Chapter Text
It was two years to the day of Bradley flying an impossible mission and landing back on a carrier — bruised and a little broken but feeling lighter than he had in a long time — when he stepped foot back into the Hard Deck, the familiar sounds of a Navy bar filling his ears as it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He blinked a few times as he tugged his glasses off — the same ones he had had since he was sixteen after finding them in a box of his Dad’s old things after his Mom had passed — and tucked them into his shirt collar as he waded into the crowd, looking around at the changes, not that much ever changed here.
There were more cups dangling from the ceiling, beginning to crawl down the walls and put themselves at risk of being broken by excited sailors who were glad for shore leave away from the confines of a boat. Bradley’s eyes darted to the right, toward a cluster that looked like any other cluster and wondered if the cups the Daggers had hung there after the mission were still there. Hooked together in some symbol of unity that had formed in the midst of drunken goodbyes before they were sent back to their respective deployments.
“Rooster!”
Turning, Bradley spotted Nat through the crowd and grinned, making his way through the throng of people, nodding to the one or two familiar faces from past deployments before he was next to the pool table, his mind racing back to two years ago and everything that had happened before he pushed it out of his mind in favor of stepping forward and hugging Nat tightly who hugged him back just as hard, the two of them taking a moment before he stepped back and glanced around the small group, seeing very familiar faces and he let out a half disbelieving chuckle.
When he had gotten the special summons to come back to Coronado he hadn’t thought much of it. Flying the mission he had done wonders for his career, and he had gotten used to being bounced around more than normal, especially after he had gotten promoted to Lt. Commander. With the uptick in the fifth gens coming out, he had become a hot commodity, and Bradley had found himself relishing in the role more than he had expected. Apparently, a level of command worked for him. Especially when it was tempered with the respect he had earned, as well the respect that was freely given by people who knew nothing more than rumors.
No doubt, there was some therapist who would have something to say about his need for respect and command stemming from his youth and everything that had happened between him and Maverick, but it wasn’t holding him back anymore, so he didn’t care.
Looking around the familiar faces — Nat, Bob, Halo, Payback, Harvard and Yale — he shook his head. “Don’t tell me they got the band back together?” he asked, sure he was dreaming.
“Apparently,” Fanboy said, appearing from the crowd with a tray full of beers.
“Omaha’s out saying night to his kids,” Halo offered. “And I think Fritz is checking in with his girl.”
“She’s due soon, right?” Bradley asked as Nat moved to stand next to Bob, dropping an elbow on her WSO’s shoulder.
Bradley was glad the two of them had stuck together. He liked Bob, he fit into their friendship better than Bradley expected. Especially since Bradley had found that he and Bob were friends independent of Nat, bonding over old cars and music and not pissed off when Bradley dropped off the map. Bradley knew it was him who was the problem, unable to keep up because if he left first then it hurt less, but he was trying to be better. And Bob was the kind of stubborn that fit in with the pair of them, he was just quieter about it. His friendship with Fritz had been more of a surprise, but they had ended up stationed together more than a few times over the past two years, and it had just developed.
“Not that soon otherwise he’d be freaking out,” Yale explained. “Leigh’s due in two months.”
“Fuck, I forgot Baby Avalone was gonna be a Christmas baby?” Bradley said, grinning at the thought.
“Fingers crossed no,” Fritz said, appearing from the crowd with a clap to his shoulder. “Good to see you Rooster,” he paused and peered closer to Bradley’s chest. “Or should I say, Lt. Commander Bradshaw, sir?” he finished with a sharp salute with a grin, same way he had the past few times.
Bradley rolled his eyes, shoving at Fritz’s shoulder. “I can’t be the only one,” Bradley asked, looking around the rest of the group, knowing that Nat had gotten the promotion as soon as she had been eligible, same as him, but six months later.
“Another yearish before I have time,” Halo said, shrugging, getting nods of agreement from a few of the others, Fritz, Harvard, Yale, Fanboy and Payback.
Bob held up a hand. “Three months till time for me,” he explained.
“Damn,” Bradley blinked. “Fuck, now I feel old.”
He had been tangentially aware that he had been a little older than the rest of the squadron during the last mission, but he hadn’t realized it had been that different.
“Makes you feel better Hangman’s gotten it as well same as Coyote,” Payback offered up.
Hangman. The name Bradley had been afraid to ask after ever since he had shown up and seen the familiar faces. Memories of beer-sticky fingers gripping his legs as they fucked in the bathrooms, smiles in half-lit bedrooms and mornings that were more relaxed than they had any right to be assaulted him and Bradley — same as he had done for the last year and eleven months — pushed them away because it had been a flash in the pan. Nothing more than two people biding their time until leave was up and then Bradley had left, flying back to Japan, and then Rota, Germany, swinging back through Oceana and a few places without names in between all of those.
Even traveling as Bradley had, it was impossible to ignore the rumors of Hangman teaching at Top Gun, spending one rotation, and then another and then the rumors had died off, bored with whatever Hangman wasn’t doing and moving on to juicer topics and Bradley had to content himself with not knowing anything. It had been brief, the two of them spending more time together until Bradley could almost consider Hangman a friend, but it hadn’t taken a genius to figure out that Bradley leaving without a word had struck a chord as the texts had gone unanswered until Bradley had given up.
As if summoned by thought alone, Hangman appeared with Coyote through the crowd, the pair of them as inseparable as they always were. Bradley had to wonder if somewhere in one of their files was a note to keep them together — a bonded pair like the ones he sometimes saw when he was drunk and three pages deep on the local shelter webpage wondering if he could get one of the animals that had been there too long and give them the home he was still searching for despite the deed in his name and the fresh paint on the walls.
Then again, it was a well-known fact that Hangman had always been more tolerable when Coyote was around. Bradley wondered if it were still true or if he had mellowed on his own.
“Damn, they really are aiming for a repeat,” Hangman said, coming to a stop as he looked around the group.
“Apparently,” Payback replied, jerking his chin up. “How’s it? You got a promotion right?”
Hangman nodded, tapping at the pins on his collar. “Lt. Commander right here. Me and Yotes.”
“Me ‘n Bradshaw too,” Nat said, jerking her head to where Bradley stood, arms crossed over his chest.
He waggled his fingers in hello, not bothering to lift a hand, aware of eyes on them, of the roles they were expected to play. He pushed back the memories of fingers digging into his thighs as green eyes stared up at him and focused on the real man in front of him. “Hangman…you look good.”
To his surprise, Hangman’s smile was fond, but distant in a way it had never been, not even with anger between them. “I know I do.”
It wasn’t part of the decade old script and Bradley felt wrong footed, but he forced a smile along with the rest of the squad as they descended into jeers at Hangman’s comment, the man accepting the jokes and teasing with more aplomb than once before. Hangman had always been a mirror in Bradley’s eyes, someone who also had a chip on their shoulder at the world and was willing to do whatever it took to get further in life. But that chip was gone, patched over with time and whatever had happened since Bradley had left and in its wake was a casual, almost understated, confidence Hangman wore like the armor made of barbed words he had once donned.
It suited him.
Suited him in a way that Bradley had to force himself to look away from, over to Nat who was staring at her phone with a smile that he took as the distraction he needed and slid closer, old enough to know that trying to get Hangman’s attention, to follow the same script as before, would only be asking for trouble he didn’t want because he wasn’t that person anymore, and apparently Hangman wasn’t either.
“How’s Kevin?” Bradley asked, propping his chin on Nat’s shoulder even as Bob shifted into their circle, the group breaking back up into the same groups they had fallen into in the two weeks at the wake of the mission, groups forming within the main group.
But they didn’t drift apart, staying around the unused pool table and ignoring the glares of other servicemen who looked at them before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.
“He’s good,” she said, smile blooming in a way that made Bradley happy she had found someone. “He’s visiting his sister and his new nephew.”
“How many is that now?” Bob asked, popping another pistachio open and eating it.
“Four,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Amy says she’s done now.”
“Didn’t she say that after three?” Bradley asked, remembering Nat talking about meeting Amy six months into dating Kevin, two months after she had just had her third. “Like…a year ago?”
“Yeah, this was an oops,” Nat explained. “A major oops since the kids are now only ten months apart. Kevin was so fucking amused.”
“Should we be worrying about you anytime soon?” Bradley asked, pulling back as soon as he said it to dodge the elbow aimed toward his stomach.
“Fuck off,” she said with a laugh that sounded a little more forced than once before.
From Bob’s eyebrows, he had caught it as well and they both stared at her. She sighed, rubbing a thumb over her forehead. “We’ve been…talking about marriage,” she admitted. “We’re both…open to moving this forward.”
Once upon a time, he and Nat had been as bad as each other, fucking and dating and leaving and never looking back, but she had met Kevin and things had changed in a way that Bradley hadn’t expected, in a way Nat hadn’t expected. Apparently, all it took for Lt. Commander Natasha Trace to slow down was one grinning middle school history teacher who had the balls to ask her name when they had run into each other at a coffee shop of all places.
“Really?” Bradley asked, drawing the word out and letting that do the talking.
“Really,” she replied, looking down at her phone. “Not…anytime soon. But, not as far as I once thought it might be.”
It would be so easy to tease Nat; to make fun of her but Bradley reached out and tugged her into a hug instead, reaching to also drag a softly protesting — but not fighting like he once would’ve — Bob into the hug. Nat huffed, half in amusement and half in irritation but she submitted to the hug as Bradley wrapped his long arms around both of them and squeezed them tightly.
“Between you and Kevin, and then Bob and Daniela, I’m so fucking happy for you both,” he said, forever thankful that his friends were beginning to settle down, to find people that fit them, that worked with them.
Kevin had a sly humor but gentle nature that suited Nat’s acerbic side, and Daniela was soft spoken but had an iron will and when she wanted something — Bob — she would stop at nothing to get it, even if it meant going to the same smoothie shop for three weeks straight at the same time hoping that Bob would show up again after holding the door for her once and calling her ‘ma’am’. Bradley liked both of them, they were good people, and more importantly, they were good for his friends.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nat said, muffled where her face was pressed into his shoulder, punching him in the side to get him to let go but it was gentler than it would’ve been a few years back.
Bradley took the hint and dropped his arms even as Bob huffed, readjusting his glasses. “Dani says hello by the way,” he said, eating another pistachio.
“Say hi back,” Bradley said, smiling between them.
“What about you?” Nat asked, arms crossing.
It was easy to play dumb. “What about me?”
“Seeing anyone?” Bob asked, never one to let himself get drawn into his and Nat’s stare downs.
“I would’ve told you if I had,” Bradley replied, seeing the look they shot each other before they both looked back at him, laser focused. He could keep pushing it, change the subject but he knew it would come back around soon enough. Sighing, he shook his head and figured he should head it off at the pass. “Nah, nothing’s really come up. I’ve been bouncing around so fuckin’ much the only people I spend any time around these days is other pilots which is always a bad idea.” That at least was a true enough answer that all Nat did was purse her lips and drop it as Bob bobbed his head in agreement. Bradley shrugged. “Something will happen when it’s meant to happen.”
A laugh broke through the group then, and Bradley glanced to the side, catching on Hangman who was shaking his head at something Omaha was showing him. Most likely a video of his kids doing something stupid as Omaha was wont to do the second he had someone’s attention. He looked back at Nat to see raised twin eyebrows at him.
“What?” he asked, fully ready to play clueless.
Both of them held up their hands, exchanging a glance with each other. Bradley scowled, waving a finger between them. “You two spend too much time together.”
Another look, another shrug before they were both smiling at him. Bradley rolled his eyes.
“Hey, Bradshaw!”
The call was from one of the group and Bradley looked back toward the rest of the group that had shifted closer to the pool table. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the question he expected to follow.
“So, two questions,” Coyote said, elbow resting on Hangman’s shoulder where it always ended up.
Bradley stepped closer to the table, taking a pull from the beer that was warmer than he would’ve liked. “Which are?” he prompted when it appeared Coyote wasn’t going to continue.
“Jake here doesn’t know anything about why we all got called back and he’s been living up Cyclone’s ass for the past two years so was wondering if you had heard anything from Mav?” Coyote asked.
Bradley shook his head. “Not as far as he’s told me.”
He should probably reach out and let Mav know he was on this side of the states again before he found out from Penny. Their relationship was worlds better than it had been, two years had softened the edges enough that Bradley no longer felt awkward, but there was a lot of missing time and neither of them had ever been good at talking. It was the reason everything had festered the way it had. They spent time together, they had cleared the air, but they were back in another holding pattern, but this time it was peaceful and Bradley had a feeling neither of them wanted to be the first one to break it.
“Damn,” Coyote said, looking over at Hangman who shrugged again, taking a sip from his glass of something clear.
Straight vodka the night before a mission briefing was a choice.
“Seriously, no one knows anything?” Coyote asked, looking around. “I get top secret missions and shit but the exact same group?”
Harvard threw his hands up. “Same mine maybe? Rebuilt it?”
Bradley shook his head, swallowing back the sudden tension in his chest, and he wasn’t the only one who tensed up, the pall that fell over the group was heavy, a stillness in the bustling bar.
“They wouldn’t,” Bob said, soft voice easily heard with how tightly they had packed around the table. “It would take longer than two years and there’s a high chance we ruined a lot of what they were trying to mine when we dropped the bombs.”
That was a relief.
“Oh, hallelujah. My skin cannot handle those G’s without more wrinkles,” Fritz said, voice as dry as the desert and it made a few people chuckle and Yale threw a wadded-up napkin at him.
“Right, so more top secret, sounds fun. Still weird it’s all of us, but whatever, second question then,” Coyote said, this time a smile crossing his face that had Bradley worried. He continued. “As we’re about to embark on another top secret, probably life-threatening mission, I have my second, very important question for you.”
He paused, waiting for the tension to build up as they all watched the exchange and all Bradley could do was sigh, waving a hand for Coyote to continue.
“Since Mav is retired, is there any other potential commander out there that’ll activate your fight mode we need to be aware of?” Coyote finished, the rest of the group breaking out into hoots of amusement.
Bradley took the hit on the chin, knowing the last round had been derailed quite a bit by his and Mav’s issues. He took another pull from his beer, finishing it off as he waited for everyone to settle down before he lifted his hand and scratched the side of his nose with his middle finger before waving it between Coyote and Hangman.
“Didn’t realize you two had switched brains,” Bradley said, folding his arms.
“Just askin’ the real questions,” Hangman offered, always and forever going to back Coyote up.
“Sure thing,” Bradley said, seeing the expectant eyes from everyone, including Nat and Bob. With a betrayed look in their direction he sighed, shaking his head. “No. And I doubt my Freshman year English professor who tried to fail me because he thought my paper was fake is gonna be our CO.”
“He thought it was fake?” Hangman asked, frowning.
“Yeah, we were supposed to write about our childhood and apparently my Dad dying in a training hop and then my Mom going from cancer when I was a teenager was too sad to be true,” Bradley replied, keeping his voice dry because even now it was the only way he could handle talking about his parents. “He shut up real quick when I showed up to a meeting I had scheduled with the Dean with the death certificates and the programs from their funerals.”
Hangman snorted in amusement before he covered his mouth, shaking his head even as Coyote elbowed him in the side, looking awkward in the face of Hangman’s amusement. “Sorry, man. Kinda horrific, but also, funny.”
Shrugging, Bradley took another sip of his beer. “Not wrong,” he admitted, not fighting the smile as he thought about the look on the Professors face. “Basically, coasted the rest of the class though.”
“Of course you did,” Fritz said, shaking his head. “Question. How many times have you used that to get out of something?”
Bradley shrugged, not fighting the outright grin as he pressed a hand against his chest. “I would never.”
The cries of bullshit came from the entire table and Bradley laughed at the noise, ignoring the few balled up napkins thrown at him a she glanced back at Hangman to see him watching Bradley with an inscrutable look, something that Bradley couldn’t figure out even though he suddenly felt a burning curiosity deep in his gut to know what that look meant. Memories of the two weeks they had spent in each other’s pockets resurfaced and Bradley had to push them away again.
“Cottonmouth, Memo, can I help you?” Hangman suddenly barked, head turning to the side and Bradley wasn’t the only one whose spine straightened at the tone.
Bradley looked to the side, seeing a pair of Junior LT’s looking at them with deer in the headlight look before one of them, the slightly taller one drew his shoulders up. “Uh, Commander Seresin, sir,” he started before he lifted his chin in a way Bradley remembered when he was that age, trying to appear more sure than he was. “We were wondering if we could use the pool table, sir. Please, uh…sir.”
Hangman was silent, staring at the pair long enough that they started shifting and Bradley almost felt bad for the kids before Hangman shrugged, glancing around the group. “Anyone gonna play?”
“And lose money to your ass? Fuck right off,” Nat replied, shoving Bob to get him moving even as Cottonmouth and Memo gawked at her, eyes wide as if they couldn’t believe she had spoken to Hangman that way.
Bradley watched as their eyes darted down, saw the Lt. Commander pins on her lapel and horror crossed their faces as they looked around, eyes finding the other pins and their shoulders drew even straighter.
“We’ll get out of your way,” Hangman said, drawing their attention, voice softening slightly as if he were settling down a terrified animal. He jerked his chin in the direction of another group huddled together, watching the display. “Might not want to stay too late though, got an early hop.”
“Yes, sir!” they both said, arms jerking as if they were going to salute.
Bradley watched the little display for a moment as the daggers dispersed, most of them going toward the bar to refresh their drinks, the table opening up and the kids filling in the spaces they had vacated. Bradley stayed where he was, tracking Hangman as one of the other kids stopped next to him and asked him a question that had him nodding before he left, eyebrow raising as he wandered closer to Bradley.
“Lost?” Hangman quipped as he passed by.
Bradley chuckled, turning and followed Hangman to the bar, shouldering past the crowd so he could stand next to Hangman as they waited to get served. “Just, watching you inspire the youths.”
Hangman snorted. “Inspire? Or the fear in their eyes?”
“Same thing sometimes,” Bradley replied, looking over to the group who had begun to play, a few of them darting glances over toward them, mostly toward Hangman. “They in your Top Gun class?”
“Yep,” Hangman said, looking over his shoulder before he shrugged. “Not for much longer…depending on what’s happening tomorrow.”
There was something in the pause between words that had Bradley pausing, head tilted to the side before he leaned in. “You know something.”
Hangman shrugged. “Nope.”
For a second, Bradley thought about pushing, but he would find out tomorrow and knowing before everyone else didn’t come with the same enjoyment it once had. Humming instead, he turned to look at the bartender, seeing the overwhelmed look on their face and looked back at Hangman.
“How’re you?” Bradley asked, not bothering to mask the sincerity, nor the actual curiosity. It had been two years since he and Hangman had spent time deep in each others orbit. It had been fun, the days spent together, lazing about and eating and the nights spend fucking and talking until sleep took over.
“I’m good,” Hangman said, voice as bland as it was anytime they were giving a report to a CO.
“That’s it?” Bradley asked, tilting his head to the side.
“What more did you need?” Hangman replied, turning to look at Bradley, bland smile on his face matching his bland tone.
Historically, Bradley and Hangman hadn’t gotten along, but there had always been some strong emotion, hate or irritation or lust, but this lack of emotion put Bradley on edge, feeling like he had gotten off on the wrong foot in a whole new way because he didn’t know how to handle it.
“Dunno, man,” Bradley said, wishing he had a glass to fiddle with. “Spent two weeks together without a break and now I’m getting the cold shoulder. Just feels a bit confusing.”
The look Hangman sent him was so exasperated that Bradley leaned back, half expecting to get hit of all things. But all Hangman did was roll his eyes. “Yeah, two weeks where we were dating, and then I go home for one night and the next morning I get there and you’re gone, poof. Like you had never been there.”
“We weren’t dating,” Bradley hissed, automatically, dropping his voice low in case one of their nosy teammates was close enough to here.
“No, we just spent every single fucking second together and talked about a lot of shit that I know I don’t share easily, and I doubt you do either. We went out to all sorts of meals, got coffee, went to the movies, grocery shopping, laundry, I helped you fucking clean before we messed it all up again by fucking.” Hangman kept talking, laying out everything they had done but Bradley’s mind drifted.
He remembered one day toward the end, where Hangman had helped him clean up, the house a mess that needed fixing before he left, and them fucking on the couch after, grunts and gasps filling the air that smelled like the lemon verbena cleaning products Hangman had chosen. And then after, Hangman getting up to get them both water before collapsing on a chair, one leg stretched out and the other bent, heel resting on the coffee table and head tilted back, all sharp angles and golden skin, soft smirk on his face, looking all the world like a model, waiting for his class of students to draw him. It was an image that lived in Bradley’s brain, even now.
“Okay,” Bradley interrupted Hangman, holding up a hand before he started getting into the gritty details that Bradley didn’t need shoved at him because he was beginning to feel like there was something he had very clearly missed. “It was casual. We never talked about it as more.”
Hangman’s lips pursed, chin lifting and eyes flashing and for a brief moment, Bradley felt relief course through him at the fight that was about to happen because that was normal for him. He knew what to do whenever he and Hangman argued. That was old news to him and Bradley appreciated the familiar and he felt the anticipation begin to build, fighting down the smile because snarking with Hangman had always been fun.
But then Hangman spoke.
“Alright,” Hangman said, chin dipping, shoulders relaxing. “Suppose it’s on me for reading between the big ole glaring lines.”
The fight fizzled in a way it never had, leaving Bradley wrongfooted. He didn’t know what to do with the building adrenaline, as well as the uncomfortable feeling that he had fucked up more than he had realized two years ago. It had been adrenaline thing, the pair of them the only two without something to do. Bradley had no family and Hangman had been cagy in a way that Bradley knew so he stopped pushing, especially since there had been enough other things to talk about.
“Were you really that cut up about it?” Bradley asked, still feeling like he needed to pick a fight.
“Shockingly Rooster, yeah I was,” Hangman said, blunt as he ever was. “I had fun, and yeah, we ain’t ever talked about it but I still felt like something had been beginning there since we spent every fucking second together and it was fun. Must’ve just been me though, no harm, no foul.”
The sarcasm wasn’t hard to miss, and it was something familiar and Bradley grasped for it like a drowning man, still feeling the urge to pick a fight. “Shit man, sorry. Didn’t realize that was what was happening.” He scrambled to continue. “For you.”
“Clearly,” Hangman drawled, arms crossed at he stared at Bradley.
The memories of those two weeks were at the forefront of Bradley’s mind, and the stark difference between the easy conversation then, and the stonewall that Hangman was putting up made Bradley feel like he was pulling teeth. He licked his bottom lip, trying to find a thread of commonality between them to try and bridge the awkwardness. Hangman raised an eyebrow, giving Bradley nothing to work with and that was almost worse than the anger. Something Bradley suddenly hated.
Indifference. Hangman appeared indifferent and that was something that had never existed between them and suddenly Bradley needed it gone. Sincere wasn’t going to work, because if he explained to Hangman that the indifference was bothering him, he had a feeling Hangman would somehow manage to be even more indifferent.
So, Bradley had to fall back onto something else.
“So, I guess it would be kinda rude if I offered you a ride home,” Bradley said, figuring being an asshole might get what he wanted and shake that blank mask away.
And it worked, Hangman huffing out an incredulous chuckle as shook his head and gave Bradley a once over. “I just told you I was feelin’ more than you were about what happened and your response is to hit me up?”
Bradley shrugged. “Casually, just casual.” He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. “Nothing more than that, but the sex was fantastic and getting dragged back here is making me feel a lil’ tense, you know? Figured we could work it off.”
Another chuckle, Hangman’s eyes going wide as he looked at Bradley for a long moment before he looked away, looking across the room at something only he could see, face blank. Bradley couldn’t get a read on him, didn’t know if he was about to get punched or for Hangman to walk away from him. He almost prayed for the punch since he sure as shit didn’t think Hangman was going to say yes.
Whatever therapist he ended up with when he retired was going to have a field day with this.
“Sure.”
“What?” Bradley asked, unable to keep the confusion out of his face.
The smirk Hangman shot his way was teasing, and a little cruel and it made the tension in Bradley’s shoulders relax just a little bit. Hangman glanced down at his watch and up at Bradley, shrugging. “I said sure, you going deaf?”
“No, just surprised,” Bradley said, pushing to standing, staring at Hangman who watched him back evenly. “Casual.” He repeated, needing to make sure that extra clear.
“Casual,” Hangman repeated, rolling his shoulders before he stepped forward. “It was two years ago, Rooster. What, you think I’m pining still?”
“…no,” Bradley attempted a small lie, and one that Hangman clocked immediately but thankfully didn’t call him out on it.
“I drove here, so I’ll meet you at your house,” Hangman said, arms crossing.
Bradley’s eyes narrowed. “Is this to get me out of your hair?” he asked, suddenly feeling like he was being set up.
Hangman snorted. “Rooster, if I didn’t want to talk to you, I would’ve fucked off. You’re right, some tension release will be good.”
“Casual,” Bradley repeated, needing that to be clear.
“Casual,” Hangman confirmed.
Bradley watched Hangman, looking for some sign that he had lied in a way that Bradley couldn’t read anymore, but it had only been two years and he couldn’t sense any. Hangman looked the same as he did in Bradley’s memory, especially now that the indifference was gone, the familiar push and pull back and Bradley could feel his blood beginning to thrum at the promise of the night.
Hangman’s brow went up and a smirk crossed his face as his chin lifted.
Bradley smirked back.
The bed creaking was almost louder than the little bitten off moans Hangman was making as he rode Bradley, bouncing on Bradley’s cock like he had the knees of a twenty-year-old, one hand gripping the headboard, the other digging fingers into Bradley’s chest, a sharp aching pain that made his pulse jump. Hangman was a vision, Bradley couldn’t stop watching the flex of his abs, the way his thighs bunched right before he lifted himself up to drop back down. The satisfied grin on Hangman’s face was addictive, looking like the cat who had gotten the cream as he kept moving fast enough Bradley felt breathless even though all he was doing was laying down and gripping the pillow by his head.
The need to touch overwhelmed him so he reached out, grabbing Hangman’s narrow hips, feeling the flex underneath his hands and he let out a low moan, digging his thumb into the groove of muscle sliding Hangman’s hip before sliding to wrap a hand around the man’s thick cock, rubbing a thumb underneath the head just to hear Hangman’s grunt.
Almost immediately Hangman settled onto Bradley’s cock with a bright grin, pressing Bradley deeper into the bed with his weight as he leaned down, panting and flushed as he reached down and dragged Bradley’s hands away from the tight grasp they had on his hips. Bradley’s hands flexed, fighting the grip but not as hard as he could as Hangman pressed his hands on either side of his head again and leaned down to nose over Bradley’s cheek.
“No touching,” he said, the low burr of his voice making Bradley shudder.
“You’re not the boss of me.” The need to be contrary rose in his chest.
Hangman chuckled, nipping at his jaw. “Nah, but you’re gonna because you’re good, yeah?”
Bradley would deny the noise that dropped from his mouth until his dying day. Hangman chuckled, pushing himself back up with hands on Bradley’s chest and started to rock back and forth, clenching around Bradley until he felt his eyes roll and his mouth drop open in a gasp, pressing his head back into the pillow and arched his back, digging his heels into the bed to try and thrust up, jostling Hangman and making him moan in response.
“Be good,” Hangman chided, rubbing a thumb over Bradley’s nipple before tweaking it.
Another noise he would deny. “Not helping.”
“Never do,” Hangman replied, another low chuckle before he braced himself and started to move again, the creaking bed no match for the moans that dropped from Bradley’s mouth as he gripped the pillow and held on for dear life as Hangman kept riding him.
By the time Hangman came, Bradley was fighting for his life, shaking as he watched Hangman’s mouth drop open letting out a low groan, coming across Bradley’s chest, his hand stroking over his cock in slow motions as he came down, bright grin getting brighter as he let out a happy shudder and opened his eyes, pinning Bradley with the look on his face. Bradley was panting, mouth wide open as he stared up at Hangman, fingers gripping the pillow tight enough his hands ached, and all Hangman had to do was say it. But all he did was lick over his palm before sliding a hand down his chest, head dropping back as he kept stroking himself, the flushed, wet head of his cock poking out of the curl of his fist as he eked out the last few drops of come, moaning.
“C’mon,” Bradley prompted, seeing the grin, somehow, widen as Hangman lifted his head to meet Bradley’s eyes.
The moment between them stretched as Hangman’s green eyes bore into Bradley, flushed cheeks and happy grin seared into his memory next to all the other memories he had of moments like this. Bradley’s mouth was dry, his throat clicking as he tried to swallow only for Hangman to shift, clenching around him.
Bradley whimpered.
“Okay, okay, go,” Hangman said.
It was all Bradley needed as he wrapped arms around Hangman and rolled them, hearing Hangman’s chuckle as arms wrapped around his neck, knees pressed into his sides and his head hung off the bed as Bradley was let off the leash and he started to thrust, graceless with need. But Hangman didn’t care, all he did was laugh breathlessly, letting out soft gasps as Bradley rutted into him, chasing the orgasm he had been pushing down for so long. He pressed his mouth against the hollow of Hangman’s throat, loving when Hangman let himself get fucked after he came, too strung out to actually come a second time, but enjoying the way it pushed his body to a limit, pleasure and pain blurring because Hangman had never met a line he wanted to push. Or so he had told Bradley the first time it had happened, the pair of them flushed and panting in Bradley’s bed, sheets tangled around them.
Bradley came with a grunt, thrusting hard into Hangman’s willing body, shoulders hunching up as his body jerked, ugly, animalistic noises ripped from this throat as it seemed to last forever, grounded by fingers gliding through his hair, and the soft hums he could feel reverberating from Hangman’s chest to his own. He collapsed, panting, hearing the soft grunt followed by more laughter as fingers squeezed the back of Bradley’s neck, making him shudder.
“Let me up before I pass out,” Hangman asked, tugging at Bradley’s hair before he had a chance to think.
Bradley mumbled but he moved, pulling out and dropping back against the pillows with a grunt, one arm thrown over his eyes as he fought to catch his breath. He felt the bed dip and move with Hangman as he shifted before a body pressed against his own, one thick thigh pressed against his own. The only sound for a few moments was the sound of their breathing before Hangman — always the first to recover and always the first to talk — shifted and Bradley could feel him pulling away. He shifted his arm, tucking it behind his head and blinking a few times to clear his vision as he watched the flex of Hangman’s back as he stretched his arms up, groaning as he leaned back before he moved to stand and grabbed for his boxers to tug on.
“Where’s the fire,” Bradley asked, remembering the first time they had started hooking up and Hangman had stayed the night, unbothered and uncaring about social norms if they didn’t suit him.
The smile Hangman shot over his shoulder was as devastating as it was so clearly fake that it cleared some of the fog from Bradley’s brain. “Gonna head out.”
Bradley pushed himself to sitting on shaking arms, crossing his legs as he tugged the condom off and dropped it into the trash by the bed before resting his elbows on his knees and pinching the bridge of his nose, needing to take a moment to gather his wits about him, still catching his breath . “You’re welcome to stay you know.”
It had been a misunderstanding the last time and Bradley didn’t want that to happen again, but it was getting past ten pm and it wasn’t late, but they weren’t young anymore. Bradley couldn’t do late nights as easily as he once had, despite still being a night owl at heart.
Hangman didn’t reply, and the conversation at the bar sprung back to Bradley’s mind and he felt a fission of shame settle in his gut, and a little bit of worry, both which he pushed down. “Just…casually,” he attempted, aware of how awkward he sounded.
“I’m good,” Hangman replied, tugging his pants on with a hop, deft fingers doing up the buttons before he grabbed Bradley’s undershirt before wiping off his chest. Bradley rolled his eyes but didn’t comment as Hangman dropped it and grabbed his own undershirt and tugged it on. He shot Bradley another smile. “Thanks, though.”
There was nothing Bradley could say to that and so he kept watching as Hangman tugged on his uniform top and adjusted the collar, so it was sitting straight. He propped his chin on his fist and wondered why he felt so wrong footed. Hangman had said they had both misunderstood each other — even if a small part of Bradley reminded him of how much he apparently missed to begin with — and so there shouldn’t be any bad feelings, but he still felt like something was wrong.
And it wasn’t like he had ever kept his mouth shut before, so why now.
“Seriously, man. Where’s the fire? You would’ve been welcome to shower or something,” Bradley broke the silence as Hangman dropped onto the bed and began to tug his socks on.
“I figured, but nah, gotta go,” Hangman said, shoes on a second later before he bounced back up and turned to face Bradley again.
Aside from his flushed cheeks, and the soft fall of his hair over his forehead, he looked like nothing had happened. And even that faded as Hangman smoothed fingers through his hair, putting it back into some semblance of order with an ease Bradley was jealous of because there was no saving his hair after fingers had been run through it and Hangman had never been shy. Finally, Hangman looked a little caught out as he looked at Bradley, head tilted to the side before a familiar look of determination crossed his face and he skirted around the edge of the bed to come closer to Bradley.
Hands gripped his jaw, tilting his head back until Hangman kissed him, once, twice and then he pulled away with a bright smile that was as devastating as it always was. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Welcome,” Bradley replied, still confused.
Hangman patted his cheek. “And for the offer of the shower,” he said as he turned and started to leave, throwing a last comment over his shoulder. “But, I gotta go relieve my babysitter.”
The comment landed like a blow and Bradley stared after Hangman with wide eyes before he was scrambling off the bed, legs feeling leaden as he made it to the door before Hangman had made it to the stairs. “Babysitter?” he demanded, hearing the panic in his voice. “Why do you need a babysitter?”
Maybe Bradley had misunderstood and it was actually a pet sitter, and Hangman had gotten a dog. He was stationed at North Island, dogs were possible.
“I have a kid,” Hangman replied, as easy as anything as he started down the stairs.
Bradley followed. “Since when?” A thought struck him. “Did I help you chea—”
“—Abby and I haven’t been together since Delilah was three,” Hangman said quickly enough Bradley had to brace a hand on the stair railing to take a few deep breaths as the panic left as quickly as it had appeared. “So, about four years.”
The math was simple. “She’s seven?” Bradley demanded, getting his legs moving as he made it to the bottom of the stairs to find Hangman waiting for him, hands on his hips and face blank. Bradley floundered. “You have a kid.”
“Yep, a daughter.”
Daughter. The word hit Bradley like a two by four between the eyes as he stared at Jake before he shook his head. “You…didn’t tell me?” he didn’t mean for it to come out confused, but it did as memories of how cagey Jake could get struck him and he wondered if this was why. “Then? Back then?”
Back when they had been inseparable for two weeks because it had been fun and Bradley had left because it had been fun, that was it. But it was hard to spend two weeks with someone and not start to spill secrets and Hangman had ended up carrying most of his, and Bradley had assumed he had all of Hangman’s. But apparently not.
Hangman rubbed a hand over his jaw as he looked away before he shrugged. “I don’t announce it. People have enough issues with me that I don’t need her becoming fodder.”
Bradley had to clear that up quickly. “I wouldn—”
“—I know that,” Hangman said, looking back. “Trust me I know that much. Even back then. I just don’t tell people. I was going to, but then,” he trailed off.
But then Bradley left.
“Look.” Hangman paused and stepped forward. “I’m not telling you for some guilt-ridden trip or something. Abby’s in med school so I’m the primary parent as long as I’m stationed here, so I can’t stay. And she’s not as much as a secret these days because Omaha and Paybacks’ kids go to the same school, so they know. I wanted you to find out from me. Not from someone else.”
It made sense, and Bradley nodded, shock fading as his brain started to process everything as he rubbed a hand over his face. A kid. Hangman had a fucking kid. The thought was hard to process, trying to imagine Hangman with a crying baby and finding himself lacking the imagination to do so.
Hangman stepped closer, smirk back on his face. “Look, if I’m free I’d down for a hook up while you’re in town. The sex is good and I like the way you look at me when I’m sitting on your dick. It’s good for my ego—”
“—not that it needs help,” Bradley muttered.
The smirk widened. “But, I’m not gonna be as free as I was before so lower the expectations and I’m not gonna stay. I pay Carlin until eleven and she charges a lot if I’m late, as she should.”
“Carlin?” Bradley asked, even though he had an inkling.
“My babysitter,” Hangman explained, stepping closer to wrap hands around Bradley’s neck and tugged him into another soft kiss. “I do need to go. I’ll see you on base tomorrow.”
“Right,” Bradley said, shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs before he let out a sigh, heading toward the door, stopping at a hand on his arm and he turned, frowning. Hangman gave him a slow once over that made Bradley remember he was completely naked. Shaking his head, he grabbed the blanket that lived on the couch to wrap around his waist to avoid giving his already constantly scandalized neighbors a show before he walked to the front door. Opening it, he turned, watching as Hangman stepped past him, smirking at him.
“You good, Bradshaw?” Hangman asked, stopping at the threshold and looking at him.
“Fine,” Bradley replied automatically, in no way willing to admit how badly this had thrown him.
“You sure?”
The question felt genuine and Bradley didn’t know what to do with that either, but he nodded, rolling his shoulders and shooting a smirk at Hangman. “I’m fine, man. Just trying to picture you at a ballet recital.”
“She does softball, same as her Mom did,” Hangman replied, looking proud and fond at the same time.
As if that made it better.
“Alright, a softball recital.”
“Game.”
“I know,” Bradley said, making a shooing motion that had Hangman laughing as he finally stepped past the threshold and headed toward his car. “Drive safe.”
“Always do,” Hangman shot over his shoulder. “Night!”
“Night!”
Bradley shut the door before he asked a dozen more questions and stood, staring into nothingness as he listened to the car rumble to life before it faded as Hangman drove away and he let out a low, slow breath and shook his head, dropping the blanket on the couch as he turned to head back up to take a shower and get ready for bed.
Hangman with a kid. It boggled Bradley’s brain because he had always assumed they had been a pair, focused on their career ahead of anything else but this last piece of information slotted into his brain and Hangman taking the teaching position suddenly made sense, remembering what Mav had said about his Dad wanting the Top Gun teaching position to be closer to him and his Mom. Thoughts of his Dad had the amusement fading as he rubbed a hand over the ache in his chest that appeared anytime he thought about a family.
He didn’t want kids. It was better that way. He didn’t want a kid to end up like him.
It was better.