Archive of Our Own

Maybe Jake should have noticed the wedding ring earlier. Hanging from their instructor’s dog tags, Seresin hadn’t even noticed them until now. Though in his defense it was a hard thing to imagine, Maverick married. 

But here they sat on the tarmac, running their planes through check after check as they waited for the base to give them permission to take off. The suicide mission just waiting for a single word before being flown for real. Their instructor sat beside his plane, fiddling aimlessly with the gold ring, and speaking softly into his phone. 

“Before you start, yes, I called while you were in a meeting on purpose—Lord knows this conversation would be worse without it.” 

It was a gut instinct, Jake knew it must have been the pilot’s wife. He also knew he definitely shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but it wasn’t like there anywhere else to go… and yeah, he was curious as all hell.

“I know we don’t do this—talk about it like how it really is, but, God, Tom this is one is different. You know it is. So I just wanted… just wanted to say I love you… that’s all.” And the phone disappears and Jake feels a lot worse about eavesdropping than he expected to. Not for the first time it hurts to know he’s not going out there with them. 

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They hit their targets. And then the enemy hits theirs too. For forty seven minutes Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw are confirmed K.I.A. It's maybe the worst forty seven minutes of Jake Seresin’s life. Only contested by the full minute he was in the air—desperate to be faster, to get there in time. 

He’s not in the air for much longer, but when his feet hit solid ground it feels like something has happened to his bones, like he might have lost them going supersonic. He can’t imagine how the rest of them feel. He imagines the only reason any of them are still standing is because they’re all holding each other up. Hands lingering on shoulders and hugs that turn into something desperate. They almost died. They almost died! But they’re here anyway. They’re alive, alive, alive. 

He doesn’t ever want to let any of them go. But eventually Cyclone makes his way to the tarmac and even a brush with death won’t stop them all from saluting properly. Cyclone waves all of them off, eye fixed on their captain. 

“Your husband is beyond pissed at you, Mitchel.” And apparently, that close of a brush with death is enough to drop formality. Jake’s very grateful to know there is at least a line somewhere. 

Maverick laughs, a haggard sound that sends him quickly into a coughing fit. “I’m sure he is,” he agrees easily. Jake finds he can’t quite look at him right now. He’s too fragile to be Maverick—their instructor, the only active duty Ace in the Navy—it doesn’t feel right. 

“I’ve been threatened within an inch of my life to see you properly to the medics. And, of course, he’s already warned me of your disappearing acts.” Cyclone continues and for the first time, Jake wonders how the Admiral knows Maverick’s husband. He must be a certain kind of person to be able to forge some sort of friendship even through Cyclone’s clear disdain for his husband. 

The idea conjures an image of the pilot’s husband in his head. Military husbands could be military wives, the image suggests. (It’s not his finest moment.) 

But the real kicker of it all, the thing that really grabs Jake's attention—floating just outside the conversation—is the next thing Maverick says. “No chance I’m getting in touch with him anytime soon, huh?” His tone is, well it’s just downright sad. 

Cyclone shakes his head. “Now? Oh God no. No, not for a while now.” Maybe it’s the adrenaline or maybe just his own ghost coming to haunt him or just the way their instructor’s face falls at the affirmative, but Seresin makes a second assumption about Maverick’s husband in as many minutes. He simply can’t imagine any reason in the universe that a man would be too busy to not be there for his husband after he almost died ! Not a loving one anyway. 

He’ll learn soon enough his imagination just isn’t creative enough. 

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Admiral Simpson does stay true to his promise and marches Maverick down to base hospital himself, going as far as giving orders to him and the rest of the Dagger Squad to keep him and Rooster there until they’re cleared—official orders.  Maverick rolls his eyes through the whole thing, but makes far less compliant than Jake would have expected from the man. The shock and adrenaline was wearing off now, leaving them all pale and quiet. 

Both Maverick and Bradley retrieve their phones and Jake gets a front row seat to watch the way Bradley’s eyes go watery and his hands start to tremble. Is there to watch as he turns to Maverick—who’s not exactly looking much better—and the way they reach for each other. 

Bradley’s hand finds Jake’s own and he is quiet as he listens to the two of them work through years of bad blood. 

(“Oh, Pops,” Bradley had choked out upon opening his phone and Maverick tucked him in his arms. “He loves you so much, kid. So much.” And Jake wonders what it must have been like to receive two K.I.A letters, for both your husband and son. He wonders why he’s sitting here beside them instead of him.) 

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He knows, really he does, that he has a habit of jumping the draw. On a lot of things, but this especially. He had met Bradley by shit-talking their fathers after all, he knows his head isn’t exactly screwed on right when it comes to this stuff.  But the hours dwindle. Dwindle and pass and there isn’t a single attempt at communication beyond what had been sent in a grief filled haze. He knows, because Maverick keeps checking. Thumbing through his phone every time the conversation lulls.  They know ‘Tom’ is alive and well—despite the news—because he had spoken to Cyclone and every hour that passes just exists to confirm Jake's anger. . 

He tries to bring it up, to ask what the fuck is happening, but they both look so sad and defeated when he tries that he can’t bring himself to push. So what, Jake’s here, the rest of the Dagger Squad rotates in. They won’t be alone—that’s a promise. 

The hours turn into a day and one day turns into two and soon they’re talking about discharging the two pilots and still, there’s no sign of Tom. But Jake Seresin is here, that’s about all he has control over. 

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It’s been fifty four hours since the nuclear facility was bombed. Bradley is asleep on his side of the room and Jake is drifting off in the chair he’s been in since they touched down. He’s not too far gone though, not to notice when the door to their room is opened. Not when the door is slammed open. 

Jerking awake, Jake Seresin doesn’t recognize the man in front of him, but he does recognize the uniform. Crumpled slightly and clearly worn, but the four stars still shine bright at the man’s shoulder and Seresin is jumping to salute.  He puts it together slower than he should, but he has a feeling that no one has ever seen Thomas ‘Iceman’ Kazansky look like this. Jake can hardly believe he is. The COMPACFLT, crumpled and exhausted beyond words, expression cracked open into something horrible. His salute is completely ignored. 

“Tom,” Maverick breathes beside him and Jake spends the next three minutes desperately trying to play catch-up in his head. Because Bradley wakes up next and scrambles out of his bed, barreling into the Iceman. And the noise the admiral makes as he wraps his arms around him is like breaching the water just moments before your lungs give out. Desperate, ragged. Like a man who had almost lost everything. 

“You,” Kazansky starts—turning his attention to Maverick now—voice breaking before he even has a chance to start and Bradley still held firmly in his arms, “are the worst wingman I’ve ever had.” 

Maverick laughs, so full of love and relief that Jake finds he can’t really look at him right now. “How were the Russians?” he asks, reaching out to pull his husband closer to him, and Jake finally starts putting everything together. 

“Awful,” Kazansky answers, forehead pressed to his husband’s. Bradley’s still tucked in there somewhere, pressed between the two of them. “Awful,” Kazansky—Tom—repeats. “They wouldn’t stand down. They wouldn’t let me go.” 

And for the first time Jake wonders what it must have been like to be told your husband and son have just barely survived the impossible and be unable to see them for days .

“You’re here now,” Maverick grins. “We all are.”