Chapter Text
May, 2018
After tossing and turning for a few hours, Bradley allowed himself to flick on his bedside lamp. If he started reading, he probably wouldn’t go back to sleep— but fuck it. He’d managed a two-hour nap earlier, he’d be fine. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night wide awake.
His ribs pinched as he reached for East of Eden on his nightstand. He shifted upright on the headboard and opened to chapter two. The first chapter had been a slog to get through, but the novel was part of the collection his mom passed down to him. He’d been working his was through the stack of books for years.
A sharp knock at the front door came an hour later.
2:30am.
Bradley’s spine straightened. No one should be knocking on his door right now. Before he could reach into the nightstand to grab his handgun, a tired voice called out to him.
“It’s Seresin!”
Bradley’s hand paused over the nightstand drawer. What the hell?
He stumbled out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers before making it to his apartment's front door. Sure enough, when he swung the door open Jake was standing there in a pair of gray sweatpants and a hoodie.
“Are you alright?” Bradley asked before he had the chance to really look at him.
Jake’s normally bright green eyes looked sunken in and dark. His hair stuck out in every direction, and his usually sharp cheekbones looked even sharper.
It was immediately obvious to him that Jake was not okay.
“Can I sleep here?” Jake deadpanned, not moving an inch. But something like relief briefly flashed in his eyes. Like Bradley answering the door wasn’t expected.
“Huh?” Bradley asked stupidly, still trying to string together why Jake, of all fucking people was asking to spend the night. Javy was just down the road for fucks sake.
“Can I sleep here?” Jake repeated, but this time the control in his voice slipped. “Just on the couch.”
“Uh. Yeah, I guess.” Bradley said quickly, stepping to the side to let him inside. As weird as it was that Jake was here, he wasn’t about to say no to him. Jake had just fucking saved his life 10 days ago— he owed him one.
“Thanks.”
Jake stepped past him like he owned the place, then kicked off his shoes. His broad shoulders were bunched together as he trudged to the couch just a few feet away.
“Let me uh… get you a good pillow. And a blanket.” Bradley muttered as he kicked himself into gear.
He walked back to the living room with two large quilts and a pillow, where Jake was sitting on the edge of the couch. His eyes were glazed over and distant, like he was somewhere else.
“What’s going on?” Bradley plopped the pillow and blankets next to Jake. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.”
Jake just flicked his tired eyes up at him and shook his head. “I just need to sleep.”
Bradley wanted to pry, but something about the way Jake looked right now made him bite his tongue. If he had to guess, it was nightmares. He had enough of his own to recognize that kind of pain.
“My room’s right there if you need anything. Just knock.” He gestured toward his door before turning on his heel. “Night.”
Jake stayed quiet as Bradley padded away— but he could feel eyes fixed on his back.
He crawled into bed and stared at the bedroom door with his hands in his lap. It wasn’t odd to have a friend or two crash at his place every now and then.
But Jake? They weren’t friends.
He paused, cataloging the last two weeks. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling.
Maybe they could be.
The uranium mission did change the way he looked at Jake. It took some humbling, but he realized that at the end of the day, Jake only pushed him because he wanted what was best for the team. He didn’t want Bradley’s shit with Mav screwing things up for everyone else.
Maybe now that all of it was over, Jake didn’t mind him so much. Or maybe it was those thirty minutes on the carrier, thinking he’d been shot down in a burst of flames.
The memory flashed behind his eyes. The metal coffin flying straight up into the sun, the sensors blaring while Maverick apologized over and over and over—
He sucked in a sharp breath and gripped his fists around the white sheets on his bed. His chest felt tight with each inhale.
He was safe. Maverick was alive. The mission was successful. He didn’t let anyone down.
Despite thinking he wouldn’t fall back asleep, his eyelids grew heavy after another hour of reading. Jake was quiet in the living room, either fast asleep or trying to be.
They’d talk in the morning.