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Rooster’s sitting in his normal seat in class near the middle of the row, waiting for it to begin when Hangman comes stumbling into the room. While his dark blond hair is almost always perfect, today there are more than a few strands out of place. It makes him look more like an innocent young boy instead of the cocky asshole he’s known as. He can’t tell from this distance entirely, but it also looks like there are dark circles under his eyes.
The nineteen year old looks entirely like he bribed an older naval aviator on base to buy him enough beer to knock him out the night before. Rooster resists the urge to roll his eyes. Go figure.
Hangman sits next to Coyote and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s not a typical pose for the man, as he’d rather sit up straight and be ready to listen to their CO.
Rooster notices Coyote turn to look at Hangman and raise an eyebrow at him. They have a hushed conversation for a moment until their CO walks in and begins class.
--
Three times during their CO’s lecture, Rooster hears a quick intake of breath followed by a muffled sneeze. He knows it’s Hangman each time because he sees the blond removing his face from his elbow and hears Coyote’s mumbled blessing. After the third time, Hangman swipes a knuckle under his nose and sniffles. The congested sound to it along with the clearing of his throat after almost completely confirms that he’s not feeling well.
Rooster feels a pang of sympathy radiating in his chest. He’s definitely not close with the other man (well, barely a man at all), and when they do talk, it’s nothing but bickering, but he doesn’t like to see anyone not feeling well. He supposes it’s a trait from his father, or at least that’s what he was told when he was growing up.
It takes a few minutes of pondering, but he decides that he’s going to go up to Hangman when class is over and see if he’s alright. There’s not a doubt in Rooster’s mind that the blond will think he has some kind of ulterior motive, but he has to at least try .
--
Twenty minutes later, their CO tells them to get their asses out of the room, and Rooster takes his chance by walking as casually over to Hangman as he can. The blond stands up from his seat before noticing Rooster and turns to Coyote.
“I’ll meet you back--” He cuts off, turning suddenly towards Rooster. The motion makes him blink a few times before he sets his stare on the taller man. “Don’t you know it ain’t polite to sneak up on a man, Rooster?” There’s a hint of congestion in his southern drawl.
Rooster resists the urge to flatten his mouth into a hard line. He decides to ignore the comment altogether and instead says, “are you… okay?” He doesn’t want to outright accuse the man of being sick, but he can’t just deny that anything is happening in the first place.
An unreadable expression crosses over Hangman’s face before he steels it into one resembling arrogance. “I’m more than okay. I’m great.” He flashes a grin at Rooster that rivals the Cheshire cat and Rooster is seriously regretting coming over here.
He thinks for a moment, figuring out how much he’ll be running the risk of getting clocked in the face for being blunt about Hangman’s condition. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve almost fought, so he decides it’s worth it: “So all that sneezing I heard wasn’t you?” He raises an eyebrow at the blond.
Hangman’s expression still reeks of arrogance, but there’s a brief flash of… coldness in his eyes. It reminds Rooster of the look Uncle Ice had given him when he swore at Maverick for pulling his papers, vowing that he’d never speak to the man again. The memory stings more than he’d like to admit, so instead he focuses on waiting for Hangman’s response.
The other man scoffs. “What, I’m not allowed to sneeze now?”
Rooster sighs. “Look--I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He hopes Hangman doesn’t hear the mumbled but I guess I shouldn’t have, asshole.
“Like I said, Rooster, I’m great.”
Rooster doesn’t bother responding. He gives Hangman a tight smile and turns to leave the room. When he’s almost to the door, he hears Coyote say “you didn’t have to be such an asshole, man.” He doesn’t wait to hear Hangman’s response.
--
Two days later, he’s walking past the rooms that house the other aviators in his class when he hears something that sounds distinctly like a sob coming from Hangman and Coyote’s room.
Rooster stops in his tracks. He stands outside their room for a moment, waiting to see if there are any other noises from inside. Just as he’s about to keep walking, he hears a whimper. The bunk rooms aren’t known for being very sound-proof, so he doesn’t find it surprising that he can hear such a sound from within.
He knocks on the door with a soft rap, and when he doesn’t hear anything in response, he decides to open it in curiosity. The movement is slow and cautious, as he doesn’t know what he’s going to find inside. Upon peeking into the room, Rooster finds a figure laying on the bottom bunk, covered almost completely by a blanket. Only their head is sticking out, and dark blond locks sit atop it. Rooster only knows one person who fits that description, and it’s one of the owners of the room--Hangman.
Rooster watches as his back shakes with what he assumes are sobs and steps into the room before shutting the door softly behind him. “Hangman?” He calls, keeping his voice low.
Hangman doesn’t acknowledge that he heard Rooster other than curling his body inward.
“You okay?” Rooster walks the short distance to the side of the bunk and inhales a sharp breath through his mouth when he sees the beads of sweat covering the other man’s face. Between that and the tear tracks on his cheeks, Hangman looks like a certified mess.
Rooster reaches out a hesitant hand before placing the back of it against Hangman’s forehead. Intense heat radiates off Hangman’s skin, and Rooster pulls his hand away with a quiet hiss. The man must have a fever of at least 102° with how hot his skin feels.
He needs… he needs to do something. He can’t just let Hangman suffer here alone.
And fuck, where’s Coyote?
Rooster wishes he knew the man’s number so he could text him and tell him he needs to come back immediately . Clearly, what had only seemed like a mild cold two days ago morphed into whatever feverish hell this is.
Fucking hell. It looks like he’s going to be the one responsible for taking care of a man who’s fought him tooth and nail since the first day they met a few weeks ago.
He sighs. The first thing he needs is a cool, damp cloth to help bring his fever down. He thinks he might have a clean cloth in his room that will do the trick, but that means leaving Hangman alone until he comes back. Rooster bites his lip for a moment before deciding that he’ll only be gone a second.
Much like he thought, he’s only gone for a few minutes, and then he’s back in Hangman and Coyote’s room with a damp cloth, ready to start to bring down Hangman’s fever.
The younger man hasn’t moved at all since Rooster left, and he’s grateful for it as he lays the cloth against Hangman’s forehead. He watches as Hangman’s pained expression almost immediately relaxes and the blond lets out a soft sigh.
Rooster can’t help but smile at the sight. Hangman must have been boiling with the heat of his fever. That’s enough of a reason to make anyone cry, let alone smug assholes from Texas who have egos bigger than the sun.
He sits on the floor next to the bunk, leaning his back against the wall for support and pulling his legs to his chest. He’ll stay here for as long as it takes Coyote to come back.
--
“Rooster?”
“Hmmph?” He must have fallen asleep sitting there and listening to the sound of Hangman breathing, because the next thing he knows, Coyote’s crouched down in front of him.
“What are you doing here, man?” His brows are drawn together in concern.
“I, uh… heard Hangman crying.” Rooster clears his throat. “Found out he had a high fever and wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Coyote nods, seemingly pleased with that response. “You could’ve asked someone else to do that, you know?”
“I guess. Just figured I could do it myself.”
“You didn’t have to, but thanks for caring anyway. He’s not… the easiest person to get along with.” The corner of Coyote’s mouth quirks up. “I’ll let him know--”
“Don’t, please.” Rooster interrupts.
“Why not?”
“I already get enough jabs from him about being motherly. I don’t need him to have any more ammo.” Rooster glances over at the man still laying in the bed.
“So you’re just going to let him act like usual, as if nothing happened?” Coyote raises an eyebrow at him.
“It’s better that way.” They might never become friends or even be able to tolerate each other, but Rooster supposes that’s where he’s comfortable being with Hangman. Nothing more, nothing less.
Coyote looks like he wants to say something more about that, but he just holds out his hand to Rooster and helps him stand. “Thanks again, Rooster.”
Rooster nods before heading out of the room.