Archive of Our Own ^beta

Coyote is going to have his ass in the morning for this. Given the situation though, Hangman’s pretty sure he can get away with it. Still, he probably should get some water in his system for the sake of avoiding a headache tomorrow.

It’s been nearly seven months since the mission ended by now. Seven months and is sitting at the bar, drinking, while the rest of the daggers are far gone, back to their hotels by now.

The get-together had been Bob’s idea, shockingly enough. He and Phoenix had gotten everything organized and set up, all Hangman and Coyote had to do was fly back and show up to the Hard Deck.

And yet, being here, being back and seeing everyone again, it made Jake snappy again. Made him Hangman again when he was finally beginning to feel like Jake. So, here he was, nearly 2 a.m., one of very few left straggling, drinking his money away in the form of a beer. He’d had far too many already, but Penny seemed to sense something in him, pity in her eyes as she quietly slid a tall glass of water across the bar, a hesitant smile on her face.

“Thanks Pen.”

Coyote had only left him at the bar because Hangman had insisted he could handle himself. Sorry Yote, he thinks idly, while downing the remaining bit of his beer and gesturing to Penny for another.

Coyote had offered to stay, he knew this trip was going to be rough on Hangman, that he’d slip and all of that progress he’d made in therapy would be tested greatly in such a setting, but Hangman couldn’t stand the looks Javy would give him sometimes when he thinks Hangman isn’t looking. It’s not pity, never pity, but it stings just the same.

Javy had known him since before Hangman. Hell, Javy’s known Jake longer than Jake knew Jake. Inseparable since the Machado’s moved to Texas from Louisiana when the two boys had been in the fourth grade. Even worse when they discovered that they had moved into the house just a little ways down the street.

Hangman can still remember the way he would often run barefoot to their house, dressed in pajamas and tears and a bloody bruised body that he’d hide beneath a jacket thinking Mrs. Machado would never suspect him due to his ingenious secrecy. It turns out she’d known the whole time. That she’d been the reason he and mama had moved out the house and down the street, huddled together in the spare room with little Javy when his father came knockin’.

Little Javy, barely bigger than Jake, but so much braver.

He’d been protective of Jake since forever, and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but Jake had managed to find ways to wiggle out, mainly some small lies here and there. I’ll be fine Jav, I won’t drive myself Jav, I’m only staying another 30 minutes, seriously, go with them Jav. Maybe he was more so lying to himself at this point. But this felt like the only way he could stop being Hangman. It was safer to be Jake when no one else was around.

Penny loops back around after cleaning and wiping some tables, a knowing smile on her face as she plucks the now-empty beer and the half-empty glass of water away from his fidgeting hands.

“Time to go Hangman. You got a safe way home?”

He nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket to call an uber, but when he tries to open it, the screen stays black.

“Shit.”

Penny tries, and fails, to hold back a laugh at his situation, simply leaning onto the counter, pulling out her own phone.

“I got you covered.”

He flounders, the thought of someone spending money on him making his stomach turn with beer and tequila, suddenly lead in his guts as his fingers get sweaty.

“No no no-”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no trouble.”

He lets out a sigh, knowing an argument with Penny was about as good as an umbrella in a hurricane. “Can I at least repay you?”

She smiles at him, typing away at her phone for a few brief moments of silence, quiet music filling the room, before she tucks her phone away and looks back up at Hangman.

“How about you just keep your drunk ass in that seat and drink some water, huh? That’s repayment enough for me.”

He smiles instead of voicing his discomfort, accepting the new glass of water that she pours for him with open hands.

“Besides, you worked up quite the tab tonight.” She says before walking away with more cleaning supplies, a light giggle in her voice as Hangman groans, head hanging low. He does take long, slow sips of water, grateful for the way the cool liquid seems to coat his throat after being torn up by various drinks.

The Hard Deck is bare now, he’s the only remaining patron in the place, The lights are bright, and the music is quieter than it typically is. It’s like the place has been toned down entirely, recognizing that Hangman is one overwhelming stimulus away from breaking something.

He’s never been here this late. It makes him wonder if this is a ritual for Penny every night. He turns in his chair to look at where Penny is picking up various pieces of trash and some leftover bottles from the pool table. Distantly, he can recall some of them being Fanboy’s. Payback had to practically drag him out of the bar kicking and screaming with how drunk he was.

“Any chance I could help you clean up?”

Penny lets out a shocked laugh, looking at him and shaking her head lovingly. “Hon, you’ll fall before you can make your way over here. You may act sober, but I saw you making your way over to the bar after everyone left. You couldn’t walk in a straight line if someone paid you a million dollars.”

He sighs, shrugging his shoulders and setting his overheating face onto the cool countertop. It’s probably gross. Penny hasn’t wiped it down yet, because Hangman’s been sitting here for an embarrassing amount of time. But Hangman’s face feels so warm, and the countertop feels so cool, and it just feels so relieving and like he can breathe a little bit easier after being suffocated all night.

God, he should have never agreed to come. It had been too much. Way, way too much. Suffocated is the perfect word for it. Typically, he loved being around aviators. But this group, it felt... uneasy. Sure, he’d known Phoenix, Rooster, and Coyote for what felt like millions of years now, but it was a rocky friendship at best when it came to him and anyone who wasn’t Coyote. Too many sins he had yet to repent for. Him and Coyote had been recalled to their stations before he could fully settle the waters between himself and... Well... Rooster. And now it felt like too much time had passed.

Always too much time. It had been too much time before. Too much time between him and Bradley, too much anger, back in the academy. Phoe had picked sides, and really, Hangman couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t really left on good terms.

Still, all that amalgamated into... being far more drunk than he had planned on being at this time of night... morning? He was drunk. And he can’t tell what time it is.

“Hangman? Your ride is here. Has the water sobered you up enough to walk out and meet him there or do you need help to the car?”

He looks at his glass of water, condensation dripping onto his hand where he’s still holding onto it lightly, still nearly full. She seems to make the same assessment, because just moments later, hands are on him, helping him up, well, more like carrying him with how hard he’s leaning on her.

And- when did Penny get so strong? Sure, he knew she was stronger than she seemed, but he was still taller than her and practically twice her weight.

Wait no. No, she’s taller than him. And bigger. The hands holding him up by the side and arm are much larger, more calloused, more worn, more familiar.

It better not be-

“You can make it home safe and sound all by yourself, huh Jake?”

He hasn’t heard Rooster say his name in what feels like eons. Hell, it might as well be eons. Still, he tries to push Rooster away, desperate not to be seen like this by anyone, especially by Rooster. He’d done enough to fuck with Rooster, having the man take him home was too much.

“Hey, don’t be stupid. You’re drunk off your ass, you’re going to fall and take me with you.”

Distantly, he can hear Penny giggling to herself, which reminds him that she was the one to contact him. He turns and looks at her, smugly wiping down her bar for the hundredth time that hour, smirking at Hangman with an evil glimmer in her eyes.

“Hey, he was the only one who didn’t drink. He drove everyone else home; he can drive you too. Get home, get some water, go to sleep.”

He groans, making one more futile attempt to get free, but Rooster’s hands are too solid, and Hangman’s legs are too wobbly, so he yields and allows himself to hold onto Rooster’s arms.

“Whatever, just-” He pauses, finding it hard to get his words in order, “Just get me home.”

“All those drinks finally hitting you?”

He only glares at the floor at the sound of Rooster’s voice. It’s teasing, and light. There’s no undertone of bitterness or disdain lacing them. Suddenly Hangman’s heart feels like it’s in his stomach, and that it’ll spill out of his mouth if Rooster says one more word.

Maybe that's the tequila.

It takes a little bit, but the cool night air nips at Hangman as Rooster gets him to the Bronco. Hangman decides against poking fun at the old truck for the time being. Mostly because it feels like he’ll vomit if he opens up his mouth.

He manages to get inside of the passenger seat mostly on his own, but Rooster reaches over and buckles him in. Hangman doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Rooster pulls back, finished with the seatbelt, just looking at Hangman for a moment. Like he can read every thought that burrowed through Hangman’s brain tonight. A sigh slips out of his lips before he shuts the door, and Hangman is left in complete silence for a few needed seconds before Rooster slips into the driver’s seat, taking a second before starting up the truck.

“Everyone ended up crashing at mine.”

He figured that would end up happening. He and Coyote had booked a hotel, but he knew the odds of them ending up in Rooster’s house were pretty much inevitable. The man was the only one of them with a house, and it was a comfy one at that. The one he grew up in, surrounded by love and grief and memories and actually comfortable furniture.

“Just take me to ‘Yote.”

His words are slurred beyond comprehension, but Rooster nods anyways, having seemingly understood ‘Yote’ at the very least. If there was ever one thing that Rooster understood, it was that Jake was nothing without Javy. Hangman may not have been able to express himself in an appropriate way, but no one ever doubted the two’s bond.

“Like a pair of stray bonded cats.”

A pair of stray bonded cats indeed. Jake will wake up tomorrow with an earful of Machado lecture and he’ll sit there and listen because it’ll make Coyote feel better.

In the meantime, It’s about a fifteen minute drive from the Hard Deck to Rooster’s house. Fifteen minutes of... Silence. Hopefully. With how heavy his tongue feels and the way his mouth threatens to spew with every breath, he doesn’t know that he’d be able to keep up a conversation well. Not that he’d ever been good at that with Rooster.

Of course, the mustachioed man can’t just leave well enough alone.

“Why didn’t you head out with us? You know you don’t handle your alcohol well.”

Hangman scoffs before he can stop himself. Yeah so maybe he was a little bit of a lightweight, but Rooster didn’t have to always reference the things he knows about Hangman. He doesn’t have to constantly remind Jake that he knows him prior to all of this mess of crashing into snow and just barely making it by the hair of his chin.

“Just wanted to stay a little longer. Jeez, didn’t know I had to ask permission mother goose.”

Hangman doesn’t miss the way that Rooster’s hands tighten around the wheel. Knuckles turning a muddled white under pressure. It’s a low dig. All of Hangman’s digs are. He just wants Bradley to stop talking. To stop lacing his words with concern and pity and confusion all of the time.

Five seconds of quiet, for his brain to come back online. For him to remember what he learned in that mandatory therapy. Stupid Maverick and his dumb concern. Stupid Cyclone who listened to Maverick when he realized that the COMPACFLT would only back him up every step of the way. Stupid Therapy that’s making him realize he’s being a dick to Rooster right now for no reason.

Shit.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are slow, practiced, and only come out of his mouth when it feels like the appropriate time to apologize is long past. Timing’s never been his strong suit. He leans his head on the cool window, imagining the wind rummaging through his un-gelled hair. His eyes close, and he tries desperately to pretend that this silence isn’t suffocating him.

The ball is in Bradley’s court now. It feels like Bradley constantly has the ball.

“Let’s,” Rooster pauses, clearing his throat. Jake opens his eyes to see him flexing his hands outward before relaxing them on the wheel again. “Let’s just get you home and to bed. Alright?”

It’s not forgiveness, and it makes Jake’s heart drop, but he realizes it isn’t rejection either. It’s a weird olive branch that he isn’t familiar with, especially not from Bradley Bradshaw, master of grudges and keeping score.

Maybe the whole mandatory therapy thing helped more than just Jake.

Rooster fiddles with the car radio for a moment before it begins humming out Kenny Loggins singing about new beginnings of another life. If Hangman were even slightly more sober, he’d have half a mind to point out the irony to Rooster, but he isn’t, so he keeps his mouth shut. A hollow chuckle from Rooster tells him that the man already understands without need of an explanation.

The time passes quicker than expected once Kenny fades into George Harrison, then, because the universe is never done laughing at Jake Seresin, Foghat begins playing Slow Ride, and Jake can’t stop the laugh that slips out when he recognizes the drum beat at the beginning. He doesn’t look to check if Bradley is laughing too. He doesn’t want to know.

The song is cut off a good way through as they pull up to the house. The kitchen light is on, casting a faint glow over the rest of the downstairs living space. There’s two chairs on the porch.

Hangman makes a valiant attempt to get himself out of the truck by himself, it only ends up with a panicked Rooster rushing out of the driver’s seat and around to the passenger seat side to help Hangman slide out with his hands under his arms.

Hangman manages to not throw himself out of Rooster’s hold, even though his hands feel like scalding iron against him.

“Slow your roll cowboy. Let’s try not to eat it on the way in, yeah?”

He grimaces, allowing himself to lean a little bit out of Rooster’s hold so that he can maneuver to the side. “So many questions tonight, Roo.” Is all he manages to get out of his mouth at a moments notice. The airy, somewhat annoyed, chuckle that Rooster lets out is just another affirmation out of many of the night that Hangman needs to keep his mouth shut.

“You haven’t called me that in years, Hangy.”

He debates throwing himself to the floor at that. He hadn’t meant to allow the familiar nickname to escape, but, shit. The familiar habit of the nicknames of nicknames felt so suddenly foreign to Hangman. Too much too fast.

They manage to get inside, Hangman only falling once, more stumbling, really. He can’t help but smile at the image that greets him inside. Five pilots, all sound asleep on the large couch that Hangman is shocked to see still exists. Well, four, really. Fanboy is sound asleep on the floor, sprawled out like a starfish with a sticky note on his forehead that Jake can’t read from this far away.

“He wouldn’t stop kicking Bob. Phoenix said he was being sentenced to a night on the floor.”

Jake chuckles, feeling his mind clear up at the sight of Coyote tucked up in the corner of the sectional, Bob curled up next to him, Payback lying across three seats with Phoenix taking up the end seat next to Bob. A soft snore escapes Bob’s lips, making Hangman smile.

“Let me get you a glass of water, you can borrow some clothes for the night. Bedroom’s up the-”

“Up the stairs, to the right. I remember Rooster.”

Rooster lets out a breath, “Are you going to be alright getting up the stairs?”

His head feels clearer, his heart may feel like lead in his stomach, but he can do this by himself, at least. He nods, and separates himself from Rooster, passing his old squadron on the couch to get to the stairs, slowly making his way up the stairs and to Rooster’s room.

It’s the same as he remembers it, everything still in place. He takes a second, just a brief second for himself and he just. He just breathes. The night got so overwhelming so fast. He thinks of his squadron on the couch again, all peaceful and relaxed, all content.

He can do one night. One night, then he can leave. One night and he’s free until the next time Phoenix and Bob decide to drag them all back here. He sighs, and walks over to the dresser, opening the drawer with pajama pants and shirts instantly.

Changing is a quick ordeal; he nearly falls a few times, but he manages to get into the sweatpants and United States Navy hoodie without. Downstairs, He glances at the couch, smiling at Coyote before heading a few steps away to the kitchen counter where Rooster is standing, a cup of water already on the kitchen counter for Hangman, while Rooster is standing in front of his open fridge, his back to Hangman.

“I don’t have a whole lot on hand to eat, but I could whip up a grilled cheese real quick.”

Rooster doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Hangman’s there. It makes his stomach turn a little bit.

“Nah, that’s fine. I’m not all that hungry. I’m just gonna hit the hay and get on out of your hair bright and early tomorrow.”

Rooster gently closes the fridge, surprisingly not fighting Hangman for once. He turns around, leaning against the fridge now, his head tilted back to rest on it, not looking away from Hangman once.

“And how are you going to manage that? No car. I drove everyone here. Their cars, Coyote’s car, is still at the Hard Deck.”

Well, Hangman didn’t think that far ahead. He was just hoping to get out of this house as soon as possible. He’s already suffocating, in his home. Drinking his water. Wearing his clothes that smell like him. It’s too much. He just wanted to get out.

Rooster’s eyes soften, at least Hangman thinks they do, and he lifts his head to look at Hangman more directly.

“Stop trying to run out of here Jake. You're stuck with us here whether you want to be or not. Drink the water, go to sleep. You can take my bed for the night. I’m fine to watch them on the couch.”

“No.” It slips out of Hangman’s mouth before he can stop it. “No, I’m not gonna put you out of your bed idiot.” It’s the fondest name Hangman’s called him in years. Rooster seems to think so too, if his chuckle means anything. “I’ll take the couch with the others.”

Rooster looks like he wants to say something else, his mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He closes it with a sigh.

“Alright Jake. Get some rest, yeah?”

Hangman nods in response, ignoring the glass of water on the counter and heading over to the couch, settling in gently on the floor next to Fanboy. The sticky note on his forehead just says ‘I’m stupid’ in Fanboy’s own shitty, drunken scrawl. Hangman chuckles before laying on his back fully, ignoring Rooster’s lingering presence on the bottom floor.

Sleep finds him surprisingly fast, and the morning treats him as poorly as the night had. His head is pounding, and there’s a clingy Fanboy breathing directly into his face with breath that smells like alcohol. There’s light pouring in from the windows, sun pouring directly onto Hangman’s face.

There’s noise in the kitchen, sizzling and some relatively quiet voices. He does his best to sit up, mindful of Fanboy, who has fully wrapped himself around Hangman. Rooster and Phoenix are in the kitchen, Payback is sat at the counter, a mug of what Hangman assumes is coffee in hand. Rooster is at the stove, his back to the rest of the floor, messing with a sizzling pan. Phoenix is sat atop the counter, near Payback, legs dangling in the kitchen.

Bob is still on the couch, fast asleep, Hangman peels himself away from Fanboy, who lets out a breath, but otherwise doesn’t wake. Phoenix notices him first, having turned to say something to Payback, but noticing the now fully sitting up Hangman.

She smiles, “Morning Bagman, how’s your head?”

He doesn’t answer, smacking his mouth, the bitter and gross taste of dry alcohol stuck in it. He hears Rooster and Payback laugh, both turning to look at him. Rooster’s gaze sticks on him like honey.

“Come sit down. Rooster’s cooking up some breakfast now.”

He does just that, slowly making his way over to the counter and plopping down with a loud groan in the seat next to Payback, his view of Rooster obstructed by Phoenix’s back.

“How the hell are you two not hungover?”

“Because we,” Phoenix turns, smirking at him knowingly while propping one leg up on the counter to be able to see Payback and Hangman, “didn’t stay at the Hard Deck until nearly three in the morning.

He’s glad that they’re all playing it cool. Cooler than Rooster at least. He can work with casual.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I lost track of time and Penny gave me control of the Jukebox.”

“Actions, consequences Jacob.”

He does his best to smile as Phoenix slides her cup of water over to him, a concerned smile on her face. He’s glad he had made up with her after the mission.

It'd been a bit awkward, they were all in Medbay getting checked over, he was in a room with her and Bob. He’d been fine, of course, a little winded, a little sore, but not anywhere near as bad as Rooster and Maverick. There’d been a lull in the room. He’d gotten a message from his mom, one of the nurses had relayed it. How his mama had managed to do that when she could barely work the computer was a mystery. She’d been worried, panicked. She always was when they had a communication blackout, but then she mentioned Jake’s father, and Jake’s blood ran cold. He’d gone back to jail, apparently. Hangman couldn’t look at Bob or Phoenix in the eye after that. They’d both overheard the message from the nurse. He didn’t want to see their smug faces.

It wasn’t until Coyote finally got there, asking if he was alright, asking Bob and Phoenix why he was just staring into space, Phoenix telling him that his mom left a message about his dad, and Coyote wrapping him in a tight hug, like they were little kids, that Hangman had cried in front of anyone who wasn’t Coyote or his mama.

Two days later, they’d finally reached land again, and the first thing Hangman did was go back his housing on base and drink a cold beer. A knock on the door that night revealed Bob and, shockingly, Phoenix.

Phoenix, in all of her stubborn fury hadn’t let him backtrack behind Hangman again. She’d seen Jake, and she wasn’t going to let him become a hardass again. So, he sat down and explained. She’d known him as long as Rooster had, but they’d never talked again once Hangman and Rooster stopped talking. Sides were picked, and Jake was fine with that. Or at least, he’d been fine with pretending.

“I never meant to pick sides after you two... It just, Everytime I reached out you fought back. Started giving me shit for being a woman in the Navy when you never had before. You hadn’t to Omaha even now.”

He knew that much. It’d been easier to push her away and let her stick with Rooster. Rooster was already bad with having people and keeping them around. Jake figured making him have at least one was easier. Besides, he’d already had Coyote.

Now, she was still an enigma. There was no animosity, just a simple bond that he could only imagine was what having an older sister was like. It was like they were friends again.

He slowly sips the water, enjoying the feeling of it going down his sore throat, and the delicious smell of bacon sizzling on the stove.

“Need some tylenol, Jake?”

And, God, he wishes Rooster would stop calling him that and just go back to Hangman. It’s getting them weird looks from both Payback and Phoenix.

“No that’s alright Rooster,” He ignores the questioning look from Phoenix, woman is too intuitive, “When are we heading back so we can grab our cars?”

Roosters hand tightens around the spatula as he flips the bacon. His voice is tight when he responds.

“Well, I figured we could go after breakfast. Payback, can you wake the others up?”

Payback nods, slowly rising and making his way towards the sleeping figures.

“Maverick still making it tonight?”

Phoenix asks Rooster conversationally. Rooster nods, “Said he’ll be by after he gets done visiting Ice. Should be later tonight, Said Hondo was going to stop by too.”

All of them together again after so long was going to be interesting, to say the least.

The rest of the morning proves to be fairly simple. Coyote had wandered up and settled next to Hangman after waking up, shooting him a look of concern, hidden under a glare of annoyance and a certain ‘I-told-you-so' evident in his eyes.

“We’re talking about this later.”

Hangman doesn’t try to fight it, he just nods, and Coyote’s gaze softens.

“You alright though? Did you get here okay?”

He nods again, not wanting others to hear their hush-hush conversation, but everyone else seems to be occupied conversing and making fun of the others who just woke up and joined them.

“Yeah I’m all good. Roo ended up picking me up.” Coyote shoots him a knowing look, a smirk on his face. Hangman rolls his eyes, tired of his best friend. “Don’t give me that look, it was Penny’s idea. Not mine.”

Coyote can’t help himself though, apparently, and still nudges him in the ribs with his elbow. “Bet you didn’t mind Roo getting you home though huh?”

“Shut your trap Yote.”

Coyote laughs, and seemingly lets it go.

Eventually, they all pack into Rooster’s Bronco, which definitely isn’t made to hold them all, Bob is laid out across their laps in the back while Fanboy is laid on the floor, narrowly dodging Payback’s feet in his face. Their cars are all still there when they make it to the Hard Deck, and they all say quick goodbyes and agreements to be back at Rooster’s by six that evening.

The ride back to the hotel is simple, Coyote doesn’t bring up Hangman’s outing with Rooster, and Hangman is thankful for it. He knows that they’re going to talk about it at some point, but it isn’t right now, and Hangman has time to breathe and get his head back on right.

It isn’t until later that day, when they’ve been sitting around wasting time and recharging their brains for a couple of hours and it’s finally time to get ready for the evening at Rooster’s, that Hangman realizes that he’s been wearing Rooster’s clothes all day. As if he were a middle school girl with her first boyfriend, and not a Naval aviator with two kills on his shoulders, trained to kill. He feels pathetic.

Shooting people down in the air? He can handle that without so much as blinking. But the second it comes to Bradley Bradshaw and talking about his emotions he’s as good as dead.

They’re running a little late, just a few minutes. Coyote’s quiet in the car, but Hangman knows Javy. He knows that he’s going to bring it up.

“Alright. Give it to me straight Jav.”

Javy sighs, briefly taking his eyes off the road in front of him where he’s driving to look at Hangman.

“Listen Jay. I know it’s hard to be here. I know you don’t like talking about it either, so I’m only going to tell you this. We all want you here, and we all want to help you. And when I say all of us, I mean him too. You’re the only one fighting him at this point. You’ve both grown up since the first time we were at Topgun. Give him a shot. Stop being Hangman for tonight. Got it?”

Hangman’s quiet for a bit, letting it settle. Then, he just nods. “Yeah. All clear Jav.”

And that’s that.

They’re the last to show up, everyone having been there for just a few minutes, damn Navy brats and their timeliness. Maverick and Hondo are already there too, having taken over the grill, both laughing and talking while flipping burgers. Rooster’s still in his apron, standing near them too, noticing Jake and Javy having made it to the backyard after walking through the back gate and waving at them.

Javy waves back immediately, and after a moment of hesitation, Jake does too. He can be civil tonight.

Except, there’s something in Rooster’s eyes. Something that seems to level Jake with one stare. It’s harsh and all-knowing and it makes Jake falter in his step. What the hell did he do this time?

“The hell’s that about?”

Javy leans over and asks, having apparently also noticed the daggers that Rooster’s glaring over at Jake.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Jake does his best to shake it off, but Rooster’s eyes linger on his mind the entire evening. He tries to figure out what he did. Rooster had been normal this morning. So what had happened in the past few hours apart that made him look like he was plotting ways to pummel Jake into the floor?

He checks his phone, trying to see if maybe he had missed a text, but all there is are texts in the group chat from various daggers saying they were headed over to Rooster’s place. The most recent one being a selfie of Bob and Fanboy, both driving away with a blurry form of Phoenix and Payback being abandoned at a gas station. Followed by a follow up from Phoenix with Fanboy and Bob in the backseat, while her and Payback take the front. But nothing from Rooster.

So, Jake figures if he wants to talk, he can come find Jake himself. In the meantime he gets himself a burger and greets Maverick and Hondo quickly, ignoring how Rooster quickly finds somewhere else to be when he gets to the grill.

“How’ve you been kid?”

Mav asks, easygoing and curious. Jake stays and talks with Hondo and Mav for a little, enjoying catching up with them.

“How is Admiral Kazansky doing?”

Mav had told the daggers about the Admiral’s collapse during the mission training; it had been a scare for sure. Jake had never personally met him, but the man was the Commander of the Pacific Fleet. A man that powerful collapsing from cancer? Cancer that he hadn’t told anyone about other than his family? That was enough to rattle anyone.

“He’s doing good. Remission is going smoothly. He had a scan just two weeks ago, came back clean again.”

The smile on Maverick's face says enough. There’s pride and awe in his expression, and it makes Jake smile in turn.

“He’s trying not to get his hopes up about it this time around,” Hondo interjects, “But I’ve got a feeling it’s going to stick. Iceman’s just got to take it easy. Maybe even retire.”

Mav laughs. “We made a bet in ‘97 to see who would retire first. But, I don’t know, lately I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe if I retire he won’t be as scared to.”

The somber look on his face makes it impossible for Hangman to try and poke fun to lighten the mood.

“Is it that pops? Or is it your knees finally starting to give out?”

He shoots a wink to make sure they know he’s kidding, and it’s enough to shock some laughter out of the two. He pretends the idea of Mav retiring doesn’t shake him. Maverick was a legend. Is, a legend. His name had flown through the ranks all throughout Jake’s time in the Navy and he’d looked up to the older pilot for practically his entire career. A man with a father whose name smudged his own, flipping it around and becoming a living legend. Practically a god amongst aviators.

All that, and now he was retiring? It reminded Jake that he himself was starting to get older too. Nearly forty now, and he was going to have to start slowing down soon enough too. All of them were.

“You’ve been good though? Since the mission ended?”

Hondo asked Jake, and what a loaded question.

“Better everyday, sir. Though, It’s weird being back here after all of that mess.”

“Yeah, we were just talking to Bradley about that earlier, talking about the mission and stuff. Seems all of you guys are doing better.”

Maverick smiled fondly, Hondo started laughing though.

“You should have seen his face when he found out you took off without permission though. Looked like the little kid from Home Alone.”

Maverick laughs too, but Jake can’t hear anything over the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins.

“What?”

“yeah, I was telling them how tense it was on deck and then how you had just taken off against orders and how I had to help you do it. And the look on Cyclone’s face when he was yelling at us for it.”

Hondo was still laughing at the memory, which was fair. Cyclone’s forehead had a bulging vein in it the whole time, but he ended up writing them off, for it, excusing it after nearly an hour straight of yelling at them.

He’d never told Bradley. He didn’t want to tell Bradley. He knew that Maverick knew, because Maverick had been team leader, but he’d never wanted Bradley to find out.

“What did he say?”

The two’s laughter finally died down a little, noticing that Jake hadn’t even been smiling along with them.

“Didn’t really say much of anything, just seemed shocked and changed the subject.”

Jake nods blankly, slightly dazed before blinking himself back into awareness, trying to get himself back into the moment desperately. It feels easy to slip into the Hangman persona, like a second skin, but he told Coyote he’d try.

He tried to remember things his therapist would tell him when he got panicked, that he needed to breathe and remember that he can’t control other peoples perception of him, but it was so much harder than it seemed. It’d be easy to be an asshole to make sure he could at least make them hate him, but he didn’t want them to hate him.

Hondo wanders off eventually, and then it’s just him and Mav.

“Y’know kid. When I was your age, hell when I was younger too, I was always keeping stuff to myself, because I thought it was easier to do that than to let people in and risk them leaving.”

Jake doesn’t like where this was going. The way Maverick manages to level him out with one look, prevent him from finding some reason to run away and hide from this conversation. Maverick always had a way of making Jake uncomfortable with the truth.

“It wasn’t until Ice forced me to slow down and stop being an asshole, years after... Years after Goose passed away, that I realized I needed people.”

Jake doesn’t know quite what to say. He doesn’t necessarily want Maverick to stop talking, but the blatant display of vulnerability makes him unnerved.

“Goose was my Coyote.”

And then, months after he had made the comment about Bradley’s father, Jake finally, truly understands.

Maverick smiles sadly at Jake, pats his arm, and stalks away.

Bradley had never talked about his family at the academy, it was one of those topics locked away in a bank vault, tightly wound in chains and cement, labeled ‘DO NOT OPEN’. Jake had tried asking, in the end that was their downfall.

He shakes his head, filling his plate with food while he contemplates the information Maverick shared. He doesn’t know how Maverick does it. He’d go insane if he didn’t have Coyote in this world with him.

The burgers are good, tasty, there’s some cut up fruits and some fries, and such laid out, and he happily loads his paper plate up with watermelon.

It isn’t until the sun has gone down, stars are out and Jake is on his way back outside from using the bathroom that a hand grabs his arm and pulls him back into the kitchen.

Rooster’s finally off that perch.

“You didn’t tell me you took off to save me and Mav against direct orders.”

Rooster’s eyes aren’t glaring anymore, they’re just searching for something from Jake, desperately trying to find whatever it is he’s looking for.

“You never asked.”

Rooster sighs, pinching his nose and letting go of Jake’s wrist.

“Jesus, Jake. Stop being an asshole for three seconds. You could have lost your damn wings and you never said a word. I just-” He cuts himself off as he looks at Jake, seemingly noticing the way his shoulders tense up in defense, shutting himself off and taking a step back to lean against the counter to get some space in between them. “I just want to understand.”

His tone is gentler, his eyes less harsh as he looks at Jake, eyebrows upturned and he just looks at Jake patiently. He isn’t used to Bradley surrendering like this. He’s always fought back.

He takes a breath, solidifying himself.

“I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me something.”

He shrugs it off as best he can. It’s not a lie, it’s just not the full extent of the truth. But Bradley doesn’t respond, he just waits for Jake to continue, seemingly not content to leave it there.

“I just-” The words feel like they’re getting stuck in his throat, “You blame yourself for everything Bradley,” Bradley’s eyes widen at the use of his first name rather than his callsign, “I didn’t want this to be one more thing you carried. I flew because I needed to get to you. Not because I wanted something from you.”

Something shifts in Bradley’s eyes, an understanding after nearly a decade of misinterpretation between each other.

“You scared me last night, when I got the text from Penny. I was so scared.”

Jake’s heart drops. It reminds him of conversations he’d overheard between his mama and father. Those conversations always ended up with his mama having a black eye, and his father going out to the bar.

He didn’t want to be his dad.

“It’s hard being back. I don’t know how to be back and be Jake. I know that sounds stupid but,” he takes a deep breath to ground himself. He knows therapy isn’t demeaning, but the south always raised him to have shame around getting help, “My therapist says I use ‘Hangman’ as a shield. She’s not wrong. It’s easier to be Hangman and get drunk when things get tough. Especially here, where everything reminds me of how I nearly didn’t make it to you and Mav in time.”

It comes out of him rushed, and panicked. He's breathing hard by the end of it and it feels like he’s just sliced his own chest open and pulled back his ribs for Bradley to see his insides.

“I don’t want to be that, though.”

Then, even quieter, “I don’t want to end up like my dad.”

It’s quick and shameful, a secret he’s never spoken aloud before. Bradley knows enough about his family to understand exactly what he means.

Silence falls over them for a moment, Jake doesn’t want to look at Bradley. He doesn’t want to see his face at all.

“That day at the academy.” They had never spoken about that day since then, hell, Jake barely ever talked about it with Javy. His heart drops to his stomach as Bradley continues. “It was the anniversary of my mom’s death. I didn’t... I didn’t mean to be an asshole or say you were like your dad with how you hung people to dry. I didn’t mean for it to become your callsign. You kept pushing and I snapped and I didn’t know how to take it back after so...”

Jake knows the story after that.

“So you ran.”

His voice doesn’t even sound like his own anymore. It sounds like some weird version of himself that he’s only ever heard one other time, when Roo left him.

“I ran. And I’m so sorry Jake. You aren’t your father. You have to know that I don’t believe that.”

Bradley’s staring at the floor now, hands uselessly clenched at his sides, red running up his neck in a mottled embarrassment.

“Hey,” He reaches out to Bradley, settling a hand on his forearm to try and get his attention back on him, “It’s not like I was some martyr. You said it yourself, I pushed. It’s not like I didn’t realize you were upset Bradley.” He can see Bradley starting up to talk again, but it’s like Pandora’s box has opened up and he can’t stop now.

“I was never good at comforting people, and I’m always a bitch when I’m not supposed to be, because it was easier.” This was shit he only ever told his therapist, “If people saw the absolute worst parts of me first, it would be easier to deal with them ditching me sooner rather than later.” His hand is shaking around Bradley’s arm, and Bradley twists their limbs around so that their hands are intertwined. It's nauseating and reassuring all at once.

“I’m sorry Jake.” His thumb slides over Jake’s knuckles, comforting him in a way he hasn’t since the academy. “And thank you,” he says, slipping his hand from Jake’s up to his bicep, squeezing almost imperceivably, “For disobeying direct orders, and saving me and Mav.”

Jake smiles, his eyes watering a little bit and his throat feeling like its shutting as he swallows his tears down and looks to the floor as that doesn’t work, his breathing picking up as relief floods his system.

Bradley crowds into his space, wrapping him in a hug that nearly has Jake collapsing as he rushes apologies out into Bradley’s neck.

“You’re okay, Jake. We’re okay. Just breathe, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, hand cupping Jake’s face, large and warm on Jakes cheek, thumb stroking over his tear-trailed cheek.

“My therapist told me I needed to stop stalling and running away from things that scare me.”

Jake laughs at Rooster’s confession, rolling his eyes. “Sounds a little familiar, Roo.”

Rooster chuckles back, pinching his waist in retaliation.

“Yeah, don’t get all smug over it.”

His eyes flick down to Jakes lips, so quickly that Jake nearly misses it, but it’s impossible to miss. Bradley looks deep into Jake’s eyes, smile dropping a little bit, but not fully.

“I don’t want to run anymore.”

Then, he’s leaning in, and Jake’s shutting his eyes in both anticipation and disbelief, then Bradley’s lips are on his and Jake is putting his hands on Bradley’s arms, squeezing as if this isn’t real, as if it would end any second.

The sound of loud cheering and clapping snaps them out of the moment. Pulling back and smiling at each other before looking out the kitchen window, seeing everyone watching them and clapping.

“That squadron is full of dumbasses.”

Bradley laughs, pressing another kiss into his hairline.

“Yeah, but they’re your dumbasses.”

Jake can’t help smiling, locking eyes with an emotional looking Javy, who sticks two thumbs up before cheering with Fanboy and Bob.

“Yeah, maybe.”

They could figure out all the nitty-gritty details later. For now, this was more than enough for Jake.

Turns out, he didn’t want to run either.