Chapter Text
Conference Room 3 was one of the more moderately sized meeting rooms, a fact Rooster was very grateful for. The cavernous space of room 1 would have made him feel even smaller under the stern gazes of Cyclone, Warlock, Iceman, and a half dozen other officers and support staff.
To his surprise, Maverick was there too. The stiff way he sat in his chair and the icy glare his husband was giving him made Rooster think this was yet another battle the mighty Admiral had lost to his stubborn wingman.
Those who said Iceman had no weaknesses had never seen him with Maverick.
Rooster sat on one side of Maverick, Jake claiming the spot next to him. Phoenix slid in on Maverick’s other flank, Bob at her six. Payback and Fanboy took the last two chairs on Jake’s other side.
Together, they faced the officers.
As team leader, Maverick fielded most of the early questions. The officers started routine, asking for the details that would populate the reports. Why had the team chosen to do this instead of that (it was the best course with the provided information), was Maverick confident in his choices in the field (yes), was Maverick confident in his choices of pilots (absolutely).
Then they got into the mission itself.
Cyclone flipped a page. “To your knowledge, as team leader, did the actions of anyone on the dagger team contribute to the circumstances that led to two lost planes?”
Maverick hesitated for the first time since the questioning had started.
“Mav?” Ice asked, leaning forward.
Maverick waved him off, took a drink of water.
“Captain Mitchell, please answer the question.” Cyclone ordered.
Maverick cleared his throat. “Dagger Two was slightly slower time to target than expected.”
Dagger Two.
Him.
Rooster saw it again, the wings of Maverick’s plane covering him, his godfather putting himself between Rooster and that missile. Dagger One down. His fault.
He’d almost forgotten about it. In the chaos of firing blind, dodging SAMs, losing Mav, finding Mav, nearly dying, and making it back to the carrier limping on one engine, Rooster had totally forgotten the canyon run.
His too-slow canyon run.
He feels Jake’s knee press against his under the table and only then realizes he’s started panting harshly. His hands are clammy, and he rubs them against his uniform pants.
Mav is still answering questions, his godfather’s voice as rock-steady as ever, but Rooster isn’t paying attention anymore.
Dagger One is hit!
His fault. His fault his fault his fault.
It’s Admiral Kazansky’s voice that finally registers. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s take a brief recess before we get to individual testimonies. Dagger squadron, meet back here in half an hour. Dismissed.”
Rooster ignores the alarmed glances from the others and flees.
To call the carrier bathrooms closets would be generous, but Rooster doesn’t care. The sound of the door slamming shut is almost satisfying, hiding him away. He curls up into a ball and tries to remember how to breathe.
His fault his fault his fault.
Mav.
He remembers the relief of rescue as Mav’s flares covered him from the missiles he couldn’t shake, followed almost immediately by the gut punch of the fireball that had filled his sky.
Phoenix’s shaky voice announcing the hit.
Something enormous and vital being ripped from the center of his being as he realized Mav was down. Gone. Dead.
Fifteen years of anger and loss and hurt, and they hadn’t even gotten a proper conversation.
Mav dead was unthinkable. He’d always been there, so much so that Rooster had half expected Mav to outlive him too. Even hating him, he’d never imagined a world without Mav in it. It would just be… empty.
But Mav was okay. Rooster had found him. Saved him. Mav was fine. Mav was…
Rooster stood, his breath coming faster and faster, his hands shaking as he tried to get the door open because suddenly he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, all he wanted was Mavmavmavmavmav…
The door was suddenly gone, and there were arms around him, a voice murmuring in his ear.
Bradley just sobbed out a breath and held on to Maverick with everything he had.
“Easy kiddo, easy sweetheart. I’ve got you, lit- Bradley. I’ve got you. Breathe for me, kiddo. C’mon.”
Finally, finally, Rooster’s breathing calmed, his body relaxing.
Mav was here. He wasn’t dead.
It was then he realized he wasn’t the only one shaking.
He pulled back in alarm. “Mav! Why are you up? You’re barely out of the hospital bed!”
Mav gave him a grumpy look but let Rooster maneuver him onto a bench. Rooster knelt in front of him, taking in his godfather’s gray complexion and rabbiting pulse. “You shouldn’t be straining yourself, old man. The way Ice tells it, you’ve had two ejects in the last month.”
Mav raised a brow. “Does he now?”
“Is it true.”
“That’s classified.”
“So that’s a yes, then?”
Mav’s lips tipped into a faint smile.
Rooster shook his head. “You’re insane, old man. You know that?”
“I’ve been told on occasion.” Maverick said dryly.
Silence fell, and Rooster fiddled with his godfather’s sleeve, trying to stuff the last surges of emotion back into the box.
Mav, reading him as easily as he always had, tipped his head to catch Rooster’s eyes. “What was that about, lit- Bradley?”
Rooster shook his head, looking away. “Nothing. Just-.” The words stuck in his throat, an echo of his panic, and almost before he realized what he was doing he’d thrown his arms around Maverick’s shoulders for the second time.
Mav just held him quietly, a calloused thumb sweeping against the back of his neck with rhythmic precision. Eventually, he spoke. “You know it wasn’t your fault, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Rooster sighed into his shoulder.
“You know I have to report everything accurately, and that they already know all the details, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m not mad at you, Mav.”
“That’s good.” Mav said evenly. “It’s still not your fault.”
“I was slow.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. Not with the bandits so far away. We knew the S.A.M.S. would be a problem. Either we broke free or we didn’t, and the fact that we didn’t is not on you.”
“It was my plane you saved.”
“Could have been anyone out of flares. It’s not your fault, Bradley.”
Rooster sighed, giving in. “You might have to keep telling me that for a while.”
Mav laughed, pressing a kiss to Bradley’s temple. “Can do, kiddo.”
Rooster probably should have pulled away then, but Mav’s shoulder was comfortable, and it had been so long since Rooster had been held like this. “Mav?”
“Yeah?”
“You can call me Little Goose again. If you want to.”
Mav pressed his lips against Rooster’s head quietly.
They stayed like that for another long moment. The steady rise and fall of Mav’s breathing did more to soothe Rooster than anything had in years, and he was grateful that Mav just held him until Rooster finally pulled away.
He stood, wincing as his stiff leg complained about the awkward position, and offered a hand to Mav. “I guess they probably want to get this thing over with, huh?”
Mav accepted the hand, letting Rooster take a worrying amount of his weight before steadying himself. “Probably.”
Rooster waited until they were nearly back to the door. “Uh, thanks. Mav.”
“Anytime lit… Little Goose.”
They walked back in to conference room 3 together.
Jake gave him a worried glance, but Rooster just smiled back, helping Mav resettle himself as the officers straightened papers and prepared for the next round.
The second round of questioning went much smoother. Each pilot in turn was asked a series of questions ranging from broad impressions of the mission to nitty gritty facts and data.
Fanboy was grilled about his dead-eye laser.
Rooster was asked why he’d fired blind.
Phoenix recited the transcript of the moments after Mav’s F-18 had exploded.
Her voice was steady, but her hand trembled until Mav took it gently.
Even Cyclone softened at that, for a moment.
Finally, the questions ran out.
Ice stood with the others. “There is still the formal investigation to be run, but informally…” Ice smiled, “you all did your country very proud. Thanks to you, a major threat to the world’s safety has been eliminated. In recognition of your service in this matter, all six of you, plus Maverick, have been given two weeks leave starting now. Merry Christmas.”
They saluted the officers and filed out quietly.
The door snicked shut behind Mav.
And Rooster found himself with an armful of giddy Phoenix. “Christmas! Roo, we get Christmas!”
Payback and Fanboy slapped high fives. Jake thumped Bob on the back before shouldering Phoenix out of the way to claim his own hug from Rooster. Mav got sandwiched between Bob and Phoenix first, and then Payback and Fanboy a second later.
He was grinning as wide as any of them.
A gentle cough had them all freezing, turning with wide eyes to see Admiral Kazansky eyeing their joyful huddle.
“I know it’s rather short notice.” Ice said, “So if any of you don’t have another place to go, you are all welcome to spend Christmas with myself and Maverick at the house. It’s plenty big enough for all of you.”
Five pairs of eyes turned to Rooster.
He shrugged. “Christmas is for family. Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend it with.”
Mav beamed.
Jake did too. “Well, I’m with Roo, so I’m in.”
“Me too!” Phoenix agreed.
“Christmas with an admiral and an ace?” Fanboy said, “Count me in!”
Payback nodded eagerly.
“Thank you very much, sir.” Bob added.
Ice smiled. “If you’re spending Christmas at my house, Bob, you’d better get used to calling me Iceman.”