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Maverick is worried about Jake.
Ever since the mission, he's been quiet. He'll still come hang out with all of them, and he'll smile and laugh at jokes with the rest of the group, but where one would expect him to insert a playful insult or trade his usual barbs, he says nothing. The others haven't noticed just yet, but Mav thinks Rooster is starting to catch an inkling. He's the one Jake usually trades said insults and barbs with, after all, and if anyone was going to pick up on his uncharacteristic silences when an opening for banter presented itself, it would be Rooster.
He looks content enough, but Maverick knows looks can be deceiving. He had plenty of practice pretending to be fine over the years, and while Jake doesn't strike him as the type to do anything rash, it's better safe than sorry. So, Maverick has been keeping an eye on him.
"Aw, come on, Bagman!" Phoenix cajoles. "No comeback to our comments about your excess hair gel today?"
"Nope," Jake chuckles. "None whatsoever. I'm not ashamed to admit the dry air turns my fine locks into static central. I figure if anyone can understand a distaste of flyaway hair, it'd be you, Phoe Phoe."
Phoenix shrugs and takes a sip of her beer. "That's fair."
Javy nudges his boot under the table. "You know, you get too into how you look and you'll be dolled up like a supermodel by the end of the year. Should I get you some blush for Christmas?"
Jake sticks his tongue out at Javy. "Don't be jealous."
"Right. Jealous."
Reassured somewhat, Mav lets his gaze skirt towards the pool table where Fanboy and Payback play a rare game of billiards instead of their normal pool. A faint smile twists his lips when he hears Fanboy complaining about going in numerical order. Bradley never liked billiards either. Good thing he already left for the night or else he'd be whining.
"-ain't any strings. It's a compliment. I just want to enjoy the moment."
Maverick's eyes flick back to Jake. He looks relaxed, Phoenix's prodding about his sedate attitude tonight not ruining his mood in the slightest. Even when he calls it for the night, he offers warm salutations for everyone at the table. As he passes by the bar, Mav nudges the kid's shin with his boot.
"Heya, Pops," Jake smiles. "Pretty full in here tonight. Didn't see you."
"Just keepin' an eye on you kids."
Jake chuckles. "I know. We're just all sorts of trouble, aren't we? But I, uh.... I'm pretty tired, so I'm gonna head home. One less thing to worry about."
Maverick stands, tugging Jake down into a hug. He squeezes a bit tighter than he maybe needs to and presses a kiss to the kid's temple, then another to his forehead when he starts to pull away. "I always worry about you kids. It's my job. Be safe, kiddo. I'm expecting you guys bright and early for class tomorrow."
A light flush creeps up the back of Jake's neck, but he doesn't say a single joking word about Mav's paternal tendencies rubbing off on the rest of them. "See you tomorrow, Pops."
"Good. I'll come chase you down otherwise."
Both the flicker of endearment and the smirking salute Jake offers him reassure Maverick a little more, so he pats Jake's arm and lets the kid go. Really, aside from being a little quiet, Jake does seem okay. It could be he's just not sleeping well after the mission, but normally people are more short-tempered when sleep-deprived instead of less. As much as Mav would like to overlook the sudden softened attitude, he also refuses to dismiss it outright.
After all the other kids call it for the night, Mav rides home in quiet speculation. He hears Bradley snoring upstairs when he gets inside, but he pokes his head in to check on his son anyway. He always does. Thoughts of Jake's behavior prance around on the edge of his mind all night, keeping him awake well into the early hours of morning.
Bradley shoots him a look at breakfast as he's stuffing his face full of pancakes. "You've been distracted all week, dad. You okay?"
"I'm fine, kiddo. Just didn't sleep the best last night."
"Well, here," Bradley says, sliding a glass of orange juice across the table. "You'll feel a bit better with some vitamin-C in your system."
Mav offers Bradley a grateful smile, sipping on the juice while he eats his own pancakes. He used to do the same thing for Bradley all the time when he was growing up. As a kid, Bradley was obsessed with a green sippy-cup with a monkey on it, so when he wanted juice, he'd ask for his monkey juice instead of orange juice. "Thanks."
Bradley's eyes narrow as if he knows exactly what Maverick is thinking. "What are you smirking about?"
"Nothin'."
"Uh-huh."
Mav hums and hides his smile behind his glass, ushering the kid out the door so he won't be late. His students have to be on-base earlier than he does, so he takes his sweet time finishing up breakfast and ruminating over the other kids. He may or may not show up a little earlier than usual just to make sure a certain blond-haired lieutenant made it to class. Any one of Maverick's friends would tell him he's a Class-A worrywart, but he doesn't care. He fought for these kids. He would die for them, and if someone is toeing a dangerous line, he wants to be there to keep them on the proper side.
When he gets to his classroom, Jake is right where he should be in the front seats. Maverick relaxes, switching his bag of materials to his opposite hand and ruffling Bradley and Jake's hair on the way by. Jake squawks indignantly and fixes his while Bradley merely grins. The other students filter into the room after a few minutes.
All is going well right up until the first hop of the day.
Jake nearly collides with a rock wall in an ill-timed moment of coordination with his wingman, throwing his plane into a horrendous spiral in the opposite direction to save it and coming out the other side gasping. It's the closest to an accident any of his students have come since the mission, so when Jake lands, Mav immediately drags him off to medical. Jake doesn't argue. He trails behind Maverick, pale in the face and silent. Maverick purses his lips and formulates questions in his mind while Jake gets checked over. He watches over Jake in the temporary room they stick him in. After a few hours of rest, he should be fine physically, but Maverick needs to know Jake is okay.
The minutes tick by while the younger aviator sleeps off his rough morning.
"Hey, Mav."
A glance at the door reveals Rooster and Maverick leans back in the shitty hospital chair. A brief memory of the last time they were together after members of their squadron ended up in the hospital echoes in his mind, but he pushes it down. This situation isn't the same. Rooster isn't pissed off and scared, for one. For another thing, they worked through the great majority of their issues over the last couple months. If anyone should be freaking out, it should be Maverick or Jake.
"Hey, kiddo."
Rooster slinks up to the bed, making as little noise as possible. "How is he?"
"Shaken." Mav slips his hand into Jake's slack one. "Thankfully."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just...." How should he even broach the subject? He wanted to talk to Jake about it first, but maybe it'll be easier to get his worries straightened out beforehand. "I don't know how obvious it is to the rest of you kids, but he's been.... I don't know."
Rooster quietly moves the chair Javy abandoned only minutes prior to sit next to Mav. "Off?"
Maverick nods. "Passive. Quiet. Maybe a little sad. I noticed pretty much right after the mission, but I think everyone else attributed it to the mission being completed. I've seen enough combat to know it's probably not that simple. He did get a second confirmed kill, and while he saved us in the process, I don't know how he's handling it. Between that and our close call, I'm worried he's... depressed."
"You think today might not have been totally an accident?"
"I want it to be. I pray that's what it was." Mav offers Bradley a brief smile when the kid squeezes his shoulder. "I'm just worried, Roo, because if it wasn't an accident, then what am I supposed to do? I don't want to spook him by pushing too hard."
Bradley risks a glance at the sleeping aviator, frowning faintly. "I don't know, but if you don't think he's ready to answer that question, we'll have to keep an eye on him. I can enlist Phoenix and Bob without too much suspicion if you want to keep it on the down-low, and I'm sure Coyote would do anything to make sure he was okay."
"That's.... That's probably a good idea, yeah." Maverick scrubs a hand over his face. "I've stood on that line, Roo, and I had my classmates from 86' on my ass for years making sure I didn't pull any stupid shit-"
"That's impossible."
"Okay, fine, more stupid shit than usual." Maverick rolls his eyes, appreciating his godson's attempt to lighten the mood. "But still. If.... If this wasn't an accident, I don't want Jake to think he's alone. We're here for him. If he's okay, that's great, but with how quiet he's been and how he's been behaving recently-"
"M' not suicidal, Pops."
Maverick jerks in his chair, wide eyes landing on Jake in the hospital bed.
"M' not," Jake croaks again, gripping Maverick's hand a little tighter. "I know you guys are here. I'm.... I'm happy. Content. Just-" He sniffles a bit. "I've only had Coyote for years. Thought if I kept bein' a-an asshole, you'd leave, so I just didn't say anything." A helpless giggle leaves his throat when Maverick presses a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Was tryin' to be nice."
Rooster playfully wiggles Jake's foot. "Well, you've obviously gotta be a little bit of an asshole, otherwise we'll be worried, okay, bud?"
"Got it."
Maverick stands, smiling warmly as he leans over to press a kiss to the top of Jake's head. "You're trouble, Jake, but I want you to know we like that kind of thing in this family, okay? If you still want to be nice, that's okay, but don't go changing who you are because you think it'll make us happy. I, for one, like that you're sassy. Keeps people on their toes."
Jake blushes furiously. It takes him a second to stammer out a shy, "Okay, Pops." He turns his head to look at Rooster, a smirk twisting his lips. "The Hawaiian shirt you wore last night was hideous. I lied when I said it was fine. It was the same color of pink as Phoenix's nail polish."
Rooster snorts. "You're not even trying."
"I'm hospitalized. Gimme a break."
"You are not. You're under observation and they'll let you go in a couple hours." Bradley pats Jake's knee and rolls his eyes. "You're such a drama queen."
Maverick is sure Jake would deny pouting if asked. That's fine. As long as Jake is happy, he's certain he can bear any amount of taunting, petty squabbling, roughhousing, and complaining. That is what parents are for, after all. If his kids ever realize he would do almost anything for them, he'll really be in trouble. Ice will laugh his ass off if or when that day comes.
"Pops? You good?" Jake squeezes his hand, head tilted curiously. "You spaced out there for a minute."
With two pairs of mildly concerned eyes on him, Maverick simply hums. "I'm just glad you're okay, kiddo. Love you."
Jake's mouth falls open, then closes with an audible click as he looks away. He flushes beet red to the tips of his ears. Rooster smirks. It doesn't surprise him in the least when Maverick brings Jake home with them after his release.
At dinner, so softly Mav almost misses it, Jake murmurs, "Love you, too, Pops."