Archive of Our Own

Maverick strode into the classroom, full of confidence and audacity and Bradley was ready to fly off his chair and storm out the door the moment he laid eyes on him. 

He'd kill Ice for not warning him.

How he'd not guessed that being recalled to Top Gun for a secret mission with the best of the best graduates would result in Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell being their instructor, he didn't know.

Who else?

Maverick was the only one with the balls and ego big enough.

Bradley still fucking hated him.

Hated being thrust into a situation where he couldn’t scream and storm out like a hurt teenager without being reprimanded. Or explain the reasons why he felt that way.

But although he sensed Maverick’s heavy gaze on him as he introduced himself, Bradley resolutely looked straight ahead, eyes not straying his direction at all.

The uranium mission was explained, the parameters impossible; they were all going to die and Maverick would watch them burn in. Anger and frustration blazed through his soul at how unfair it was, and glancing at his fellow recruits he could sense the unease flowing between them. Then Maverick promised to bring them all home, and he barely held in a scoff.

For too many years Bradley wondered how he'd react to being in the same room as Maverick again, he honestly didn’t expect the fury to still burn so hot. But with almost twenty years between them and a whole lot unsaid, it wasn’t surprising.

Maybe he should have kept up with his mandated psych appointments. He sure could have used some coping mechanisms in that moment. Counting to ten was not working.

By the time the lesson ended, Bradley couldn’t escape fast enough. He was the first up and out of his seat, pushing past Fanboy and Phoenix.

"Bradley!" Maverick's voice hit him like a tonne of bricks. It sounded the same as he remembered, memories washed over him but he didn't look over his shoulder, he didn't falter and strode through the classroom door at a brisk pace. 

Straight into ankle deep water.

Water that he couldn’t actually feel.

What the fuck?

He looked back the way he'd come. There was no doorway. No Top Gun. No classmates. Nothing but sand and water.

Heart thumping in his throat, Bradley looked up when he sensed movement. A person ran leisurely past him on the sand; he called out. No response. They didn’t flinch, didn’t even look his way. 

Swallowing tightly, he stepped out of the water onto the sand, and although he wasn't wet, he expected the sand to cling to him. It didn't; he was dry and sand free.

Looking down at his body, he appeared solid, but only in the way a shadow was. Touching himself gave a strange sensation, but he could feel it…just…then a person ran right through his body.

He felt absolutely nothing.

Panic rose, and counting to ten still did fuck all, so he tried flagging down another three people, all of whom ignored him. He was for all intents and purposes invisible.

What was happening?

It had to be a dream - right?

Then he saw another figure walking towards him, the gait familiar, dark hair ruffling in the wind.

Fucking Maverick. Of course. 

It was always him.

"What the fuck did you do? How the hell did you manage to get me to the beach?" Bradley screamed at him. "Did you drug me? Is that part of your training?"

Maverick walked directly through Bradley, and he felt the slightest vibration deep inside his chest. Throwing a few choice words at the back of Maverick's head only made Bradley feel slightly better. He really needed to learn more cuss words than 'fucking' and 'fuck'.

As he looked around, completely bewildered at what was happening, a voice came to him. A deep voice with a distinctive accent, telling him of a curse. A curse that had been put on him many years earlier.

"No…no…no, no, no. That wasn't real…" Bradley pulled at the hair on his head, turning his attention to Maverick's back as he walked away. "Anyone but Maverick! Is fate having a fucking laugh at my expense?"

There was no reply.

Bradley cursed the curse that had been placed on him and sank to the wet sand he couldn’t feel under his hands, lamenting that his true love was the one person he couldn’t fucking stand to look at.

Perfect.

It was five years earlier when Natasha had him drunk enough to reveal why he only slept around, why he wasn’t interested in dating anyone.

“Come on, it's just us here - spill. Were you engaged and she cheated on you and now you’ve got something against happily ever afters?”

Bradley chuckled. "Nothing as pedestrian as that. I was cursed. Simple."

It was her turn to laugh, but when he stared her down with a wry look on his face, she stopped. "Come on, a curse?"

He sighed and shrugged. "I was about twenty, still trying to get into the flight program and finishing up my college degree. I was furious at the world when I went on a road trip with a friend to New Orleans."

"Oh…" Natasha's face said it all. She’d gone from disbelieving, from teasing, to giving him creedence on what he was revealing.

"Yeah, oh. Don’t ask me what happened. I was brash, young and rude. Too rude." Bradley ran a hand through his hair and sighed again. "I didn’t believe in voodoo mumbo jumbo, and so I told a very nice lady doing a reading what I thought of her stealing my friends money, and next minute…cursed."

Natasha took a moment to digest what he'd said. 

"Okay so you say cursed. Does that mean you have a barbed dick or something?"

A shocked gasp of laughter erupted from his chest. "No. No barbed penis."

"For the love of God, say dick or cock. Penis is so…clinical."

"Penis, penis, penis."

Bradley took great delight in watching Natasha shudder.

"You're a child. Okay, so no barbed penis. Can you not get it up then?"

"Jesus Trace! There is nothing wrong with my dick. My penis. You're obsessed."

"Hardly," was her succinct response, one brow raised. "So what is this curse then?"

Taking a breath, Bradley tried to put it into simple words. "Apparently, one day in the future, I'm going to see my true love. If I reject them, then I'm cursed that every doorway I pass through will take me to a parallel universe where I’ll be a shadow observer to witness them live their life over and over again."

"That's…very specific. What the fuck did you say to this woman? Actually, more importantly, did you ask how to break it?"

"Why? I don't actually believe what she said, so, no I didn't." Bradley scoffed and drank the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, earning a disapproving look from Natasha.

"But you just told me that's why you don’t date. Plus, trust me, you don't screw around with voodoo curses."

"Again, the curse isn't real. And I don’t have relationships because who needs them? It's just another person to let you down."

He ignored the pity and hint of sadness in her eyes at his statement, and went to grab them another round.

Bradley came back to himself, still sitting on a ghost beach, watching Maverick walk away.

It seemed like the voodoo priestess was not, in fact, telling him a load of bullshit.

Fuck his fucking life.

Bradley had no idea how the curse worked; rueing he'd not taken more interest at the time, instead laughing it off. But it was clear that walking away from Maverick had somehow activated it. 

Although on the surface Bradley refused to believe Maverick and he were meant to be. It was silly, ludicrous in fact. The curse could not be real.

But sitting under a heatless sun, with untouchable sand between his toes and people passing through his body as if he weren’t there…told him he was either tripping balls, or he was actually in a parallel universe.

“Fuck you life!” he screamed.

The three seagulls next to him didn’t flinch.

Bradley wanted to sulk, to not move, see what the curse did if he let Maverick out of his sight.

Would he stay stuck on the beach forever?

Could he die there?

More importantly, what had happened to him in his world?

Had he walked through the door then disappeared into thin air?

Bradley's head hurt, he was confused, tired and more than a little scared.

With nothing left to do but follow, he maintained his distance behind Maverick, still cursing him with every step until he happened across a familiar building. The Hard Deck.

Bradley stayed outside, not sure what would happen if he tried to be in the same space as a bar full of people, or walk through its door. So he looked through the window instead. He knew no-one could see him, but he still felt like a creeper.

A large group of people playing pool caught his attention first. The familiar faces of the Daggers set his heart rate at ease. It was nice to see them. He knew the majority of them from his time at Top Gun and from different postings over the years. Some were good friends, some almost strangers; but at least they were familiar strangers. Bradley had to give it to the Navy, they certainly knew how to collect the best of the best for a mission. A mission he was no longer a part of. 

Sighing, he shrugged off the sensation of failing.

It's not like he could help it.

A smile made its way to his face when he heard Natasha and Jake at loggerheads over if Jake touched the white ball before taking his shot. He had. But his attention was stolen before the outcome was determined; Maverick had arrived and was walking up to the bar.

Penny’s face changed when she spotted him, from her usual genial expression to something much softer…more intimate. She murmured something before pulling him in for a long, hard kiss over the bar. 

Bradley's gut churned as he stared.

Penny could do so much better.

Surprised, Bradley then watched as he, himself, walked in. But this Bradley didn't look remotely like him at all.

This Bradley had a shaved head and no moustache, carried more muscles around his shoulders, wore tight jeans, biker boots and a t-shirt that was about two sizes too small with a stylized picture of a half naked woman on a Harley Davidson.

He looked like an A-grade douchebag.

But what really shocked Bradley was the way Maverick’s eyes followed douche-Bradley, full of pain and regret. He’d not seen that expression for…almost twenty years. It was strange to see it through older eyes, not the trauma of being eighteen and devastated. 

Douche-Bradley acknowledged Maverick by flipping him the bird, and he heard Penny yell out something about respect, but Bradley had seen enough. He sat against the wall outside of the Hard Deck, staring out over the beach and listened to the yelling and jeering of the Daggers inside. He tried to block out how douche-Bradley flirted horribly with Natasha, almost borderline harassment and hung his head in shame. 

Seemed he was off to a brilliant start.

After overhearing douche-Bradley brag about scoring two chicks at once, Bradley decided he'd had enough and walked up to the Hard Deck doorway. People walked through him as he stood looking at the frame, wondering how the curse worked, if it would hurt…hell, if it was even true. Maybe he was destined to stay in that particular universe and watch douche-Bradley be an asshole to everyone for eternity. Bradley wondered what his story was though, how he'd ended up that way.

He was stalling.

Taking a breath he stepped through.

The room he stepped into was nice, homey, and a living area if the large screen TV and sofa was any indication. He looked back and there was no Hard Deck, no beach, just a room.

But whose room?

He decided to try something since there didn’t appear to be anyone around, and walked over to the door that led to a hallway and stepped through. Bradley was standing in the hallway. There was no new environment, so he stepped back into the living area, watching the door frame as he went. Nothing. Had the curse failed to ignite? He was still in the same house. He attempted it another five times with the same result. Bradley was about to despair that his parallel universe hopping had somehow broken the first time he'd used it, when Maverick walked in.

Another bout of fury hit him. It was all Maverick's fault he was there, unable to call for help, to interact with anyone. Stuck.

But his anger soon fled when another Bradley followed Maverick into the room. This Bradley looked more like him, though he was still bulkier. Maybe Bradley needed to work out more. Not skip shoulder days.

Bradley found it disconcerting to see himself with Maverick and he observed as they sat next to each other on the sofa. Close.

Too close.

Bradley’s eyes narrowed. 

He looked at his other self, moved closer to see if he was being held under duress. But no. He looked…happy.

“Hey Sweetheart, can you pass the remote?”

Bradley’s mouth dropped open. What in actual fuck? How dare -

“Come and get it,” other-Bradley drawled with a wink, and Bradley wanted to scream. That was his sex voice, his horny deep-set pitch. No fucking way was he using it on Maverick.

Maverick’s chuckle sent a shiver through his shadow body. It was laden with intent, and he watched horrified as Maverick slung a leg over Bradley to straddle him, leaning in closer.

Their lips met in a heated kiss and he couldn’t stand it, Bradley ran full pelt through the doorway, his stomach in disarray.

He fell onto the deck of a carrier.

Bradley risked a glance behind him, and saw nothing except rows of planes and metal.

Taking a moment to steady himself, Bradley sucked in a breath, thinking calmly and wishing for the saltiness he knew was in the air to hit him. It wouldn’t. He was a shadow. But it might have helped stop the crashing waves of discontent in his gut.

Him and Maverick.

Together.

Together, together.

What fresh hell had he stumbled upon? Under what circumstance would Bradley ever allow himself to fall in love with Maverick...again?

Bradley didn’t want to examine his seventeen year olds selfs pain. The puppy love he’d harboured for Maverick all those years ago, the love that festered into an ugly misshapen thing. But how could other-Bradley have forgiven Maverick? Bradley had held onto his hatred for almost twenty years, so how on earth was he snuggling up and looking content with Maverick?

Then it sunk in.

The curse.

He was witnessing parallel universes.

Some would be similar, and others nothing like his own world.

Clearly the Maverick in that one hadn’t screwed Bradley over.

An intrusive thought on how old they were when they’d started dating hit him and he shook his head immediately. 

It didn’t matter. He would never be intimate with Maverick in that way; even the thought of it unsettled him. But before he could analyze why that might be, he saw himself walk past.

Bradley followed, noticing after a few seconds he was on a familiar carrier.

He’d been stationed on her before.

He watched his other self approach a dark haired man in a flight suit who was leaning on a railing, looking out over the ocean. Maverick. Though Maverick and he were never on the same carrier, not in his timeline anyway. Bradley walked closer to see them better, but had a doorway in sight in case he had to run again. He couldn’t do another kiss.

“So how’s Ice? Away again?” Bradley asked tightly. Oh boy, he knew that underlying tone extremely well. A kiss wasn’t going to be the issue. 

“He’s great thanks. Actually he’s at a function in Washington all this week.” Maverick’s face turned soft and Bradley watched as his other self cringed. Maverick not seeing the expression. “I miss him though. I hate when we’re apart.”

Other-Bradley gave a non-committal sound and hugged Maverick to his side. The ugly expression in his eyes as he held Maverick tight, something Bradley didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Thanks, Rooster. You’re a good friend.”

Bradley heard his other self sigh, sensing the waves of jealousy radiating off of him. How Maverick couldn’t tell that Bradley’s comfort was for his own means, was beyond him. There was a glint in his eyes, one that meant trouble, a slyness that shouldn’t be there.

Sure Bradley wasn’t a fan of Maverick, but he had a suspicion that in this universe, Bradley was about to do something that would flip everyone's world's upside down.

He turned to leave, hearing Bradley say in a sickly sweet tone. “You deserve someone who’s always there for you, Mav.”

The doorway couldn’t come quick enough.

Bradley realised over what felt like days, a week maybe, that a shift to a new universe would only work once he’d seen Maverick. So he was stuck having to wait for the bane of his existence and his curse to appear everytime he walked through a doorway.

Another thing he'd discovered was he didn't require sleep. Even though he felt tired, it was more of a concept, considering he didn’t have a body that required sustenance, exercise or ablutions.

But after visiting a dozen or so worlds, Bradley started to find his burning hatred for Maverick simmering to warm embers. He could no longer quickly call the heat of anger to the forefront. And there was a good reason for that.

It seemed in every universe he’d visited, Maverick was a good guy. Great in fact.

So why was his Maverick such an asshole?

Maybe he wasn’t - maybe it was you.

Bradley ignored the voice in his head.

So far Bradley had seen Maverick in a relationship or married to Charlie, Ice, Slider and Penny, who Maverick seemed to be in relationships with more than any other person - except Bradley.

In almost every universe he’d stumbled upon, Bradley and Maverick were together or at the very least, good friends. 

He’d watched himself pine for Maverick when Maverick was in love with others, and even more interestingly, witnessed Maverick with his heart on his sleeve for Bradley. He couldn’t help the small burst of butterflies at hearing the way Maverick spoke about him reverently, as if Bradley was the most important person in the world, that he'd take care of him for the rest of their lives.

But he knew it was his ego that liked hearing those words, the vindication of pining for Maverick as a teen, then having his trust shattered.

Bradley even stopped flinching each time he saw them kiss. It still made his stomach all quivery, but he no longer had to look away. He didn’t like watching Maverick kiss other people either, it left him feeling strange, so he attributed it to the fact he didn’t want to see Maverick kiss anyone, ever.

Then one day he walked through a doorway to find himself in a military graveyard. He looked out along the sea of small headstones and saw a singular body bent over a new plot. 

Had Bradley stumbled upon his own demise?

Then he recognised the figure kneeling on the ground, shoulders shaking in silent tears. It was him, in full dress uniform. His immediate thought was he was at his dad’s grave, or a Dagger, but as he walked closer, the sobs were sorrowful, pained…despairing.

This Bradley had lost someone extremely close to him. He'd not seen himself cry like that since his mom passed.

Then he glanced at the name on the stone and ice filled his veins.

The doorway to escape the cemetery was too far away to stop other-Bradley’s haunting cries echoing across the grass. The words 'beloved husband of Bradley Mitchell' seared into his brain.

He collapsed through the door, chest heaving, heart heavy with a loss that wasn’t his.

He wiped away shadow tears, ones that couldn’t fall and collected himself.

Bradley didn’t want to find another world like that.

Ever.

An intangible exhaustion fell over him the more doorways he walked through. Each world so vastly different, but uniquely the same. He no longer held a visceral ball of discontent when his eyes found Maverick, the opposite became true. He’d started to actively seek out the familiar dark haired man, wondering what life he would be living; if it was with Bradley, someone else he knew, or a stranger. Those were the more disconcerting universes; finding Maverick with a whole new family and no-one familiar in sight. It didn’t seem right.

So he was intrigued when he found himself in a classroom at Top Gun, watching Maverick draw schematics on a whiteboard. Bradley took a shadow seat and sat back, looking at the formulas, impressed once more about how much Maverick understood aerodynamics and the ilk. The door opened and Bradley watched as a version of himself slid in, closing the door with a snick. Maverick hadn’t noticed, so caught up in his work.

Other-Bradley snuck across the room, and Bradley waited in anticipation for the moment he’d scare Maverick or say something stupid, or kiss him hello like he’d seen countless times.

But this time.

This time was completely different.

Bradley grabbed Maverick from behind, hand tight on his hip, mouth attached to his neck, sucking hard, biting and then licking the hurt when Maverick called out in pain.

“You gonna be quiet for me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sir…” Maverick breathed needily.

Oh…oh holy fucking shit.

Bradley felt the sensation of himself hardening, though when he looked down, nothing on his shadow body had changed. His eyes landed back on Maverick and other-Bradley.

He couldn’t look away. The doorway two feet away wasn’t even considered. He was all fucking eyes and ears on the two before him.

Other-Bradley didn’t check to see if anyone could see through the outside window before he unzipped Maverick’s pants, yanking them down over his ass. He left the band tight under the curve, restricting Maverick's movement.

“You have two minutes.” Bradley growled.

“Sir?”

“Two minutes before this classroom fills with students.”

“Fuck,” Maverick moaned at the same time as Bradley whimpered from the back of the room.

“If you don’t come in that time, then I’m not stopping until you do.” Other-Bradley nipped Maverick’s ear hard before whispering directly into the shell. “Even if it’s in front of your students.” 

“Bradley…fuck...I mean, Sir. No. You can’t.”

“I can and I will,” was the mean response. “You’d better start trying then, hadn’t you?”

Maverick nodded as Bradley spat on his palm with an obscene sound, then started to jerk him roughly. He spun Maverick’s body so his dick was clear to anyone who might walk in, which meant it was now clear to Bradley as well.

Something hit him low in the gut at the way Maverick was putty in other-Bradley’s arms, the half lidded eyes full of heat and desire; his cheeks pink, his breaths coming in gasps as Bradley relentlessly and ruthlessly jerked him off.

Noise from outside the room made Bradley gasp, and he looked quickly towards the door. No-one came in, the voices carrying on down the hallway. But the other Bradley just smirked meanly, twisting his wrist, pulling Maverick tight against him, sucking bruises into his neck from behind, only barely ensuring they were covered by Maverick's collar.

Want and desire pooled in Bradley’s gut at the intimate and private display before him.

Maverick was, Bradley had to admit, gorgeous. His dick pretty, flushed and red, his body so compliant in other-Bradley’s arms. But it was the confidence in Bradley, the knowledge of Maverick's body that was something so personal, so beautiful he wanted it for himself.

Hang on.

He wanted Maverick?

He was ripped from his panicked thoughts when Maverick came with a shout, Bradley not stopping, jerking him until Maverick shuddered, overstimulated, his come hitting the floor with a slap. 

It was so fucking hot.

Bradley tucked Maverick away and pulled his collar up, adjusting it with a quick kiss to his lips. A soft kiss, a kiss full of love. Then the door opened and the first student walked in. Thankfully they didn’t look up, too busy talking to the person behind them and he watched as other-Bradley stared smugly at Maverick. The ownership of Maverick, clear in his stance. Maverick’s face was red, his hands shaky as he wrote something on the board then scribbled it out, obviously aware that Bradley hadn’t left yet.

Then as other-Bradley went to walk out of the room, he turned with a mean grin. “I think you’ve spilt something on the floor there, Captain Mitchell. Best clean it up before someone slips.”

Maverick flamed crimson and Bradley felt his own gut clench watching Maverick clean up his spend as other-Bradley smirked.

“Good boy,” he said under his breath as he walked out.

Bradley followed him quickly, stomach churning and thoughts in disarray at finding himself wanting Maverick.

Wanting him badly.

Bradley found it impossible to rid himself of the image of jerking Maverick off. It was completely different to watching in the mirror with a partner; it was a true 3D visual and not only that, but to hear the commanding tone in his voice. Though it was the way Maverick sank into the play he found most enticing and unforgettable.

So when he walked through a door to find himself in a hospital room, he was more than a little disconcerted.

He looked across to find Maverick in the bed. But the only reason he knew it was him, was the little name plaque above his head on the wall.

Maverick’s legs and one arm were suspended in the air, bandages covered almost every inch of his body, with only a tuft of dark hair poking out the top. His eyes were black, puffed and cuts and stitches made up the rest of his face.

Only one hand appeared uninjured.

It was horrific. 

Bradley’s stomach curdled when he walked around the bed, looking at the extensive damage.

What had happened?

More importantly, where was he? Where was Maverick’s Bradley?

Bradley sat himself in the corner, watching as nurses and doctors walked in and out doing observations, speaking to each other as if Maverick wasn’t there. Though Maverick was unconscious and couldn’t respond, it still rankled Bradley they weren’t acknowledging Maverick in the bed at all.

Apparently Maverick had been in an accident, ejecting at Mach 10.4, a feat Bradley couldn’t wrap his head around. He overheard a nurse talking about Maverick’s role as a test pilot for an unnamed government faction, but it was obvious the ejection didn’t go to plan.

Maverick looked…scrambled.

But still, this universe's Bradley didn’t appear.

By Bradley’s count, at least four days had passed as he watched and waited for visitors to arrive. But nobody came.

Did Maverick have no one who cared?

Maverick had always been surrounded by people; people that loved him, cherished him, who he made laugh, made feel special…loved. But why was no one there to repay the kindness that Maverick undoubtedly showered on them?

Bradley’s heart lurched.

He stayed in the corner of the room as the swelling in Maverick’s eyes disappeared, until the bruises turned yellow, until the nurses did observations twice a day, not hourly.

Still no flowers, no visitors or even a whisper of loved ones arrived.

Bradley glanced at the door every so often, his escape from the bleak room, but couldn't fathom leaving Maverick alone.

Even though Maverick was still out of it, he needed to stay. To watch. To be there.

So he started to talk.

“Mav -" Bradley's voice broke on his name. He tried again. "Mav, I was a childish idiot. I see that now.”

The words still stuck in his throat, but came easier the more he let them flow.

“I’m not saying you weren't at fault, because you absolutely were. But the continued estrangement is on me.”

“I hated you for so long, and somewhere along the way, it became a habit. Of course I thought about you. More than I should have, but I never allowed myself the folly of reaching out, to see if you were still waiting for me.” He looked over at the machine’s steady beeping, then back to Maverick’s yellowed face. “I got your emails, your letters, though I noticed they came less and less over the years. Not that I blame you. But yeah…I just wanted you to know that I read them all.”

He took a breath and rubbed his eyes, once again feeling phantom tears well up.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Bradley reached out and tried to grab Maverick’s uninjured hand. His fingers passed right through as expected, but the machines whirling to life and a strangled cough - he wasn't expecting.

Nurses filled the room, and someone called for the doctor as Maverick struggled with the tube in his throat, trying to breathe, to scream around it.

Bradley fell back by instinct, unable to do anything, to offer comfort, to hold Maverick tight and tell him it was going to be ok, that he had someone. Because…this Maverick didn’t.

He backed away slowly, eyes on Maverick and edged towards the door.

And just as he stepped through, he could have sworn Maverick’s green panicked gaze caught his.

It took many weeks, or phantom weeks, to be able to place hospital Maverick at the back of his mind. Bradley’s thoughts continually falling to him over and over again, the image of him all alone in the sterile room, green eyes seemingly pleading to him, unforgettable.

Even witnessing Maverick and a beaming Bradley on their wedding day only dulled the memory. Until he saw his mom and dad, aged as they should have been, sitting proudly in the front row, smiling and happy for them as they said their nuptials. It should have been a complete shock. But the fact they approved, hit Bradley somewhere deep in his chest. It was an approval he hadn’t realised he needed or wanted.

He took a shadow seat next to his dad, overcome, wrung out and needing comfort only a parent could give.

As time plodded along, Bradley found himself becoming listless, not engaged in the universes around him as much as he had at first.

On occasion he tried living in a world for a while, avoiding doorways and enjoying the scenery, or searching for familiar faces, though never straying too far from where Maverick was.

Other times he couldn’t run through a doorway quick enough.

It caught him by surprise then, when one day as he watched Maverick and a laughing Bradley having a picnic by a river, that he felt happiness rising in his chest that they had each other. That most universes had a version of themselves who interacted, even if it was only as friends, though he swore he still saw the longing in each other’s eyes. 

The worlds where they were completely estranged were the ones Bradley escaped early, but always made Bradley pause for a second of contemplation. Because Bradley lived in one of those worlds; and for the first time in a long time. It didn’t sit well.

But how did he go back to his time to fix it? To make long overdue amends?

Now that he’d made peace within himself about Maverick, would that be enough to break the curse? Or did he have to say or do something?

He pushed aside the soft whisper that tried to say he might never get home.

Sighing, he walked through another door that looked the same as the hundred before it, leaving a version of himself singing karaoke. No one needed to hear his horrifically bad whiny rendition of 'footloose' so he left, and stumbled into a darkened room.

He was disorientated at first, though his eyes soon adjusted at the same time he heard a wrecked moan from the bed.

The moan was unmistakably Maverick, he’d know that rough timbre anywhere. 

There was no longer a second thought on how he used to flinch at hearing Maverick’s name, to now knowing him in the dark from one noise. One long, hot, needy drawn out noise.

Someone was being fucked to within an inch of their life.

Bradley held himself taut, not wanting to see Maverick screwing Penny or god forbid Cyclone again.

But the responding groan was his own rough voice and he walked towards the bed to look properly. For all of the universes, for all of the worlds he’d passed through, he’d rarely walked in on the two of them in bed. A burning excitement coursed through his shadow body at what lay before him. There were no inhibitions, no one to know he was watching and although it was somewhat voyeuristic, it was also familiar.

Maverick was up on his knees, while Bradley’s face was buried in the covers; Maverick licking at Bradley’s rim with abandon. It was clear he’d been there a while.

Bradley’s own ass clench in desire. Fuck, he loved being eaten…loved to reciprocate too. But in the absence of a corporeal body he made do with watching Maverick devour other-Bradley’s ass like he’d done it a million times.

And maybe he had.

Bradley had no idea what that universe was hiding.

“Fuck, mmm…yes - like that. Jesus, your tongue is magic.”

Maverick responded by pulling Bradley’s ass further apart, spearing his tongue and Bradley watched as Maverick worked his jaw, and christ…he wanted…wanted so much.

Then Maverick started to stroke Bradley’s dick as it hung heavy and full between his legs, while licking him with moans so erotically loud, Bradley wondered if they were filming themselves.

He could see the telltale tremble in other-Bradley’s thighs, before they bunched up, his wrecked voice repeating Maverick’s name like a mantra, over and over. 

Just when he anticipated other-Bradley’s orgasm, Maverick sat up, dick hard and weeping, and he pushed straight into Bradley’s hole with a stroke so rough, it made him wince. He knew though it was exactly what other-Bradley craved in that moment, the shock to stave off coming. Other-Bradley cried out, then pushed his hips back, gasping for Maverick to push deeper. 

Maverick complied. 

The ensuing thrusts were so precise, so full and deep, Bradley knew if it was his body being pounded into, he would have come already. Though he usually topped, he wasn’t opposed to switching it up, especially if Maverick was involved.

Which is exactly what other-Bradley did.

The minute Maverick let his guard down, his concentration waning, Bradley moved. His hips dropped to the bed and he rolled quickly, grabbing Maverick and spinning them, Maverick yelping in surprise. Maverick then grinned widely, having played the game before, staring up at Bradley with adoration in his eyes.

“Ready for me?”

“Always,” Maverick replied with a sigh, then stretched languidly as Bradley lined up and pressed inside. It took less than a second for him to pound Maverick into the mattress. 

Maverick was loud. 

Stupidly loud.

Bradley looked to the window, worried someone might call the cops, or at the very least a neighbour to bang on the wall. But there was nothing. Only the yells of Maverick being fucked hard and fast.

The few times he’d seen them in bed together, he’d picked up on common factors, ones he unconsciously filed away in his memory. He knew when an other-Bradley twisted his hips at a certain angle deep in Maverick, Maverick would be rendered speechless; then if Maverick nipped Bradley’s earlobe when Bradley grinded in him slowly, Bradley would shudder and fuck harder.

Bradley knew it was how he reacted too in his own world, so it only made sense the things that drove Maverick crazy in other universes would work in his. He allowed his thoughts to linger on that.

His attention quickly returned to other-Bradley jerking Maverick’s dick so relentlessly he came on the sheets with a shudder and a shout, other-Bradley following soon after, grinding and emptying himself in Maverick.

Breathing a little harder, Bradley watched as Maverick rolled over, carding fingers through Bradley’s hair and capturing his lips in a soft press. Other-Bradley pushed his tongue into Maverick’s mouth, kissing him until they fell in a heap, tangled in each other’s arms.

After all of his time watching the different iterations of them, the one thing that made Bradley’s heart pulse quicker, was the soft words of love and adoration they shared in the quiet moments between. When no one was listening and they held each other, as if they had everything they ever wanted at their fingertips.

Bradley started to yearn.

The doorway he slid through was dark on his side, but led directly into blazing sunlight on the other. Bradley squinted into the light, noting he was standing in a desert. Looking behind him, Bradley saw a huge unfamiliar hangar, but the Bronco parked before him, was his. 

Looking closer, he saw that the cab was packed to the brim of things. His things.

Was he moving to a hangar in the middle of the desert?

That was actually pretty cool.

But then he saw himself storming out of the hangar doors, eyes dark and a face like thunder.

“Bradley!” Maverick called, running out and watched as his other self didn’t flinch. He kept walking with a steely expression and Bradley knew that one all too well. His other self was furious, his intent set in stone, there would be no backing down.

“Let’s talk about this, I didn’t mean for you to leave.”

“Didn’t you?” other-Bradley yelled, fists clenched. “I think that’s exactly what you wanted.”

“I just...no, I never wanted you to walk away…”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that sentiment now,” other-Bradley bit back as he slid inside the car. He slammed the door shut so hard that rust from the wheel arch splattered to the sand.

Bradley found himself bewildered as he looked at the scene. It must have been their hangar, other-Bradley living there with Maverick.

Or, lived.

But he couldn't understand why he'd ever leave Maverick.

“You had so many chances to open up, Mav." Other-Bradley's voice finally faltered. "But I just can’t do this anymore…”

The Bronco started with a roar and Bradley found himself running towards it. Unable to stop its forward trajectory or kick the back panel in anger.

“What are you doing?” he yelled, though no one heard.

“Bradley…” Maverick cried once more, hand reaching out, falling to his knees in the sand when the Bronco drove off with a wheel spin and dust in its wake. “Please don’t leave me again…I’ll try harder to let you in…”

Bradley swallowed tightly at Maverick's desperate words, not sure what trauma has occurred in that world for Bradley to be so absolute in his decision to walk out. Bradley would wait a lifetime for his Maverick to open up and let him in, so why couldn't this universes Bradley?

“Hey! Come back here you fucking asshole. Why the fuck would you leave Maverick?” Bradley threw his hands in the air. “Maverick is good for you - for us . And here you are driving away from the best thing that ever came into our lives…”

Bradley trailed off. 

His chest tight.

His brain whirling too quickly to compartmentalize like usual.

It dawned.

Of course…

Bradley wasn't having a shadow heart attack.

He was in love with Maverick.

Absolutely and completely in love.

“I love you, Bradley.”

He spun quickly, shocked and elated. Could Maverick see him? Holy shit.

But no, Maverick was kneeling in the hot sand, staring at where the Bronco disappeared; wetness coating his eyes that he rubbed at carelessly.

Bradley's heart ached, partly due to his revelation, but also for the pain that radiated from Maverick.

But he couldn't do anything to soothe him, so he stumbled towards the hangar door, his need and desire to find a way back to his universe burning through his body.

Bradley ran the last few steps, excitement and plans for the future urging him on.

He'd lost count on the amount of doors he'd passed through since the hangar, forty, sixty - ninety? Bradley's timeline was slipping through his grasp and he didn't know what to do.

Bradley assumed that by falling in love with Maverick, by letting go of his past hatred, ready to forgive both of them, it would have broken the curse. 

It didn't.

Mentally he was scrambled, on the edge, his sanity looking over a precipice and ready to fall. Exhaustion at slamming into different universes over and over, the good, the bad, the salacious (if Maverick was involved, apparently infidelity was a given) and the ugly…really ugly, clung to him.

He was at his wits end, worried that by the time he got back, if he got back, there would be nothing left of who he was, that he’d be a mismatched memory of the past Bradley, sliced through with who he could have been. The other fear that hung over his head was arriving home and forgetting his travels. He’d watched a thousand different lifetimes of happiness and anguish, and wanted to keep those memories, no matter how hard some were. Those particular ones reminded him that he was only human, that mistakes happen and he could be better than his worst self.

Bradley was ready to be a better person, to open up, be receptive to change and create new beginnings.

He’d wasted most of his life on anger and resentment, for a negligible reason, and Bradley now had a chance to make amends. He at least wanted to try to talk to Maverick, explain and make it right for them both. He’d also look for a chance to love Maverick in the way he knew he could, with every fiber of his soul. 

A sobering thought hit Bradley all of a sudden; he knew nothing of who his Maverick was. In almost twenty years with no contact between them, perhaps Maverick, like in many universes, had found someone else to share his life with, to have a family with. But hope sustained him as he walked through countless doorways. Hope that Maverick had been waiting for him, just like he had thousands of times before.

But still, no matter his intent - Bradley failed to make it back.

Despair hit.

Days passed, weeks perhaps, and Bradley became a shell, each doorway looked the same as the next, they all mocked him. The initial excitement that he’d make it home with the next step, dimmed to almost apathy.

He was done. 

Finished.

His desire to be home, to stand before Maverick and hug him close, to melt into him was overpowering.

He could do one more doorway.

It didn’t work.

Shadow tears fell.

Trudging along, Bradley sighed wearily, glancing over his shoulder to watch Maverick and another Bradley in an embrace that he wanted so desperately; and stepped through the frame. 

A bright light greeted him, and Bradley was certain he'd appeared in a beach scene, the sun glaring into his eyes; but when he blinked, he was looking up at a light above him instead.

He was lying in a bed.

A hospital bed.

A motion in his peripheral caught him off guard and suddenly there was a hand in his, squeezing tightly, so very tightly.

Bradley swung his head that direction, still unsteady, still uncertain, only to meet familiar green eyes, anxious and wary.

Every ridge of Maverick’s calloused palms and fingers in his grip felt like salvation. His other senses flared to life, the clinical stench of a hospital bombarded his nose, and nothing had ever smelt sweeter.

Bradley could feel everything.

“Bradley?” Maverick asked tentatively, holding his gaze. He was talking to Bradley…him. Bradley couldn’t control the wet hiccup that arose. “Are you…are you okay? Shit, I need to call the doctor.”

Maverick tried to pull his hand away, but Bradley burst into tears and yanked him forward instead.

With a startled noise, Maverick allowed himself to be tipped over onto the bed. Bradley’s face found the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and realised that the Maverick of his dreams, of his seventeen year old memory hadn’t changed. He smelt like home. His home.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart. It’s okay, you're okay.”

“Jesus…” Bradley finally managed to rasp, tears falling with no remorse. He was elated to be in his body, to have Maverick in his arms. “I had you, and lost you a million times.” 

The questioning noise from Maverick's throat wasn’t unexpected, but Bradley couldn’t stop.

“I've wasted so much time. So many lives without…I need…I want…”

“Hey, hey, sit back, relax, I'm not going anywhere. You’ve been through a bit of an ordeal.” Maverick extracted himself from Bradley’s embrace. 

Before Bradley could freak out, yell for Maverick to not leave him again, Maverick held the back of his neck tenderly and leant over to kiss his forehead. Maverick's face was shocked as he moved away, as if he shouldn’t have done it, as if Bradley would rebel against the action.

Maybe in another universe he would have.

But not his. Not anymore.

As Maverick sat back down on the seat next to him, Bradley tangled their fingers together and held firm. Maverick appeared taken aback at Bradley's antics, but smoothed a finger up and down his and didn't take away his touch.

It gave Bradley breathing room, time to look around and wonder what had happened to him. He was still on base in the Navy hospital.

He didn't think they took long term patients and he'd been gone for…months?

A straw was placed between his lips, and Bradley stared directly into Maverick's eyes as he sipped, his throat dry. Having Maverick look out for him filled another missing piece he'd not realised had disappeared.

He couldn't stop his thoughts landing on other-Maverick though, waking alone in a hospital room, struggling for breath, panic setting in. But Bradley was safe, he had someone when he opened his eyes, he wasn't alone. No matter how hard he'd tried to make it that way.

He was lucky Maverick was one stubborn son-of-a-bitch.

“That first day in class,” Maverick said, pulling him from his thoughts, “I hadn't seen you in…too many years, you were so angry, and hurt and before I could talk to you, try and…well, you collapsed when you walked out the door." 

“We couldn't rouse you, I thought you were dead." Maverick ran his free hand over his face. A look of fear slid over his features for a moment and Bradley wanted to soothe him. "But Phoenix…thank fuck for her, she found your heartbeat and we raced you to the hospital. The scans showed no obstructions or reason for your collapse, but there was a lot of brain activity. A saving grace really. Look, Bradley, I’m -

“It’s okay." Bradley interrupted, squeezing Maverick's hand, giving him a soft smile, seeing the shock reflected in Maverick's gaze. "It’s all going to be okay. I’m the one who owes you the apology.”

“What?” Maverick’s voice was full of confusion.

"I have so much to tell you…but…oh shit. I missed the mission. Did we do it? Is everyone okay?”

Maverick's brows drew together and Bradley knew he wasn't explaining anything properly, he was jumping all over the place, brain still trying to comprehend that he was back where he belonged. “Uh, no you didn't actually. You’ve only been unconscious for three days.”

“Three days…” Bradley breathed disbelievingly. But he’d been traversing universes for months…right? 

"The others have started their training, but it's been quiet - they're all worried about you."

"Oh," Bradley paused, "well, thank God I didn't miss it."

“Hang up, there's no way I’m letting you on the mission." Maverick said with a note in his voice Bradley couldn't quite place. "Bradley, you're not well, you're in a fucking hospital bed right now.”

“Actually, Mav,” Bradley said with a bright smile, noticing the way Maverick’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “I’ve never felt better.” 

Squeezing Maverick’s fingers once more to remind himself that it was all real, Bradley decided he had time for explanations later; he’d only just broken the curse after all.

Now he had work to do.

For the rest of the day Bradley underwent a million tests, the doctors not believing that he was fit, healthy and the days he'd been unconscious hadn’t affected him at all. Maverick left soon after he woke, apologies in his eyes and words that he was still Dagger One and had a team to train. Bradley vowed to see him later, back in the classroom. Maverick didn’t look happy at the prospect but remained silent.

Bradley was cleared that night for active duty the next day.

It was evening once his discharge went through and he made his way to the Hard Deck, knowing the team was there after another grueling day of training.

Cheers went up when he arrived and he slotted back into the fold like he’d never left.

Natasha cornered him immediately and hugged him tight enough to leave an impression.

"Never. And I mean never do that again."

"Not planning on it," he said with a grin and hugged her back just as tight.

"You okay though?"

"I think so." He paused, and half whispered, "do you remember me telling you about a curse?"

Her eyes widened and she nodded once. "The fuck? Who?"

He looked over at the bar towards Maverick, he gave a smile and held up his soda in hello. Maverick was wary but genuine with his returning smile and Bradley couldn’t blame him.

"Maverick? Jesus, Bradshaw, you don't half aim for the moon, do you?"

"I'll tell you all about it soon, but I'm glad to be back with you all. Even Hangman."

"You must have been gone a while then," she teased, but sobered up at the look in his eyes he probably couldn't hide.

"You have no idea."

He glanced back over at Maverick and let out a breath of relief when he saw Penny and Maverick interacting as friends, and only friends.

The rush of possibilities was heady.

In no time at all, he and Maverick were in the sky, still competitive, still diving too quickly towards the hard deck, egging each other on with jibes and what Bradley hoped was thinly veiled flirting. He was still annoyed at how Maverick kept him at arm's distance, holding back when on the ground, but pushing him in the sky. 

After having seen him do similar things in other universes, he knew it wasn’t from a place of arrogance…well, not always.

Even Hangman’s dig at Maverick flying with his dad when he died didn’t elicit the expected rush of anger. He’d heard Maverick talk about that day too many times over countless worlds for him to hold any past grudges; he’d also heard the paper-pulling story from both sides, something he had to bring up and rectify in his own timeline.

All too soon, crunch time with the uranium mission came. Maverick proving that the suicide run could be done, without the dying part, and Bradley knew that he'd been too conservative, too safe to be chosen in the final group. He was angry at himself for not being the pilot he knew he could be. For thinking, not doing.

But then Maverick surprised him. 

Bradley’s name was called, and he had his shot.

The mission was a success, the base taken out; and then Bradley suffered through almost losing Maverick to his ridiculous hero complex of sacrificing himself.

Bradley was rolling up his parachute when Maverick came barreling through the snow; relief quick and fast hit him. Maverick was safe, uninjured, he’d not been lost. Bradley had another chance to make his timeline right. To have this man…who shoved him into the snow.

He held in the grin at the show of emotion.

“What are you doing here?” Maverick cried angrily. 

Bradley wanted to shout it was because he loved Maverick; that he'd always be there for him, that he'd been an idiot and wanted to start over. He didn’t though, not yet.

“What am I doing here?” He responded instead, no heat in his voice.

“You think I took that missile so you could be down here with me?” Maverick looked to the side and Bradley couldn’t help feel a tug of want, an emotional Maverick, a protective Maverick was his achilles heel. “You should be back on the carrier by now!”

“I saved your life,” Bradley reminded him.

“I saved your life. That’s the whole point.” Maverick huffed out a breath, “what the hell were you even thinking?”

“You told me not to think!”

The moment was charged, there was something there and Bradley wanted to push the boundaries, test the perimeter and see what he could find. But he was also a realist and knew that even though he'd seen them in a thousand lifetimes happy and in love, and that his own feelings had developed; his Maverick, the one standing before him, had none of that history. They were essentially starting over.

“Well, it’s good to see you.”

Bradley finally allowed the grin to break free. “It’s good to see you too. So what’s the plan?”

The plan was ridiculous, of course it was, it was Maverick.

As they ran across an enemy base to a plane almost older than him, Bradley knew he had to be patient, hold on to his feelings, then explore what they could be.

But first they had to make it home.

Which they did.

Barely.

“Bradley?” Maverick’s voice was soft and questioning with something tight bound within it. 

Bradley looked up to find Maverick standing before him, a towel draped around his shoulders, hair wet from the hangar’s shower. Maverick’s hangar, one that had starred in many universes.

But this was his universe. This was his Maverick. 

He tempered the giddy sensation that filled his body that they were there together, and tried to avert his gaze from Maverick wearing nothing but shorts. The rest of his exposed skin was pink from the hot water, and Bradley should be used to the spectacular views, but he wasn't. They’d been living in the other's pockets for a few months and he still caught his breath each and every time.

Bradley had so much love welling up inside that he didn’t know what to do with it.

“What’s up?” he responded warmly, a smile quick to his lips. 

Maverick’s eyes mapped his face and Bradley swallowed down a million images of Maverick staring at him the same way in different settings.

"I don’t even know how to say this…” Maverick trailed off, wiping a hand over his face, a wry grin appearing a second later. “You make it hard to think sometimes.”

Raising a brow, Bradley remained silent while Maverick worked his way through his words. It was almost impossible, he wanted to reach out, grab him, tell him everything.

“The way you look at me…no, that’s not where I want to start,” Maverick inhaled through his nose then held Bradley’s gaze, a steely resolve in them. Bradley gulped, not sure what to expect. “Since your blackout, those three days of waiting, not knowing if you would wake up, I started to question everything. Our fight, the way we’d lost touch - if I should have done things differently…”

“Mav -”

“Then you woke up and things…changed. You somehow aged, the same Bradley outwardly, but with something different, there was a new depth behind your eyes. The rage gone. Then you looked at me. Christ…you have to stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?” Bradley asked quietly.

"Like I hold your entire universe in my hands."

Bradley stopped breathing.

“Like you…” Maverick stopped and let out a low chuckle that did things to Bradley. “Like you’d do anything for me, like I’m about to disappear in a moment’s notice. But also like you want to kiss me, touch me - make me yours ...”

Their eyes locked, Maverick moved forward an inch, Bradley mirrored the movement until only a breath was between them and Maverick whispered, “I swear sometimes when I look into your eyes, I can see different versions of us, a multitude of lifetimes. It sounds ridiculous I know -”

“Not ridiculous,” Bradley husked and grabbed Maverick's shoulders, pulling him in the last inch. Maverick’s voice faltered, his eyes wide as Bradley’s lips met his in their first kiss. 

He’d seen first kisses over many universes, but none as perfect or as right as that one. Maverick’s lips were soft and yielding under his, allowing Bradley the freedom to take control, to show Maverick what he craved.

Bradley pulled Maverick flush with his body, pressing against him, ensuring Maverick was completely and utterly aware of how much Bradley needed him.

“Not ridiculous at all. I want it all, I want it all with you,” Bradley whispered against Maverick’s lips, kissing him again so thoroughly that they were both panting when he pulled back.

“Bradley…”

The shaky inhale from Maverick, the wonder in his eyes, the beginnings of a grin so megawatt anyone on the moon could see it, was the reason he couldn’t hold on anymore.

“I love you, Maverick. Across a thousand universes, across all of time. I want this, here, with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Maverick’s eyes turned dark, depthless as Bradley held them, waiting.

“You have to know that I’m yours. Always.”

Bradley exhaled, lifetimes of want, desire, loss and pain rushing out, images of Maverick and he together, estranged, not even acknowledging the other all ran together until there was only them. Until it was how it should be.

He must have spaced out for a minute, because he came back to see Maverick holding out a hand for him to take. He did, and was led into the airstream.

They spent an age kissing, lying on the bed tangled up, hands running over each other's skin with no hesitation, no will to stop. Bradley used what he'd learned about Maverick's preferences, eliciting a shocked gasp and renewed fervor of touch. Maverick meanwhile found a spot on the back of Bradley’s nape that made him shiver, moaning Maverick’s name wantonly when nipped.

Shucking their underwear, they remained in a lazy haze of living in the moment, not worrying about the time, or chasing a release. Every drag of fingers over Maverick’s dick was halfway between nerve wracking and thrilling. Bradley didn’t want to mess anything up, but also relished the control he had, the freedom to explore and to offer that gift in return.

Soon their movements became jerkier, more erratic and Bradley knew he had to take control, if only for a moment.

“I’ve got you,” he husked against Maverick’s ear, giving it a quick bite.

The responding groan all he needed before grasping both their dicks in hand, stroking them together. They’d leaked so much from anticipation, from touching the other without boundaries, that his hand slipped perfectly along their lengths.

Bradley wanted to try everything, do everything, but he knew they had a lifetime for that. In that moment they needed a release, he needed a release, proof that this was his, that he had his place in the world.

So he sped up his hand and swallowed every moan, every word of love that Maverick spoke into the room. Bradley’s tongue pushed into Maverick’s mouth, taking all he had to give, leaving nothing behind except the promise of more, that it wasn’t over, that he’d be back.

Maverick started to writhe, to thrust his hips, chasing an orgasm, Bradley could see it so clearly without even having to open his eyes, it was enough to throw him over the edge. Maverick ground up against him, coming a second later as Bradley kissed the side of his mouth softly, enjoying the smiling puffs of breath Maverick let out.

They lay silent and still for a long minute, Bradley eventually using his t-shirt to clean them off, then pulled Maverick across his chest, holding him tight.

“I thought we were cursed, that we were beyond repair. I never imagined we would end up here.” Maverick said tiredly into his skin.

Bradley couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped as he kissed the crown of Maverick’s head.

“If anyone was cursed, it was me, but here we are - exactly where we’re supposed to be."

"I have a confession," Maverick whispered into the skin of Bradley's chest and he held his breath, having no idea what else could be admitted to. "I realised how much I still loved you when you were laying in that hospital bed. Maybe not romantically at the time, but I knew it to be true. I said it to you, and you woke up a second later. It was the strangest thing."

Bradley went still. Oh fuck. It took Maverick admitting his love too, to break the curse. Of course…

"Well I assumed you'd given me true love's first kiss, but I'll accept that words are what woke me up." 

Maverick laughed. "Well, anyway, love you.”

“Love you too,” Bradley replied immediately, his soul vibrating at how right everything felt.

Maverick yawned wide and long, a hesitant question followed, "do you think Goose and Carole would be okay with this?"

"You know what? I know for a fact they would be."

Maverick hummed contentedly and was soon asleep, quietly snoring against Bradley’s chest.

Bradley spent a long time staring at the roof of the airstream, thoughts flitting over the universes he’d been to, some disappearing in the fog of memory already, others carved into his very soul, never to be lost. Though he was certain everything turned out the way it should have for him in his world. 

Maverick rolled over to plaster himself against Bradley’s back and he relished in the rightness that having Maverick hold him brought on. He would tell Maverick everything one day, what had transpired in his three days of silence, eager to see his response that his words really did wake Bradley up. In the meantime though, he’d enjoy the love and warmth that surrounded him.

Bradley decided that he wasn’t hit with a curse at twenty, he was blessed with an opportunity, one to change, to grow, to be the man he always should have been.

He was one of the lucky ones to find his home, and that’s exactly where he was going to stay.

By Maverick’s side.

Always.