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During their session at Top Gun, none of the flyboys had any cause to believe Mav had all that much emotional depth. After what happened to Goose, well.... They stood corrected. It was the worst possible intellectual awakening available to them to see Maverick shattered in the face of his best friend's death. The smile he always bore and the swagger in his step all but vanished.
It took a near-death experience for him to smile again, but since then, he's been quiet.
Until now.
Ice watches his wingman handle his godson with the biggest grin and the gentlest of hands, and Bradley almost returns the favor—almost, save for the uncoordinated flailing of a four-year-old. He laughs when Mav tosses him up into the air and catches him effortlessly. He even begs to go again. Only minutes ago, Mav greeted Carole when she brought him lunch. He caught the mournful, nostalgic look on her face and responded with a dimmed smile and an attempted apology. The blonde cut said apology off at the knees with a scolding look. Carole made it a point to love and care for him the same as always. The scrappy pilot clearly didn't want to accept her vindication.
Now, though, Mav is cheered up again. He and Bradley have been playing for two hours, and their games of catch and planes devolved into tag. Ice can admit the young Bradshaw has undeniable charm, his gap-toothed grin and doe eyes endlessly endearing. Those eyes are Goose's through and through, but the weaponized boyishness is all Mav.
It's kinda funny if Ice thinks about it. He expected Bradley to be so much more... well, Bradshaw-like, as it were, but he absolutely adores his Uncle Maverick, and Mav reciprocates as effortlessly as breathing.
"You're it, Uncle Mav!" Bradley hollers.
Ice keeps an eye on his new wingman, the tiniest of smiles quirking his lips as Mav chases his godson around the yard. Bradley dips, ducks, and dodges, believing with every bit of his young heart that he's beating his uncle at tag. At one point, he slips under the porch, but Mav snags his ankle and drags him back out.
"Gotcha!"
"No!" Bradley shrieks, holding onto the edge of the porch as his uncle starts pulling him into his arms. His protests turn to giggles when Mav pins him against his chest with one hand and tickles him relentlessly with the other. He kicks and wriggles, but with his back to the aviator's chest, there's nowhere for him to go. "Uncle Mav!"
Mav grins. "I've got you now, kid, and the crushing monster's gonna squeeze you into jelly."
"He wha- No!" Bradley grabs Mav's arms with a startled yelp and starts squirming relentlessly. When his uncle only continues to tighten his grip, he howls. "Mama! The monster's gonna put me on toast! Help!"
Carole snickers from her porch chair. "I think you'll be okay, little chick."
Mav growls playfully, his voice dropping into comedic tones. "I've got you, tiny boy. You will never escape. I'll have you for dinner with tea and scones!"
"Nooo!" Bradley whines. "Wait! No! I got, um, magic spells!"
"Oh, yeah? And what spells are those, oh wisely wizarding one? You can't defeat me!"
"Uh, I got.... Letmegoiccus!"
Mav gasps dramatically. He falls, his nephew still in his arms as he lands in the grass on his back with a beaming smile on his face. "You've felled me! What incredible powers!"
Bradley giggles again, turning over to perch neatly on Mav's chest. "I told ya' I got spells, Uncle Mav."
"You sure did, sweetheart."
"Now, I'm gonna make crushing monster soup!" Bradley looks around, pulling up a tiny handful of grass and sprinkling it on Mav's head. He rips up a few more clusters and grabs a singular rock. He places the rock squarely in the middle of Mav's forehead. "See? Soup."
"Yeah? Four parts grass, one part rock?" Mav asks amusedly. "With that recipe, you're gonna be a master chef when you grow up."
Bradley sticks his tongue out at Mav.
"Do you take constructive criticism?"
"Nope!" Bradley adds a stick and a few smears of dirt to his recipe. A beat passes and he changes his mind, breaks said stick, and arranges the pieces like tiny antlers in Mav's hair, adding a leaf for good measure.
Meanwhile, Mav lays there and lets him. He even laughs when Bradley puts a worm over the bridge of his nose. "Buddy, I think the worm has better places to be. You don't wanna put him in your soup, do you? He's good for the grass."
After a moment of thoughtful consideration, Bradley removes the worm.
Ice admires Mav's patience. He thought he was being patient back at Top Gun when Mav was doing his level best to push all his buttons, but this? This is decidedly different. Without meaning to, Ice softens on both Bradley and Mav. This is what a good family is supposed to look like. Slider did his best to teach Ice when they met in the academy, but he's only one man. He taught Ice loyalty and gave him brotherhood. Mav taught and is continuing to teach him patience, even without trying.
"Petey didn't have much of a childhood."
Ice glances down, finding Carole at his arm rather than in her chair. He doesn't say anything, letting the silence exist while the two of them observe. The two in the grass exude a soft kind of peace Ice thinks impossible to capture. For someone who plays so well with his godson, always knowing when to cede victory, when to win, and when to tease, it's hard to imagine Mav didn't grow up playing much himself. The younger man makes it look so easy for apparently having learned late.
"Goose always thought Bradley was good for Mav's balance, lets him be a kid for a while."
She heads inside without another word.
On the lawn, Bradley yawns, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand.
"You gettin' sleepy, baby goose?" Mav asks softly.
"Mm-hm, but I don' wanna go inside. Wanna stay with you."
Mav hums, wrapping his arms around his godson when the boy lays down on his chest, content to stay right there in the grass. "That's okay, sweetheart. You can keep me company here for a little while. I don't like to be cooped up inside either."
Before long, maybe ten minutes or so, Bradley's out like a light. Mav heaves a gusty sigh, holds Bradley firmly enough to rise without waking him, and turns toward the house. He blinks when he meets Ice's eyes, arching a speculative brow. "I know you think I'm a hazard to society, but I really don't need a babysitter."
"I know," Ice assures him. "It's just...."
Mav stops at the top of the porch steps. "What?"
"It's good to see you smiling again, kid." A voice says behind him, stealing the words right from Ice's mouth, and both aviators turn to find Slider leaned against the doorframe of the house. He was meant to be on the couch sleeping off his jetlag. "Come on inside. I think Carole started the shower for you."
"Thanks. I'll just be a minute. I've gotta put Bradley to bed."
Once Mav is inside and out of earshot, Ice levels an even look on his RIO. "Have you just been standing there this whole time?"
"Where better to keep an eye on both you, her, and the squirt, hm?"
Ice feigns a scowl, warmth and appreciation for his surrogate sibling mingling under his sternum. His RIO is always looking out for him in some way. It's because of Slider he's even here at all. Their family has grown, grown to involve the scrappiest, most cocksure yet socially inept aviator in existence and the Bradshaws said aviator's presence brings, at that. Who would've thought?
It doesn't really matter what they thought, not now and certainly not back then.
They wouldn't have it any other way.