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For the first time since he had been able to grow a mustache, Rooster had a clean shaven face.
He’d gone through most of college with it, having officially grown it out the summer between his freshman and sophomore years. He’d gone through flight school and TOP GUN with it. He’d gone through his entire service career with the eighties ‘stache. He’d met his future husband and gotten married with the ‘stache. And, most importantly, his baby daughter had never seen him without his mustache in her entire eight-months of life.
Until now.
He would have preferred—if he had to lose the ‘stache—for it to be at least a semi-impressive story. Maybe it got partially burned off or his lip slashed in a crash or dogfight or something that was at least cool enough to warrant removing it.
But no, he removed it because he’d cut his upper lip on a shelf—yes, a shelf; he was a fighter pilot who’d almost died numerous times in top-secret and highly dangerous missions, but office paperwork filing was where he got injured. And in order to properly stitch it up, they shaved off half of his mustache, so he just finished the job off. He wasn’t about to walk around with half a mustache. That would be too ridiculous, even for him.
And though it was a tragic loss, there was one bright side to the story, at least according to his husband. Jake was convinced that Caroline was going to have some kind of reaction to the loss of the 'stache. Hopefully a cute one and not one that involved a lot of tears, but she was her Daddy's daughter, so anything was possible.
Rooster got threatened with sleeping on the couch for that comment, but it was worth it.
“I’m home!” Rooster announced, closing the front door behind him.
He could hear Caroline’s giggles at his call and easily pictured her bouncing up and down in her highchair, making grabby motions to get picked up. Maverick was the first to walk into the hallway and immediately burst out into laughter when he spotted a clean-shaven Rooster.
“Filing cabinet?” he asked, inspecting Rooster's face.
“They really should include it in the safety training.”
At least he already had a callsign, otherwise they might have nicknamed him something stupid related to the mishap that had already claimed his mustache. At least he still had his dignity intact. Some of it, anyways.
“Come on, let’s go see your papa,” Hangman cooed to Caroline, his voice echoing from the kitchen. Maverick started to record as Hangman walked around the corner with Caroline on his hip.
Baby Caroline was, in fact, bouncing eagerly to see her papa. But when Hangman walked around the corner, she paused in her excitement. Because there was a strange man standing in her home who dressed like her papa, walked like him, sounded like him, and did everything else like him except for the mustache. Caroline froze, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.
Because that man was not her papa.
“Hi, sweetie,” Rooster called, walking over to his family.
Caroline turned to Hangman, who was trying to hold back the barking laughter that was threatening to escape, with her eyes still wide. As if to see why he wasn't freaking out at the weird coincidence that was occurring in the very halls of their home. She didn't react to Rooster's approach, still trying to read Jake's expression and response to the situation.
But when Rooster reached out to touch her, rubbing her back soothing, Caroline instantly broke down into tears. She instantly recoiled and clung to Hangman for dear life. Screaming into Jake’s shoulder, Caroline missed how the adults in the room started to laugh.
“I told you that she liked me more,” Jake joked, bouncing Caroline to try and get her to stop crying. “Honey, it’s Papa. Look, it’s Papa. See?” He pointed over at Rooster, but Caroline stubbornly refused to budge.
“Let me try holding her.”
Hangman peeled Caroline off of his shoulder and held her out to Rooster. But the action only made Caroline scream louder and grab at Hangman and even her Grandpa Maverick rather than this strange man who was in her house, impersonating her Papa but still not enough to be convincing.
“Please tell me that you’re growing it back as soon as possible,” Hangman groaned, rocking Caroline back and forth again. She settled in his arms, clinging to his shirt as she calmed down.
“You used to make fun of my mustache all the time,” Rooster pointed out to his husband.
“Well, that was before we were together.”
“You made fun of it last week!”
“Look, I’m just trying to be a good parent here,” Hangman replied, fixing his hold on Caroline. “So, you need to regrow it. ASAP.”
“I get the stitches out in a couple of days."
As soon as his lip was healed up, Rooster regrew the mustache. Most of his coworkers, friends, and family were happy to see it back—he’d had it for so long that it was weird to see him without it—but none more than little Caroline Bradshaw-Seresin.
Because her papa had a mustache. And she wouldn’t forget that.