"Bradshaw! Is that you?"
The words seem to reach Bradley through a fog, whatever clear-headed resolve he had possessed when first stepping through the doors of The Hard Deck all but gone as soon as he catches sight of the familiar brunette standing just a few feet away at the bar. For what it's worth, Casey appears every bit as surprised to see him as he is to see her, even in spite of how Bradley, at least, ought to have seen this reunion coming from a mile away.
Of course Casey would've gone home, after everything. She would've been drawn to family every bit as much as he might have been, even without orders to return to Top Gun, himself.
Bradley tries to remind himself of that as he risks another glance Casey's way, before veering off to join Phoenix and a few other familiar faces by one of the pool tables, instead. He does what he can to ignore the flare of guilt that twists in his gut as soon as he sees the flicker of disappointment Casey tries to hide as soon as he turns away.
It would be a lie for him to pretend he isn't troubled by the sudden distance that seems to have risen up between them, but there isn't a damn thing he can do about it, now. Not in a crowded bar.
If there is one thing that he knows neither of them want, it would be for what happened between them eight weeks ago to become public knowledge. Not with her mother behind the bar, or Jake Seresin already watching his approach like a predator sizing up its prey.
As much as he hardly wants to seem like he is simply shrugging her off, Bradley can't find an indication that he has any other choice. Not even when Natasha's next words are hardly enough to keep him from feeling as though he should have stayed away.
"This is how I find out you're stateside?"
"Yeah. Just figured I'd surprise you," Bradley shrugs, hoping the response will be sufficiently nonchalant. Enough to avoid sparking any suspicion, because if anyone can read him like an open book aside from Casey, herself, it would be someone like Natasha Trace.
Something that is only confirmed when the woman in question offers him what amounts to a skeptically raised brow, before taking the liberty of smacking the end of her pool cue against his gut in tandem with her reply.
"Guess I surprised you back."
"It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, too," Nat quips, unspoken questions still lingering in her expression, though for now at least, she seems merciful enough to avoid asking them out loud. More grateful for that reality than he truly cares to admit, Bradley manages a thin smile, only for the look to fade moments later as he takes in Natasha's suddenly significant look over his shoulder.
"Incoming."
"Hey."
The greeting is soft. Far more tentative than Bradley is used to, considering its source, but even then, the lurch coming from inside of his chest is unmistakable. It very nearly drives him to his knees. Just a glance at Casey's features is enough to prove she is mirroring his own uncertainty, and for a moment, Bradley finds himself half-tempted to question her motives, at least within the confines of a skeptical glance. But that is before he follows the line of her gaze back toward the bar. Before he notices yet another familiar figure seated nearby.
He hadn't noticed Mav in the crowd until now, but clearly Casey is well aware of her father's presence there, the slight lift to her chin telling him all too clearly that she is trying to maintain the appearance that everything is exactly how it has always been, before. And even if he is less than pleased at the discovery, such as it is, Bradley still cannot seem to bring himself to let her down.
"Hey Case."
"Nat."
"Mitchell," Phoenix acknowledges, watching as Casey seems to accept the one-armed embrace Bradley provides, regardless of the slight stiffening of her spine, "Didn't realize you'd be back in town."
"I didn't realize I would be either, until I was halfway here," Casey admits, trying to ignore how Bradley's arm lingers around her shoulders, keeping her close, and praying that the dim lighting overhead will mask her flushed cheeks if she should fail, "What brought you back?"
"Special detachment. Doing a hell of a job of keeping us all in the dark, though."
"Any idea when you'll find out what it all entails?"
"Way I see it, that doesn't matter, sweetheart. What matters is who's gonna be team leader."
Turning to face the new arrival, Casey is not blind to the tightening of Bradley's arm around her. She does not miss how his entire body seems to go rigid, as though anticipating some reason to be on alert.
Truthfully, aside from a cocky sort of charm that is so obvious it is nearly painful, she can hardly tell why the stranger standing in front of them would warrant such a reaction. A reality that allows her to favor him with an almost resigned smile before she replies.
"Let me guess. You think it's gonna be—you?"
"Damn straight."
"You seem awfully confident."
"Maybe you'll let me buy you a drink, and I can show you why."
"Or maybe, I'll pass," Casey retorts, the words softened by the obvious amusement that rests behind them, even in spite of the sense of emptiness that threatens to overwhelm her as soon as she realizes Bradley appears to be pulling away, "Sorry."
"Now why do I get the feelin' that you're not?"
"You have trust issues?"
The stranger laughs in response to the quip, and Casey allows herself to feel a small modicum of relief that he appears content to play along, rather than taking offense at her refusal of the offer being made. For a moment, she even considers carrying on with the little ruse, if for no other reason than to distract herself from other, less encouraging thoughts.
Before she has the chance to fully decide, though, the matter appears to be taken out of her hands entirely, the amusement that is so apparent in the newcomer's expression remaining firm even as his attention shifts toward Bradley, instead.
"She with you, Bradshaw?"
"How is that any of your business?"
"Well I don't think it qualifies as top secret—"
"That's your opinion, Hangman."
"Actually, I'm thinkin' it's more like a fact," The man—Hangman—states, his smile only growing as he leans forward on the pool cue held firmly in both hands, "But if you're not willin' to admit it, I'm sure someone else here will be."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm pretty sure it means he thinks you're embarrassed to be seen with me."
Bradley can tell that there is obvious humor behind the words. That for her part, at least, Casey is not offended by the implications of the other pilot's assumption. By contrast, he can feel his jaw tightening in aggravation, the tension he already felt given everything that still rests, unsaid, between him and the woman standing beside him only growing in response to Seresin and his constant need to have the upper hand.
It would be a lie for him to pretend he isn't half-tempted to do something—anything—to get the knowing smirk off of Seresin's face, but before he can consider whether the potential consequences are worth it, Bradley feels the sudden pressure of a smaller hand slipping into his own, and delivering a tiny squeeze.
Casey…
"I'm with him. Sorry."
"Why am I gettin' the feeling you'd say that, even if you're really not?"
"Oh, I don't know," Casey muses, her eyes flicking to Bradley's for a moment, just in time to note how he seems to relax, bit by bit, "Maybe because I would."
"Ouch, kitten. Retract the claws."
"Don't ever call me kitten again, and you have a deal."
Jake laughs, but Bradley notes that he does seem to back off, a fact he is incredibly grateful for, even if he will never own up to it out loud. Before long, Seresin's attention is diverted by a new pool game, and he moves away.
Once again, he finds himself alone with Casey, at least relatively speaking, and left with what seems to be nothing to say. But before he can even attempt to change that apparent reality, she is taking the pressure of breaking the silence from him in its entirety.
"We um—we should catch up sometime, when we aren't—"
"In the middle of a bunch of pilots?"
"Yeah, something like that," Casey agrees, laughing softly, though this time, the amusement does not reach her eyes, "But only if you—if you want."
"Case, why the hell wouldn't I—"
"If you're too busy with the mission, I mean."
"I won't be."
"Well if you are—"
"I won't be," Bradley repeats, holding Casey's gaze even in spite of how the doubt he can see so clearly is like a knife in his gut. Things never used to be like this between them. For as long as he can recall, they'd both been able to read one another, and predict the other's needs.
By contrast, now, it seems like they have lost that. Like they can't manage even a singular step in the direction of what is normal without stumbling. And the only reason that he can find for that is what happened between them before the last time he'd been deployed.
He didn't regret it. He honestly doesn't think there would ever be a way that he could. But with Casey's obvious nerves, he can hardly tell where she stands, and that, in turn, fuels his own.
"Why wouldn't I want to, Case?"
The question isn't exactly something he expects to ask again, but instinct appears to have taken over, above all else, regardless of how Casey's expression seems to falter just a bit in response. Once again, Bradley is confronted with her hesitation. With how he can tell a part of her, no matter how small that part may actually be, wants to bolt.
He wants to find some way of reassuring her, but he would be the first to admit that he hardly knows where to begin. And in the wake of his indecision, Bradley soon finds that Casey is seizing on the first reason she can find to pull away.
"I should um—I should go see what that's all about," She begins, inclining her head toward the bar, where a group of patrons have started chanting 'overboard', amid laughs and other indistinguishable shouts, "Talk later?"
"Definitely."
Casey moves back toward the bar relatively quickly, and Bradley realizes that he truly ought to have known the commotion had something to do with Mav. In an attempt to avoid being pulled into the fray, he turns and heads toward the piano standing nearby instead.
The feel of the keys beneath his fingertips settles him in the face of the apparent rift between him and the only other person who can. And as he begins to play, Bradley forces himself to forget absolutely everything outside of what he is doing right now…
Given the alternative, it seems to be the only choice he has.
…
"Everything okay?"
"I think that's a question I should be asking you," Casey replies, allowing the door to swing shut behind her, and stepping out onto the small patio behind her mother's bar with a faint smile toying at her lips, "Getting a little old for being literally tossed out on your ass, I think."
"Age is a matter of perspective."
"And yet I seem to recall you used to be able to get back on your feet a little faster—"
"Watch it, kid," Pete laughs, brushing the last of the sand off of his jeans while Casey comes to stand not all that far from his side, "You didn't answer my question."
"Maybe that's because you really don't need to ask."
"Uh-huh."
"You don't!" Casey insists, the doubt that remains in her father's expression bothering her far more than she cares to admit, "I'm fine, it's just—"
"Something with Rooster?"
"I'm Switzerland, remember?"
"I know," Pete acknowledges, the hasty nature of Casey's response giving him every reason to believe his suspicion is correct, "Doesn't mean I wouldn't want to help."
"I don't really think that you can."
The confession escapes before she can stop it, and Casey hurriedly averts her gaze in hopes of avoiding being forced to look her father in the eye. Hardly one to want to seem defeated, she knows that by admitting to any sort of uncertainty at all, she is doing precisely that.
She can sense him looking at her, whether she truly wants him to be doing so or not, her cheeks warming beneath his gaze perhaps even more so than from the setting sun. And even if she is still not at all willing to truly come clean, Casey forces herself to at least try to correct the impression left by her last reply.
"I didn't mean that you can't, I just—"
"You want to try and figure things out yourself."
Suddenly unable to manage an actual answer, Casey settles for offering her father a singular nod instead, her guilt over keeping him at arm's length at odds with her unwillingness to allow anyone to know the truth. Before, she'd always been able to tell him anything. In fact, she can recall a time where, aside from Bradley, he'd been the first person she would run to if trouble came knocking at her door.
Now, by contrast, allowing her father to know the truth—to know what really happened between her and Bradley—is perhaps the most terrifying thing she can imagine.
Or the second most terrifying thing, really, compared to the sudden realization that her hand has drifted to rest over her stomach without her consent…
Jolting to attention, Casey snaps her hand back to her side as quickly as she can, her teeth digging into her lower lip for a moment as she scrambles to think of something to say that will move the conversation along. It does not escape her notice that this is yet another unusual barrier between them. A thing that she wishes did not exist.
Before she can even attempt to fix the situation, though, she recognizes the sounds of a familiar song on piano wafting out of the open window nearby. She notes the sudden change in her father's features whether he would likely rather her ignore it or not.
Casey knows without even looking that it is Bradley at the piano, and a part of her honestly wonders if he might have chosen the tune on purpose, even as awful as such a suspicion makes her feel. But regardless, there is one thing that she now knows for sure.
It would seem she is not the only one that has secrets to keep.
…
I'm baaaaaaack! Hello, dear readers! And welcome to chapter two! I have to say, after what feels like ages struggling with my poor Top Gun muses, it seems now I can hardly get away from them, no matter how hard I try. I hope that, like me, you don't find that to be too much of a bad thing. I'm having far too much fun to stop, now!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to give this story a chance so far (and special thanks to AmberRising for leaving such kind words of support the last time around!) I truly do appreciate the support, and I hope everyone continues to enjoy where the story goes from here!
~angstytalesrx