I’ve only ever wanted you happy.
It’s been a few years since I put pen to paper, and it gets harder every time.
I know you’re thriving without me in your life and I feel like with every year—every day—that passes without you in my life, I become more of a shell of the man I once was.
I keep pissing Admirals off so I get sent to the other side of the world. They think it’s because I just like causing trouble. It’s not.
It’s because if I’m here, I think about you, and how you’re not. Here.
You’ll never be here again.
Sometimes I wonder what’s the point in coming back at all.
Love, Mav.
December 2011
Dear Bradley,
Ten Christmases without you. What I wouldn’t give to be gifted with your smiles one more time.
Love, Mav.
May 2015
Dear Bradley,
Ice is sick. He says he’ll get through it, but I’m terrified. He’s the only person I have left in this world. Other than you. And you still hate me.
I’ve never been afraid of dying, Baby Goose, only ever being truly alone.
I never felt that fear before I no longer had you in my life.
If I could go back to that moment, I would do it so differently. I want you to know that.
Love, Mav.
October 2018
Dear Bradley,
I don’t know why I still write these. I’m never going to send them to you. You’re never going to read them.
I’m a coward who should’ve told you all of these things in person, but I’ll never get the chance. I already broke your trust before, I won’t do it again. You told me to never contact you again, and although it kills me, I don’t reach out.
Ice keeps me updated about where you are and what you’re doing—he’s still a pain in the ass, still my Wingman. The cancer didn’t win.
Every update is bittersweet. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, and so sorry that I don’t get to be there to witness you shine in person.
I don’t know how much longer the Navy will have use of me. I know I’m a nuisance. And there’s not many Admirals left for me to piss off. So, who knows maybe next time I write one of these I’ll either be washed up somewhere restoring bikes or I won’t be writing one at all because I’ll have burnt in.
I know which one you’d prefer.
Even though you hate me,
All my love, Mav.
October 2019
Dear Bradley,
Seeing you again after all these years, you take my breath away.
I don’t know how I’m meant to teach you to survive this mission, when I’ve only ever done things wrong when it comes to you.
Love, Mav
P.s The Hawaiian shirts work.
October 2019
Dear Bradley,
This is the last letter I’m going to write.
Even though you’ll be with me on the mission tomorrow—because even with our history, there’s no one else I want as my wingman—I know someone isn’t coming back from this.
And there’s no choice as to who that should be.
If it comes to it, I’ll go down protecting you. If I have to die on this near impossible mission, I’d rather it was making sure you lived than for some other reason.
Don’t come after me. Not that I think you will.
You were right, there’s no one left to mourn me if I burn in. I don’t blame you for anything. I never have.
I’m just sorry that because of me, I lost out on so much time with you. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, Bradley Bradshaw, and it’s a truth that I doubt I’ll ever utter. It’s not one you want to hear anyway.
I’ve loved you your whole life, and with every update Ice told me, I just loved you that little bit more. And then you changed from a boy to a man, and a gorgeous one at that. And then these last three weeks I saw that man in action and fuck… the way you fly. It’s beautiful.
Just believe in yourself like I do.
If by some miracle I make it back from this mission, maybe I’ll find the courage to tell you some of this in person.
But when do miracles happen to fools like me, huh?
I let the miracle that’s you slip through my fingers years ago. There’s no second chances. Not for an old man like me.
Love you forever and always, Mav.
“Bradley?”
He flicked his gaze up to see Mav stood there; having missed him arriving back as he got lost in the emotion that had been poured into the very fibre of the paper he held in his shaking hands. The older man was staring at him with fear, confusion, and something indecipherable swirling in his green eyes.
“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see those.” He whispered.
Tears were running down Bradley’s scarred cheeks. Mav had loved him for all these years, and he had spent all that time alone and thinking Bradley hated him. He never sent the letters because Bradley had basically told him to go to hell, and he’d written the last one convinced he wasn’t going to step foot on concrete ground again.
And yet, the first thing he’d done when he had, was hug Bradley tight enough he could barely breathe. And then done it again.
He’d said sorry so many times in his letters and Bradley hadn’t apologised for the pain he’d put him through. All for something that Mav hadn’t wanted to do—something his mom had asked him to do because she’d feared the same would happen to her son as had happened to the man she’d loved.
And Mav had been right. Pulling his papers had stopped him from taking the easy route sure, but those four years at college had helped him when it came to flying later on. He’d probably be a completely different pilot if he hadn’t worked for it as much as he had.
He should’ve reached out to Mav years ago. But he’d been scared Mav would turn him away.
He was a fucking idiot.
He dumped the letters in the box and stumbled to his feet; surging forward and pulling Mav into his arms. The older man wrapped his arms around him automatically, like he would never not welcome him in his embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Mav. For everything.”
“Shhh, Baby, nothing to be sorry for. We’re both here now, that’s all that matters.”
Bradley pulled back to look at Mav’s face and yeah, this was the face he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life. “I forgive you by the way. I don’t know if I said that. I think I forgave you a long time ago. I was—I was scared you’d hate me for kicking you out.” Mav stroked his hair back from his face and pressed their foreheads together.
“I could never hate you, Bradley.”
“I know that now.” He swallowed and let his hands rest on Mav’s waist. “Are you really in love with me?”
Mav flicked his gaze away and then taking a deep breath straightened his spine and looked him in the eyes; finding the courage he mentioned in his last letter. “Yes.”
Bradley smiled. “Good. Cos I’m in love with you too. Have been since I was 16.”
“Oh.” Mav blinked in surprise, then he slowly smiled like he just realised Bradley returned his feelings. “So, you’re saying there is a second chance for an old man like me?”
Bradley huffed out a laugh, feeling lighter than he had in years; the invisible wall between them no longer there. Because whilst they hadn’t actually talked, all Bradley had needed to hear was in those letters. Mav hadn’t spoken the words out loud, but he’d said them all the same. In each pen stroke. In each tear splash on the paper. Each time he ended it with love even when he was certain it wasn’t wanted.
“Yeah, I want to take every chance with you, Mav. If you’ll let me.”
Mav let out a wet chuckle and wiped at his eyes. “Well you’ve already pretty much moved in, so…”
Bradley rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Smiling so wide his jaw hurt. “ I love you, Mav.”
“I love you too.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Mav sucked in a sharp breath and that indecipherable look in his eyes from earlier became clearer; it was hope. “Please.”
He cupped Mav’s face in his hands gently, and pressed their lips together. Mav’s lips were softer than he’d imagined and he tasted even sweeter too. His hands rested on Bradley’s chest gently, and he let Bradley lick into his mouth with no resistance. Bradley kissed him until he felt dizzy and only relinquished his lips when they felt bruised.
Mav blinked at him when his feet touched the floor again—no longer stood on his tip toes so he could be as close to Bradley as possible—and gone was the fear. Gone was the confusion. And gone was the hope.
Because he didn’t need to hope for something he already had.
And despite everything, he had Bradley. And Bradley had him.
Forever and always.