Work Text:
Jake and Bob had no plans on making their relationship public, especially not after the Dagger Squad assembled. They could be professional, and besides, Jake flew a one-seater and Bob did a great job as Phoenix’s backseater.
Then, the bird strike happened.
Phoenix, left engine’s on fire!
Bob’s voice, the initial panic rings in Jake’s ear. Then,
We’re on fire! We’re on fire!
Maverick tells them to punch out. They don’t.
Warning lights everywhere! Hydraulic failure!
Bob’s voice had taken on a gravely tone in the panic. Jake had never heard him sound so scared, had never felt so scared himself.
We’re going down, Phoenix! We’re going in! We’re going in!
Over the radio, Maverick’s voice is steady. “You can’t save it! Eject, eject!”
Then the radio goes silent. Only minutes before, Javy had been in G-lock, and now, the silence on the radio after Phoenix and Bob go down is deafening.
Or, it would be if someone wasn’t wheezing so loudly. The edges of Jake’s vision are blurring, and there’s someone kneeling in front of him—and it’s Rooster?
What is Rooster doing, and why won’t someone stop that wheezing? Rooster’s mouth is moving, but Jake can’t tell what he’s saying. It’s too damn loud in here.
There’s a pressure on his wrist—Rooster touching him—and suddenly, sound washes over him.
Oh. He’s the one that’s wheezing.
“-man, hey, Hangman, it’s okay,” Rooster says. “Bob and Phoenix are okay. They punched out safely. You hear me? They’re okay.”
Jake shakes his head. He heard Bob on the radio. They were going in. They were crashing. Ejecting doesn’t mean they’re okay.
Rooster sighs, “Look, man. They took them to the hospital. I don’t get why you’re so upset about Bob and Phoenix. You probably would have left them hanging anyway.”
Jake recoils at that, and he rips his arm out of Rooster’s grip. Suddenly, Jake can breathe. He inhales sharply, full of rage. “Fuck you, Bradshaw. You don’t know a fucking thing about Bob and me.”
Jake gets to his feet, and he stalks out of the ready room. He can hear the rest of the team talking to themselves, wondering what the hell is wrong with him when Rooster was just trying to be nice. Rooster of all people, who lost his own dad that way, was the one who ended up being level-headed and helping him. Jake should probably feel a little bit of compassion for him, but right now, he doesn’t feel anything but pissed off.
None of them know. Jake would never leave Bob hanging. He said vows. In sickness and health. ‘Til death do us part. Jake is at least relieved that he left before he could say more, give away too much. Bob and him both decided not to tell anyone—it’s in their personnel files, sure, but beyond that, they barely even acknowledge each other at work.
Bob even chewed Jake out for his “Baby on board” joke, saying it was getting a little too close to calling him baby. Jake doesn’t particularly want to blow the whole thing apart just because he can’t keep it together.
This, Jake realizes, is why married couples never fly together. It’s too much. What if something happened while they were both in the air? What if it was on a mission? Jake can’t be losing it like that, especially not when he’s alone in the plane.
Warlock knows about them, Cyclone, too, for sure. He doesn’t know about Maverick.
His phone vibrates, and Jake frowns, pulling it out of his pocket.
Base hospital. Family only.
It’s…his dad. Of course he would know. Jake sighs irritably and shoves his phone back in his flight suit. He’s not even supposed to have it on him, but when they’re not flying, there’s a bit of leeway. Jake’s starting to wonder if his dad has his schedule memorized.
His phone vibrates again: Yes, I do know your schedule. Get your ass to the hospital.
Are you spying on me? Jake texts back. He looks up and around him for cameras.
No. I just raised you. Go see your husband.
Jake rolls his eyes, and he flips off his phone, half-convinced his dad can see it anyway. Man’s got eyes and ears everywhere. Whatever. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he starts off at a jog to do just what his father said.
At the hospital, he’s initially stopped by the front desk, who tells him that only family is allowed to visit right now, and should he be at work anyway?
Jake awkwardly shuffles his weight from foot to foot, and pulls out both his own ID and his spousal ID. “I’m Lieutenant Floyd’s husband.”
The receptionist looks at the card and then back up at him. “Huh. Don’t usually see many of these from the aviators. Only one comes to mind, really. That damn man always ends up here.”
Jake grimaces slightly. There’s no way she’s not talking about Maverick. It always goes the same way: he gets his ass laid up and his dad rushes off to the hospital to cause a fuss for all of the staff and Maverick himself.
The receptionist hands Jake back his card and squints at him for a long moment. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like the Admiral?”
She didn’t have to say which one.
Jake does his best to twist his grimace into a polite smile. “I’ve heard it a time or two before. Close enough that he could be my father.”
He laughs at that, only slightly forced, having heard it all a million times. He has his mom’s last name, though, at least, which he appreciates. Jake knows he looks like his dad, but he’d like to leave any awareness of their relation at that, nothing more. He got to where he is now all by himself, without any help from his dad, thank you very much. He’d like to keep it that way, and his dad has so far been respectful of it.
The receptionist gives him directions to Bob’s room, and Jake takes off, walking through white hall after white hall, a typical sterile hospital.
When Jake arrives at the door, it’s closed. Lieutenant Robert Floyd is on a card outside, right below the room number. He stands there, inhaling deeply. Just because Rooster said that they were okay doesn’t mean that they actually were. Neither him nor Rooster were in the air to witness what happened.
His hand hovers over the handle, afraid to open it and see Bob there, in the bed, laid up.
A few doors down, a nurse steps out of another room and looks at him. Feeling self-conscious about lurking outside, Jake sighs and opens the door, slipping inside and quickly closing it behind him. He leans back against the door and takes in the sight before him.
Bob is asleep, or at least seems to be. He’s propped up against several pillows, and there’s an IV in his left arm—where his good vein is—not his hand, which tends to result in a bad stick. Upon closer look, the back of Bob’s left hand is bruised, probably from several attempts before the nurses gave up and went for the elbow.
Bob once told Jake that as much as he would like to give blood, he avoids it because there’s a part of him that worries about getting stuck too much since whenever he’s needed blood work done, there’s only the one good vein. Bob is convinced that too many sticks in the same spot will end up damaging something, so he tries to save it for blood work and emergencies. Jake decided not to argue at the time because one, he wasn’t sure how true that was, and two, Bob can hold a hell of a grudge and would bring it up if he needed to for at least the next ten years.
God, Jake loves that man.
He loves him when he takes his socks off and leaves them right next to his shoes instead of taking them to the laundry room. He loves him when he returns home in the evening and tells Jake all of the wild things he’s overheard since people forget he’s still there. He loves him when he’s helping Jake to bed after one too many drinks, with a peanut shell or two still stuck to his uniform. God, Jake loves Bob so much, and he loves his life with him.
Jake exhales heavily, relieved that Bob survived the bird strike and is just here for observation, really. A bit of bruising and maybe some whiplash, but nothing else. He’s going to be okay.
“Did you get it out of your system?” Bob croaks from the bed, his eyes wide open and alert. He tries to push himself up a little higher on the bed and groans, falling back onto the pillows.
Jake hurries over to the bed. “Here, let me help you. Okay. There you go.”
He fluffs the pillows some, fussing. Bob simply watches him fondly. Jake picks Bob’s glass up from the nightstand and gently places them on his nose.
With a shaking hand, Jake cups Bob’s cheek, and Bob leans into the touch. “I was worried,” Jake admits. “It was bad. Rooster had to snap me out of it?”
“Rooster?” Bob asks, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“I know,” Jake says. “I feel a little bad about it, since, you know…his dad…”
Bob closes his eyes, and he turns to press a kiss to the palm of Jake’s hand. “I’m okay.”
Jake leans in, pressing his forehead to Bob’s. “Please don’t do that again.”
“I can’t make any promises,” Bob says softly. “But I’ll always do my best to come home to you. I promised to stay by your side. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”
“I remember,” Jake whispers. “And I’ll do the same.”
Jake kisses Bob softly, once on the lips, then once on the forehead. He rests his head on top of Bob’s inhaling a ragged breath. That was too close, but he needs to get it together. They’re here to work. This can’t happen again. Jake wouldn’t dream of asking Bob not to fly, and he knows Bob would never ask that of him. What needs to happen is that Jake needs to control himself.
From the doorway a throat clears.
Jake startles away from Bob, whipping around to look. Standing there, leaning against the door frame, is Phoenix. A purple bruise is blossoming across her temple, and there’s a cut on her cheek, too. Her arms are crossed.
Bob looks up at Jake, wide-eyed.
“Mind telling me what you’re in here doing to my backseater, Bagman?” Phoenix asks. “Last I checked, visiting hours are over unless you’re family. I don’t know what nurse you sweet talked into letting you in, but you better leave.”
“Look, Phoenix—” Jake starts.
“Can it,” she cuts him off. “Leave him alone. Leave both of us alone.”
“You came to bother us,” Jake mutters, rolling his eyes.
He starts to step away from the hospital bed, but Bob’s hand grips his arm tightly, keeping him from moving. Jake tries to pull away slightly—they need to keep things professional for the mission—but Bob only tightens his grip.
Jake looks at Bob, raising his eyebrows. Bob looks at him over the frame of his glasses, imploring. Jake tilts his head to the left, and Bob nods slightly. Jake sighs, and gestures towards Phoenix.
Phoenix is watching them carefully, taking in the silent conversation the two just had. “Are you done? Seriously, Hangman, you need to get lost.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Bob says firmly. “He needs to stay.”
Phoenix raises her eyebrows in disbelief and recoils slightly. “What?”
“Hangman—Jake—is my husband,” Bob says, trailing his fingers along the inside of Jake’s arm until he takes hold of his hand. “He has every right to be here, and, well, I want him here. Is that so bad?”
“He’s your what?”
“Husband,” Jake answers, smirking. He reaches into his flight suit with his free hand and pulls out his dog tags, which also have a ring hanging from them. He turns to look down at Bob. “How long has it been now? Five years?”
“Six,” Bob says, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t act like you don’t circle every anniversary on the calendar.”
“What can I say? I’m a romantic.” Jake acts cocksure, but his eyes are soft as he looks at Bob.
Bob groans and flops back onto the pillows. “Do you see what I have to deal with?” he asks Phoenix, gesturing towards Jake.
“Um,” Phoenix says eloquently, a slightly greenish tint to her cheeks. “I think I’m—”
“You’re not having post-ejection hallucinations,” Bob cuts in. “Those aren’t real. This is real. I’m married to Jake.”
Jake she mouths. “Really?”
“Really really,” Jake echoes. Bob elbows him.
“Yes, really,” he assures her. His expression then turns deathly serious. “You can’t tell anyone though. We’re not really…out? Or, well, not on this mission at least. We’re trying to be professional.”
Phoenix is silent for a long time, her right hand flexing on her left bicep. “You’re not fucking with me?” she asks at last.
“No,” Bob says emphatically. “I’m not. The only people who know are Coyote—
“Because he was there at the wedding—” Jake interrupts.
“And Cyclone and Warlock. Probably Maverick, too, but we are here to be professional,” Bob finishes.
“Ehhh, I’m not sure if Maverick knows,” Jake says. “He’s not, uh, observant about things outside of Bradshaw. And Dad didn’t bring him to the wedding. I think he was mad at him at the time. Stole or crashed another jet or something.”
Bob sighs heavily, pinching his temple. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Jake says. “Look, I’ll text him and ask.”
Jake pulls his phone out and types a quick message to his dad. Hey does Mav know Bob and I are married?
Instead of a return text, his phone rings. It’s his dad. Jake looks wide-eyed between Bob and Phoenix. “I, uh, kinda gotta take this.”
“It’s not ideal to miss calls from his dad,” Bob explains. “He has a tendency of showing up when Jake doesn’t answer.”
“What the—” Phoenix starts, but is stopped when Jake holds up a finger and answers the phone.
“Hey Dad,” Jake says, smiling although his eyes are still wide. “What’s up?”
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, loud enough for even Phoenix to pick it up from the doorway.
“Jacob,” his father says seriously, “I’m not convinced Maverick actually knows you’re my son. I think he believes I was joking when I told him. I highly doubt he knows you and Bob are married or closely read your personnel files.”
“What?” Jake half-shouts into the phone. “Are you kidding me?”
Another heavy sigh. “Your personnel files have been on the desk in the study since the day he got them, untouched. There’s actually a coffee stain from him using them as a coaster. He probably decided he would form his opinions exclusively on your flying and what he got from meeting you all.”
“How?”
“Different last name? Missing several holidays due to constant deployments? The need to make it up to Bradley even though his father’s death wasn’t Mav’s fault? Take your pick, kid.”
“And you just…let him go on not knowing?” Jake wants to wrap his arm around himself, but Bob is still holding his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Nobody lets Maverick do anything,” his dad says. “Besides…at this point, I’ve got a lot of money riding on how long it’s going to take him at this point. Your mom bet me 500 bucks that it’ll take until you two have a kid. I bet that it would take longer than that.”
“Let me get this straight,” Jake says slowly. “Maverick doesn’t know that I’m married to Bob or am your son because of a bet? ”
“Yes,” his dad says calmly. “I’d like to keep it that way. Technically, the terms of the bet are that if she loses, she gives me $500, but if I lose, I have to buy her a motorcycle. Something about income equality. So. Keep quiet unless you want your mom to start driving a motorcycle.”
Jake swallows thickly. Suddenly, he has a vision of his mom flying down the highway, the only protective gear on a leather jacket and a pair of aviators. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” his dad says pleasantly. “Mav just pulled into the driveway. Give my best to Bob. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Jake says, and the line goes silent. He slowly puts his phone away.
“So I take it Mav doesn’t know?” Bob asks lightly.
“No,” Jake says, shaking his head slowly. “And if she finds out before we have a kid—or at that time—he has to buy my mom a motorcycle.”
Bob scrubs a hand over his face. “She’d only wear a leather jacket and aviators.”
“Yup.”
“Alright then.”
Phoenix clears her throat again. She’s less green now, more smirking wickedly. “Who’s your dad who knows Maverick so well, huh, Hangman?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jake says quickly. “Just…can you keep this quiet?”
“Please?” Bob adds. “We are trying to be professional. It’s just, well—I mean, you know. No one saw this happening.”
“Yeah, okay,” Phoenix agrees. “But you both owe me drinks for a month. And I’m so totally going to find out who that mysterious dad of yours is that knows so much. CIA? NSA?”
Jake shakes his head, laughing softly. “Good luck with that.”
“Yeah,” she says casually, opening the door behind her to leave. “Good night, you two. Don’t keep my WSO up all night, Bagman. We’re flying again tomorrow.”
Jake waves her off as she closes the door. He turns to Bob. “How do you feel about her knowing?”
Bob shrugs. “I trust her. And this probably helps things, since I’m the one who flies with her. We’ve gotta rely on each other.”
“You would consider getting outed after nearly crashing a team building experience. God, I love you so much.”
“And I, you,” Bob says, tilting his head up. “Kiss me again.”