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After skidding on the tarmac for what felt like hours, the stolen enemy F-14 came to a shrieking halt. Rooster let out the breath he was holding and opened his eyes for the first time since they had lost an engine approaching the aircraft carrier. He had just flirted with death for about the fifth time that day, and really hadn’t wanted the last thing he saw to be the ground hurtling towards him.
He heard a similar exhale of breath from directly in front of him, Maverick. His godfather, turned guardian, turned enemy, turned teacher, and somehow circled back to father figure. (Did he have a concussion? Probably, and thinking about his and Mav’s relationship over the past 30 years didn’t help the ringing in his head). He supposed he should’ve wanted to jump out of the piece of shit plane that was older than he was the minute they touched down on the airstrip, but all Bradley Bradshaw could do in the moment was look up above him at the sky. It was a beautiful day to almost die, though he can’t say that’s what he was thinking when the ejection handles wouldn’t budge and he was about to be shot down for the second time that day.
“Bradley, are you okay?”
Oh right, Mav was here, he kept forgetting that. He really did have a concussion.
“Bradley?” Rooster finally snapped out of it enough to respond.
“Yeah , I’m good, I’m good. How about you?”
He heard a light chuckle from the older pilot, “I’ll live”
“You better”, Rooster started as the crowds of pilots and crewmen approached the plane, “You owe me one hell of a talk.”
Before Maverick could respond, the canopy was forced open and the quiet hum of a dying plane and two exhausted pilots was overtaken by the cheers of hundreds of people, who had all probably thought Rooster and Maverick were dead no less than an hour ago.
Someone helped Rooster out of the F-14, he couldn’t tell you who. Everything was slightly fuzzy and the noise was overwhelming. The only thing he really registered was getting an armful of Phoenix the minute his feet touched the ground.
“Are you okay?” She asked, not really paying attention to his answer and instead scanning him for injuries as she grasped his forearms.
“I’m good Phoe, really.”
His first mistake was covering up the fact that every single part of his body hurt and his head was pounding so loud he could barely hear his friend voice her concerns. But Rooster’s second mistake was thinking he could hide something from Phoenix.
His wingman looked at him with her attentive brown eyes and saw right through his shit, but luckily Hangman was there to save his ass, and not for the first time that day. Jake didn’t scrutinize him quite as harshly as Natasha had done a minute ago, but it was still clear when he gave Rooster a once over that no one was entirely confident that Bradley had come back in one piece. Apparently satisfied with his evaluation, he gave Phoenix a hug and Rooster a handshake while the results of the day set in.
“You got another kill”, Rooster looked at Hangman, trying to convey his thanks for saving his ass, the true thank you would have to be bookmarked for another time when he could string more than five words together.
Hangman grinned, a wide toothy smile that would knock just about anyone off their feet, and Rooster was already feeling pretty unsteady on his.
“That makes two.”
Phoenix decided this was the time to interject with a helpful, “Mav has five”.
Oh god, Mav. Had he gotten out of the plane, was he okay? Suddenly there was a panic rising in Bradley’s throat, he wasn’t going to let the man get away from him again.
Luckily for Rooster’s sanity, Mav was only a few feet away, talking with Hondo and a few other crew. He pushed through the crowd, not really caring who was in his way, before he got the surprisingly rather short form of Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.
The two locked eyes and immediately Bradley was swept up in Mav’s embrace. He hadn’t had a hug from the man since he was about 18 and now, it just felt like coming home.
Mav looked at him with pure fatherly pride in his eyes, “Thank you for saving my life”.
Bradley shrugged it off, knowing that the deep conversation would come later, “It’s what my dad would’ve done”. It was a brush off remark, both knowing that Maverick’s relationship with Goose was not the sole reason why Rooster disobeyed orders to go into enemy territory and find Maverick.
Maverick just pulled Rooster into another bone-crushing hug (quite literally, Bradley definitely broke a rib at some point), as the sea of people continued to cheer their return.
It was sometime later, when things had settled down a bit, that it hit Rooster like a ton of bricks, he was in so much pain. He staggered down the hallway as his fingers scrambled to get purchase on the wall to keep him from crashing to the ground. In the end, he managed to grab a door handle to aid in his descent to the floor, trying not to jostle his broken body any more. He sagged back against the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him, breaths escaping from his lungs in short pants. His head felt like it was in a vice grip and being squeezed tighter by the second, his vision had black tendrils creeping up from the peripheral. Was this what it felt like to be dying? Sure he had come close to death today, but he was so pumped up on adrenaline that he had a hard time feeling anything. Now, the adrenaline that had kept him going through multiple dogfights, an ejection, and a somewhat crash landing, had faded and left Rooster sitting on dirty carpet in a dimly lit hallway, unable to do anything but close his eyes and hope that death came quick, because he couldn’t bear the burning, throbbing pain much longer, or fight the urge to close his eyes and take the longest nap of his life. If that nap happened to be for eternity, Bradley doesn’t think he would mind.
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Hangman wasn’t sure if this was the best day of his life, the worst, or somewhere average in between. On the one hand, he got to be the hero and all of his teammates came back safely in one piece, but on the other he had thought Maverick and Rooster were dead and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it in the moment. Combine all that and it turned into an average day, neither good nor bad, but one he’ll never forget, that’s for certain.
The celebrations had died down, he was three crappy beers in, feeling warm and safe with his team by his side. He had just bid goodnight to everyone and participated in another round of hugs, it was odd how fast competitors become teammates and teammates become family. Speaking of his newfound family, Maverick and Rooster had been missing from the celebration. It wasn’t all that shocking considering the mental and physical toll the day had brought, and Hangman figured they’d both be conked out in med bay by now, but he decided to stop by on the way back to his quarters to check in on the two.
They made an odd pair, Rooster and Maverick. There was so much history there that Hangman had yet to unravel, but they seem on better terms after the mission than they had been when everyone was first recalled to Top Gun. At this point, Hangman wouldn’t be surprised if they were all cuddled in the same infirmary bed, and the image of Rooster being a little spoon to Mav, who was a good 6 inches shorter, brought a smile to Jake’s face.
He pushed open the door to the med bay, slightly expecting a nurse to shoo him off, visiting hours technically ended an hour ago, but instead a middle aged woman with a kind smile simply pointed him to where Mav was sprawled out on a bed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Hey Pops. What’s got you still up?” Hangman drawled, turning on the southern Seresin charm. He could tell Maverick was a ball of anxiety, which probably was a good thing to be on top of all the stress he had already been through in the past few weeks. He hoped he could talk him down, maybe even get the stubborn man to go to sleep before he left to crash into his own bed.
Maverick turned to him with a slightly wild look in his eyes, “Hangman, have you seen Bradley?”
This confused Jake, because surely Rooster didn’t have anywhere better to be than the infirmary right now.
“He’s not here?”
That was not the right thing to say, as Mav looked to be on the verge of panicking. Hangman took a few strides to be adjacent to the older man, taking Mav’s lithe shoulders in his calloused hands.
“Hey, hey, Mav, steady. I’m sure he was just being stubborn and decided to sleep it off in quarters and not be subjected to a bunch of tests in here. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Maverick let out a loose chuckle at that, and seemed to relax under Jake’s grasp. Jake gently pushed him so Mav was lying flat on his back with his head resting on what was probably the fluffiest pillow on the whole ship.
“I’ll go find our boy and drag his ass in here, but you need to get some rest.”
Maverick nodded slowly as his eyes began to droop and Hangman helped him pull up the blankets from the foot of the bed. When it seemed the veteran pilot was finally settled, Jake firmly grasped Mav’s shoulder and said in a gentle voice, “We all came home today because you taught us how, the brass were ready to let us die for our mission, but you wouldn’t accept that, and I don’t know how we could ever really thank you.”
Maverick’s eyes flickered towards him and he reached out to grasp Hangman’s other hand.
“You saved us today Jake, I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
With a tight squeeze to Mav’s hand and a wink he just replied “Anytime.”
Now reassured that their fearless leader was taken care of and resting, Hangman set out on another mission, figure out where the hell Bradley Bradshaw had fucked off to.
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Unfortunately for Rooster, he was still alive. He had been laying in the hallway for god knows how long, while it got progressively harder to breath. His broken rib must’ve punctured a lung or something, but his medical expertise was minimal, he had only managed to watch two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. If his back wasn’t hurting before, it certainly was now after slouching against the hard wall for hours (had it really been hours? Or just a few minutes? It felt like hours but he wasn’t sure anymore). The thought of getting up crossed his mind, but was immediately shot down by the fact that he couldn’t move his legs if he tried. He made a pathetic attempt anyway at a slight movement upwards, and was rewarded by his vision blacking out and he was lost to his unconscious mind once again.
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On his way back towards the shared bunks, Hangman cursed Rooster’s name. All Jake wanted was a long awaited, well deserved, full 12 hours of sleep, but instead he was utilizing the speed his long legs had to offer as he marched to drag Rooster into the infirmary for the check-up that should have been completed hours ago.
The door the quarters that his teammates shared opened with a loud creak of the hinges, and Hangman cringed at the sound, hoping he didn’t wake anyone. He really didn’t want to deal with more than one sleep-deprived aviator right now. A quick glance around the room told him two things. One, Payback and Fanboy (who had had about 6 drinks each) were passed out in their respective bunch, not to be rejoining the land of the living for quite awhile. Payback had snagged the top bunk with Fanboy on the bottom, the pilot sprawled out with half his limbs hanging off the edge (still fully dressed mind you) and his WSO curled up around a pillow, only taking up half the space available to him. It was an endearing sight, but brought up thing two, Rooster wasn’t in the room.
Hangman cursed softly as he pulled the door closed with a feather-light touch. If Rooster wasn’t in the infirmary, and he wasn’t in quarters, where was he? Honestly lost at where to search next, Hangman began to aimlessly roam the halls, searching for any sign of the six foot, mustachioed pilot. He was having no luck, when something clicked in his head and he smacked himself for not thinking of it before, go find Phoenix.
Fortunately for Jake, he had just seen Phoenix at the party less than 20 minutes ago and he had already ruled out she was in quarters, so finding this pilot was pretty easy. He found her as she was walking back from the celebration, running her fingers through her loose, dark hair, seemingly lost her own thoughts, paying Hangman no mind until she practically ran into him.
“What’s up Bagman?” she asked with a cheeky grin, “Coming back for me to kick your ass at another game of poker?”
Jake swallowed his instant cocky response, there would be another time for that.
“Phoenix, have you seen Rooster? He never checked into the infirmary after the mission and I can’t find him anywhere.”
The brunette steeled her gaze at that, cursing as she pushed her hair out of her face.
“Damnit, I knew that son of a bitch wouldn’t go on his own. I should’ve dragged him there myself. Where have you looked?”
While Hangman went over where he had looked for the wayward pilot, he could see Phoenix developing a plan of attack.
“Okay, here’s what we're going to do. You check every common space on the left side of the ship and I check the right. Ask anyone you pass if they’ve seen him. He probably just fell asleep somewhere random, he’s done it before, sometimes he’s like a damn cat. Usually it wouldn’t worry me, but he wasn’t looking so hot getting out of that F-14. If either of us find him, just text the other for back-up,”
Jake nodded in confirmation, glad that one of them had a plan, and prepared himself to search half the ship to find his friend (Is that what they were now?).
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Natasha really regretted a few things that happened today. She never should have left Maverick and Rooster behind, and if she didn’t have Bob in the backseat, she probably wouldn’t have, but here WSO had no control over whether they flew into danger or away from it, and his safety was more important than searching the tundra for dead bodies. She also shouldn’t have let Rooster walk away from her once they were all back on the carrier. She and Rooster had known each other for years and she liked to say she knew him pretty well. He had a habit of hiding when he was in pain, partially because of some “macho men don’t cry shit”, partially because he didn’t believe anyone would care. It had taken Phoenix a long time to convince her friend that people did care, especially her, and he had stopped pushing down the pain for a while. But his walls had come back up the minute they arrived back at Top Gun, she later learned mostly due to the presence of Maverick, but it’s not like Hangman was helping the situation. It seemed like Bradley and Jake’s relationship had changed since the beginning of their training, which Phoenix was glad for, for frankly she was sick of the bickering. Hangman had done good today, and she’s not sure Bradley realized the man had disobeyed direct orders to go save his wingmen.
The last thing Phoenix regretted was taking out her contacts and leaving her glasses in the bunk room, because now she was searching half the ship blind as a bat, hoping to quite literally stumble into her best friend, because currently she couldn’t see shit.
It ended up just as she hoped, and then she immediately regretted making that wish in the first place.
There was a dark lump in the middle of the corridor and Phoenix knew what it was before she could even make out the details. She sprinted to Rooster’s prone form, whipped out her phone to text Hangman where she was, and then promptly threw it down to scan over Bradley, trying to evaluate his condition.
His breathing was labored and his head slumped forward to meet his chest. There was sweat dripping down his slack face, dripping onto the dirtied and bloodied flight suit he still had on. He gave no indication that he heard her as she called out his name, and his hand was limp in hers as she took his pulse. It was slow and thready, but he still had one, he was still alive. She glanced behind her, hoping to see Jake turn the corner, but it was empty save her and Rooster.
Cursing for the umpteenth time that day, she reluctantly left Rooster behind as she ran the halls searching for Hangman or someone else who could help her. Phoenix was easily the physically strongest woman on the ship, but even she knew lugging six feet of heavily muscled aviator was not a task she could do on her own.
She saw the blonde before he heard her and shouted “Jake!” from where she was 50 ft away. She might have woken up the entire ship by now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.
Hangman whipped around at her call, and his face took a grave turn to match her frantic one as he closed the space between them and followed her lead through the corridors back to Bradley.
“Shit Roo,” he mumbled under his breath as he dropped to his knees beside the unconscious man, taking his pulse as Phoenix had done minutes earlier.
Pacing beside them, Phoenix snapped Hangman out of his state, “We have to get him to the infirmary, now.”
Clearing his head with a shake, Hangman nodded an affirmative, and hoisted Rooster from the floor in a smooth motion, Phoenix coming to support the brunette’s other side. Evidently Rooster did not appreciate said motion, as he let out a strangled cry when lifted from the ground, eyes screwed shut and leaning heavily on Hangman.
The trio shuffled their way to the infirmary at a steady pace, any lucidness Rooster had displayed before rapidly dissipating. Hangman and Phoenix struggled to keep their speed as Rooster’s feet went from walking to dragging on the floor. They finally made it to their destination and with a hoarse cry of “Help” from Phoenix, Rooster was removed from their arms and immediately laid on a gurney to be swarmed with nurses and doctors.
Glancing over to Maverick, who was still blissfully asleep even with all the commotion, Hangman let out a sigh and all but collapsed into one of the chairs beside Maverick’s bed, reaching out an arm to pull Phoenix into the other one, who still stood with her jaw clenched, staring at the space where Rooster had been.
She moved with little resistance and with only a look Hangman could tell she was crashing. The day had been long enough, and the final adrenaline spike had put the nail in the coffin. Phoenix didn’t utter a word as he positioned them so her head was on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. They both needed sleep, but they also both needed Rooster to be okay, and going back to quarters wasn’t an option. Hangman closed his eyes and felt Phoenix shift slightly before hearing her breathing level out. It was going to be a long night.
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The feeling of someone’s hand running through his hair is ultimately what caused Rooster to begrudgingly return to the land of the living. His body still ached but he no longer felt like death was upon him, so that’s a start. He attempted to open his eyes, but was met with a bright light and consequent flash of pain in his head, making him quickly shut his eyes and burrowed further into whoever was right by his bedside with a groan. All he knew is that they were warm and blocked the light, two things that sounded perfect right now. His personal heater let out a laugh and continued the ministrations through Rooster’s hair while placing his other hand on the aviator’s back and beginning to stroke it back and forth. Rooster couldn’t remember any times in recent years that he had felt so safe and comforted. He felt like he was 10 again, curled up in his parents’ bed with the flu, his mom singing to him softly while Uncle Mav was attempting to make soup without burning down the kitchen.
The thought of Uncle Mav set off an alarm in Rooster’s head, he should get up and see if the man was okay. Rooster hadn’t put eyes on Maverick since their landing, and hoped he hadn’t put up too much of a fight to go to the infirmary. It took a few more moments before Rooster’s morphine-addled brain put two and two together and realized that the man sitting beside him was, in fact, Maverick. Rooster turned his head and blearily opened his eyes to see the senior aviator looking down on him,
“Mav?” he mumbled, just double checking that he wasn’t imagining things and Maverick was really here. So much had happened in the last 24 hours, and Rooster wasn’t sure how much he trusted his memory at the moment.
The definitely real Maverick smiled at him, “Hey Baby Goose. How’re you feeling?”, his voice soft as he moved his hand to brace Rooster’s cheek, thumbing at the stitches in place over his eyebrow, which Rooster had just noticed.
“I’m okay, kinda feel like I got run over by an F-14,” the younger aviator scanned Mav’s face for any indication that the man was injured or in pain, “Are you okay?”
Maverick almost looked distraught for a second before schooling his face back to a smile, and Rooster took note of the wetness forming in his eyes, “I’m fine, you’re the one that gave us a scare. I came right to medical but Hangman and Phoenix had to drag you in here unconscious and bleeding internally.”
The harsh statement didn’t fail to make Rooster grimace. He’d be getting an earful from Phoenix about that and he knew she’d refuse to leave his side for the next two months. It happened when he was in a car accident a few years back, and he had no doubt of her forceful nurturing abilities.
Lamenting the mother henning he was in for, Rooster almost didn’t pick up on the other name that was dropped,
“Wait, did you say Hangman brought me here?”
“Yeah kid, he came to the infirmary looking for you when I told him I hadn’t seen you. Brought you in 30 minutes later and promptly passed out in that chair.”
Taking a moment to look at his surroundings, Rooster’s eyes focused on the pair of aviators snuggled closely, albeit uncomfortably, together between the two beds. Hangman had his long legs stretched out in front of him, head tilted back as he snored softly, Phoenix curled up under his arm, her back to him using his bicep as a pillow. It was a heartwarming sight, even if Rooster knew he’d get shit when they woke up for making the pair sleep in infirmary chairs all night.
He shifted out of Maverick’s arms and scooted himself gingerly to the other side of the bed, poking Hangman in the arm to get his attention. Hangman’s eyes whipped open and he pulled Phoenix closer, Navy training making him alert and ready for a threat. When he surveyed the room and realized that it was just Rooster, he relaxed, but then realized it was Rooster, and almost tripped trying to get out of the chair. Phoenix, thoroughly perturbed by the sudden motion, woke with a grunt, saw Rooster, and promptly launched herself onto his bed and into his arms.
Rooster barely had time to catch the smaller aviator as she clutched his shirt and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m glad you’re okay you dickhead”, into his chest. If that was the worst he got from her, it was a good day.
He glanced up at Hangman, who had yet to say a word, just staring at Rooster like he was a tricky word on the morning crossword puzzle. Rooster decided to make the first move and reached out the hand that wasn’t holding Phoenix. Hangman took it wordlessly and heavily sat back down in the chair, his forehead coming to rest on their intertwined hands.
Rooster, who was unused to being a human teddy bear, was a little unsure of how to proceed, but Mav took the initiative and rounded the bed to sit in the empty chair next to Hangman, hand placed comfortingly on the blonde’s exposed neck, rubbing circles and ignoring the small shudders as Hangman tried in vain to compose himself. It had been a hell of a 24, well really more like 48 hours, and Rooster really couldn’t blame the guy.
After a few minutes, during which Phoenix had most definitely fallen back asleep tucked against Rooster’s chest, Hangman lifted his head and met Rooster’s tired eyes with his own red-rimmed ones.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace that had finally befallen the four aviators, “I didn’t save your life just for you to throw it away because you think no one cares.”
He was met with Rooster’s wide eyes in response, who had most certainly expected a chewing out from Phoenix (which definitely might still be on the table) but not from the man he considered a “friendly” rival at best. Rooster nodded in understanding, though not really understanding, he was quite confused by the seemingly newfound concern Hangman had for his well being, but that was an issue for another time. For now, he was tired, and the warm, comforting weight Phoenix provided was doing nothing to help him keep his eyes open. He struggled to keep looking at Hangman, who huffed out a laugh and muttered, “Sleep Roo.”
Rooster obliged and if when he awoke the two beds were pressed together with Maverick at his back, Phoenix on his chest, and Hangman with an arm thrown around their waists, no one had to know.