Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are you listening to me, Bradshaw?”

Rooster flinched reflexively as he noted the ice cold bite to the admiral’s voice. He was intimately familiar with that particular tone. 

Pops— Iceman – was disappointed in him. In his lack of attention, probably, but it felt more like it was just in him . 

And why wouldn’t he be? 

Fifteen years. 

That’s how long he’d let this mess brew between them. How long he’d let his parents, for all intents and purposes, think he hated them. The shit he’d yelled—the things he’d said about them—the moments he’d missed?

They were married now, for real. Mav had ejected twice (not including this last mission) and Ice had battled cancer— fuckin’ cancer. 

And where’d he been?

Sulking. Like a spoiled toddler. 

So of course Ice was disappointed. 

Bradley was nothing more than a fuck up—he’d been a horrible son and a lackluster aviator—

Hell, Mav had gotten shot down in order to save him just last week. He’d almost gotten his dad— Ice’s husband—killed. All because he couldn’t fly like he was supposed to. He couldn’t even do that right—

“ Bradley? ” Ice’s voice was harder now.

Jeez, he couldn’t even debrief correctly. 

What was wrong with him?

His chest ached sharply. He was disappointing Pops again . He felt his breath catch as the seemingly ever present pain increased. He felt like his heart was breaking apart. That couldn’t be right, right? 

“ Brad— “

He couldn’t catch his breath—was he breathing? Maybe that’s why his chest was hurting? Great, something else to deal with—-

There were hands on his face; strong, blissfully cool hands that were cupping his forehead and then carefully framing his face and he found himself leaning heavily into the sensation.

”Christ, Brad,” Ice hissed through his teeth, crouching in front of the younger aviator. He was practically holding the pilot upright in his chair, and the heat coming off of him was substantial. “You’re burning up, kid—“

He knew something was wrong with the kid when he’d showed up for the debrief. Eyes a hair too glassy, body held rigidly on the left side like he was in pain. Hell, he probably was in pain from something—

It was impossible to forget that he’d been shot down just a few days before.

And wasn’t that horrifying to remember? Both of them—Maverick and Bradley, shot down behind enemy lines. 

How the hell had they gotten here, huh?

What happened to the curly haired menace who’d haunted Ice’s backyard every weekend? Where was the boy who’d sit under his desk playing with toy cars and trains while he fielded calls from brass? The young man who’d been his back seater on weekends?

So much had happened between now and those almost forgotten moments. 

“ Bradley, ” he barked a bit harsher, causing the glassy eyes to finally meet his. “You need to try and take a deeper breath—”

“Can’t,” the pilot gasped, leaning heavily into the admiral’s hands, chasing the small relief their cool temperature provided. 

“Yes, you can,” Ice countered, propping the pilot up a bit more. “You have to slow your breathing down and talk to me, kid—-what the hell is going on?”

It took several minutes of the admiral gently coaxing his wayward son before Bradley started to be able to breathe a bit more normally, though Ice could still feel the small hitches and wheezing under his hands. 

Something was clearly wrong.

”What feels bad?”

”Ev’rythin’ hurts, P’ps,” Bradley whined, reaching out to grab onto the blond’s wrist. He froze as he felt the familiar watch, his fevered brain finally catching up to what was going on.

Shit.

This was Admiral Kazansky—the COMPCFLT— not his Pops, not anymore.

”I will always be your Pops, Bradley,” the blond suddenly spoke. 

Huh…

Maybe he wasn’t speaking in just his head?

“No matter how upset or disappointed I am, okay? But I really need you to talk to me—what hurts? You’ve got quite the fever going—-“ 

“J’st my chest,” Bradley shrugged in a despondent manner, trying to drag himself away from his father and slumping back against  the chair. He pointed at the left side of his chest. “S-s-since the m-m-m-mission.”

“Where, B? You got checked after the eject, right? Harness bruising?” 

Tom racked his brain as he tried to recall the injuries each of them had sustained. 

Bradley had been fine , hadn’t he? A lot of bruising, some hints of whiplash, slight concussion—-none of those would cause the kid to wheeze…

“S’just a rib,” the curly haired pilot frowned, holding one finger up sluggishly. “S’okay, just one—-“ 

Before Bradley could react, Ice had his khaki shirt pulled out of his pants and was pulling it open fast enough that he distantly wondered if he lost a button. He let out a startled yelp.

“ Jesus ,” Ice hissed, fingers carefully tracing over the dark, angry bruise on his boy’s left ribcage. He didn’t feel the bones shift, thank God , but it was clear that it was painful. “I bet that’s been hurting, huh, B? What’re you doing for it?”

Bradley shrugged, too tired to really try and understand. “S’just bad ribs.”

”Just—- Bradley—- I know the corpsman told you things to do, things to look out for? Ice packs, pain meds, not lying flat for too long, trying to breathe deeply—-“ Tom felt something in his chest tighten. He’d been so caught up in Maverick’s injuries, and so used to Bradley shutting them out, that he’d overlooked the fact that his kid hadn’t been looking out for himself. “Probably give yourself pneumonia—-You could have let us help you, kid—“

Bradley shook his head sadly. “No, sir. I—I fucked up—- I—-it’s been years and I’ve b-b-b-b-been a horrible person ‘nd son ‘nd Mav was hurt ‘nd—-“

” Stop ,” Tom said sharply, gently framing his face. “You fucked up, I agree. We all did, and then you pushed us away for fifteen years, Bradley Peter—- fifteen long fucking years—“

”—I know, I—-“

“ But none of that means that we wouldn’t drop everything the second you called, Brad,” Ice insisted. “ None of that changes the fact that you’ll always be our kid, that we will always love you and want to help you, especially when you’re sick or injured. Am I mad? Sometimes—-hurt? Hell yeah—-but we can work on those things. We can work on everything as long as you’re willing to meet us halfway. However, the most important thing right now is that we take care of you, alright?”

”I—-“ Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d ached for it for so long; to be reconnected with his parents and to get back some of what he’d lost.

But he was tired—

His whole body hurt and he felt as though even breathing was a hardship, especially now that Ice was there . Why hide how badly he was feeling? He’d never been able to hide from the blond before. 

Pops always knew when he had a sore throat or a fever. Why would he be any different now?

”Let us help you, B,” Ice repeated softly. “Think you made yourself sick not looking after those ribs like you should have—-can I take you home and keep an eye on you?” 

Weary brown eyes lifted up to meet worried blue.

Instead of answering, Bradley took a chance and let himself tip forward towards the admiral’s chest. Ice, Pops , caught him easily, tucking him into a careful embrace and pressing a kiss to his too hot head. 

“I’ve gotcha baby,” Ice promised. “It’s all going to be okay.”