#yes i know Mav's dad is dead i just wasn’t gonna put late-father's car

[hard-deck-confessions]

After his mother, Bradley’s favorite person was always Maverick. His earliest memory was sitting on top of the piano at Kansas City Barbeque while his dad and Mav belted out a less than beautiful rendition af Great Balls of Fire and then being carried out dozing off in Mav’s arms. Although, he's not sure if he really remembers that day or if he can just picture it so vividly because Mav talked about it so often. Mav talked about a lot of memories with Goose. He told some stories so much, Bradley had them memorized word for word.

Mav was a constant in Bradley's childhood. He made sure he was there for every birthday, every Christmas, and on the anniversary of Goose's death he always took Bradley and Carol out for the night. If he was on land near by, he was there every Wednesday for family dinner—there was always an extra place set for Goose those nights.

When Bradley was in 3rd grade and didn't want to be in his school's Father's Day program, Mav dropped everything to be there, he didn't even bother to change out of his jumpsuit. He didn't care that he would face discipline for rushing off before debriefing; the look on Bradley's face when he saw Mav right next to his mom in the front row was enough to get him through a lifetime of reprimands.

Mav was the one who taught Bradley to ride a bike. He put band-aids with (somehow) poorly drawn smiley faces on every scraped knee and elbow during the very long process because, while Bradley might have been a natural pilot, biking did not come as easy. Mav took him to ball games on the weekends in the summer when he could and made sure he had the best swing on his little league team. He helped him fix up Goose’s old truck and then taught him to drive it. He never lost his temper, but instead laughed every time Bradley stalled it.

“Damnit!” Bradley would yell, slamming his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. “I swear, I'm never going to get this thing out of the neighborhood!"

“Just calm down and try again, kid.” Mav would say with a smile a mile wide. “You've got this."

Mav was the only person Bradley thought to call at 3am after hiking a mile in the pouring rain to the nearest gas station because he'd gotten his truck stuck in a ditch taking a corner too fast. Mav was there in 20 minutes. And instead of reprimanding him about his carelessness, Mav bought the shivering teen a hot chocolate and told him the story of how he wrecked his dad's old beloved car when he was in high school.

When Bradley graduated from high school, Mav gave him Goose's helmet. He'd pulled strings 16 years prior to keep the helmet from being repurposed for another pilot and paid a pretty penny to get it, but he'd never tell Bradley that. Bradley only found out when he joined the Navy himself.

Maverick loved Bradley like his own kid, and he felt responsible for him because, despite what any military hearing said, he would always blame himself for Goose’s death. That was why pulling his papers was the hardest decision he'd ever made and the easiest at the same time. He tried not to regret it, but Maverick hated feeling Bradley pull away from him; he hated that he wasn't one of the kid’s favorite people any longer.

But Bradley's favorite person never stopped being Maverick, it was only Rooster that couldn't face Captain Pete Mitchell.

Until he could.

- Hazard