Chapter Text
They land on the aircraft carrier in a screech of smoke and metal.
Rooster hadn’t thought his adrenaline could tick any higher, but somehow crash landing in the backseat of a plane older than he was did the trick.
He only had a moment to absorb the impact ‘we’re alive we’re alive holy shit we’re alive’ before the plane is being swarmed from all directions, someone popping the canopy as the last remnants of smoke and flame retardant flare into the sky. The smell hits him first, the somehow comforting cacophony of smoke and oil and hot asphalt assaulting him as he tried to remember how to get down.
Sounds came next, the usual background of engines and water layered under the raucous cheers of seemingly everyone currently stationed aboard the craft.
He glances across the runway as he descends, sees Hangman – Jake – running towards them, his grin widening as he meets Rooster’s eyes. Another sweep of the area and he sees Admiral Kazansky, marching towards them with terrifying speed. Something in his eyes makes Rooster turn back to the cockpit.
The cockpit where Mav still sits, unmoving.
“Mav?”
His voice is almost too small to carry over the crowd, but Phoenix hears him and follows his gaze.
“Shit.” She scrambles up the ladder like the pro she is and shoves two fingers under Maverick’s jaw.
Someone grabs Rooster from behind, and he stiffens for a moment before he realizes it’s Jake holding him up and he leans into the other man’s lanky strength. Ice shoves past them both a moment later, his eyes fixed on the cockpit.
Rooster’s heart is beating out of his chest as the seconds tick by, each one longer than the last.
“He’s breathing!” Phoenix calls down. “But he’s out. Get the medics up here!”
“Goddammit Mav.” Ice mutters under his breath, one hand on the F-14 as if he could forge a connection to Maverick through the plane.
Rooster reaches out, and when Uncle Ice’s grip closes firm and strong around his hand, it becomes a little easier to breathe.
The medics arrive at a flat-out sprint, and then everyone else is forced back as they quickly stabilize Mav’s head and neck before lifting the unconscious pilot out of the plane.
As Mav’s limp form disappears into the crowd, Jake’s arms tighten across Rooster’s middle. “Holy shit, Roo.”
Looking at the half-destroyed F-14, burned, broken, and riddled with bullet holes, Rooster can’t help but agree. If Mav had been any less of a pilot, they wouldn’t have made it.
They probably shouldn’t have made it anyway.
Ice is already moving after Mav, the rest of the pilots following in his wake. Rooster moves to follow them and almost faceplants on the hard deck when his legs decide they’ve had enough of his shit.
Which, fair.
Jake catches one arm, stopping his descent, and a second later Phoenix slides in under the other.
“We gotcha, Roo.” She says gently, patting his stomach through his flight suit.
He pulls them both a little closer, breathing in Phe’s shampoo and Jake’s aftershave and the post mission scent of sweat and grease that has become an ever-present part of his life. He’s still terrified for Mav, still reeling from the mission, but they survived. They’re alive.
He brushes a kiss against Phe’s cheek, and when Jake huffs in amusement Rooster kisses his too.
“You’re so high right now.” Jake grins.
“Yeah.” Rooster agrees, letting his head roll against Jake’s shoulder.
He fades out a bit after that, only vaguely registering the trip through the cramped deck. He comes to as he hears the scuffle of several people jumping to their feet.
Fanboy, Payback, and Bob are crowded into the small space that serves as a waiting room of sorts for the medbay, all of them staring at him worriedly.
Bob looks to Phoenix. “Is he okay?”
Phe hitches him higher on her shoulder. “Yeah. Budge over, would ya?”
The boys shuffle aside, leaving space on the bench for Phoenix and Jake to deposit him. Rooster rests his head against the cold metal wall and breathes, in and out, nice and slow.
“How’s Maverick?” Jake asks, an endearing note of worry in the words.
Payback and Fanboy exchange a look.
“He didn’t regain consciousness before they took him back.” Fanboy started. “The medics didn’t seem frantic, but I thought I heard Admiral Kazansky say something about this being Maverick’s second time ejecting in a month.”
Rooster sat up straight. “Mav, what the fuck?”
Phoenix’s eyes were wide. “Twice? In a month?” She wrapped her arms around herself, no doubt reliving her own recent eject.
Payback shrugged. “I always heard he was a crazy SOB.”
Jake shook his head. “Damn, though. That’s insane, even for him.”
Bob nodded. “Anyway, the Admiral is with him in there. They wouldn’t let us follow.”
Rooster slumped forward, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Ice’ll take care of him.”
Silence.
“Ice?” Phoenix said gleefully.
Bob sputtered. “You just… casually… the Admiral…”
Payback and Fanboy gaped.
Jake just smirked unhelpfully.
Rooster flipped him off. He was saved from having to explain when the door opened and Ice himself stepped out.
The others straightened instantly, but Rooster didn’t bother, keeping his gaze on his boots.
A huge, calloused hand rested on the back of his neck, and he felt the tension run out of his body at the familiar touch. “Ok, kiddo?”
Rooster lifted his suddenly impossibly heavy head, trying not to notice the wide-eyed stares from the others as he gave Uncle Ice a weary smile. “I’ll live.”
The hand tightened once and then released, Uncle Ice fading back into Admiral Kazansky as he surveyed the room. “Maverick is going to be fine.”
The breath of relief that went around was audible.
“He has undergone an immense amount of physical and mental stress in the past month and especially on this mission, and his body simply reached his limits. With a few days of rest and healing, he’ll be back to his old self.” The wry twist to Ice’s mouth suggested he wasn’t counting on Mav actually taking those few days. “Go get yourselves checked out, and then take a rest yourselves.”
Phoenix made a noise of protest, but Ice raised a hand. “Medical clearance, eight hours, and a shower, and you can come back to see Maverick. That’s an order.”
He waited until they’d all nodded reluctantly.
“You all did a hell of a job.” He made sure to look around the room, catching the gaze of every one of them. “Your country thanks you. I thank you.”
He turned back to the medbay. “Dismissed.” The door swung shut behind him.
The others turned to him, questions in their eager eyes, but a nurse made a timely intervention. Then it was tests and questions and careful prodding of what Rooster was informed was two cracked ribs and a mild concussion.
He was released, reluctantly, on the condition that someone wake him after two hours to make sure the concussion wasn’t worsening, upon which all five of the other pilots volunteered to do just that.
It would have been sweet if he hadn’t been pretty sure they would wake him in the most annoying way possible.
Still, the nurses let them all go, so it was a win.
They stumbled back to the bunks, Rooster not the only one who was slowly succumbing to the effects of the day’s events. Phoenix and Bob were holding each other up, Fanboy kept having to nudge a listing Payback back on course.
Jake was tucked up against Rooster’s side again, a sturdy arm wrapped around his waist.
“M’sorry.” He breathed into Jake’s ear.
“For what?” Jake tucked his chin to look at him, green eyes soft.
“Scarin’ you.”
Jake’s arm tightened. “You did what you had to do, Roo. It all worked out in the end.”
He had. “Still, m’sorry.”
Jake shook his head. “Let’s not do this right now. You’re alive, okay? That’s all that matters to me tonight.”
“Kay. Thanks.”
Jake snorted.
They rotated through the shower with typical Navy efficiency, three minutes of lukewarm water per person. Rooster winced through a quick shampooing, Jake hovering just outside, but he did admit to feeling more human once he was clean.
They made it back to the bunkroom to find the others had pulled down the mattresses from the top bunks and piled them on the floor to make them even with the lower bunks, a makeshift king bed taking up practically the whole bunkroom.
Rooster would have been a little worried about getting reprimanded for that, but Uncle Ice was literally a deck away so he wasn’t terribly concerned. Plus, the bed looked far too comfortable to argue.
Payback and Fanboy shared the left bunk, half of Fanboy sprawling onto the middle mattress up against Jake’s back. Jake was tucked into Rooster’s side, one hand over his heart. Phoenix had an arm wrapped around his middle from the other side, her other hand tucked into Bob’s on the right bunk.
Rooster had never slept better, even if he was poked awake two hours later from both sides.