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Rooster narrowed his eyes as Hangman slowly walked into the common room. "There he is!" Coyote whistled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Hangman winced. "Careful man, I'm bruised!" He joked. Coyote guided him over to the couch, even as Hangman held an arm around his ribs. Rooster nodded in greeting. "You get cleared by medical?" He asked. Jake turned to eye him. "Yup. Just bruising,"
Rooster hummed unconvinced. "Surprises me. Usually an ejection cracks a rib or two." He said nonchenantly. Jake narrowed his eyes. "It's fine, Rooster. Just bruises." Rooster raised his eyebrows with a disbelieving hum. Jake rolled his eyes and twisted to face Coyote, wincing. Rooster met Phoenix's eyes from across the room and nodded to the door. "A'ight you lot, we're going to do mission reports. See ya'll at the bar later?" He said. Nat nodded and joined him by the door. "Ok! See you later," Payback shouted.
Rooster shut the door with a sigh. "I don't think he went to medical," He said to Nat. She snorted. "I know he didn't go to medical. As someone who's also been ejected from a bird strike, it does crack a rib." She agreed. "So, whatever macho shit he's got going on is gonna hurt him more in the long run," He said, nodding to himself. Nat raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about Bagman? I thought you hated each other," Rooster shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno. After that uranium mission we just... chatted. Turns out we have a lot more in common than we thought," He walked into the empty room where they filled out mission reports and took a seat. "Such as?" Nat asked, smirking slightly. Rooster puffed as he grabbed his pen.
"Wanting to be tougher than the rest,"
~
Jake exhaled shakily, his hands bracing himself against the sink. Maybe Rooster was right... maybe he had cracked a rib. It sure as hell hurt like fuck when he breathed... or moved for that matter. He hadn't stayed at medical overnight, at the time, thinking it was whiplash. He'd gone to sleep ok, albiet sore, but ok. He woke up in the morning in pain, barely able to move. Jake being Jake stuffed advil and whatever the hell else he could find down his throat and shoved on his uniform ready for the day.
He'd slowly walked in, being mindful of his pulsing side, as Coyote chatted happily and Rooster side eyed him from the couch.
But as he took grating breaths in, he realised he should've asked the aviator for help when he could. With every breath in felt like hundreds of needles being stabbed into his side. Tears brewed at his eyes.
He debated calling 911 but couldn't actually bring himself to reach for his phone in his pocket. He shudders and forces himself to stand upright, desperate to ask for help. His hand grazed the door as his vision whitened out and he hit the ground.
~
Rooster pushed open the bathroom door, gasping at Jake's fallen form. "Help! I need some help in here!" He shouted down the hall. "Jake? Hangman? Buddy, can you hear me?" He asked, tapping his face. Jake groaned but did nothing else. "Help!" He shouted again. He fumbled for his phone, dialing 911. "What's happened-what the fuck!?" Rooster gestured. "I dunno! I knew something wasn't right! Help me get him up Coyote,"
The two men hauled their comrade up and out of the bathroom, encouraging him to wake whilst tapping his face. "Jake, buddy, you've gotta wake up," Coyote tried. Rooster dropped him on the couch. "Wait here, I'll get some water," He rushed over to the sink and grabbed a cup, filling it up. He threw the cold liquid in Jake's face, sighing in relief when he sputtered indignantly. "Oh, what the hell happened?" He asked, hissing. Rooster shrugged. "I dunno man, I found you on the floor out cold. Javy helped me get you here," He explained. Jake lolled against the couch. "I didn't go to medical," He whined.
Rooster smirked at Javy, despite the situation. "I know you didn't. When I ejected back on the uranium mission, it fuckin' hurt man. I ejected safely and under control but still bruised my ribs. Tash broke a rib when she ejected," He sat down. "We called 911, by the way. They'll be here soon and sort you out,"
As he'd said, Jake had broken a rib. In fact, he'd broken two, cracked three and bruised seven.
Rooster was very smug when a doped up Jake admitted he was right. Jake grinned from the morphine. "You're a good pal, chicken," Rooster wrinkled his nose. Not quite, but close enough. Instead, he grinned, patting his hand.
"I am good, Jake. I'm very good,"