#dad!mav

At her last doctor's appointment, they recommended that they start fertility testing and meds. While Grace agreed that it was the next logical step, she also was worried. While they made decent money, they still had bills to pay, and she didn't want for them to go into debt over this. So she was worried, and everyone was starting to notice. She kept to herself a lot at the Hard Deck, hiding out in the kitchen instead of working the bar or socializing in the down times. She knew the minute they agreed to the testing, they would have to start telling others. She knew keeping the secret, especially from Ice and Mav, had been really hard on Bradley, but he'd done it for her.

I heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey

Ice and Mav had noticed the kids were acting different at every family dinner for the last two months, but they were doing their best to act like everything was fine. After the second month of awkwardness, they decided to tackle it, especially after Penny confirmed Grace had been acting different at work too. Grace was the best thing to ever happen to Bradley and their family, and they wanted to help fix whatever needed fixing. So they made a plan; Mav would talk to B and Ice would see if Grace would talk to him.

Getting Bradley to talk was harder than Mav expected though. When asked if everything was ok, Bradley assured him it was. But the kid still couldn't lie and Mav saw right through it.

I see that you're hurtin',

"Ice we have to do something," Mav whined after several failed attempts at getting Bradley to talk to him at work or at the Hard Deck.

Ice gently squeezed the back of Mav's neck, massaging some. "What about a day at the hanger. You know B likes being out there, and Grace could probably use the quiet."

Mav already has his phone out texting Bradley to see when Grace was off next and if they could go. The plan was set for Saturday; they'd meet Ice and Mav at the hanger around nine in the morning. They were hopeful time away from everything would help the kids open up to them a little more. Especially since it was rare for them to keep anything from them like this.

After getting Mav's text, Grace curled into Bradley's side. "You know we have to tell them," she whispers. Her fingers are drawing idle circles on his chest, as his fingers stroke up and down her back.

"Yea. I think...." he sighs a little. "I think they're on to us. Mav's been asking me all week if everything is ok."

why'd you take so long To tell me you need me?

Grace lets her fingers keep dancing over his chest. "Mmmmm yea. We probably haven't been the most subtle lately."

"Grace..."

"No I know. I've been off. It's been... It's been a lot, with a lot of decisions to make. Fuck B I've had you keeping secrets from them for two years. I'm surprised they haven't caught on before now."

He tips her chin up so she can meet his eyes. "You haven't had me doing anything. I agreed."

She bites her lip softly as she nods. He softly kisses her forehead, holding her tight. "It's going to be ok babe. It'll be ok."

Raise your head, look into my wishful eyes

They pull up to the hanger, the door wide open. Bradley is not surprised in the least that his dads are already there. They probably spent the night before there if the truth was known. He laces his hand with Grace's as they get out of the bronco. He knows she's worried about today, but he knows Mav and Ice will be the most supportive parents ever.

"Morning," he calls out.

"Hey kiddos," Mav smiles pulling them both into his arms.

"Hey dad," Bradley smiles, before Grace sinks into the hug. She clings a little tighter and Mav just lets her as Ice hugs Bradley. She sinks into Ice's hug next; both Ice and Mav give the best hugs. It takes all she has not to start crying.

"Dad made breakfast," Ice says as Grace slowly pulls back.

"Well let's eat," Bradley smiles. He wraps his arm over Grace's shoulder as he leads her towards the makeshift table in the hanger. Conversation flows easily as they eat and then Mav asks if Bradley wants to go up. He turns to Grace who is nodding without him even having to ask. She knows Bradley loves being in the air with Mav and she is perfectly fine being on the ground with Ice. They clean up breakfast and Mav and Bradley are in the air within the hour.

Grace waves as they take off, before she turns to Ice to see what he would like to do. He pats the couch and Grace lets out a breath before joining him. "You two are tag teaming us aren't you?"

Ice snorts as he pulls her into side. "And this is why you've always been my favorite Gracie." She chuckles as she lets him give her a side hug. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. We just wanna help. We can tell things have been off, and we're just worried about you two."

She rests her head on his shoulder as she gathers her thoughts. Ice and Mav have always been great to her, like dads she never had. She knows how lucky Bradley was to have them. She pulls her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "We've been keeping secrets. I... I asked B to keep secrets. But... we have to be honest now. We..." She takes a shuddering breath as Ice lays a hand on her back.

"Grace you don't have to say anything you don't want."

"Its not that we don't want. B would've told you from the beginning but, I asked him not to. I didn't...." She feels tears gather and knows she's not going to be able to stop them. "I didn't want to disappoint you two as well."

"Grace, honey, you could never." Ice pulled her into his arms as the tears silently roll down her cheeks. "Oh honey."

She tried to pull herself together as Ice just holds her tight. "We've.... we've been trying to make yall grandparents," she whispers.

So cry tonight But don't you let go of my hand You can cry every last tear I won't leave 'til I understand

Ice's arms tighten around her. Before he can say anything she just pushes on wanting to get this all out now that she's started. "We've been trying for two years with no success. Bc of my PCOS they wanna do some tests and then put me on meds but it's not guaranteed. They've already told us we should consider fertility doctors. I just.... I've let it all get to me lately and I know I've been off. I just..." she shrugs. "I just feel like such a failure. I'd do anything to make B a dad because I know he'll be an amazing one but I can't."

Ice gently turns her face towards him. "Grace I want you to hear me when I say this ok? You are not a failure. You're not. Things aren't happening like you want right now but that does not make you a failure."

She can't stop the tears as Ice pulls her back into his arms. "He gets so excited each time and then I just have to crush it," she sobs. "He tries to hide how hurt he is, but I still see it. I still feel it."

Ice just holds her tight letting her get it all out as he thinks of how to word what he wants to say so she hears him.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I think I've given up hope. The meds might work, they might not. And then what? How long do we keep going, keep being disappointed. And everything after this will be so expensive. How do I know when it's enough and I just have to crush his dreams all together? I can't do it.... I dunno that I can keep doing it. I can't keep hurting him and destroying his dream."

"Grace honey..... it's your dream too."

"I don't even think about me anymore," she whispers into his chest. It's so quiet he almost doesn't hear it.

"Grace..."

"I don't," she chokes on a sob. "I never think about me. I knew it could be like this, I tried to prepare him, but I don't think I did a good job. And it's a constant let down. God he should've found someone better... prettier... someone who can make all his dreams come true."

"Honey, I've known Bradley a very, very long time. You are the best thing that has ever happened to that kid. He's been looking for you his entire life, and when he found you? His whole life made sense. Even if you never give him a child he would never ever blame you for it. You're all he needs. You're everything to him." He hugs her tight to him, rubbing her back, his heart breaking for the girl that has been like his daughter for ten years now.

"You completed our family Gracie girl. You're not just the best thing to happen to that boy, but to us too. We weren't sure we would ever have a family beyond just us two, but then we got Bradley. And while we hate how that happened, we loved that boy like our own. And now you, the daughter we never had, but love very much. Making a family comes in all shapes and sizes. We all would be lost without you, so never think for a second you belong anywhere else. Would we love a grandchild? Of course. But if it never happens, we have you two."

He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, and he prays his words are absorbed. "You know we will help anyway we can. You don't even have to ask."

"I dunno that I could ever ask that. It'd be..."

He tips her chin up to look into his determined gaze. "You're not asking. I'm offering. We'd do anything for you two. You're all we've got; we might as well spoil the hell out of you two."

Grace gives him a small smile. "Mav might not like you spending all his airplane money."

Ice laughs out loud at that. "Oh honey. Mav would give all that up to see you two happy and living your dream."

Grace hugs him tight. "Thank you Pops," she whispers quietly.

"Anytime Gracie girl. Anytime."

But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you I won't let go 'til the end

Mav had let Bradley fly around for about 10 minutes before he decided to press. "B..." he starts but Bradley cuts him off.

"You don't have to ask again Dad. I'm done lying," he sighs. He levels the plane out and thinks of his words. "I'm surprised you haven't pressed before now. But.... I am sorry for lying to you."

"It's ok Bradley. We're worried about you both and just wanna help. Penny said Grace stays in the kitchen a lot and has been really quiet."

"Yea...." Bradley sighs as he brushes the hair off his forehead and back behind the headset band. "Things have gotten to be a lot lately. We uh..... we've..." he trails off finding it hard to admit the truth. It's been their secret for so long, he doesn't know what to say. Plus he's just as worried about Grace as they are. He wishes he could make things easier for her, help in some way, but she's been shutting down a lot, even on him.

"It's ok kiddo. You don't have to say anything you don't want to. And if it's easier we can always land again."

"Yea... I might... you know I love being in the air but it might be better not having your life in my hands for this. I dunno how steady I'll be."

Mav chuckles at that. "You know that's never worried me Baby Goose. I trust you with my life, but whatever you're comfortable with."

Bradley circles back towards the hanger and slowly sets her down. He stops at the end of the runway and pops the canopy. "Can we just sit out here before we taxi back?" He knows Ice is probably talking to Grace and he hopes Pops is helping so he doesn't want to interrupt that.

"Yea of course." Mav climbs out and settles under the wing in the shade, Bradley following him. He pulls Bradley into a tight hug as soon as he can and Bradley just sinks into it. "It's going to be ok. Whatever it is, it'll be ok."

Bradley clings to his dad before he chokes out "I don't know anymore dad.. I just don't know." Mav runs his fingers through Bradley's hair until his kid pulls back some. "Maybe we should go to the firepit to be more comfortable? This might take a while."

"Whatever you want B," Mav smiles. Mav ends up taxiing the plane to the hangar. He waves at Ice and Grace before heading around back to the firepit near the house. Bradley is already settled in one of the chairs staring off into space.

"They looked fine. More importantly Grace looked fine. You know Pops will take care of her." He could tell she'd be crying, but he left that out.

Bradley smiles up at him. "Yea I know. He's good like that. You're not half bad yourself old man," he teases.

Mav scoffs and rises to the bait like he knows Bradley wants him too. "Who are you calling old kiddo?"

Bradley snorts as Mav gets settled beside him. Mav squeezes his shoulder in encouragement. He decides it'll be better to just rip the bandaid off quickly so he blurts it out in one go. "We've been trying for a baby for two years and I think Grace has about reached her breaking point. We've kept it a secret but now her doctor is recommending testing and meds and it's all just been a lot."

"Oh kid," Mav sighs. He can't not pull Bradley into another hug after that and Bradley just breaks, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. "I gotcha Baby Goose. Let it out," Mav murmurs, his heart breaking for his two kids who have been struggling so long on their own.

"I don't know what to do anymore dad."

Mav runs his fingers through Bradley's hair calming him. "What are they thinking?"

Bradley wipes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh as he sits back in his chair. He runs Mav through her disorder and what testing the doctors are wanting to do. He tells him they wanna put her on meds and if that doesn't work they'll recommend fertility doctors. He doesn't stop there though telling Mav everything; how Grace has been shutting down, how she thinks the doctors are good idea but she's worried they can't afford them nor is she confident they'll work, how she thinks she's disappointing him and will disappoint everybody and that's why they've kept it a secret, how she constantly tells him he deserves someone better that can give him a family.

"I don't want anyone else dad. Grace is my world, my everything. She's amazing and more than I deserve. But she's so down on herself right now, I can't get her to see it. I mean hell the problem might not be all her. We don't know. But two years is so long I'm afraid she's gonna give up. Or maybe she already has. I just.... I dunno what to do anymore."

Mav gently squeezes the back of Bradley's neck, his heart breaking in two as he listens. "Hey. It's going to be ok. This is the first right step ok? You're talking about it, I'm sure Pops got Gracie to talk. You two aren't alone B. Not anymore."

"I get why she wanted to keep it a secret. It's been hard enough on us, much less adding in anyone else's hopes. But I just...."

"It's gotten to be too much and you two need help. It's ok to admit that B."

Bradley gives him a small smile. "Pops has rubbed off on you a lot."

Mav scoffs a laugh but concedes. "You're right he has."

"'S not a bad thing," Bradley grins.

Mav chuckles as he ruffles Bradley's hair. "We just have to be there for her. Remind her how much we love her no matter what. She knows you're not going anywhere, Baby Goose. She knows that. But sometimes..... when you get lost in your head, it's hard to know that in the moment. Constant reminders help. And you know you can come to us for anything. We'll help anyway you want or need. You don't even have to ask."

"I know.... We just hate asking for money or anything like that. It's not..."

Mav gently cups his jaw. "Stop. I know it's not easy to do, you're too much like me," he smiles ruefully. "But we are offering. Whatever you two need. We'd do it for you."

"Thanks dad," Bradley whispers hugging Mav tight. "Can we..."

"Come on," Mav chuckles, knowing exactly what Bradley was asking for before he even finished the question.

They head back into the hanger just as Ice and Grace were pulling apart from their own hug. "Everything...." Grace didn't even let Bradley finish. She was up and in his arms before he could blink. She clung to him tight as Bradley just held her. Mav sat down by Ice on the couch just watching them.

"I love you," she whispers into his neck.

"I love you too baby."

She hugs him for the longest before pulling back and wiping her eyes. She gives him a soft smile and a quick kiss before they rejoin his parents. They spend the rest of the afternoon talking, relaxing, just enjoying the company. Ice and Bradley grill burgers for supper while Grace and Mav sit around the firepit talking.

Its a much needed night for them, and they end up staying the night with the promise of breakfast in the morning. Once the kids are asleep, Ice and Mav quietly check on them and find them sound asleep curled around each other. "Ice," Mav whispers as Ice pulls him away and to their room.

"I know love. I know."

"What do we do?"

"We be there for them and help them anyway we can. They came to us so that's the first step." Ice gently cradles his face. "I know you wanna fix it as bad as I do, but we have to wait on them. Whatever they ask for, we'll do. But we can't force them. Grace needs all the extra love right now possible. But I suspect Baby Goose does too."

"Yea. They're both in need of a little extra TLC."

"Good thing that's your specialty," Ice teases.

Promise me, just hold my hand

Two weeks later, Bradley lets Mav and Ice know that Grace is going to have the first test done. They want to make sure her tubes are open. Ice makes sure to get Bradley the day off, especially when Bradley lets on how apprehensive Grace is about it. Mav already makes plans to take care of dinner for them that night and Bradley just hugs them both tight.

The procedure isn't as bad as Grace expected, but she's still thankful to have Bradley home that day. While she's not in any pain, she doesn't feel the best after, so she's more than glad to accept all the cuddles he wants to give.

The doorbell rings about five and Bradley untangles from Grace. "That's probably dad," he murmurs softly. She wasn't asleep but she'd dozed some.

"K," she yawns. She throws on one of Bradley's hoodies and follows him to the door.

"Oh you didn't have to get up," Mav tells her after setting the casserole on the counter.

"It's fine. I probably needed to move." She gives him a smile as he pulls her into his arms.

"You ok sweetheart?"

She nods against his shoulder before slowly pulling back. "Yea it wasn't as bad as I thought. Not really cramping like they said I would, just feel off."

Mav brushes a curl behind her ear before Ice pulls her into his arms for a hug. "Well that's good. I'm sure B has been very attentive?"

Grace giggles as Ice cocks his eyebrow at Bradley, who's getting down plates and cups for drinks.

"Who do you take me for Pops? You taught me better than that."

"Gracie?"

Grace full on laughs at that, settling into the seat when all three shoo her away from helping. "He's been amazing Pops I promise."

"Good. That's what we want to hear."

Mav dishes up dinner while Bradley gets them all drinks. Before they can ask she offers up, "We've already gotten the results and everything is good. Tubes are open so...." She pushes some of the food around, before giving them a shaky smile. "The doctor's going to call in meds to start next cycle and they've already sent a referral for B to get tested too."

Bradley's hand squeezes her thigh; he's so proud of her being able to get that all out.

"Sounds promising right?" Mav can't help but ask as he gives her shoulder a squeeze.

She wipes at her eyes before giving him a smile. "Yea... yea you're right."

Bradley and Ice change the subject after that, and dinner goes well. Mav and Ice insist on cleaning up despite the kids' protests. Once everything is clean and the leftovers packed into their fridge, Mav and Ice hug them both tight, making them promise to call if they need anything.

It's another few weeks before she can start the meds, having to wait until the third day of her cycle. And it's two weeks after that, that Bradley goes for his test. Deep down Grace knew it would come back just fine, so she's not the least bit surprised when it does.

She's not thrilled about having blood work done on the third week, but she understands it's necessary. The first round of meds, help with ovulation, but it doesn't bring the results they were hoping for.

Round two sees her having blood work and a mid-cycle ultrasound to see how the meds are affecting her ovaries. Bradley isn't able to go with her, but once more, it doesn't turn out as bad as she was expecting. She's learned she's real good at making scenarios worse in her head.

What does surprise her is when both her fathers-in-law show up at the house before her shift after that appointment, although she really shouldn't be. Mav and Ice have been the best during this time, literally offering to do anything they need. They take her out to lunch, and she promises them she's fine. They talk a little bit about her appointment, but they don't linger on it long. Their main goal was just to offer her a little extra TLC and get her mind off things.

Cycle three hurt the worst because Grace was almost positive things had worked. The day she got her period though, found her curled on the couch in one of Bradley's hoodies as she just cried her heart out. She'd been so sure this time; she knows she should've known better than to hope, but she couldn't help it.

She sent B a sad/crying gif on his lunch break when he asked how she was and he instantly knew. He just wanted to go home to her, but he knew he couldn't. So he did the next best thing he could think of. Mav was on base with him, helping with some training so he called Ice and asked him to go over. Then he text Grace; Pops is coming over. I know you probably want to be alone but I'd feel better if someone was with you since I can't be.

B he doesn't have to. I'll be fine.

Please.

She gives in at that, knowing Bradley is probably worrying about her and she'd rather he not be worried about her while at work. It's only fifteen minutes after Bradley's text does she hear the door open.

"Gracie?" Ice calls out softly.

"In here." It comes out as more of a croak, and she winces at how rough it sounds. She sits up, wiping her eyes, and before she can fix her hair, Ice is sitting down beside her on their big sectional couch.

"I'm sorry I loo..."

"Oh Gracie." Ice pulls her right into his arms and just holds her tight. "You know I don't care one bit about that."

She sniffs as she clings to him and as Ice rubs her back she feels herself start to cry once more. His arms tighten around her as he tries to comfort her. "Oh sweetheart. It's ok. Just get it all out," he murmurs softly. He's so glad Bradley called because he shudders to think of her here alone like this.

"I thought this time it'd worked," she sobs as she clings to him. "I knew better," she hiccups.

"Oh Gracie. It's ok to hope, honey. I know it just makes it hurt worse, but it's ok to let yourself hope and believe it's going to work."

She just clings to him as she sobs into his chest and Ice just holds her tight. It doesn't take much longer before she's exhausted herself. "Just rest sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

She falls asleep against him and Ice just holds her until she's deep asleep. He lays her down on the couch, laying a quilt over her. He sends Bradley a text letting him know Grace is asleep and he's got her.

He cleans up the kitchen and checks the pantry and fridge for lunch and dinner options. He's not that surprised when he doesn't find much, considering how much both of them have worked lately. He sends Mav a text to pick up dinner, whatever Bradley wants and he'll order whatever Grace wants for lunch later. He's halfway into a movie when Grace stirs.

"Hi sweetheart," he murmurs, as she slowly sits up emerging from the blanket cocoon.

"Pops?" Her voice is groggy and her eyes are still swollen, her hair a mess.

"Yea. Still here." He pulls her into his side, letting her rest on his shoulder. "Feeling better?"

"A little. Back still hurts but it will for the first day. Cramping a little too," she shrugs.

"Anything I can do?"

She shakes her head as she stays curled into his side. "Thanks for being here," she whispers after several minutes of quiet.

"No where else I'd rather be. You know Mav and B would be here if they didn't have training today."

"I know." She gives him a small smile before working out what movie he's watching. They finish the movie in silence and then Ice orders take out from the local Mexican restaurant Grace loves. Over lunch he entertains her with stories of Mav and the flyboys, and it does the trick to keep her distracted enough to eat.

Her mood seems to improve marginally throughout the day as they watch TV together and by the time Mav and Bradley come through the door with pizzas, Grace is laughing. Bradley turns towards the bedroom to hide his tears of relief, but Mav still sees them.

He sets the pizzas on the counter then pulls Bradley into the hallway and into a hug. "She's ok Baby Goose. Everything is going to be ok."

Bradley nods against Mav's shoulder before pulling back. He wipes his eyes giving his dad a tired smile. "I'm gonna go change then I'll be out."

Mav squeezes his shoulder before he heads to the living room. "We come bearing pizza," he smiles, being dramatic to hear another laugh from Grace.

"Good were starving," Ice declares, pulling Mav into his lap after he sets the pizzas on the coffee table. "Where's Baby Goose?"

"Changing." Grace can see them having a silent conversation, but before she can say she's going to check on her husband, Ice sits Mav on the couch and is up. Grace shakes her head fondly as she leans into the hug Mav pulls her into.

"My Mr Fix-it," Mav laughs as he holds his daughter tight.

"He's pretty good at it," she murmurs.

"That he is." He tightens his arms around her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "You ok Gracie girl?"

"I will be. Having Pops here today helped. Was a good call for B to make. Don't know that being alone would've been good. I tend to get lost in my head easily. And I was a mess before Ice got here. I just..." she shrugs, feeling Mav tightening his arms once more. "I just thought this time was it," she whispers.

"It's going to happen. One way or another. You two will be the best parents ever."

"I dunno anymore," she sighs.

I can see everything you're blind to now Your prayers will be answered

Mav pulls back just a little and cradles her face. "I know. Ice knows." He wipes the few tear tracks off her cheeks. "We'll hold onto that hope until you can believe again Grace. We'd do anything to make your dreams come true. We weren't just saying that that day at the hanger. Anything."

"I know." She curls back against his chest. "It's just so hard to ask for help. Hard to know when we have to give up."

"You don't give up until you've tried every possible option."

Grace chuckles softly as she nods against his chest. "We can't afford every possible option Mav."

"Oh sweet girl you can. With us, you can."

I won't let go 'til the end

Ice quietly knocks on the door when he sees Bradley standing in the middle of their room just holding his clothes. He startles a little, turning towards the noise. "Hey Pops. Give me just a minute and imma change and be out."

"May I?" Ice asks instead.

Bradley nods as he swallows deep, knowing Ice won't take a no. He drops his clothes on the bed and before he knows it, he's wrapped in Ice's arms. He sinks into the hug, Ice being tall enough that Bradley can just sink into it.

Ice's arms tighten as he feels Bradley relaxing into him. "It's ok for you to not be ok either Bradley."

"I'm..."

"Uh huh. Nope. Don't you dare say you're fine."

"Yes sir," he murmurs into Ice's shoulder.

Ice holds him tight; "Come on B. It's ok. Let it out."

I'll be right here, hold my hand

"Pops," he hiccups. Ice's hand rubs up into his hair, holding him against him.

"I gotcha. It's ok. Let it out." And Bradley breaks. His sobs are silent, but he shakes in Ice's arms. "It's ok Baby Goose. It's ok." He holds the little boy he helped raise tight in his arms.

Ice just lets him cry, whispering words of comfort over and over until Bradley's body stops shaking and he's just clinging to Ice sniffling. "She's ok B. You're both going to be ok."

"She was sure," he whispers.

"I know. I know kiddo." He places a soft kiss on Bradley's forehead. "You made the right call having me come over."

Bradley nods as they sit on the edge of the bed. His fingers fiddle and Ice just pulls him back into his side. "She's ok now B. I'm not saying things are gonna be easier because they're not. But for tonight everything is ok."

Bradley gives him a small nod.

"It's ok to let her see you break too."

"I can't..." He shakes his head in denial. "No I can't. She needs me to be strong."

Ice gently ruffles his hair with a soft chuckle. "No kiddo. She just needs you." He gives Bradley another squeeze. "Tonight you just let me and dad be the strong ones ok? You just be."

"Pops is right," Grace says quietly from the doorway. Neither had heard her come looking from them. Bradley's head shoots up at her voice and he instantly starts trying to pull himself together.

Ice gives her a smile, squeezes Bradley's shoulder and then gets up leaving them to it. Grace walks closer, walking between Bradley's knees. With him sitting, she's sorta looking down at him. She threads her fingers through his hair and then lets her arms drop to the top of his shoulders. She pulls him close so his head rests against her, her head resting on top of his.

"Should listen to him," she whispers. She places a kiss on top of his head. "You can just be babe. I know you're just as crushed," she whispers.

Bradley's arms tighten around her as he gives a small nod. They stay like that in the quiet of their room just holding each other for the longest. Finally Bradley pulls back a little, reaching up and cupping her face. He softly kisses her, his thumbs rubbing under her swollen eyes. "We'll do an eye mask tonight, make you feel better."

She gives him a soft sweet smile. "Ok. But first we let Dad and Pops take care of us both." She softly rubs his cheeks until he nods, then she hugs him tight once more. They link hands and head back to the living room.

Ice and Mav are on opposite ends of the sectional, leaving plenty of room between them for the kids. The pizza boxes are open, drinks on the coffee table, and Homeward Bound already queued on the TV ready to go. Ice and Grace have watched Sweet Home Alabama earlier in the day, and before she'd gone to the bedroom she suggested that maybe they watch Bradley's comfort movie that night.

Bradley curls into Mav's side while Grace settles beside Ice. Mav softly rubs Bradley's head, placing a soft kiss there. "We gotcha Baby Goose."

"I know dad," he murmurs.

Ice presses play, and they get the kids to eat at least two pieces each. They leave the pizza there during the movie in case they want more. Bradley and Grace naturally drift together during the movie, curling around each other. Ice nor Mav are surprised when Grace drifts off or that Bradley fights to stay awake the whole time.

Once the movie's over, Ice starts cleaning up while Mav gets Bradley up and both of them off to bed. He picks up the living room, before they go tell the kids goodnight. They lock up behind themselves after seeing the kids curled in bed together sound asleep.

"Don't give me that look," Ice sighs as he and Mav walk to their vehicles.

"There has to be something we can do!"

Ice pulls Mav into his arms hugging him tight. "I know love, I know. But we can't. Not until they decide they wanna do more."

"They do though! They're just scared."

"Rightfully so," Ice gently reminds. "Pete we have to remember they've been doing this for two years already. Two years of constant disappointment."

"I know," he sighs, feeling his heart break more. "I just wanna make it better!"

"You did, tonight." Ice kisses his husband softly before they pull apart. "We'll just keep showing up and reminding them we're here. They'll come to us when they're ready."

"I'm not patient and you know it."

"That I do," Ice laughs. "I'll see you at home."

The kids seemed to perk back up a week later, but Ice and Mav were still worried. They were on the last cycle of meds, and everyone was on edge to see what would happen. Grace was the least surprised, when once again, it didn't happen. She was crushed, no doubt, but this time she was prepared.

It took them another two weeks before they came to Ice and Mav though. Bradley brought it up over family dinner, letting them know as forewarned, the doctor would not be calling in anymore meds and recommended they have a consult with the fertility clinic.

"What do you two want to do?" Ice asked gently.

Bradley looked at Grace, whose hands were fiddling in her lap as she bit her lip, not meeting their eyes. Bradley gently squeezes one of her hands and Grace finally looks up.

"We're going to do the consult. See what options they give," she finally said. She gives them both a watery smile. "Someone told me not to give up until we try every option and they'd hold onto the hope for me until I could believe again. I think I wanna trust him on that."

Mav is around the table before anyone can blink, hugging her tight. "That's right sweetheart. I still believe. Ice still believes."

She nods against his shoulder, feeling herself relax a little more. Once Mav is sitting back down across from them she says, "They're supposed to call us by the end of the week with an appointment."

"You just let us know what you need ok?"

"We will Pops," Bradley promises.

Hold my hand, hold my hand

They're appointment isn't for another three months, and during that time Grace puts all their troubles out of her mind. She focuses on herself and on Bradley, on their family and friends and just lets herself be. It's relaxing and feels like just what she needed. Since she's not on any meds, her periods are once again erratic, but she does her best not to let it bother her.

By the time they have their consult, she feels stable once more, and feels like she and Bradley are back in a really good place. The consult takes forever; they go over all the testing they'd had done previously, their medical histories, and the best plan of action going forward. She tries not to stress over the dollar amounts that get thrown at them, but it's really a lot.

By the time they leave, they both feel overwhelmed. "Think maybe we should go see dad and pops," Bradley says once they're in the Bronco.

"Yea... yea maybe."

Bradley squeezes her hand before texting Mav, who tells him to come straight over. Bradley chuckles when he reads the response. "Bet dad's drove pops crazy this morning."

Grace giggles. "Probably. You know he's just worried."

Bradley softly kisses the back of her head before he heads over to their house. He's not surprised in the least when Mav is waiting on the porch, Ice in the doorway. "Ready for a hug attack?" Bradley laughs as they get out.

He's not wrong; Mav instantly pulls her into his arms, stopping Bradley before he can get on the porch away from his dad. He hugs him tight next, while Grace goes to greet Ice. "I tried to keep him inside," Ice whispers, causing Grace to giggle.

"It's fine. I know he's been nervous."

Once inside, Bradley lays out all the paperwork they were given. He explains everything, with Grace chiming in as needed. "So this is what they're recommending first?" Mav asks, looking over the paperwork.

"Yea. The IUI is cheaper and less invasive. Essentially just putting everything where it needs to be to make a baby."

Ice gently squeezes Mav's arm before they meet the kids' gazes. "Do you want to do it?" Ice asks.

Bradley and Grace share a look, having a silent conversation between themselves. "Yea. I want to try. I...." she breaks off, steeling herself before she continues. "I don't want to give up just yet. I want to make Bradley a dad because I know he'll be an amazing one. I want to expand this little family we have."

Mav gives a tight hug. He's so proud that she took his words to heart and is still holding on to a little bit of hope despite everything trying to take it from her.

"Then we'll make it happen," Ice promises.

"Actually.. I think we can handle this first round. We've saved up some over the last few months. And we wanna do this as much as possible without dipping into any savings or airplane money you two have. We know we might have to, but.."

"B you don't have to do that. We can help."

"I know, dad." Bradley gives him that sweet smile that reminds him of the four year old that hung onto his every word. "But let us do this first round. If we have to do more, then we'll need the help."

Ice squeezes Mav's arm once more, and Mav concedes. "Alright. We can do that."

"Thanks dad." Bradley hugs him tight, knowing how much it took for Mav to concede to him just then. "I promise we'll let you help when we need it."

Grace has to do another round of meds, with ovulation tests, and before they know it, the day of the procedure rolls around. She keeps Mav's words in the back of her mind for the whole two weeks, and Ice and Mav do their best to keep the kids distracted and busy during those two weeks at Bradley's request.

The day she should start her period comes and goes. They try not to think about it, but it's all Grace can think of. The kitchen at the Hard Deck gets a solid deep clean, and Grace would've tackled the bar too if Penny hadn't stopped her. The next day is the same, except Grace is off and she finds herself at base, cleaning Bradley's office, before tackling Mav's.

Mav finds her after his last class of the day. "Gracie?"

She spins to face him with a sheepish smile. "Hi," she waves.

"Sweetheart what are you doing?"

She sighs as she sinks into the chair across from his desk. "I needed to stay busy and I was off today. Figured if I showed up and tried to clean the bar again, Penny would kill me. So I came here."

Mav leans up against his desk, watching her. "Uh huh. And you've just been cleaning?"

"Yea. Pops' office is way too clean to even bother. So I did yours and Bradley's."

I know you're scared and your pain is imperfect

Mav kneels down in front of her when she won't meet his eyes. "What's going on sweetheart?"

She sighs as her shoulders slump. "I should've started yesterday," she sighs.

Mav gives her hand a squeeze. "I see." He stands up and kisses her forehead. "Well it's a good thing it's Friday," he smiles. He drops some things on his desk, before snatching up some keys.

"Why?" Grace asks giving him a puzzled look.

"Because. Means we can go to the hanger for the weekend. Get out of town."

"I've got a shift tomorrow."

"I'll call Penny."

"Mav no its fine. I just..."

"Trust me sweetheart. If you're not ready to take a test, getting out of town will be the best thing."

"Ok," she whispers.

He pulls her up into a hug. "Now go find that kid of mine and tell him to hurry up. We'll meet ya out there tonight."

"Thanks dad," she whispers as she hugs him back just as tight.

But don't you give up on yourself

She heads off to get Bradley, Mav calling Penny as he walks to Ice's office informing him of the new plans.

The weekend ends up being the perfect distraction. Grace enjoys watching the guys fly, and Bradley is even able to convince her to go up once. The view is gorgeous and she ends up really loving it. It helps that her husband is patient and gentle in the plane with her behind him. By Sunday night, she feels well rested and loved and taken care of.

Monday morning before work, Bradley finds her in the bathroom throwing up and dry heaving. He wets a wash cloth and rubs over her forehead and the back of her neck. "You ok?" He whispers when she leans back against him just breathing deep.

"I'm so nauseous," she whines.

Bradley softly hums as he keeps running the wash cloth over her. He just holds her, letting her breathe through it until the feeling passes. "Think maybe you should take a test now?"

She shakes her head no before he even finishes his question. "You know I had nausea spells before my period with the meds last time."

"Mmm. But I don't remember you ever puking."

"Could be a fluke," she argues.

"Ok baby. Ok," he concedes. He softly kisses her forehead before helping her up. He stays right there while she rinses her mouth and then helps her back to bed. "Just promise you'll take it easy at work if you still don't feel good."

"I will," she promises, pulling him down for a kiss before he's off to work.

Grace feels better after another hour of sleep, and she's convinced herself it's just a fluke when it only happens the once. By the next weekend, she's officially a week late, her temp is still elevated, and she's absolutely exhausted.

That fear that's inside you will lift, give it time

It all comes to a head Saturday over family dinner. The minute Grace walks through the door, the smell of her favorite sushi and hibachi take out sends her running to the guest bathroom off Mav and Ice's foyer. Bradley instantly follows leaving his Dads standing in the doorway confused.

Mav lights up when he puts the pieces together but Ice reigns him in. "Don't. We don't know anything."

"When has Grace ever gotten sick at the smell of food?"

"When she's had a stomach bug," Ice deadpans.

Mav sticks his tongue out, but they retreat to the living room to wait on the kids. They don't have to wait long, Bradley carrying a very pale Grace. He lays her on the couch, Grace covering her face with a whine.

"Might wanna put the food away," Bradley suggests, when Grace groans and just tries to breathe through it.

"You got it kiddo. What can we get her?"

"Got any sprite or crackers?"

Ice gives him a nod as they both retreat to the kitchen. Ice packs away the food for now as Mav brings back the requested items. He sits at Grace's feet, lifting them into his lap. Bradley's sitting with her head against his thighs, as he runs a wash cloth over her face still.

"Here sweetheart. Wanna try one of these?"

"Sprite first," Bradley answers already knowing which one she'll pick first. Mav hands it to him, and Bradley helps her take some slow slips.

"Sooooo, stomach bug?" Mav asks, causing Ice to let out a loud groan from the kitchen.

Bradley can't help but chuckle himself, knowing Mav has been dying to ask since Grace ran to the bathroom. "We don't know Dad," he finally says. "This is the second time this week it's happened though."

I've heard a story, a girl, she once told me

Ice rejoins them, sitting on the coffee table near the couch. He brushes some hair off Grace's forehead as she tries a cracker. "How you feeling sweetheart?"

"I'm ok. I'll be fine. I'm sure it's nothing."

Mav makes a wounded noise at that causing Bradley to giggle once more. "I think dad disagrees with you babe."

Grace sighs as she shakes her head at Bradley. She takes another cracker from Mav and works her way vertical, leaning her head over on Bradley's shoulder. "Think you're gonna have to hold that hope yourself Mav."

"I'll do it." He pulls her gently into a side hug. "You know I will. Good things are coming Grace. I know you're scared, but twice is a coincidence sweetheart."

"Not necessarily," she grumbles.

Mav kisses the side of her forehead as he shares a look with Ice. "Do you think you can eat honey?" Ice asks her.

"Not what yall ordered." She feels herself turning green at the thought of the take out.

"What do you think you can eat?" Mav asks her as she nibbles on another cracker.

"Grilled cheese," she shrugs. "I dunno. Food makes me wanna gag at the moment."

It's so hard for Mav not to remind her that might be a good sign, but he doesn't say a word. "Grilled cheeses are dad's specialty," Bradley smiles.

"What are yall gonna eat though?" she pouts. She feels terrible that she's ruined their dinner plans.

"Grilled cheeses are fine," Ice reassures. "Taking care of you is the most important."

She settles on the couch with Bradley while Ice and Mav go fix the sandwiches. She can hear them whispering in the kitchen, but she just can't let herself hope just yet. "Dad might be right," Bradley whispers as he rubs her back.

"I know... I just..."

"I know baby. I know." He softly kisses the top of her head as they just relax. They end up enjoying the night on the couch, eating the sandwiches and catching up from the week. Grace dozes off, exhausted, and they let her sleep as they keep talking quietly. Bradley promises Mav and Ice that he will try to get her to test soon. He gently scoops her up, and it's a testament to how tired she is that she doesn't even wake.

"B just take her to the guest room and you two stay."

"Ok, dad," Bradley smiles. He knows it'll make Mav feel better to have them under the roof for the night. He tucks Grace into the bed, and after hugging Mav and Ice, joins her. They sleep all through the night, and Bradley wakes before her. She's gorgeous and he loves watching her wake up.

He softly kisses her forehead; "Morning beautiful."

"We stayed the night?" she murmurs sleepily, taking in the room around them.

"Yea you fell asleep and dad suggested we stay. Seemed easier."

She rubs her eyes as she stretches. "Ok." She gives him a sweet smile, and pulls him down for a kiss. "Think they made breakfast?"

"Most definitely," he grins.

They get up, and Grace snags a hoodie, that she suspects Bradley had left here at some point. She throws her hair up in a bun, and once she feels mostly presentable, they head out to the kitchen. She squeezes Bradley's hand as she breathes deep at the smell of the coffee.

"Morning kiddos," Ice smiles, seeing them join them.

"Hey Pops, Dad."

"Morning," Grace tries to smile. "I'll...." She breaks for the bathroom unable to hold it back like she thought she'd be able to.

"Bradley..."

"I got it dad. Just... maybe no coffee," he shrugs. He finds Grace in their bathroom, breathing deep. He wets a wash cloth and kneels beside her.

"You ok?" he whispers.

She leans into his shoulder as she just breathes. "Yea... I just..." She sighs as he wraps his arms around her. "I dunno felt sick. I'm so nauseous."

Bradley softly rubs her back as he gently rocks her. "Baby..."

"I know," she whispers. She clings to him tighter. "I'm just scared."

"Me too," he whispers. "But we have to jump sometimes."

"Ok," she whispers. She gives him a small nod, and Bradley pulls her head off his chest to stare into her eyes.

"Yea?"

"Yea. Go get me one."

"What if I send dad?" he grins.

Grace chuckles softly. "Ok. Do that and you can stay with me."

Bradley kisses her forehead and then helps her back to the edge of the bed. He heads back to the kitchen, and he's not surprised when they both turn to him expectantly. "Who wants to run to the store for us?"

"I'll be right back," Mav says, already having his bike key in his pocket.

Ice pulls Bradley into a hug; he can see the fear and barely concealed excitement in his eyes. "It's going to be ok."

"Yea... Yea I know Pops."

He goes back to cuddle Grace until Mav gets back. She dozes a little, and prays her stomach will settle, sipping some Sprite. Mav's back within thirty minutes and he quietly knocks on the door. He passes Bradley the box with a small smile, and tells them they'll keep breakfast warm.

"Well... Here goes," Grace sighs, taking the box from Bradley's hand. He pulls her into a deep kiss, holding her tight.

"Whatever happens, we're going to be ok."

She gives him a shaky smile and then closes the door to the bathroom. She comes out a few minutes later and sits on the bed beside him. "Baby?"

"Gotta wait three minutes. I don't... I don't know that I can look at it B."

"That's ok. I can do it." They sit there watching the minutes tick by and when it passes five minutes, Grace finally pulls back from his arms. She gives him a nod, and then she starts twisting the hoodie sleeves around her hands. She's almost petrified of the results after all of this.

Bradley comes back holding the test, and he's doing his best, not to give it away. He knows his eyes have to be shining though. "B?"

He turns the test towards her, and she immediately closes her eyes. "Grace... baby just look."

"Bradley..."

"Please?"

She slowly opens her eyes, connecting with his smile first. She lets her eyes drop down to the test, and she can't move. She sits there in stunned silence just staring. "Grace?"

"Oh my god," she whispers, a hand dropping to her stomach. "We... It..."

That I would be happy again

Bradley drops the test and picks her up, Grace wrapping her arms and legs around him immediately. "Congrats Mommy," he whispers as he holds her tight.

She cries into his neck as she clings to him. "I can't believe it!"

"I know. I know. It worked though. Grace you're pregnant."

She cradles his face, wiping away his own tears, before she kisses him hard and deep. "Congrats Daddy," she whispers, more happy tears rolling down her cheeks.

The test is forgotten on the floor as Bradley carries her out to the kitchen. The coffee is gone, and Mav and Ice have moved to the living room, so Bradley keeps walking.

Mav sees the tears on Bradley's cheeks and squeezes Ice's hand before he gets up. "Oh kiddos..."

"Hi Grandad and Grandpops," Bradley says before Mav can finish his thought.

They both stare at him, letting the words sink in, as he sets Grace on her feet. "Wait... you just..."

"He did," Grace smiles. She jumps into Mav's arms giving him a tight hug. "You held onto that hope long enough Grandad."

"Come here," Ice says, pulling Bradley into a tight hug, before he and Mav switch kids. After more happy tears are shed, they ask Grace what she thinks she can stomach for breakfast. She gives them a grin, telling them some toast will be fine for now, as they both move back to the kitchen to fix their breakfast.

"I have a feeling I'm fixing to be doted on even more than I already was," she whispers with a giggle.

"Oh no doubt," Bradley agrees.

Despite their rough journey to making their little miracle baby, Grace ends up with a fairly easy pregnancy. They tell the rest of their family and friends after her twelve week appointment, and time seems to fly after that.

The nursery comes together rather easily after their gender reveal party. They kept it a surprise and Bradley got to fly the Mustang with a banner flying behind as the announcement; "Daddy's Little WingMAN coming soon." If Mav and Ice cried seeing it, well Grace just let them. It made for a cute video though.

The last ten weeks found her on bed rest, which she hated, but did without complaint for her little man. Ice and Mav constantly stopped by to keep her company or help out. If one of them wasn't available, usually one of the Flyboy uncles would stop by. She loved them dearly, but felt they were going overboard taking care of her, but she didn't really have the heart to tell them.

At thirty-eight weeks, Grace goes into labor. One phone call to Ice, and Bradley is off work and on his way to her, Mav riding along. They get to the hospital just as her water breaks, and ten hours later, Grace is holding their son. Bradley gets to cut the cord and then follows over to the side as they clean him up. He carries him back to Grace, cooing at him the whole time as the baby just watches him.

He settles on the side of her bed, gently placing the baby in her arms. The room empties quickly, leaving them in the quiet. "He's perfect," Grace whispers, her finger rubbing over his cheek.

"Like his mama," Bradley smiles. They cuddle their baby for close to an hour, Grace feeding him during that time. Once he's asleep, and they're for sure settled, Bradley leaves him with Grace to go get his dads.

"Come on. We got someone to meet you," he smiles, after they both hug him tight.

They walk into the room quietly, and Grace smiles at them from the bed. "We've got a sleepy boy who can't wait to meet his grandparents," she smiles.

Bradley gently takes him out of Grace's arms before turning to his dads. "Dad, Pops, we'd like to introduce you to your grandson, Mitchell Thomas Bradshaw."

Grace can't help but giggle, despite the video she's taking. They'd promised Slider they'd get the reaction on video, as they'd kept the name a secret from Mav and Ice.

"Oh Bradley! It's perfect," Mav whispers wiping his eyes. He gently takes the baby from Bradley, as Ice leans over his shoulder. The little boy yawns and wiggles in his grandfather's hold getting comfy. His eyes open and blink a few times at the two new faces and then he settles right back to sleep.

"You did amazing kiddos," Ice whispers, grinning over at them. Bradley had curled into the bed with Grace and she looked like she was about to doze off. "You two rest. We got him," Ice promises.

They settle onto the little couch, taking turns holding the sleeping baby, while Bradley lets Grace get some sleep. "I knew you'd come along and be just perfect," Mav whispers to Mitchell. "Grandad never gave up hope. And now you can be daddy's little wingman."

Mitchell Thomas had no idea just how loved he was going to be growing up. He had his parents, his grandads, and a whole slew of aunts and uncles that spoiled him rotten. The kid never wanted for anything, and with his daddy's big brown eyes, no one could hardly tell him no. He was his mama's boys and his daddy's wingman, completing their little family.

–9 months– 

The truth was, in many ways, Carole understood Pete like no one else ever would, and the same could be said for vice versa. Pete understood Carole in a way no one else ever would. It's no mystery where it started; their shared love, their shared tragedy. Goose dying was the epicenter for them. 

It's almost 11:45 when Maverick hears his phone ringing. He ignores it at first, hoping the person will realize they are calling at an entirely unreasonable time. Then he hears Carole's voice on the answering machine, hardly stringing a complete sentence together for her message, asking him to call her back when he can. 

Pete launches himself out of bed, trying to shake sleep and drowsiness away. He picks up the phone and immediately calls Carole back. 

Her name is the first word that spills from his mouth when she answers. He can hear the way her breaths are catching, and the way sobs are shaking her body. 

"Carole," he repeats, "Are you okay?" 

"No, not really." She manages to tell him after a few shaky breaths. "I don't think I will ever be okay again."

"I know," Pete sighs, leaning against the kitchen and living room doorway with the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. 

"Are you physically okay?"

"Yes," she whispers. 

"Bradley too?" 

"Yes," she answers between sobs. Pete feels some tension built up in his chest release, but not all the way. 

"Take some deep breaths with me?" Pete doesn't wait for her to respond and instead starts to count them out. 

"In," he counts five seconds out for her. Then tells her, "Out, one, two..." Mav maintains the cycle and pace of breathing, counting into the phone. After a while, he can tell that Carole's sobs are less all-consuming. 

Cutting him off mid-number on an inhale, Carole says, "I miss him." 

"I miss him too," Pete whispers like it's a secret. He may have gotten his head on straight enough to fly again, but that doesn't mean that Maverick isn't still filled to the brim with grief. 

"I always knew the risk. He did too. I just never thought it would hurt this bad." She stops speaking to cry more after saying that. 

"Thank you for calling me back. I just didn't know who else I could call now." Pete suddenly remembers the time difference and that it is three in the morning for her. 

"You can always call me Carole. I'll pick up if I can."

"Thank you."

"What can I do to help you?" 

"No, there's nothing." He can hear her hesitate, it's in the way her breath catches, and she draws out the o slightly in her response.

"Come on, Carole, there's something I can tell."

"My mind is racing, and everything is piling up. Which doesn't make sense; there have always been times I did it all alone when y'all were on the carrier."

"Nothing is the same anymore. Even the same familiar actions feel heavier." Pete supplies. He empathizes. He knows precisely where she is coming from. 

She just cries, but Mav knows it's a confirmation. 

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" He asks her. Carole had always struggled with insomnia, and Pete couldn't imagine the condition had improved in the last 8 months. 

"No."

"Okay, forget everything piling up, and let's try and let go of a little bit of weight. Right now. How can I at least help you get some rest tonight?"

"I just need a distraction."

Pete looks around his living room trying to find something to distract himself and her. Finally, he lands on the manual sitting on the coffee table he had been going through that evening. "How about I read to you? I've been studying anyway. Big test coming up."

She hums into the phone for a moment. It's a sound that briefly raises gooseflesh on his arms. "What for?"

"The F-16."

"Yeah, I've always wanted to know about those." 

Pete laughs at the comment and almost recoils when a broken sob falls through the other side of the phone. After a shaky inhale on her part, though, Carole descends into an almost chuckle. 

"Okay, I just need to make some coffee." He tells her as he turns in the doorway to the kitchen. It only takes a moment more of fumbling before he starts heating the kettle. 

"Coffee at this time of night?" Carole asks, almost chastising. Using a tone not dissimilar to what he has heard her use with Bradley. 

"Steadies the hands," Maverick tells her. "A splash of Bailey's never hurts anything either." 

It's a small but real chuckle that falls from her mouth now. "You better not be wheels up in less than 8 hours."

"No, Ma'am. Tomorrow is my day off." Maverick reassures her. 

"Oh, good," Carole sighs. 

He pours the water not yet boiling into a mug before adding a packet of instant coffee. He is in a bit of a rush, so he just impatiently swirls it waiting for it to bubble. When he determines it is mixed enough that he won't gag, he adds a splash of the beige liqueur. 

Making his way to his couch, he asks, "Are you ready to learn all about augmented pitch control?"

"Well, I was hoping to learn about the landing gear, but I think I can live with that."

"If you really want," Maverick seriously tells her, with a heavy sigh,  adding a touch of sarcasm. Then, taking a big gulp of his gritty coffee, Pete flips open his manual.

Carole's laugh was genuine and authentic at his lackluster joke. Pete isn't sure that the flash of warmth in him is just from the alcohol, but it is gone as soon as he considers it. 

"Thank you, Pete," she sighs into the line. 

"It's no problem."

Mav flips open the manual, starting to read. 

He hears a few more stifled sobs from Carole, but they are sparse. She occasionally peppers in tired questions asking about something he read. However, the longer he reads, the less frequent her questions. Eventually, all she makes are drowsy hums, and her breathing evens into the phone. Pete keeps reading to her for ten more minutes while finishing his coffee, even though he knows she is asleep. 

"Goodnight, Carole," he finally whispers into the phone before hanging up. 

 Pete absentmindedly rinses his mug in his tiny sink, staring out the window into the dark night. He promises to call Carole more to check in.

He muses how it's not fair for her to do this alone. Pete knows he should try to help her and make up for some of the weight —the loss —she is bearing. That he is failing Goose, letting Carole freefall through all of this alone. After all, wasn't Carole, in a way, his responsibility? As his Godfather, Bradley certainly was. 

 Turning off all the lamps and making his way back to bed. Pete also briefly thinks it's not fair he has to do this alone either. 

— 2.5 years— 

Pete' Maverick' Mitchell is a broken man. He knew that but tried his best to be a good man. So Maverick started visiting the Bradshaws as often as manageable.

He wasn't at top gun anymore. However, Maverick has been working hard at playing friendly and responsible long enough to finally secure a position in the Atlantic fleet. It was going to allow him to be significantly more present. 

Maverick was always trying to make up for what he had done in the smallest ways. But, he knew it would never make a big enough difference, never replace what was lost. Regardless, he had a responsibility to Carole and Bradley to help them. 

After all, Pete often thought ruefully, wasn't he the reason the man who was supposed to help them died?

The first-day Maverick would spend with the Bradshaws was always dedicated to chores. The laundry list of things that Carole would mention or Pete knew needed to get done. Getting things done for them helped ease the guilt that bubbled in his chest and made him feel like he was compensating for his stay. 

Today was one such day; Maverick spent all day with Bradley in the garage, tuning up the Bronco and Carole's Jeep, changing oil, and checking everything on them so he knew he wouldn't have to worry about them driving until his next visit. He didn't mind the work and keeping his hands busy, being useful.

 It was an added bonus that time with Bradley in the shop was one of Pete's favorite things. Mav would talk Bradley through every step of what he was doing. Letting him help with the smaller, simple tasks. Bradley would still sit close to Mav, watching intently, even if he was playing with his toys; otherwise, the boy would be perched on Pete's hip or hugging his leg. Rock would fill the garage, punctured only by Pete's explanations and answers to Bradley's hesitant questions, along with the sound effects Bradley liked to make with his toy cars and planes. 

Days in the shop, doing chores, making dinner, and other similar moments on his visits, are what he secretly treasures the most. In the night, long after, Maverick is back on the carrier, and his mind feels more timorous than the raging sea he lives in; he will briefly masquerade as a pirate, not a sailor, and steal some of that treasure to tide him over. Pete would think back and savor those moments, recalling what a blossom of peace feels like.  

Then Carole had come into the shop kissing Bradley's cheek and loudly informing them she made dinner; it was a hearty lasagna. Pete scooped Bradley onto his hip. Walking them to the sink, Pete washed the grease and dirt off their hands before settling at the table to eat. 

After only two prompting questions and Pete's extra encouragement, Bradley animatedly told Carole about the things he learned in the shop that day. Bradley was getting more talkative again. A colossal comfort to not just Carole but Pete as well. After Goose had died, it was two months later when Bradley stopped talking entirely for a while.  

When Carole had taken him to the doctor, their best explanation was that the little boy might finally understand that his Daddy wasn't coming home this time. So, when Bradley started to talk again, they were as encouraging as possible. Encouraging his small words to the full-blown sentences, he was at again now. It made Pete appreciate every word the little boy decided to bestow on him. 

When they finished eating, Maverick picked up all their plates and started to clean them in the sink. All the while staring at the mother and son sitting at the table. His heart squeezes so hard in his chest that it feels like it might burst. Not wholly dissimilar to the feeling of fighting G-lock, Pete briefly considers if he is too young to have a heart attack. 

Then Carole laughs, that enchanting, consuming laugh of hers. Where she throws her whole head back, and it's reflected in her body. Where her shoulders shake, and her eyes crinkle almost closed. The laugh that comes from deep in her belly filling the extra space in a room. It is quickly followed by Bradley copying his mother. He has almost the same laugh — his miniature body following the same actions. 

Bradley has Carole's laugh, not Goose's. 

And Pete finds it a beautiful realization. His heart squeezes even tighter at the idea. Carole helps Bradley dip their spoons into Pete's ice cream bowl, still on the table. They share a secret look like they are getting away with a crime, stealing the ice cream. It's followed by both of them laughing again. With that sight in front of him, his heart gives one, then two, beats more before it bursts in his chest. 

Warmth floods his whole chest spreading throughout his body, and it all feels so simple: he loves his family. He had always loved this little family, but this is like everything has changed —no shifted — because they are his family. Pete realizes he really loves this woman, and there is no denying that Bradley is a son to him in everything but blood. With his hands covered in dish soap and water and a kitchen full of warmth and laughter, Mav's heart knits itself back together two sizes larger. 

As soon as that realization fully settles with Pete, he lets go of the plate he was holding. It clatters in the sink, and two pairs of eyes, both concerned and searching, look over at him. He doesn't know what the look on his face is showing, even though he likes to claim he only had one. However, the way Carole was looking at him says otherwise. The joy on her face is instantly shadowed by concern. 

He picks up the plate from the bottom of the sink and shoots them a forced apologetic smile. "The plate slipped." he supplies and then rededicates himself to cleaning the kitchen as quickly as possible. 

He can tell Carole is still worried, but she returns to her conversation with Bradley. While he finishes cleaning, that weight of guilt on his shoulders triples, pressing so hard into him that he feels like he can hardly breathe. 

Pete feels like he might break apart at the drop of a pin. He had killed his best friend, his brother. And now Maverick is here —in love with his wife, loving his son more than anything else. And Pete may love even more than he loves the Navy, more than he loves flying. 

What was he even doing here? Trying to replace Goose? How fucked up would that be? The more Pete considers the idea, the more his stomach flips. He regrets having such a large portion of dinner. He excuses himself to go to bed soon after the kitchen is clean. 

 He doesn't even read Bradley a story like he usually would before tucking him in each night. Reading to Bradley is something he typically insists on doing during his visits. Pete always justifies the action is to give Carole a break. Not because he loves the little sleepy sounds and questions Brad makes, insisting that he can turn the book's pages. Or how Bradley likes to explain the pictures to him. Not the heavy feeling of Bradley's head pressing into Pete's arm when he can't fight sleep anymore. 

It was a sight Maverick knew he couldn't take, not tonight. Not when the fantasy of Carole on the other side of the bed pops into his mind. Bradley sandwiched between them, angled into his side, Pete's arm over Carole's shoulder, her making silly sound effects to accompany the characters in the book. He tries to banish the vision to the far recesses of his mind, but it refuses to dissipate entirely. 

The ideas had been planted, and some part of him knows he will never be free again. 

That night, he dreams of kissing Carole, her warmth pressing against him, the sun shining. A dream where they are having a picnic at the park, and Bradley is flying a kite, shaped just like Pete's Nighthawk, moving around like it was caught in jet wash. Maverick wakes up in a cold sweat. He wakes up and packs all of his things, filling the duffle bag he had emptied the day before. 

Pulling the sheets off the guest bed and remaking it with the fresh set Carole kept in the guest closet. The crisp edges of a perfectly made bed. The other sheets, still damp from sweat thrown into the laundry hamper. He knew he should throw them in the wash for her instead of leaving more work. However, more than that, Pete knows he can't stay any longer. 

It is still night, and he wonders if he should wait or leave a note before hightailing it on his motorcycle. If he waited to start the bike until the end of the street, Maverick knew he wouldn't wake anyone with his departure. Maybe he could call later and tell Carole he forgot about some emergency orders or other semi-plausible excuse. 

But then there she is, sitting in her knitting chair with the lamp on at her side. It paints the living room in soft light. The shadows all creeping in around them, around him, sliding around Carole. A safe harbor in the storm, the lamp providing a gentle glow.

Pete is a deer in the headlights, looking into Carole's tired, resigned face. A cup of coffee next to her. She hates coffee, only keeping it in the house for when Maverick comes to visit. So, the sight of the steaming mug next to her can only mean she is waiting for him. 

"Good morning Pete," she says quietly, her voice the tiniest bit rough from the night and however long she has been waiting. The record player in the living room is playing a Dolly Parton album softly. 

He doesn't say anything, only waiting and ready to flee at the barest sign of weakness from her. It is a fool's errand on his part. 

Carole Bradshaw has never been weak. Not one single day in the years Pete Mitchell has known her. When the world shifted when they lost Goose, she was the better of them because she was strong. Only becoming stronger because she had to deal with it herself. Then Carole had to deal with it for Bradley, too, bearing the extra weight of his heartbreak. It was a battle he would never have won; A battle against Goose's ghost, Maverick was still losing.

"I made you coffee," she says then, turning her eyes back to the yarn in her lap. Her southern accent felt a little thicker and a little slower, coating his ears like honey. 

Maverick gingerly sets the bag on the floor. Carole is like a lighthouse or fog light —some guiding presence — drawing him through the dark home. Pulling his feet forward until he enters the safe bubble she creates in the living room. 

Pete perches on the edge of the couch, close enough to her side that she won't have to raise her voice. His chest is filled with a sinking feeling, free falling towards the ground. His heart already preparing for the crash and subsequent burn to follow. If he were a lesser man, his hands would have shaken, reaching for a sip of coffee. The warm liquid has a little extra kick telling him she added a splash of whisky. It was how he would always take coffee in the evening. The intimacy of her knowing him so well only makes his heart feel rawer. Pete isn't able to take his eyes off of her. 

"What's wrong, Mav? I need you to be talking to me, sugar."

That was a question with a dangerous trajectory. Maverick can never tell Carole what has happened. If he put it into words, it wouldn't be just a thought; it would make it real. It would be alive and fragile, a heaving little thing that would claw Pete apart from the inside out. 

He knew because he had seen it before; loving Carole Bradshaw is nothing short of all-consuming.

He rips his gaze away from her and stares into his coffee instead. Carole sighs heavily and shifts the yarn and hooks from her hands to the basket beside her. She faces her whole body towards him. Those shining blue eyes betray how tired she is, and yet, she is patiently waiting for him. 

"I need to leave," he grits out. 

"You don't need to leave."

"I need to leave," he repeats again. 

"Don't do this, Pete." She says, almost begging him. The kindness in her face fading from the surface. 

"I'm not doing anything. I just have to—" Carole cuts him off, which is good because Pete doesn't know where he was going with that thought. 

"You don't get to do this to Bradley or me."

"I have to, Carole. I can't. You don't understand." His words are halting and jumbled. 

"No. I think I do understand," Carole says the words slowly.

It couldn't be possible for her to know that he loved her, could it? Was Maverick so far gone that it was written all over his face? How his eyes would constantly seek her before anything else. Did she see the twitch in his arms, resisting the desire to pull her close? Can she know that most of his waking and dreaming thoughts are now consumed by her and Bradley?

"If you understood, you would be throwing me out on my ass," Pete tells her, staring down into the coffee he is gripping. The dark liquid threatens to slosh over the sides, prompting him to take another drink. 

"You think it's that terrible then? I should kick you out of the house?" 

"Yes. Carole, what I am doing is wrong." 

"Why, because of Nick?" Carole asks him not unkindly, but it still feels like a slap across his face. 

"Of course, because of Nick," Pete tells her. 

Pete is surprised to see her burst into tears. The saltwater baptizing the blue of her eyes, making them shine brighter in the dim living room. He can't identify anything similar to the feeling her tears inspire in him. 

"You're right. It is wrong for you to help care for a lonely, hurt little boy. And it is so wrong for you to be there for a struggling widow. He would have detested you for all of this. The worst thing you've ever done."

"Taking care of you two isn't what the problem is. If I was just taking care of you, with no alternative motives; if I was doing it because it is the right thing, then it would be okay." 

"So, the problem is that you–" Maverick quickly cuts her off mid-sentence. Refusing to let her say those words, refusing to make this conversation's realities worse than they already are. 

"Stop, Carole. Don't say that. It. I don't." The words come out so jumbled that Pete feels like a sock is in his mouth.  

"You don't?" She raises one eyebrow, not believing him. 

"No, I don't."  

"Don't pretend I don't know you."

"I'm not," Pete defends himself. They sit in silence for several long minutes after that. The ticking of the grandfather clock and the Dolly Parton album were the only thing disturbing the quiet. Then Carole finally decided to speak again. 

"It eats at me, too, Mav. You know that, right? Because sometimes it seems like you don't think I miss him." 

"I would never think that, Carole." Of course, he wouldn't; Maverick knew if there was anyone who missed Goose more than him, it was Carole. 

"It's been almost three years. Have you had alternative motives the whole time or just the last few visits?"

"It's more recent."

"I know," she sighs. Carole runs a hand through her hair in frustration. Pete can see the agitation lingering under the exhaustion in her. 

"Well, maybe you can answer this honestly. What's more messed up, Pete? What you are doing or what I am?" 

Pete slouches heavily into the couch, briefly pressing his hands hard into his eyes until stars spark behind them and then fade. Only then does he find the energy to look at her again. "Carole."

She holds up a hand, stopping him. Then, standing up from her chair, she stretches, causing her back to pop. Then she levels him with a melancholic look, "Enough, Mav. I'm tired, too tired to deal with this."

She set about turning off the music tidying the yarn in her bin and then drifted towards the hallway. The way she exits the space sucks all the warmth with her. Pete immediately lost that feeling of safe harbor. Carole was at the edge of the living room when she turned back to look at him. 

"I can accept you leaving me in the middle of the night. But if you ever leave without saying goodbye to that little boy?" Carole points in the direction of Bradley's room. "Don't come back." 

Pete stays. 

He waits for Bradley to wake up and then makes him breakfast before taking the boy to a local Baseball game. Carole doesn't leave her room until the late afternoon. His heart only hurts a little bit when she pretends like nothing happened in the early hours of the morning. Just another one of their conversations drifting into the wind. 

The want in his chest doesn't abate, nor does the echoing of Carole's question. Maybe they are both equally wrong, or maybe it isn't as wrong as he thought. One thing is clear to Pete on the minimal list of things Carole could do wrong in his eyes, the possibility of her loving him isn't on it. 

And it's okay that they don't talk about it, that it doesn't come up, because he never said that he loves her. Maverick had made damn sure those words didn't pass between lips. So, maybe these things can just go away. Give them a little time, some space to breathe, and the tension would dissipate between them. Maverick was sure of it.  

The part of him that now only craves her thinks about pursuing it. The traitorous part of him wonders. Hasn't Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell always craved relationships with just the touch of forbidden flavor? Whether with an admiral's daughter, an instructor, or his equal and rival. Pete never considered it genuinely deterring. 

On the contrary, some part of him saw the taboo as encouraging. But his best friend's widow? That was pushing it too far for any man —even for Maverick.  

The tension does dissipate, and the hopes he hides close to his chest don't matter. Not even three days after their unfinished conversation, Maverick is deployed to Panama. The realities of combat snapping him back into the realities of loss.

Maverick tries to give up those moments of 'dress up' of playing pretend and plundering his hidden treasure filled with laughs, too much food on the table, and slim arms holding him close. He is too afraid of tainting the memories with his stained touch. 

But to forget the Bradshaws? Let them go? That is impossible. One way or another, Maverick knows he will always return to them. 

— 4 years—-

"Who would it go to?" Maverick asks her one night. 

He silently thanked God that Bradley was already asleep when he got to Carole Bradshaw's front door that night. He had walked 8 miles from the bus stop. Maverick hadn't registered any part of the walk except the eight turns he needed to get to her door. 

She didn't say a word when she opened the door, just widened it for him and went to start a pot of coffee, and pulled a bottle of Baileys out. They were sitting together on the porch swing. It was swaying just enough to be soothing in the still of the night with the cicadas buzzing around them. 

Pete's hands still have the slightest bit of a shake to them since he had left his friend's funeral that morning. And he clutches the coffee cup Carole gave him like a lifeline. Its warmth provides more comfort than any of the liquid inside of it. Jim hadn't even been an aviator, but the image of his sister sobbing and holding that perfectly folded flag was burned behind Pete's eyes. 

The humidity in Virginia made him feel like his ghosts really were connected to his skin. They were hanging right there off of him. He had gotten better at pushing them away. Better at not letting his ghosts shift his hands and mind, only listening to them. It was a practice he only perfected in the sky. 

It is always so much harder on solid ground anymore. A fresher, newer hurt, one Maverick has not even started to examine, feels like he is back under the middle east sun. Pete has to remind himself that it is nighttime and that this humidity doesn't have the same oppressive force. He reminds himself it's okay because he is here with Carole. 

"Me, of course," she tells him, no question in her voice. 

He saw it the moment she said it; the image tweaks his soul, like when you suddenly hear a flat note in the middle of a melody. Two perfectly folded flags, sharp, crisp edges, red, white, and blue triangles, pressed behind glass. Pete's portrait and flag, sitting right next to Goose's— a home with more flags than men. Bradley growing up with not one but two looming shadows over his back. 

"No," it falls out of his mouth unsolicited. He moves to stand up from the chair, haphazardly setting his cup on the porch. He feels like a caged animal. He leans heavily against the nearby porch post, gripping it tightly. 

"No, it can't go to you." Maverick finally chokes out. He tries to take a few deep breaths to calm himself and banish the new image flaunting around his mind. 

"Who else would it go to but us?" She poses it as a question. 

He knows the answer, and so does she. There is no one else anymore, not really. 

And had there ever even been anyone else since Pete's mom died? 

No. Pete refuses to look at the horror blooming in his chest or the little voice whispering the truth:  It had always been Carole. Hadn't it?

Pete can only slowly shake his head. There is nothing he can say. Anything appropriate exits his mind to make more room for the idea of her being left alone again. The raw acceptance on Carole's face reflected in her eyes is too much for him. So, Pete closes his eyes, refusing to stare into her gaze any longer. Those blues were piercing his soul. 

Carole's eyes reminded him too much of the sky. A perfect clear sky, glistening blue. The blue that is born where the ocean and sky meet to form the horizon. That blue is the one thing he can't ever seem to stop himself from returning to. The blue that calls to him understands every part of him. That same blue: the defining characteristics of what he loves most in this world. 

"No one, but you two." Pete manages to force it out of his throat. Then brokenly, immediately, he has to remedy the words he allowed to slip out. "Anyone can have it, but not Bradley. And never you, Carole." 

Pete flinches in anticipation, registering the reverence with which he just spoke her name. He waits for the loud manifestation of his guilt, one he hears in Goose's voice, but it isn't there this time. Instead, it is drowned out by the dread of hurting this woman again. The idea of still making her pick up the pieces he has been dropping for years, even after he dies. 

Carole is still swinging in the porch chair, her feet brushing the ground just enough to continue the momentum. She looks thoughtful, her hands shuffling in her lap, absentmindedly pulling at a loose string in her skirt. 

"Would you like to be cremated or buried?" Carole asks him like she is asking what he wants to have for dinner tomorrow. 

The sound Maverick makes is one he isn't sure he ever heard before, an odd mix of a whimper, growl, and sob. Carole continues on though not waiting for a response. 

"Do you prefer Lieutenant Commander Peter Mitchell or Lieutenant Commander Peter 'Maverick' Mitchell? Maybe Pete over Peter?" 

"No," Pete manages to growl more firmly this time, forming the word with a scowl. His hands scramble to find something to grip, knuckles turning white as his nails dig into his palms. 

"Is there anything specific you want saved for Bradley?"

"Carole, stop," Maverick begs her. 

"No? Nothing for Bradley, okay. No worries. What about for Ice?" 

"Enough," he bites it out harshly, with a mean edge, desperate for her to cease this conversation. 

"No, I won't stop. These are things I need to know." She is firm in her answer. Her voice remains steady, but Pete can see how much this conversation is also affecting her. 

"You don't need to know."

"I do need to know."

"No more funerals. I promise," his voice breaks. Pete thinks he might fall apart or be blown away by the gentle summer breeze just from this conversation. 

"Will you ever stop making promises you can't keep, Mav?"

The question hangs in the air between them, and Maverick can feel all of the broken promises he has made crawling just under his skin. People think he is cocky and confident and only cares about himself; that's how he got his call sign, after all. But the truth is, Pete is more aware of his flaws and more haunted by his mistakes than anyone else he knows. 

"I always keep my promises to you, Carole. I promise you won't plan my funeral."

"You won't let that happen, will you?" She asks it almost jokingly, a clear indication of disbelief in her voice. 

"No, Ma'am. I won't," Maverick whispers. 

He is serious, his jaw set firm gaze so heavy it could almost be interpreted as a glare. They hold eye contact for a long moment, waiting for the other to look away first, borderline a staring contest. Then Carole deflates a bit, shoulders sagging like he had pressed a needle to a balloon. Finally, she shakes her head at him and shifts her gaze to look away and up as if she is sending a quiet prayer. 

"Good," she finally sighs. Carole pats the seat next to her, indicating he should sit again. 

Maverick releases his death grip on the banister he adopted at some point and sits stiffly next to her. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him close, her side pressed against his. Three breaths later, he sinks into her hug, shifting so that he can pull her closer to his side. So that he can breathe in her sweet honeysuckle scent.  

Carole holds him until he stops shaking entirely. His hands are steady where they grip her, and the sun starts to make its presence known. Every moment with Carole in his arms strengthens Maverick's resolve and determination. Then, when the sun crests the horizon and the sound of Saturday morning cartoons on the TV drift out to them, Carole finally releases him. 

After delicately untangling herself from his grasp, she cups his cheek, staring at him fondly. The blue of her eyes taunt him stealing his breath. She presses a gentle kiss to the corner edge of his mouth. It captures more of his lips than his cheek. The warmth lingers long after she heads back into the house, telling him to join them for breakfast when he can. 

It's a kiss that seals the promise in Pete's heart and mind. A kiss that has branded him. Pete would never let a flag be put into her arms again. He had already cashed that check. 

Maverick would be the best. He would beat the odds every single time; through every test flight, training, mission, deployment, and crash. He would make it for the chance to glimpse that color blue again. 

He wants to imprint that blue on every aspect of his life. It was already tattooed on the inside of his chest. 

When he enters the kitchen, he immediately accepts a running hug from Bradley. The boy smashes into his side and grips him tightly. He is practically vibrating with excitement. 

Holding Bradley, his eyes met Carole's again across the kitchen. Pete decided to indulge and take pleasure this time in the rush those blues give him before hiking Bradley up on his hip, hugging him close, and walking him back to the table.  

"You are getting so big," Maverick tells the boy who is hanging tightly to his neck. Bradley refuses to let him go after that sitting in his lap and sharing a plate of waffles with Pete. Maverick cuddles Bradley close to his chest on the couch for the rest of Saturday morning, Cartoon time. 

Pete feels a strange sense of calm he couldn't even fully imagine this time the day before. His resolve is absolute. He had a flight path set before him, a mission to fulfill: Carole Bradshaw would never have to plan his funeral. He was a cockroach, the world could keep smushing him, but Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell would continue on regardless.

–6 years —

Maverick had made many 'it will never happen again' promises to Goose. So many that he broke, and because of that, he doesn't know how to repent for this sin. He can't promise to never do the thing he just did again because it would only doom the moment. It would create a certainty rather than a likelihood that Maverick would fail Goose again. 

They had been drinking wine, which was the best way to start every night. That morning they had just dropped Bradley off at a weekend-long summer camp. It was the perfect opportunity to let loose, which Carole rarely had the opportunity for. 

It's easy for their nice early dinner or late lunch to shift to something more. It was easy with the way Carole hugged his waist on the back of his bike. Squealing when he reeved the engine or took a fast turn. Turning his head just a little further to the left was easy when Carole kissed his cheek. 

It is easy for one half brush of lips to become one kiss. And it is oh so easy for one kiss to turn into two, to three, until suddenly Pete had lost count. 

It wasn't easy to undress her. The back of the dress she wore had what felt like a million ties. Maverick had no idea how she got it on in the first place. It was easy to carry Carole to her room, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. It was easy how they fit together. 

Then for a while, it was blissful. For a little bit, nothing existed besides the two of them. It was easy when not a single thought ran through Pete's head except her name. 

It was now that things weren't easy. Carole had her head pressed to his chest, and she was tracing random shapes on his skin. In this quiet space, the guilt starts trying to crawl back into his skin. How, even though everything had felt so easy and so wrong. What Pete just did was wrong. 

"We should talk about what just happened," Maverick decides to broach the topic. He squeezes his arm and hand that has draped across her back and settled on her hip. 

Carole props her chin on his chest to look at his face and into Pete's eyes. The moment those blues entrap him, Pete wishes she hadn't looked at him at all. It's so easy for those eyes to pull his vulnerabilities out of him. 

"What is there to talk about, sugar?" A slight smirk shows her lips. "Round three, I hope?" 

"No, we can't ever do this again," Maverick tells her slowly. 

"You better be joking right now, Pete." 

"I'm not."

She rolls her eyes at him and pushes herself up off his chest. Before asking him, "How many years have you been in love with me now? Two?" 

It had been over three since Pete knew. But that didn't really change anything, did it? 

"Carole," he tries to say her name sweetly, placatingly. 

"It's probably been almost four for me. I don't know when it happened. But it did. Then suddenly, I just noticed one day. Like when you are used to seeing something all the time until you forget it's there. But once someone else points it out, now that's the only thing you can see. That's how I realized I was in love with you. It wasn't really any one moment."

"Please don't," he begs her. This isn't a conversation that can end well. They have done so well, never directly bringing things like this up. Only a few close calls over the years. Now, not only did they have sex for the first time, but Carole had also pulled out the L word. 

"It's not a secret, Pete. So why do you want to keep pretending that it is?"

"If we say it, then it's real."

"You don't want anything real with me?" She sits even further up on the bed, and the sheets pool around her waist, momentarily distracting him. 

"That's not the problem," Pete sighs, slamming his eyes closed. 

"I want an answer that isn't connected to Goose, Maverick." 

"I could leave you just like he did."

"You think if you died, I would be any less hurt because you never said you loved me? Because you refused to love me how we deserve? Sugar," she drawls out the word so Pete knows that while not condescending, there was every ounce of judgment she possessed behind the word. 

"If you leave me, I will hurt. It always would have hurt, no matter the situation. Plus, you made a promise to me."

He snaps his mouth shut at her reminder flashes of flags, guns, and flyovers, temporarily invading his senses. Then, with three steady breaths in and out, he returns to the present with her. Carole's blue eyes search his face intently, but for what he doesn't know. 

"I don't know how to stop feeling guilty, Carole." Maverick tries to explain. 

"No," she declares, rolling to the side and dragging one of the blankets to cover herself until she reaches the edge of the bed. "Enough of this, Pete. Stop with the perpetual guilt. I'm tired of it." Carole throws on his shirt that had been tossed aside earlier and starts looking around the room, he assumes, for pants. 

"Here is the truth. If my husband were still alive, this never would have happened. But he's not. He left both of us." A few angry tears are spilling from her eyes, and her voice raises an octave. She points a finger harshly at him. "And no matter how much you loved him, I loved him more. I still love him more."  

She shimmies into some panties and then stares at where Pete is still frozen in bed. Carole starts to button up his top. It seems silly to him that she now wants to cover up the skin Pete had just spent the entire evening worshiping and memorizing. 

"We are still here, Pete. We have been alone for years. So why aren't we allowed to be happy? I think Nick would have wanted me to be happy."

Her words punch a hole straight through his chest. Maverick isn't sure how else to comfort her or how to deal with this situation. So Pete sits up further in bed, pulling the sheet with him, and pats the open space to his side. "Carole, come back to bed."

"No," she says, scrubbing at her tears with the edge of his shirt. Carole gives him one last desperate, hurt look before exiting the room. 

He curses under his breath at her exit, turning his face into the pillows to let out a frustrated groan. But the pillows smell like Carole, and the bed smells like her honeysuckle perfume mixed with sex. It is suddenly too heady there for his emotional state. 

Pete pulls himself from the bed, finding his boxers to throw on. He goes to the attached bathroom and washes his face with cold water, trying to think of a plan to rectify this situation. However, all that turns into is a useless staring contest with his reflection. 

Carole is cooking in the kitchen when he joins her. He fights the urge to tiptoe, which is ridiculous because they are the only two people in the house. 

Carole slams a mug of coffee down on the breakfast bar with more force than Pete would recommend when handling pottery. She motions for him to sit with a flick of her hand. Pete sees her drinking a cup of coffee herself, taking quick gulps of the stuff. Carole sets her own mug down only to add more baileys to replace the new space in her cup.  

"You're cooking?" He asks hesitantly, taking a seat. 

"Yes. Sex makes me hungry," Carole responds matter of a factly. She flips the quesadilla in the pan but doesn't look at him. 

"Three," Pete finally says, deciding to broach the silence between them. Carole doesn't respond, though, only taking the quesadilla out of the pan and starting to make another. 

"It's been three years since I knew I was in love with you."

"I know, she says quietly. She doesn't turn to acknowledge him still. 

"It was your laugh," Pete shook his head at the memory. "I love your laugh. Maybe I always have, and then I realized Bradley has the same laugh. It's what finally did me in. I didn't know I could love as much as I love the two of you." 

"I thought he had Nick's laugh," Carole responds quietly. Pete is pleasantly surprised to find hearing his name only leaves a small squeeze of hurt in his chest. 

"Nope, his real laugh, when he finds something actually funny. That's all you, sweetheart." 

Carole finishes cooking the second quesadilla. She sets it on a plate in front of Maverick. Carole gulps down more of her coffee, which Pete estimates is now eighty-five percent whiskey. Then digs into the quesadilla she made for herself. 

"Are we going to wait three more years? Do you think the guilt will be less then?" She asks him in between bites. 

"No," Pete says. "No more waiting, even if he would hate me for this. Because you deserve to be happy, Carole. We have each other. And I love you more now than I love him. "

"What if I can't give you that?" Carole asks him quietly. 

"I would never ask for that from you. Can I just ask you to love me as much as you are able?" Pete still hadn't eaten any of his food, but he got out of his chair, rounding the edge of the island. 

"Are you going to let go?" She asks, resting her hands on his bare chest when he comes to a halting stop in front of her. Maverick cadges her against the counter with his body dipping his head into the crook of Carole's neck and shoulder. 

"No, Carole Bradshaw. I don't think I will ever let go of you," he mutters into her skin as Carole's fingers thread into his hair. 

There is more to talk about, but it is also oh so easy to fall back into bed again. Pete silently repents and worships at the only alter he has ever found solace. His mind consumed only with the thought of her again: Carole's skin, Carole's thighs, Carole's sweet voice, Carole's sweeter taste, Carole... Carole... Carole... 

— 13 years—

Pete is the lighter sleeper between the two of them. So when the phone started ringing, he was jogging towards the kitchen to pick it up by the next ring before it could wake up Carole. 

"Mom?" The voice on the other side of the phone asks. It only takes Pete's sleep-ridden mind a few moments to recognize Bradley's voice and shock his mind into full alertness. 

"It's Mav. Are you okay?"

"Is my Mama there?" Bradley's voice is heavy and slurring just a bit. 

"Are you okay, Brad?"

"I'm drunk, Mav," Bradley giggles like he is eight years old again. 

"I can tell," Mav says with a chuckle, making Bradley laugh harder. Then Pete hears voices talking loudly, muffled on the other side of the phone. 

"Shut up! I'm on the phone." Bradley yells, and then there are more muffled voices. Pete waits patiently, his amusement almost equal to his worry about the teen. 

"Mom," Bradley sings into the phone again. 

"Mav," Pete gently corrects him, but Bradley continues, not even acknowledging it. 

"I'm at the barn past the other side of the tracks of the east river. Leech won't let me drive. Can you have dad pick me up?" 

Before Maverick can say anything else, the line clicks dead. He sighed heavily and went back to the bedroom. Carole is blinking up at him tiredly. She moves to sit up from the bed, but Pete stops her with a gentle hand on the shoulder. 

"Is Brad?" She asks him blearily. 

"He's okay. I'm going to pick him up right now." 

She sighs and settles back into the pillows. Pete presses a kiss to her lips and then an additional one to her forehead. Then, giving her a wink as he throws on some jeans and a random shirt. Carole laughs and gives him a sleepy smile before nestling back into the pillows.

Pete grabs his jacket off the hook by the door, shrugging it on. He closes the door as quietly as possible on his way out of the house. 

Maverick speeds across town on his bike. He is thankful that he and Bradley took the top and back off the Bronco last weekend in preparation for summer. When he gets to the barn, he puts his bike in the back of the Bronco first. Strapping it down tight before setting off to find his wayward teen. 

Bradley is at a beer pong table, chugging down whatever is in his solo cup, when Maverick finds him. Brad slams his drink down on the table and gives Pete a full-blown goofy grin. Pete raises an eyebrow but smiles back at him. 

"You ready to go home, kiddo?" He asks. 

Bradley enthusiastically nods and starts walking toward Pete but doubles back to finish whatever was in his drink and almost falls down in the process. Bradley's friends laugh at him, and Pete checks on them, too. He is pleased to find them all significantly more sober. 

Leecher, Brad's best friend, helps Mav lead Bradley out of the barn and into the Bronco. Once there, he fishes the keys out of his front pocket, pressing them into Maverick's hands. 

"I had to take his keys," the young man admits to Mav. Pete pats Leecher on the back kindly. 

"Thanks for not letting him drive, John."

"No problem, Mav. I'm glad you came and picked him up. He didn't think anyone would." Leecher responds. Pete has to clench his jaw hearing the comment. 

"Are the rest of you kids going to get home safe? I can swing back and give rides."

"No, Sir. We are good. I haven't been drinking tonight and am driving everyone else home."

"You're a good man," Pete tells him. 

Leecher ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed. "Thank you. I made him drink some Gatorade. And Mav? Don't be too hard on him." 

"Have a good night, Leecher," Mav says, shaking the boys' hand. When he gets into the cab, Bradley looks at him like a kicked puppy dog.

"Are you mad at me?" He asks in a small voice.

"No, I'm not mad. You can always call me." Pete tells him evenly. 

"Not mad but disappointed, right?" Brad asks, leaning his head against the car's headrest and closing his eyes. 

"Bradley," Pete sighs softly, shaking his head. 

"Forget it," Bradley says, not opening his eyes. 

Pete is quiet for the rest of the drive until he pulls the Bronco into Brad's parking spot next to the shop at the house. They sit there in silence for a while before Bradley starts trying to fuss with his seatbelt. The action puts an end to Pete's quiet contemplation on how to best deal with this situation and how Goose would've approached it. 

"Hold on, Brad. We can't avoid this anymore. We need to talk."

"Come on, Mav. We can talk some other time."

"No, we are talking right now."

"You promised we would always talk in the mornings when I was sober."

His statement was true. Carole and Pete had always told Bradley that he could call them no matter what, and they would pick him up, no questions, no fighting. And then, in the morning, they could all deal with the aftermath together. 

"I know we did,' Pete sighs and grips the wheel a little tighter. "But this talk isn't about you being in trouble for sneaking out and drinking. And I'm not taking you back into your mother's house tonight until you are sober."  

Pete starts the Bronco back up and pulls it out of the driveway, driving through town until he pulls up at the small 24-hour diner. He helps Brad inside and orders them both waffles, bacon, grits, and eggs, with two cups of coffee. 

Bradley doesn't say a single thing the whole time, except for how he wants his eggs cooked and echoing Pete's "thank you, ma'am" as their waitress walks back to the kitchen. 

Pete switches his water with Bradley's empty glass when the teenager finishes his own in three long gulps. Maverick sips his coffee, savoring the bitter flavor on his tongue. Shitty coffee like this reminds him of being on the carrier. The thought makes him sigh. He would be leaving on another cruise soon, and it felt like all the time was just sand slipping through his fingers. 

"Why don't you talk to me anymore?" Pete asks once the silence has stretched long enough that Bradley is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

"We talk all the time."

"No, we don't. Not really, not like we used to. You don't talk to me. You don't talk to your mother. We don't even know who you are anymore. You are sneaking out to parties you know we would let you go to if you asked. You're drinking and getting into fights. The coach called and told us how you've been skipping practice."

"I'm just having some fun, Mav." 

"Look, it's one thing to have fun, Bradley, but it's another to risk your future. You almost got behind the wheel tonight. The only thing that stopped you was Leech taking your keys. You were risking your life!" 

He wasn't expecting Bradley to visibly recoil at his words. "You risk your life all the time, and so did Goose."

"That's different than drinking and driving."

"Of course, it's different," Bradley scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

"Flying a plane and drunk driving are not comparable, Bradley." 

"Sure, Mav. Only one of those things killed Goose."

Pete sits further back in his seat. Not letting the hurt and anger show in his face that he feels in his chest. He has to remind himself that Brad is lashing out, trying to hurt him. "Well, your father only did one of those things."

"You know, you can drop this whole duty, obligation, tough love, act you have towards me because you feel guilty or whatever." 

"I don't love you out of guilt or obligation, Bradley."

"You don't love me at all! " The teen hisses back at him. "You loved Goose, and with my mom, you just—" 

"I better not hear one disrespectful thing come out of your mouth about your mother, Bradshaw," Maverick warns him lowly. 

Brad's face flushes, but he does close his mouth for a moment, reconsidering what he was going to say. Pete knows that Bradley loves his mother more than anyone else in this world, and he would only regret saying whatever was about to spring out. Finally, he seems to settle on kinder words.  

"You only put up with me because you feel guilty about my mom."

"You think I 'put' up with you?" Pete didn't ask the question accusatory. Instead, he asks it because he really wants to know what Bradley feels. That is much more important than any of the reactionary feelings bubbling in his chest. 

"Yes. Why else would you bother with me?" Brad says the words plainly like they should be the most obvious thing in the world to Maverick. 

"I know you feel trapped by this idea of your dad hanging over your head. God knows your mother and I haven't helped as much as we should have with that. But you aren't him, Brad, and you never will be." Pete says gently, trying to see where the root of Bradley's problem is where he suspects.  

"Fuck you. Goose was an amazing man."

Maverick sighs and pulls a hand through his hair. So that approach wasn't going to pan out. "Yes, he was. He was my best friend. You aren't him, though. Bradley, you are trying to fit yourself into the shape of a ghost."

Bradley's jaw clenches, averting his gaze to stare out the diner window. Pete remembered the same look he used to have, the one he catches Bradley with sometimes; how his eyes would linger over pictures and then in the mirror, how it felt trying to pick out similarities and measure the differences. The way it hung over him.

Now here with Bradley, Pete finally understands what people were always trying to impress on him when they said to let it go. He understands what Viper saw while Pete struggled against his father's shadow. 

But how do you tell a tall, gangly boy who desperately wants to be a man to let go of his father? His father you killed?  

So, maybe he finally understood where they were coming from. However, he didn't understand what letting it go actually meant. Pete knew he would never let it go. He now understood the want to let go, though. The want for the young man in front of you to understand you; The want to not watch him make the same mistakes you did. Wanting to shield him from suffering under the crushing, unbearable weight of loss and expectation. 

"Look, Brad, you are going through changes and growing up. Right now, you are deciding the man you want to be. It's a choice you can't make for anyone but yourself. You have to be your own man. If that includes parts of him, great. But don't make your goal to try and fill his shoes."

"What do you want from me?" Bradley finally spits out, his face lighting up red in anger. Before Pete can respond, Bradley is barreling onwards, not even letting him get a word in. 

"I know," Bradley's voice cracks, "I know I'm never going to be Goose. Okay? I don't need you to tell me that."

The quiet between them stretches. The classic 50s and 60s music humming in the background, the kitchen sounds, and the few other scattered patrons' conversations fill the space. Bradley starts to sip his coffee now and rearranges his silverware under Pete's heavy stare. 

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You always call him Goose now." 

Bradley pauses at that. Setting the silverware he was fiddling with down. Instead, electing to start folding his straw wrapper, making a tiny accordion before he answers. 

"I don't know. That is all I really know him as. I guess… I realized he isn't really my dad anymore. You are."

A lump forms at the back of Maverick's throat, and he desperately tries to swallow it down. He feels tears start to well up. Bradley's eyes refuse to meet Pete's own searching gaze, but his eyes flit over his face trying to gauge his reaction. 

"I am so sorry, Bradley. "

"You are sorry? Sorry for what? That you are my dad?"

"No, not that! Nick would have done such a better job than me. I love being your dad so much. I'm trying, but I'm sorry you missed out on having an amazing dad in your life."

"I don't feel like I missed out on having a fantastic dad. You have been here the whole time. I just feel like I'm missing out on having known Goose. And it's so hard. Sometimes when I do something, I can see it on everyone's faces that I didn't do it the way they expected. 

"I see it in mom's face, and I see it in yours. When I don't react like y'all thought he would have reacted. Or I don't say something like he would have. I'm being compared to a man I never knew. Everyone looks at me and sees his distorted reflection."

Pete feels shame and guilt fill him. He knew part of what Bradley was saying was true, and he knows that has never been fair to him. Their waitress brings them their food and sets it down, asking if they need anything. Pete brushes her off with a quick thank you and watches Bradley start to cut into his waffles, the exact same way that Pete does. That hard lump of emotion rose up in him again at the sight. 

"I do love your parents. Your father was my best friend. Your mother is the strongest and kindest woman I have ever met. But you, Bradley Bradshaw. I love you for so many other reasons. Reasons that have nothing to do with them.

"I am proud of you. Watching you grow up and getting to see the man you are becoming; it has been the greatest honor of my life. Being in your life..." Pete's voice almost catches, but he clears his throat to continue. "It is a joy. I know you are figuring out who you are, but I am here for you, Bradley. Every step of the way, to support you in any way I can. 

"There is no one I would rather spend a Sunday in the shop with. No one I would rather go to a baseball game with. I love hearing about your classes and piano lessons. I was so proud last month when you refinished the Bronco. I love how you always try to take care of your mom. That you don't think it's embarrassing, even when your friends rib you. I love that you hate meatloaf just as much as I do. That you would rather do any chore than go to the grocery store. I love how you try to find humor in every situation. 

"I love you, Bradley, with or without your parents involved. I will keep loving you, no matter what. It's not something that is going to change because you snuck out to a party or because you don't like something Goose would have. I don't put up with you. I am thankful every day that you put up with me. That you have let me be in your life."

Tears are dripping down Bradley's face, and he is quick to scrub them away. His naturally ruddy cheeks, which were already red from alcohol, are flaming now. The color spreading down the length of his neck too. Brad hangs his head low, pressing his face into his shoulder and taking some big breaths. When the tears subside and Bradley has sufficiently scrubbed them away with the back of his hand, he pulls his face up, looking right at Pete. 

Then Bradley grins, cheesing at him. "Pete?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"It is okay if I call you dad? Right?" The grin hasn't fallen off Bradley's face, but his vulnerability is still written all over his eyes. 

"Of course, any time you want."

A few beats of silence pass. 

"Hey, Dad?" Pete doesn't know how to identify the emotions whirling in him hearing that phrase from Bradley. 

"Yeah?" 

"If you don't want your waffles, can I have them?" 

Pete laughs and smiles at Bradley shaking his head. "Absolutely not. These are my waffles."

The grin starts to fall off Bradley's face, and he looks down at his almost empty waffle plate. Despair and sadness slowly starting to overcome his face. 

"But you can order a milkshake," Pete tells him, finally cutting into his own waffles. He is rewarded with Bradley's grin again. 

They eat in silence together, and Bradley does steal one bite of Pete's waffles. A feat he only accomplishes after an epic fork fight that ends with both of them having a laughing fit. 

Walking back to the Bronco, after finishing their food, Bradley drinks his milkshake in a huge to-go cup. He throws an arm over Pete's shoulder. Brad has been taller than Pete for almost a year and still revels in it.

Pete doesn't mind it, though. It's a comfortable feeling that reminds him of Goose. He tries to dislodge that thought, instead enjoying that it's Brad, pushing the ghosts away to focus on existing in this moment with his son. "You know we will still have to talk with your mom when she wakes up." 

"Yeah, I know." Bradley groans, jumping into the cab. 

"Dad?" Bradley asks as Mav is starting the car.

"Yes, Brad?"

"I love you too. You know?"

"Yeah, son, I know," Pete replies gruffly. 

If Pete has to wipe some tears off his face at the next stop light on their way home, that is between Pete, Bradley, and God. 

— 16 years–

Pete and Carole rarely fight, but when they do, it's normally quiet, solemn, and serious. Not the blow-up, screaming, while throwing things fight they have had tonight. The kind of fight where they aren't even fighting about what they started with anymore, stuck on some twisted tangent. 

Pete is in the middle of an angry monologue where he is puncturing every sentence with a slam of his finger into the table when Carole interrupts him and asks him to bring her coffee. The request resets his brain, short-circuiting whatever thought he was in the middle of. It's a request to allow them both to cool off more than anything, but it also lets Pete know he is in for a longer night than he was already planning.  

Maverick has failed to deny Carole anything she has asked for a long time. He knows this fight is no different, which just works the anger and hurt deeper under his skin. Pete doesn't want to hurt Carole, but he wants her to know how much he is hurting. So, making sure to slam the screen door extra hard on his way out, he leaves the house and hunts down a place that can make her coffee.

Maverick orders the drink sickly sweet and extra hot since that is the only way Carole will drink it; it is a drink order he has always joked would send most people into diabetic shock. He starts to feel his blood pressure lower to a stable level when he has the drink secured. Pete then asks for a cup of Carole's favorite tea too. By the time he gets back to the house with two cooling drinks, he already has a sense of hollow acceptance beating in his chest. 

Carole takes two whole sips of the coffee when he returns to her side with it. She wrinkles her nose during each gulp and then presses the cup back into his hands. 

"You can have it," she tells him with a smile like she had gotten away with a little trick. 

"Thank you," Pete plays along like he hadn't always known that the coffee was for him. He takes a long drink of it despite the sweetness making him want to wrinkle his nose. He will drink the whole thing; drink it for the same reason you have to stomach through cough syrup. 

"We can finish our fight now," Carole tells him after watching him take a drink, setting the coffee down again.

Pete shakes his head and leaves her side to go into the kitchen. He adds a generous amount of honey to the extra cup before returning to her. 

"I got it just in case," Maverick tells her. She knows he's lying but does say anything. Carole only accepts the cup with shaking hands after she gives Pete a soft kiss, cupping his cheek and stroking her thumb along his cheekbone. 

He settles on the other side of the couch, and she sips the tea before setting it aside. Carole doesn't breach the silence between them again. Instead, she waits for Maverick to be ready. 

His chest aches, and he loves that she has always been the one thing, the one person he could take his time with. 

"You know, my dad is the reason I didn't go to Annapolis." He finally says. 

"Yes, I know," Carole tells him with apparent disinterest. 

"Are you okay with Bradley being like me?"

"He already is like you."

"Like me when you met me," Maverick clarifies. 

"Yes, Pete. I am." 

"Why?" The question falls out of his mouth and shatters on the ground at their fragile feet. Pete's vulnerability laid out in front of them. A young Peter Mitchell is one of the worst things he can think of Bradley being. 

She looks at him like he is crazy then. Her eyebrows creasing with confusion. "Because you lived. And Bradley will live." 

The words echo between them, resonating deep within Pete. She says it so simply like it is a given. Something to never question. And it's true; Bradley will live. Maverick knows it, knows it like how he knows Carole won't, knows it how he knows Goose didn't.  

"Haven't you realized yet?" She finally asks him, taking one of his hands and holding it with both of hers. 

"Realized what?"

"We look at him, and all we see is Nick, and he is on the outside. But inside, Bradley is your son Pete. You raised him with me."

"I know," Pete breathes the words, afraid of what owning them too loudly might do. 

"Nick wouldn't be mad, you know. Not anymore." Carole laughs, shaking her head. "He's going to be thankful Brad grew up with a Dad."

It's a conversation that they have had many different times in many different ways. How Goose would feel. How Goose would have reacted. It feels even more raw now than ever before, which Maverick finds a bit funny since time has only stretched. It has been many long years since Goose died. 

"I try to think he would be," Pete says with a sigh. 

"Why won't you do it then?" Carole asks him. 

"I'm going to do it, Carole," Pete tells her. He expects the words to taste of bitter defeat in his mouth, but they don't. He takes another swig of the coffee and sets it on the table. Pete knew he would do it from the first moment she asked. Maverick had accepted he would do it while driving home with their drinks. 

"Do you promise?" She asks him, and it is oh so rare for Pete to hear Carole sound this small.

"Yes, I promise." 

"Why didn't you want to?" 

"Because he is so much better than me. Because I didn't want him to ever go through the hurt, I did. Because I love him too much to not break my own heart while breaking his dreams." 

"Am I wrong, that he isn't ready? That this will protect him?" Pete considers her question for a long time. 

"No, you aren't wrong. It will make him decide if he actually wants to. If he is serious, he will do NROTC. Give Brad the chance to search for something besides Goose's legacy." 

"He's going to hate us," Carole says. 

"No," Maverick says quickly, cutting off her words. "He will hate me, Carole. Just me."

"I'm the one asking you to veto his application."

"He doesn't need to know that. "

"That's not fair to you or him."

"It is fair to him because he loves you, Carole. And I'm not going to let him convince himself otherwise. I don't matter." 

"You do matter, Pete."

"Not more than Bradley. Nothing matters more than Bradley."  

Tears spill from her eyes, and she grips him tightly in her arms. Throwing them around his shoulders and pulling him close. She is thinner and frailer than ever before. No one wants to address the reality that her treatments aren't working. And Pete hasn't even started to prepare for the type of ghost she will be hanging over his shoulder. 

"I don't want him to hate the only person he is going to have left," Carole cries into his neck. "I don't want you to lose him." 

Maverick just holds her tighter. "I'll get through it. I always do. Someday, he will understand." But that was something he didn't know. It is just something he hopes.  

"I don't want to fight anymore," Carole tells him. 

"No more fights, I promise," Pete tells her. It is yet another promise he manages to keep to her. Pete never has another fight with Carole Bradshaw before she dies. 

And Rooster does seem to understand, 16 years later, drinking a cup of black coffee in the hanger that Maverick calls home. Both of them are still sore and exhausted from the mission they flew together. Maverick is sure that he looks borderline haggard.  

While drinking his coffee, Pete thinks it feels like putting on a shirt you forgot you had. One that got lost in the back of your closet. The unexpected joy of finding out it still fits, maybe not the same way it used to fit. But it fits regardless. 

It fits how Bradley cuts his waffles the same, that he still lovingly dedicates time to the Bronco, and roots for the same sports team. But he is different in so many ways too. Pete hasn't adjusted to the hulking filled-out frame, the type of beer Rooster likes, or his favorite artist to play in the shop. 

It is not yet early enough to truly be called morning, the last vestiges of night still clinging to the horizon, and the living room is still dark with it. He throws off the hand-stitched crochet blanket Carole draped over him when he collapsed onto her couch a mere two and a half hours ago. He thinks better of leaving it in a puddle, folds it and drapes it neatly over the arm. 

“I’m up,” he says, loudly enough to be heard from the small kitchen where the smell of slightly burnt coffee and slightly more burnt toast beckons to him. He really ought to thank God for Carole’s continued existence, but he decides it’s still too early in the day to bother the omnipotent. Instead, he thanks Goose for his impeccable taste in women and sidles into the kitchen. 

“Yes!” whoops Bradley, jumping on him from the hand painted dining chairs of the breakfast nook. Maverick barely has time to register the need to catch the boy before Bradley is in his arms, chatting up a storm with his mother. “I told you, mom. Uncle Pete promised and he always keeps his promises.” 

“I suppose he does,” Carole says with a wink, guiding a cup of black coffee into Maverick’s free hand. He takes a long draw on the bitter coffee, nearly scalding his tongue, but that doesn’t matter. He needs as much coffee as he can get into his bloodstream as quickly as possible. “Sorry, I tried to keep him quiet, but I think that might be a losing battle.” 

“So much for gosling, this kid’s a fucking rooster.” 

“Language, Mav—” But Bradley doesn’t appear to have noticed his slip up.

“It’s my birthday!” Bradley crows, and if Maverick were to set the kid down, he knows he might literally dance with the excitement. As it is, he still has to contend with containing the vibrating ten year old. “Will we really be ready to go up for the dawn flight?” 

“I had my buddy at the tower log a special flight plan and everything,” Maverick says, doing his best to hide the wince at the hour. Carole sees it but doesn’t comment. He did promise her son after all and now that he is awake, he will need to see this through. He’d had his opportunity to bail when she’d offered it before. She must have known Bradley’s ruckus would have woken him.  

“Do you still have your helmet?” Maverick asks. He still can’t believe Carole let him get the thing for her son, because as much as she trusts him in a cockpit, she has always loathed his penchant for motorcycles—“It’s not you I don’t trust, Mav, it’s the other drivers,” she tried to explain, once. And yet Bradley has been riding with him for years.  

“Let me go find it.” Bradley shimmies down his side so he can run off to his closet to go get it. It’s probably been buried since his last visit and the task will buy him a couple minutes.  

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Carole?” He asks her, and takes a long moment to eye the woman from head to toe. Still in her polka-dot pajamas, eyes crinkled with sleep and her golden hair askew, she wavers. “I can be the bad guy. I can be whatever you need me to be to keep this okay with him.” 

She bites her lower lip, deliberating. 

“Mom! Where’s my helmet?” Bradley calls from down the hall. 

“Did you check the hall closet?” she hollers back. 

The sound of feet thundering down the stairs reaches them, along with the frantic sounds of search. 

“More than anything,” she says at last, the time short, “I want him to know his dad. And he won’t just find Nick here in the house, in these little bits of him I’ve kept around the house. He’s up there, with you. He’ll learn more from an hour-long flight with you than he will in a life among all of his stuff.” 

Maverick’s eyes go hot, and he turns away from Carole, trying to wipe the tears away before Bradley comes back and sees. He downs the rest of the coffee, no longer caring that it burns on the way down. 

“Carole—” 

“I reserve the right to change my mind, though. Just like with letting him on the back of that damn motorcycle. I’m sure someday I’ll live to regret giving him all these experiences that’ll make him want to be a speed demon. But he’s ten. I guess I’m feeling a little more sentimental than normal.” 

“Carole, thank you.” 

She nods, but Bradley reappears with a shiny red helmet in hand and they can no longer speak freely. 

A half-hour later and they’re pulling up to the hanger, Bradley’s hands clinging to the back of his leather jacket. Hondo is waiting, the jet ready for him. Maverick almost hadn’t asked for permission on this one, but he’d gotten special dispensation from the base’s commander after Iceman had put in a good word. 

Goose had been well liked, and everyone was watching out for his kid. Particularly with the only other father figure around being—well, him. 

They strap in, Bradley nestled into the harness in front of him. It’s a tight fit, but he doesn’t think he can bear Goose’s kid sitting behind him right now. And besides, the kid wouldn’t have had the strength to pull the eject cables if it became necessary, and everyone around them is aware of how accidents happen. Maverick runs through the pre-flight checklist, his heart pounding in his throat. 

“You good, Mav?” Hondo asks, and he nods. Of course the chatterbug that is Bradley Bradshaw has chosen this exact moment to go quiet as a dormouse, not wanting to interrupt the preparations. 

“Yeah,” he says. Hondo lets the tense moment pass without comment, and Maverick almost wishes someone would stop this. It shouldn’t be allowed, Bradley in this cockpit with him. It’s been seven years since a Bradshaw was in a cockpit with him and he isn’t ready, could never be ready. But then the checks are done and he’s somehow taxiing out onto the runway. The sky is the palest of blues. 

“You ready, Bradley?” he says, his voice thick. 

“Don’t I need a call sign if I’m going to fly the plane?” Bradley asks, his voice unsure. Maverick guesses the kid can feel the tension. It must be radiating off of him in waves. 

Don’t be a chicken shit, says Goose’s voice in his head. You aren’t going to let my son know you’re afraid up there, are you?

Never. 

Then go do some pilot shit. Make him love the skies for me. 

“Absolutely,” says Maverick, the thickness gone from his voice. He allows a hint of the old arrogance to creep back in. “What should we call you then, my little aviator?”

“Didn’t you say I was a fucking rooster?” Bradley asks. 

“Language—” 

“C’mon, Uncle Pete, you said it first.” Maverick barks out a startled laugh. 

“I suppose I did,” he agrees. “But don’t tell your mom. And you can’t be Fucking Rooster up there, so how about just plain old Rooster?”

Bradley considers this pensively, before nodding. The heavy plastic of the oversized pilot’s helmet thuds into Maverick’s chest and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel like there is a hole in his body there. 

“Rooster is good,” Bradley says. 

“Maverick and Rooster, ready for takeoff,” he says into his comms. 

“You are clear for takeoff, Rooster,” the tower responds, and Maverick can just hear the hint of laughter in their voices at the callsign.

Bradley looks up at him, grinning with pride. Maverick points forward and Bradley settles back against his chest. He pulls on the throttle, the plane accelerating slowly at first, and then faster. 

“I could do this forever,” Bradley says, once they’re at altitude. The sun paints the underbelly of the plane gold as Rooster takes to the skies for the first time.

________

A/N: So excited to finally start sharing with you all! This series of vignettes around how Rooster earned his callsign definitely spiralled out of control. It's sitting around 13k total, and I'll be posting the chapters here for now.