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- Phoenix
Sometimes Phoenix wonders what she was ever thinking getting into the US Navy. Oh yeah, sure, the best experience of her life, she’s learned so many valuable things and she’s truly passionate about flying, no doubt.
But the boys are so dumb.
God, she loves them like her brothers, but they’re all a bunch of testosterone-reeking macho men. Except for Bob. Bob is sweet.
Maybe it was funny watching Rooster and Hangman peacock around each other the first few times, trying to rile each other up and assert dominance or whatever alpha men in military love to do, but they’ve been at it for years.
Does it not get old for them? Surely there’s only so many times you can go through it without getting bored.
“Hangman. You look good.”
“I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.”
She rolls her eyes. We’ve never heard that one before.
She honestly thought they’d gotten their shit together after the mission, she could’ve sworn she saw them hug it out afterwards. They still act like they have something to prove, like their rivalry isn’t old news.
Hangman’s grinning at Rooster with a toothpick between his teeth, white against the tan of his skin. Rooster leans back against the counter, tilting his head back with a barely-there smirk.
“Not always,” he says lowly. Phoenix frowns.
“Well, you know me,” Hangman purrs. “I like making you work for it.”
Rooster’s eyebrows twitch up, the corner of his lips quirking–
“Did you guys fight again?” Phoenix cuts in, hands held out. “Because I promised Mav to keep an eye on you and I’d prefer if you didn’t kill each other on my watch.”
They both look at him as if surprised she’s there. Hangman recovers fast, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Oh yeah, we went at it hard. He gave me a bruise on my arm, what a dick.”
“Shit, for real?” she furrows her eyebrows in concern.
Hangman steps closer, rolling his sleeve. “Yeah, here, wanna see–”
“You think that’s bad, you should see his knees,” Rooster interrupts, gleeful. He looks proud, seeing the blotchy mark staining Hangman’s bicep, his cheeks slowly coloring. “Wow, that sure does resemble a hand, don’t it?”
“You have incredible aim,” Hangman agrees, shooting a shit-eating grin at him. “Or shit one, depending where you were actually aiming.”
Phoenix takes a slow step back, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, this is getting weird. You don’t seem mad at each other.”
“Oh no, I’m mad,” Hangman reassures immediately, not looking like it in the slightest. “So mad I’m going to insist he buy me a drink to make up for it.”
Phoenix watches in astonishment as Rooster steps past, shoulder colliding with Hangman’s, and actually takes his wallet out. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on here?
“Whiskey?”
“You know it.”
Phoenix crosses her arms, cocking her hip. “I asked you to buy me a drink last time we were here and you told me to eat a dick.”
Rooster gives her a pitying look. “Tasha, come on. Get with the program.”
She has no fucking clue what program he’s talking about.
- Fanboy
Rooster has glanced at Hangman five times in thirty seconds.
“You should talk to him,” Fanboy suggests lightly. It’s getting distracting, watching him stare like a lovesick puppy.
“Hm?” Rooster looks at him.
Fanboy nods his head towards where Hangman is twirling Phoenix around, laughing. They’ve set up Payback’s speakers to blast nothing but 70s rock much to Bob’s chagrin.
Rooster’s smile softens immediately when he turns to look at Hangman. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Nah, I’ll talk to him later. Let him have his fun dancing.”
Fanboy bites his lip, wondering how to say what he wants to say without being too obvious. “You know, I think he’d be happy if you went.”
I’m trying to hook you two up, you idiot.
Rooster hums, already getting lost in the sight of Hangman. Fanboy wonders if he knows how he looks, smiling like that when Hangman shouts the wrong lyrics to Sweet Home Alabama. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll get him before he starts stripping.”
“That’s not– Actually, yeah, I’d appreciate that. But don’t you have something to tell him? Something you’d like to get off your chest?”
“Yeah,” Rooster sighs, nestling his chin in his palm. “He can’t sing. He’s always trying, but it’s just bad, dude, you hear that? Just so bad.”
Fanboy stares at him. “Right. Nothing... nothing else?”
Rooster shrugs. “The other thing he can hear from me later when it’s just us two. It’s a private thing, you know, no need to make it into a thing.”
Finally!
“No, yeah, absolutely,” Fanboy agrees neutrally. Inside, he’s throwing a cartwheel. Hell yeah, maybe now Rooster can stop with this whole pining-from-afar thing. It’s unbecoming.
He fist-bumps the air discreetly when Rooster looks away. He’s the greatest wingman ever.
- Payback
Honestly, Payback knows how Hangman gets when he’s sleepy. He’s a cuddler at heart, and more often than not Payback’s the one bearing the grunt of it. Apparently he’s a very comfy backrest.
So, it doesn’t shock him seeing Hangman hang (ha) all over Rooster. He’s more surprised that Rooster’s allowing it. Sure, they’re friends now, apparently, but enough to break personal boundaries like that?
The movie is honestly pretty good. Something about cars and explosions, cool. Payback would probably love it if he wasn’t paying more attention to his two friends on the other couch.
Hangman’s eyes started drooping ages ago, so he’d naturally stolen the only blanket around and attacked the nearest person available for cuddles. It just so happened to be Rooster, so now his head is resting on a pillow over the man’s thighs, his arm loosely wrapping around Rooster’s knee.
He looks cozy, comfortable, as Payback expected. The man has no shame. It’s Rooster also looking comfortable that’s throwing Payback off.
His fingers are curled around Hangman’s neck, alternating between rubbing circles and tapping out drum beats along the movie soundtrack. His other arm is resting along the back of the couch, a beer bottle in his hand. He looks the epitome of unbothered.
Maybe even content.
Payback watches out of the corner of his eye as Rooster leans down to say something to Hangman. The latter stirs, looking up. They look at each other silently for a few moments before Hangman murmurs something back. Rooster nods and clears his throat.
“Hey, we’re gonna head out early, Hangman’s about to fall asleep,” he announces, stretching as much as he can with a heavy man in his lap.
Everyone calls out their goodbyes, fully invested in the movie. Payback’s the only one watching them like a hawk. He can’t stop himself.
“Together?” he blurts out.
Hangman squints at him sleepily, leaning his weight against Rooster when his arm wraps around his waist for support. “Yeah?”
Are you guys roommates now? Payback wants to ask, but refrains. Sometimes he feels like Hangman doesn’t share anything important in his life with him anymore and it sucks to think about, because they’re supposed to be best friends.
He doesn’t want to think about Rooster potentially taking his place. “Yeah, alright. Drive safe.”
“Mm, thanks. Let’s go for beers and pool tomorrow,” Hangman grins, fuzzy, and Rooster snorts, tugging him along.
“You spend any more time with him, I’ll get jealous.”
Their voices get quieter when they move to the hallway. “Bros before hoes, babe. Maybe if you were actually better at pool–”
The door closes behind them. Payback stares forward, mouth open. Oh. Oh.
Right, well. He probably should’ve known already; Hangman hasn’t complained about being single in ages.
One thing’s clear now, though. He definitely doesn’t have to worry about Rooster taking his place.
- Maverick
Maverick’s happy with where he is in life. There’s not much to complain, is there, not when he brought his team back alive and he still gets to fly, thanks to it.
Sometimes it gets lonely. He misses Goose, his partner in crime and brother from another mother, but it’s a wound already scabbed over, new skin knitting over it.
Iceman’s loss is sharper, more recent. He wishes he’d known of his diagnosis earlier, then maybe they could’ve had more time together instead of Maverick running around dodging responsibilities like it’s his job.
He’s coping well, all things considered. It’s been some time since the funeral, he’s had time to recover. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the loneliness sharp in his bones most days.
He’s made it a habit to invite Rooster for dinner every month instead. He’s making up for lost time, and making sure he’ll have no regrets in the future. He’s not young anymore.
Rooster came with Hangman today, not for the first time either. Maverick thinks it’s sweet, how they’ve grown close. He was there when they almost fought in class, he remembers what it was like for them in the beginning.
The difference is astounding. He’s just happy Rooster has people in his life after he’s gone.
“And Hangman wants a dog,” Rooster’s telling, pointing a fork in the man’s direction, “but we decided we’re gone too much to care for one, so maybe later.”
“I don’t feel like cleaning up shit every day, anyway,” Hangman adds, stretching.
Maverick nods, smiling. “Oh, you guys live together, then? That’s really nice.”
“Oh yeah, we didn’t tell you?” Rooster says, looking at Hangman. “Hasn’t been long, has it, maybe couple months. It’s easier, don’t have to miss your stupid face constantly this way.”
Hangman makes a face at him, but it doesn’t hide his smile. “You know you love this face. It’s almost a shame it’s no longer on the market, it used to be popular with the ladies.”
“It is a nice face,” Rooster sighs wistfully. “But you were never more popular than me with the ladies, don’t lie. Girls love a rugged man, you’re too pretty.”
Hangman snickers. “And you’re rugged? Please.”
“Look at me, baby, and tell me I’m not the definition of masculinity,” Rooster leans back in his chair and spreads his arms. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Hangman snorts. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re manly. Show-off.”
Rooster smirks, knocking their shoulders together. He doesn’t move away after. “You love it.”
Maverick watches the interaction with an amused smile. A bit from earlier catches his attention and he tilts his head. “Hold on, Hangman, are you seeing someone?”
They both turn to him, shocked. They share a surprised glance with each other, some silent communication moving between them. Rooster clears his throat awkwardly.
“Ah, Mav, you don’t know?”
+1. Hangman
Playing dogfight football has become a tradition of sorts, even when they’re not on a deadly mission to an enemy base. It’s fun, it’s educational, and it gives Hangman a chance to ogle Rooster’s half-naked body.
“Come on, Fanboy, try a little!” he yells at his friend over the shouts of the others, laughing when he gets a middle finger in response.
It’s the first time he and Rooster are on the same team, because usually their competitiveness fuels each other, upping the stakes. This time they’re not taking it as hard, the hotter than usual weather and the food waiting for them at Penny’s making them take it easy.
Still, there’s sweat dripping all over Rooster, his abs glistening and hair sticking to his forehead. He looks healthy, tan, and he’s maybe turning Hangman on a little bit.
They’re winning, because of course they are. You can’t be on Hangman’s team and not win.
“Six points to team Birdseed, fuck yeah!” he hollers, throwing the football onto the sand. Phoenix collapses beside him, cheering and panting like she’s about to die of dehydration. He drops down as well, taking a breather.
“That was a beauty,” Rooster says over him, and Hangman looks up, grinning.
“Everything I do is a beauty,” he replies and takes Rooster’s offered hand. He gets pulled up and tugged into a kiss, an arm wrapping around his lower back.
He kisses back, open-mouthed and with tongue, because they’re sweaty and shirtless and he’s itching to lock Rooster into a bathroom and get onto his knees.
He doesn’t register the silence around them until he pulls back, breathless. He looks around at the gaping faces of his friends, all of them staring at them. “Uh. What’s up?”
Phoenix points, looking like she’s seen God. “You... Hangman, what?”
Rooster releases Hangman and steps around him to help Phoenix up. “Why are you guys surprised? I thought you knew.”
“How would we have known?” she asks, brushing sand off her shorts. She pauses. “Oh shit, is this what you were talking about back then?”
Bob looks thoughtful. “You know, looking back this makes sense. You weren’t exactly being subtle.”
“No shit we weren’t,” Hangman snorts. “We weren’t trying to be. I thought it’d be obvious to you guys the moment we came from the bathroom with hickeys the night we got together.”
Everyone’s silent, processing it. Fanboy claps his hands, pointing. “No, I remember! We were all drunk, dude, you shouldn’t have counted on that.”
“Shit, probably not,” Rooster shrugs. “It makes sense for us too, now, why you were acting so obtuse sometimes.”
“Congrats,” Bob says, reaching out from the ground to pat Hangman’s thigh. “You two make sense.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix shrugs. “Good for you, honestly. Now if only I had a girlfriend.”
“Uh,” Payback pipes in, holding up a hand. “I already knew, can I just say that?”
Everyone’s heads whip to his direction.
“What?”
“And you didn’t tell us?”
Rooster reaches out to grab Hangman’s hand loosely while everyone bickers, grinning lazily at him. “Bathroom?”
Hangman laughs, squeezing their interlocked hands. “Bathroom.”