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They’re all having drinks at the Hard Deck after work, when Rooster invites them to a barbecue that Maverick is throwing. Because somehow Rooster and Maverick patched things up and are back to being besties apparently.
Jake doesn’t get them. Every time he and his dad have fought, his mom has dragged one of them to the other and stood there, glaring at them, until they sorted it out. Like normal, functional divorced people do with their cocky insecure gay son.
But yeah, Maverick is having a barbecue to celebrate. It’s at Maverick’s house on Saturday, and the whole team is invited. And apparently Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky will be there too.
Halo had looked at Phoenix and mouthed Iceman? when Rooster was explaining, and Phoenix just shrugged.
“After my mom died, Mav and my uncle Ice practically raised me,” Rooster tells them. “He’s like a father to me.”
“He’s like a father to you?” Jake asks.
“Yeah,” Rooster answers. “He was there for every Christmas.”
Jake snorts at that.
“What?” Rooster asks.
“Oh nothing,” Jake answers. “Just imagining the big bad Iceman at Christmas. That’s all. Did he ever dress up as Santa Claus?”
“Yeah, actually,” Rooster says. “He did a few times when I was little.”
Jake’s shoulders start shaking slightly at that as he tries to hold in his laughter. There’s a vein that’s beginning to start to stick out in Rooster’s forehead.
Bob elbows Jake. Hard. “ Behave, ” he hisses.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jake wheezes, rubbing his ribs where Bob elbowed him.
Rooster looks at Jake like he’s grown a second head, and the rest of the team just stares at him. Jake’s not known for apologizing. He’s Hangman , self-assured, cocky, always-thinks-he’s-right asshole. And he apologized because Bob told him to behave.
“Dude, pinch me,” Fanboy says to Payback. “I think I’m dreaming.”
Phoenix kicks Rooster in the back of the knee and chuckles when he staggers. “I don’t think any of us are dreaming. Maybe something got slipped into our drinks and we’re all having a mass hallucination.”
Bob rolls his eyes.
“We’ll be there, Rooster,” Bob says. “I’m looking forward to Captain Mitchell’s barbecue. What time on Saturday should we arrive?”
Rooster refocuses and turns to Bob. “About 3 p.m. should be fine. Mav said you guys don’t need to bring anything because he and Ice have it covered.”
“Great!” Bob says cheerily. “Can’t wait to try Mav’s barbecue! See you guys later!”
Bob then promptly drags Jake out of the bar, ignoring the bewildered gazes of their fellow aviators.
“Aw, c’mon,” Jake says. “What was that for?”
Bob gives Jake a sideways look. “What do you think?”
“I was being good!” Jake responds. “I even apologized.”
“Get in the car,” Bob says.
Jake huffs and climbs into the passenger seat of Bob’s Honda CR-V. “I think we both know that Maverick isn’t actually going to barbecue. And you called him ‘Mav.’”
“I know,” Bob replies. “But if you want to go about being a drama queen about everything, then you need to at least behave a little. Antagonizing Rooster is a great way to get yourself uninvited, Jacob.”
“Oh, pulling out the Jacob now, are we? You only call me that when you’re mad or you’re fucking me. And, well, you’re driving right now.”
“I’m not mad, Jake,” Bob says. “But you’re being a little bit stupid. Besides, if you want to go the route I think you’re going, then fine, but I’m not letting you blow this. I think it’s funny, too.”
“Oh,” Jake says. “So this is because I was coming close to ruining your fun?”
Bob nods, stopping at a red light. He levels Jake with a firm look. “Now you get it. I want to get a picture of Rooster’s face on Saturday, and I’m not having your big, dramatic, gay ass blowing it for me.”
“And they think I’m the one who’s always up to something,” Jake laughs. “Lieutenant Floyd, you’re just as bad as I am.”
Bob hits the gas a little harder than necessary when the light changes, making Jake grab the panic handle. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Yeah, OK,” Jake says. “Whatever you say, baby.”
“Yes, actually,” Bob says, pulling into their driveway. “Whatever I say. Now get inside. We had to leave early because of you, so you better make it up to me somehow.”
Jake shivers. “Whatever you say, baby.”
—
On Saturday, when they arrive—in Bob’s CR-V again because he hates driving Jake’s car—Jake is all but vibrating out of his skin. They’re early, because of course they are. Between Jake’s nerves and Bob’s insistence on being on time, it’s 2:30 p.m. by the time they park in front of Maverick’s house.
It’s a nice house, a bungalow with a garden out front that Jake is sure isn’t Maverick’s doing. He does, however, think the ugly floral curtains in the front windows are Maverick’s doing. He can’t imagine anyone else with such awful taste.
“OK,” Bob starts, “I know we’re a little early, but I’m starting to think we might actually be a little late.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asks.
“I mean,” Bob says, “That literally everyone else is here.”
“I bet Rooster told everyone that it was actually at 2 or something after we left,” Jake says. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Well then, let’s get this show on the road,” Bob says, pulling Jake in for a quick kiss. “And remember—behave. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
The two exit the car and walk around to the back of the house. Jake opens the gate and waves Bob onward with a flourish, making Bob laugh.
When they round the corner of the house, Rooster immediately looks up with a shit-eating grin.
Maverick and Iceman have their backs to them, and it looks like they’re bickering about Mav’s grilling skills. At least that’s what Jake would bet they’re doing.
“Well, well, well. Look who finally turned up. You’re late.”
Jake rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, fully aware that Bob has sharp elbows that he is not afraid to inflict upon Jake’s ribs.
“Hangman, Bob, since you two are the last to get here—I’ll introduce you,” Rooster says, gesturing to the two men by the grill. “You know Mav, of course, and this is my Uncle Ice. He’s like a second…third? father to me.”
Ice turns to face them, and his eye twitches like he’s trying not to laugh when he sees Jake.
Jake walks over to him, and gets pulled into a hug. “Hi, Dad.”
Behind them, Rooster looks like he’s frozen somewhere between a stroke and an extreme stomach cramp. Bob has his phone out and is rapidly taking photos.
“Hey yourself,” Ice says, stepping back to look at Jake more clearly. “How’s your mom?”
Jake rolls his eyes. “Are you serious? You literally saw her last night at dinner for Shabbat.”
“Something could have changed between last night and now,” Ice replies. “You never know. Besides, how would you even know? It’s not like you were at dinner last night.”
Bob speaks up at that. “Sorry about that, sir. That’s my fault. We, uh. We lost track of time.”
Ice frowns. “I appreciate your apology, Robert. Please spare me any details about my son’s sex life. I don’t want to know.”
“Dad!” Jake yells.
Rooster unfreezes at that. “Dad?” he asks weakly.
“Yeah,” Jake says, turning to face him. “Remember how you said he’s like a father to you? Well, he literally is a father to me.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” Rooster shoots back. “It’s not like I’ve ever seen you at Thanksgiving or Christmas.”
Jake opens his mouth to reply and then holds up a finger, indicating that he’s putting the conversation on pause. He turns to Bob. “All good?”
“All good,” Bob answers. “Go for it.”
Jake spins back around to Rooster. If he had long enough hair, he would have been flipping it over his shoulder. “Listen here, Bradley Bradshaw, you did Thanksgiving with your mom and Mav usually, while my dad joined my Mama and I. But you have no room to say anything about Thanksgiving considering you’ve got an absence record of literally a decade. Bob has gone to more Thanksgivings than you.”
Rooster’s face falls at that. “I—”
“I’m not done,” Jake says, waving off Rooster’s would-be apology. “I’m sure you’ll be there this November. But there’s another thing I have to address. Of course you’ve never seen me at Christmas. I’m Jewish , you idiot. So is my dad. I can’t believe you got him to dress up as fucking Santa Claus when there’s literally a menorah above the fireplace.”
“Wait, really?” Rooster asks, turning to look at Mav and Ice. “How was I supposed to know that? Since when?”
Mav covers his mouth with his hand, and he looks like he’s wondering how he managed to raise his son to be so unobservant.
“Last I checked, I’ve been Jewish since I was born,” Ice replies unhelpfully. “But also, Mav bet me 100 bucks that I wouldn’t do it, so.”
“Bradley,” Maverick says softly. “Ice literally gave you Hanukkah gifts and lit the menorah with you when you lived with us.”
“Oh,” Rooster says dumbly. “Was I dropped on my head as a baby?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Ice mutters. “Who wants hot dogs? I made sure Mav bought the good ones.”
A chorus of “Me” echoes from the rest of the team as they line up by the grill.