Chapter Text
Jake only found out after their heads collided that Yale had made a leap for the ball at the same time as him.
There was a series of grunts and dull thudding sounds as they headbutted one another and then fell back onto the sand. A shot of pain lanced across the back of Jake’s head as he made contact with the ground. Stars flitted over his vision, forcing him to take a second before he thought about trying to sit up, though hands were on him almost instantaneously, helping to support him when he eventually did so.
“Shit Hangman, you alri- oh damn, back of his head’s bleeding.” Javy’s voice rumbled behind him, the latter part projected for the squad's benefit. Jake was fighting against the fuzziness engulfing his brain so he couldn’t do much more than hum in acknowledgement of that assessment.
The others started talking over him, a cacophony of sound he was struggling to make sense of. Jake thought he heard Yale’s voice as he confirmed he was alright, in a better state than Jake had ended up at least; Phoenix pointed out the innocuous looking rock embedded into the sand which Jake had obviously caught at just the right angle for it to have caused a problem, Fritz dug it out and threw it towards the sea like that would miraculously fix everything; Mav shouted out an order for one of the lifeguards to be fetched, insisting against Jake’s protests that he would need to be checked out by someone with real first aid training before they decided whether or not to drag him to the emergency room; Javy admonished him when he tried to stand, batted away his hands when he reached back to feel for the damage himself, and forced him to sit still and wait like the good patient they both knew he would never be.
All in all, it was a frustrating turn of events for what had otherwise been shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon. Then again, what bonding Mav’s dogfight football plan hadn’t achieved was soon being made up for by the united front the squad were putting up now about Jake’s welfare. So, maybe it was a good thing? Jake chuckled to himself, wondering if any of them would have predicted this was how their day would pan out when they first woke up that morning.
Javy gave him a concerned frown, but rolled with it, “yeah, yeah, just laugh it up whilst the rest of us are worried your highness.”
“Naw, Coyote, you worry about lil ol' me?” Jake put the back of one of his hands to his forehead, playing up the damsel in distress role they had cast him as.
“Course I do dickhead, fuckin’ accident waiting to happen.”
Jake’s reply was cut off by the return of Halo and Omaha, who had evidently been the ones to respond to Mav’s instructions about the lifeguard, because in tow they had the red uniformed version of Jake’s knight in shining armour.
He had to worry for the first time about real damage having been done to his head, because there was no way, no way, he was seeing what he thought he saw before him.
And yet.
Somehow, there he was – striding across the beach, too much tanned skin on show because he had neglected to wear a shirt, as if he wanted to torture Jake by driving him crazy in a way he couldn’t afford to indulge in with witnesses – the literal man of Jake’s dreams.
“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”
Bradley huffed and rolled his eyes at him, “Jake. Not looking so good there, sw-” a dangerous level of fondness suffused his tone, though he cut himself off with a cough and a surreptitious glance at the worried group hovering around Jake instead of finishing whatever he had been intending to say.
“Fuck off, I always look good.”
A grin spread across Bradley’s face, eclipsing any of the concern he may have been feeling for just a second, before he appeared to actually take in what Jake must look like (propped up against Javy, bleeding all over the place, getting woozier by the second) properly for the first time.
“What happened?”
“Hit his head. Caught himself on a rock when he hit the ground.” Mav answered for him, meeting Bradley’s gaze in a way that looked far too familiar. Jake’s head ached so he tried not to read into it too much.
“Think the bleeding's stopped now,” Javy added, “I'm hoping it’s not as bad as it seemed.”
“Okay, let’s have a look,” Bradley knelt beside Jake, meeting his eye with an indecipherable stare before he got to work. As they moved behind him, Jake realised Javy had been holding a now ruined towel to the back of Jake’s head, which he pulled out of the way so that Bradley could assess the damage. He heard a bunch of muttering and sighing behind him as Bradley did whatever he needed to do, as well as the eventual reassurances he offered the squad when he gave the age-old adage about head wounds. After a moment he repositioned to be in front of Jake, held out a finger for him to follow with his eyes as he checked for a concussion, and asked, “how do you feel?”
“Like I’m hallucinating,” Jake muttered, reaching out to poke at Bradley’s arm, half convinced he might disappear into a puff of smoke the moment Jake touched him.
Bradley snorted, “I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried.”
“When did you get back from Hawaii?”
At that Bradley had the good grace to look a little awkward, or maybe even regretful, “two days ago.” He paused, turning to pack away some of his kit as he finished up, and then added in a quiet, apologetic voice, “I was going to call.”
Jake hummed, not quite believing him. The look Bradley gave him told him he knew what Jake was thinking, but Jake couldn’t tell whether the edge to his gaze was borne more from guilt or frustration.
They had done this dance before after all.
More times than was probably healthy, but Jake didn’t have the strength within him to stop.
Bradley Bradshaw had burst into his life during his first stint at Top Gun, looking very much as he did right now, only far, far angrier. A screaming fury of a lifeguard laying into Jake for his recklessness by daring to surf when the tide was so rough, the flags weren’t out, and no one was watching. Jake had been half in love before he had even stopped speaking. He’d just smirked in response, and asked Bradley if he had any idea what it was like to have the waves call to him, knowing the answer would be yes before Bradley even had chance to think about responding.
He'd recognised Bradley on sight back then too.
It surprised a lot of people, Jake's obsession with the ocean, considering he originated from bumfuck nowhere in the centre of Texas. And yet. Surfers were Jake’s kryptonite. Professionals like Bradley, another world beyond that. He’d been at the beginning of his career then too, similar to Jake. After their explosive first conversation, shared interests had paved the way for them to bond over their hopes and dreams for the future. They’d fallen into something hot, vibrant, and unsustainable. Something that ended faster than it had begun when Jake graduated and was deployed halfway across the world with barely enough notice to say goodbye, let alone figure out if it would work long-distance.
In the six-ish years which had passed since then, they’d been orbiting around one other, drawing concentric circles that always seemed to get smaller and closer with each meeting, but never quite reached the point of overlapping. Never quite resulted in what Jake ever so desperately wanted. There was a tentative understanding between them, though it was unspoken, and ever so fragile that Jake had no idea how it would stand up to scrutiny should he ever manage to work up the courage to pay it due attention.
Jake had texted Bradley when he arrived back at North Island, as he always did – not really expecting a response, but still gut-achingly disappointed when one didn't come through – just to let Bradley know he was there.
Social media had informed him, when he finally broke a few days later and checked, that Bradley had been too busy winning yet another tournament for him to worry about silly things like paying attention to Jake. He had assumed Bradley would stay there after his win, take in the moment, enjoy the waves for a bit without the pressure of a competition, like he usually did. So, seeing him here? In the flesh? Back to the beach like being a lifeguard was his real job rather than just a way to pass the time? Not only was it unexpected, it fed into the idiotic side of Jake that still had hope that this meant something.
“-ck to the hut with me, keep an eye on him for a bit.” Though Jake knew Bradley was speaking to the rest of the group over him, it was getting difficult for him to keep up with the threads of conversation. Partly due to the fog in his head, partly due to his preoccupation with the comforting way Bradley was rubbing his thumb over a patch of Jake's skin where his hand rested on Jake's shoulder. “Javy, give us a hand to get him up?”
Jake could only allow them to push and pull him about until he was standing again, a wave of dizziness hit him and he tried not to relish the way Bradley’s arm tightened around his waist as he worked to steady him. Bradley pulled one of Jake’s arms around him, Javy had the other side, and between the three of them they were able to trudge across the sand back to where the hut was stationed. Once Bradley had him under the shade of the porch, he was settled into a creaky, old deckchair, left to his own devices for just a second. Javy dropped down next to him, but Bradley bustled around, grabbing a bottle of water, a wet cloth and a spare pair of sunglasses. Once he was back beside Jake, he started wiping down the back of Jake’s neck and shoulders with excessive care, to clean him up a bit, and pushed the sunglasses up his nose (Jake didn’t know when or where his own pair had been lost with recent events but he preferred to be wearing Bradley’s anyway), before he opened the bottle and held it out like a supplicant offering tribute.
Jake took it from him with a nodded thanks, sipped at the drink, and willed the flutter in his chest at the way Bradley smiled at him to stop so that he could work on organising his thoughts.
Bradley disappeared from his direct line of vision whilst he finished off the water, but he could hear him pottering about behind him so he didn’t feel too abandoned, and soon enough he dragged another chair across the porch to rest up on Jake’s other side anyway. All was quiet for a second before the radio clipped to the waistband of Bradley’s shorts crackled to life. The sudden sound made Jake jump, and one of Bradley’s hands shot out to rub his hand reassuringly as the other grabbed the radio to respond. With the muddled state Jake’s mind was in, he struggled to decipher what was said, but Bradley clearly understood as he answered the question and then advised whomever was on the other end that he was out of action because of a first aid case for a bit, twisting the volume down and setting the radio aside to be ignored before an acknowledgement had even come through.
Trying not to appear too nervous about the possibility of rejection, Jake flipped his hand where it was resting under Bradley’s. Warmth permeated his core at the way Bradley seemed to instinctively intertwine his fingers with Jake’s. Like this was something they did all the time, and not just on the rare occasions they were able to see one another. Bradley used that contact to draw Jake’s hand towards him so that he could press a kiss to the back of it. He murmured “why don’t you try and take a nap for a bit sweetheart? Might help make you feel better,” in a low, soothing tone.
“You know I’ve got this Javy; you can go back to your game.”
For the life of him Jake would have thought he had protested being coddled, or at least otherwise reacted to Bradley’s suggestion, but when he stirred an indeterminable time later, he couldn’t remember doing either thing. He was about to sit up from where he had slumped – curled slightly to the side in his chair, body angled to where his hand was still tethered to Bradley – when Javy replied to Bradley and it clicked that their muted conversation was what had woken him in the first place.
“Yeah, excuse me for being concerned about my friend’s wellbeing.”
It was bad form to eavesdrop, Jake knew this. But he couldn’t help himself for curiosity when the almost imperceptible animosity in both of their tones registered with him. As far as he had known they at the very least tolerated one another, forced into interacting more than enough times over the years because of the commonality of their acquaintance with Jake, and therefore should have been able to speak with more than such feigned neutrality.
Bradley sighed, “that’s not- I’m not trying to be an asshole Jay, I’m just sayi-”
“I know what you’re saying. Same thing applies though.”
“You’re still convinced I don’t care about him?” Bradley said it like it was something they had discussed before, like it was an old argument they were rehashing.
“What else am I supposed to think? I heard you earlier Bradley, been here for days now and you couldn't even be bothered to let him know?”
“I don’t like distracting him when I know he’s working.”
Javy scoffed, “because ignoring him is better.”
“I just figured I’d wait, let you guys get your mission out the way first, talk to him afterwards.”
“It's likely there won't be an afterwards with this one.”
Bradley’s hand tightened around Jake's at that, pulling his arm as close as he could without disturbing him. It broke Jake's heart. That’s not how Bradley should have found out. Jake should have been the one to tell him. Then again, a pettier part of Jake was glad for the almost callous way Javy had said it, like he was punishing Bradley. Besides, Jake couldn't be blamed when Bradley hadn’t given him the opportunity to be honest about the nature of this mission, and it would have been even shittier than this was to get the news via a text.
They lapsed into a pensive silence.
What was there to say after all when faced with something as damning as mortality?
Jake waited for what he hoped would be an acceptable length of time before straightening up, pretending like he had been roused naturally, unwilling for either of them to be aware of what he had had the misfortune to have overheard. There were too many thoughts running around his head for him to focus properly, and he had more important things in the world to worry about than the inner workings of a relationship that had repeatedly failed to ever get off the ground.
For both Bradley and Javy’s benefit he acted like he was feeling much better. He also tried not to lament the loss of Bradley’s touch when he stood to get Jake another drink, insisting he needed to stay hydrated. When he returned Jake asked him to talk, both because he needed something normal to distract himself with, and because he wanted to hear about Bradley's tournament, since yet again he hadn’t been able to see him win in person.
The cadence of Bradley’s voice settled something within Jake. He soaked it all up, the mundanity of the moment, treasuring it as something to remember. Just in case this really was the last time they ever got to see each other.