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Rooster’s jaw clenches his jaw as the Commander in their training simulation chews him out, his head tilted a little too defiantly and his fists clenched by his sides. “With all due respect, Sir, that’s horse crap. Why would you approach that entry point when you could go here?”
“Lieutenant Bradshaw, watch your tone. Entering there would slow you down en route to target. You’re setting yourself up for a dogfight that won’t end well.”
Rooster rolls his eyes at that. “Sir, we were clearly on target. We made it to the target, on time, we didn’t miss the target and we out-flew the bandits. I’d say that speaks for itself.”
Hangman scoffs beside him. “You ignored orders because you think you know everything these days. They’ve done the research, they tell us to enter there for a reason.”
Rooster glares at him. “Nobody’s asking you, Bag man. Back off.”
“Or what? Gonna make me?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Rooster mutters.
“Lieutenant, that’s enough. Hangman, leave it. Rooster, can the attitude.”
Bradley raises his chin defiantly, expression hard. “Sir, I am respectfully pointing out that your system doesn’t work. I’m not responsible if you can’t see that. It seems like you’ve not been out in an F-18 in a while. Perhaps you should do that, before you tell us what we should be doing.”
He hears the collective gasp from his peers and flounders for a minute, wondering if he’s gone too far. Before he has time to backpedal and take the sting from his words, his commander speaks and his stomach clenches guiltily. “Lieutenant Bradshaw, you are dismissed.”
He feels his face flame in embarrassment but stands, leaving the training room without looking back. He’s already making plans to apologise to his commander before his feet hit the corridor outside the room.
- - - - -
Bradley slowly moves along the corridor, casting his eyes around to make sure no officers are in the vicinity. After being informed the commander he’d argued with earlier was submitting a report about his attitude, or so he’d been warned by Hondo. He huffs a laugh thinking Hondo would be horrified if he could see Rooster now.
He’s armed with a lock picking set of Mav’s as he stops outside Ice’s office. It’s kind of an unspoken secret that Ice has a soft spot for him, much like with Maverick. Sometimes it’s nice, but at times like this it sucks. Commander’s have worked out that they can flag things to Ice and he’ll handle it, effectively and without marking their records. He doesn’t want to be treated differently to his peers, but he knows Ice has done this with other pilots over the years. It’s not strictly politically correct these days but what can he say? It works.
Arguably not, given that he’s kneeling in front of Iceman’s door having snuck into the building at five in the morning. He turns, his back facing the corridor. And opens the lock picking set. Part of him wishes he’d just asked Mav to help him. He doesn’t really have any idea what he’s doing and it takes ages for him to make any progress.
The lock finally clicks and he breathes a sigh of relief, pushing to his feet and opening the door quietly. He steps inside, looking around for the files. They sit there, silently accusing in their pristine pile. Rooster winces, thinking maybe he should just come clean to Ice. He shakes the thought, dubiously reasoning that he’s come this far.
Ice’s threat about paddling him daily for his attitude rings in his head, a constant alarm bell trilling and distracting him. He doesn’t think Ice actually would do that, he’s only that firm with Mav, he wouldn’t actually do that to Rooster. He’s not confident enough in that assertion to turn back, because he decides the risk of borrowing the report to read it over is the lesser of two evils.
It’s that thought that has him reaching for the reports, freezing in plane when he hears a deep voice being cleared behind him. When he turns, he’s horrified to see Ice there, arms folded over his chest, briefcase hanging down. Does that damn man never sleep? It’s not even six yet. “Uh, hey Ice…” he greets, voice higher than he’d like it to be. “What are you doing here… at six am?”
“You know, I’m sure I’m meant to ask you that question...” Ice says wryly, stepping further into the room. He looks Rooster over for a minute and turns serious as he sets the briefcase down. “Alright, let’s hear it. Why are you in my office at this time in the morning?”
“It’s actually kind of a funny story…” he tries, hoping to lighten the mood. Ice just raises his eyebrows at him.
Rooster looks away, face hot as he tries to think of a good explanation. Ice glances at his watch. “I have a call with the Secretary of State in ten minutes. Get talking.”
“That’s okay, sir, I can come back.” Rooster tries to side step, hoping Ice will take him up on it. Instead he finds himself looking into Ice’s cool blue eyes. “Sir, you have things to do.”
“I’m starting to think spanking you is up there at the top of the list.” Ice tells him. “How did you get into my office?”
Before Rooster can give a good excuse, his eyes sweep over the kit on the table and in another instance Ice is holding it, turning it over with a glare. “Is this Maverick’s?” The man looks around the room with piercing his eyes as if he’ll find Maverick tucked into a corner.
“I, uh. It’s really none of your business, sir,” he tries, standing taller and squaring his shoulders. “I’m gonna—”
Ice holds up a hand, silencing him. “What you’re going to do, Lieutenant Bradshaw, is walk yourself into that corner right there. Go.”
He points, indicating a corner that will be in his line of sight.
“Sir!”
Ice takes a step closer but he’s calm when he speaks, albeit in a tone that has Rooster squirming. “I expect to see you in the corner now, officer, or I can preemptively spank you for your disobedience and then you can go into the corner.”
Bradley’s face heats up at the threat. “Uh, no sir. I’m, uh, I’m going.” He takes himself to the corner, standing at attention as he listens to Ice moving around the room. He guessed that Ice has connected earphones because he can’t hear the conversation in context and finds himself squirming as he realizes he’s stuck here until Ice is finished. He hasn’t even had coffee yet.
- - - - -
Ice puts his earphones in and connects to his call with the Secretary of State, ignoring the young man squirming in the corner of his office. The squirming intensifies and he takes a moment to excuse himself and remove the earphone. “You can get a stool if you need one.” He tells Rooster before going back to his call.
It doesn’t surprise him that the Lieutenant doesn’t take him up on his offer, though it does irritate him a little. The kid definitely got that hard headedness from Maverick, who would similarly cut his nose off to spite his face. As he listens to the Secretary speak, his hand wanders to the files on his desk and he flicks through them, hand stilling when he sees a report from the training commander from the tactical training the Top Gun squadron have been running this week. As he skims the initial summary, his eyebrows raise and he glances at Rooster in surprise. Well, that’s interesting, he thinks. He thought he’d put an end to Rooster’s attitude a few weeks ago.
He sets the report aside from the pile and focuses on the meeting, letting Bradley shift uncomfortably. If the boy wants to put himself through the added discomfort of staying on his feet to prove a point, that’s his choice. Ice isn’t going to bail him out. Hell, the urge to excuse himself to swat the young man in question is strong enough that he has to turn his gaze away for the moment. One problem at a time. At least he knows how to fix the Rooster sized problem sulking in the corner across his office.
- - - - -
Rooster is unbelievably bored. He’s convinced he’s been in the corner for approximately one whole year, which is enough time to seriously regret everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours. He’s not sure what possessed him to argue with the commander, it’s not usually his style. That’s not true, he realizes in dismay. Ice’s threat has been hanging heavy for three weeks, a constant buzz in the back of his brain. It’s like a math problem he has to wrestle with and figure out. He’s never been one to push his superiors, that’s always been Hangman’s job, but Ice is, well, Ice. Ice is so much more than just a superior, which is about to become a real issue for Rooster.
He runs through the mental tally of dumb choices he’s made, kicking the base board lightly. Getting kicked out of training, ‘borrowing’ the stupid kit to get into the office, breaking and entering at the ass crack of dawn instead of just coming clean to Ice… He–
“Stand still, Bradshaw. My wall did nothing to deserve you kicking it.”
His face heats up at the reprimand, a soft curse escaping even as he forced himself to straighten up and stand at attention. It lasts a few minutes before his head drops back down to the intersection in dismay. He hears Ice end the call and perks up a little, until he remembers that means his minutes not facing Ice’s disappointment are limited.
The call out of the corner doesn’t come. Instead, he hears the unmistakable sound of Ice making a call on speakerphone. It rings for a while before he hears Mav’s voice rough with sleep. “...Ice?”
“Morning, Maverick. I have a question for you.”
“Uh, sure…” Mav grunts down the line, clearly struggling to wake himself up fully.
“Did you give Rooster that damn lock picking set I thought you’d put away after last time I caught you using it?”
If Mav had been guilty, there would have been a sharp intake of breath before he tried to joke his way out of trouble. Instead there’s stony silence before Mav speaks. “No, Ice, I haven’t been teaching him how to break and enter. I’m not that dumb. Wait, he has my kit?”
“He does, which I discovered when I arrived at work this morning and found him in my office. That would be my, I thought, locked office.”
Maverick sighs. “Jesus, kid, really?” He mutters and Rooster can practically picture Mav running a hand down the side of his face. “Why was he in your office?”
“If I knew the full story, I wouldn’t be calling you to ask your involvement while he squirms,” Ice points out drily.
“Yeah, okay. Need me to come and get him?”
“No, you can go back to sleep. I have a paddle with his name on it.”
“Ice…” Maverick winces, tone turning pleading as he tries to defend Rooster.
“Not going to work, Mav. He knows better. I’ll check in later and let you know I haven’t killed him. I love you.” Ice ends the call and silence settles over the room again. Just as Rooster’s convinced he’ll end his days staring at the pristine magnolia covering the walls, Ice clears his throat. “Come here, Bradshaw.”
He grimaces but takes in a calming breath, turning from the corner and making his way quietly towards his godfather. He keeps his head down but his shoulders are back and straight, hands by his sides. Ice’s eyes burn into him and he barely resists the urge to squirm. “Take a seat.”
Bradley swallows but sits down, aware it will bring his gaze in line with Iceman’s. Despite his reluctance, he perches on the end of the seat, leg bouncing nervously.
“I’d sit properly while it’s still comfortable,” Ice tells him mildly, triggering another round of embarrassed blushing from Rooster. He shifts to sit more comfortably, fighting a groan when Ice speaks again. “So, Maverick is either incredibly gifted at lying to me before his first coffee, something I know he has no skills whatsoever in, or we can add theft to your list of crimes this morning.”
It has him slouching a little, unable to look at Ice. “He didn’t know, sir,” he admits, voice low with guilt.
Ice nods, relaxing a little hearing the honesty. He leans back in his seat and looks at Rooster thoughtfully. “I assume you were looking for this?” he asks, holding up the folder containing the report from Bradley’s tactical class.
Rooster nods, wincing. “I had a bit of a… disagreement with the Commander yesterday. We didn’t agree on the best way to approach a simulated mission. It got heated and he asked me to leave…” He trails off, shifting awkwardly.
He groans when Ice interrupts with a knowing glint darkening his gaze. “Did you disagree with him respectfully?”
“Uh, that probably depends who you ask, sir. I spoke respectfully…” Bradley insists. “I even called him sir.”
“Bradshaw, we’ve established before that you calling people sir doesn’t mean you’re being respectful. You forget that I know about your habit of using sarcasm as a side dish to your terms of respect, usually when you want to get under someone’s skin.” The older man pins him with a firm look. Rooster isn’t sure if he appreciates that Ice knew him so well or is just horrified about being called out like this. “Sir…” he tries.
“Am I wrong?”
“No, Ice…” he answers in a small voice. Last time he’d been here he was able to absorb Mav’s bravado but here, alone, having not even had a coffee yet he’s struggling not to wilt under the stern visage before him.
“So, you disrespected your commanding officer and got yourself dismissed from training. Then what?”
Rooster looks down at his hands, swallowing down his nerves. He glances off to the side, watching the leaves of the trees outside blowing in the early morning breeze. For a moment he’s quiet, but then he sighs in resignation. “Hondo warned me you might want to speak to me, sir. He mentioned a report, I guess he wanted to let me prepare for that.”
“And you decided the best course of action was what, exactly, to steal an official report and hope nobody noticed?” Ice has been doing a good job of remaining neutral but now he sounds incredulous.
Bradley feels his hackles rising despite his best efforts. “It could be a shock for you to know that spending the morning here being chewed out wasn’t on my list of things to do on my day off, sir…” he gets out through gritted teeth.
“And yet here you are, breaking and entering. What did you think you’d do with the file, exactly?”
“I hadn’t gotten that far, sir…” Bradley winces at the little at the snap he hears in his voice, but refuses to backpedal. He looks at Ice in frustration, because some of these questions seem unnecessary. It's not like he successfully liberated the file, after all. He quickly concludes that was the wrong answer based on the dangerous look Ice is sending his way.
“There is nobody here but you and me, Bradley. There’s nobody here for you to impress, because you’re certainly not impressing me.” Rooster swallows nervously, starting to register how much trouble he’s gotten himself into. His expression turns apologetic. Ice doesn’t give him time to apologise before he’s speaking again. “Now, let’s talk about you breaking into my office. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you, but there are no circumstances in which you break into my office. None. This is the kind of nonsense that Maverick pulls, Rooster, not you. Why didn’t you just come and talk to me?”
Bradley looks away. “You said you’d paddle me every day for my attitude. Why would I tell you and invite that, when the commander was wrong?”
“Regardless of how wrong you think a senior officer is, you show them respect. They have earned those titles and they’re using their knowledge and experience to teach you. They’ve been in your shoes before.”
“Oh come on, Mav’s been proving them wrong for years trusting his gut.”
“He’s also had his ass paddled each and every time he speaks out of turn,” Ice informs him.
Rooster scoffs. “I seriously doubt that, sir.”
“You’re not helping yourself out, Bradshaw. I’ve been paddling Mav for three decades, we’ve done a lot of work on his attitude. By some miracle, it seems to have worked wonders and he does a pretty good job these days. Disagreeing or asking questions is okay, doing it rudely isn’t. I know you were dragged up better than that, kid.”
Bradley tries not to flinch at the reminder, hands curling into fists. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”
“You’ve told me that before, yet here we are,” Iceman counters, steel in his voice. “I plan to make sure that lesson sticks this time. Before I do that, I’d like to know when you took that lock picking kit. Mav told me he stored it where he couldn’t use it.”
Bradley sighs. He doesn’t really want to answer that either. “I, uh, found it…” he admits, not sure how to keep Maverick out of it.
“Where?”
“Sir…”
“Rooster.”
The man in question groans. “Maverick’s locker?”
“Wait… You have his code?”
“He hasn’t changed it in years,” Rooster shrugs. “It’s always been Dad’s birthday.”
Sympathy flickers in his godfather’s eyes and the hard set of the man’s shoulders eases a little. “He should probably do that,” he says mildly, smiling a little. He also thinks to himself that Maverick definitely didn’t put it out of reach like he promised. He sighs inwardly. “Okay, so you found it in his locker. Do you even know how to use this thing?” He holds up the lock picking kit.
“No, sir… it took me forty minutes to open the door.” He groans. “Don’t know how Mav does it.”
Ice laughs, despite the situation. “He has too much practice. Don’t try to copy him in developing those skills, it’s not worth it.” He taps the desk thoughtfully for a minute. “Well, Lieutenant, I have to admit I’m impressed. Not many people in my career have managed to wrack up this much trouble this early in the morning.”
Rooster squirms at the man’s raised eyebrows. “Sorry, Sir. Guess I panicked a little.”
“Bradley, I need you to answer something honestly for me. Can you do that?”
“Yes sir.”
“Were you scared at the prospect of me finding out?”
“No, sir… I just didn’t want to get paddled a bunch. That shit hurts.”
Ice snorts. “Kind of the whole point of doing it. I’m going to give you a choice, against my better judgement.”
Rooster looks up, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes.
“You can take a paddling today, then two more this week,” Ice begins, eyes unwavering as he watches Rooster’s reactions. “Or I can wear you out with my belt and we settle the score today. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess this morning.”
Rooster stares at him, a little taken aback. On the one hand, he recognises what Ice is doing by giving him some say in the matter, but it’s an impossible choice and one that he doesn’t want to make. He swallows down his nerves, rubbing at his neck. It takes him a long while to speak. “I think… uh, belt, sir. I don’t want that hanging over me.”
Ice nods, considering his answer for a moment before standing. Rooster follows suit nervously, wondering if he’s made a mistake as he glances at Ice’s dress belt looped through his slacks. He grimaces, thinking to himself that he’s committed now. His own belt is unfastened with shaky hands when Ice stops him, holding out an expectant hand. Rooster looks at him in confusion. “Sir?” He asks, not sure he wants the answer.
“I think we’ll use your belt actually, Lieutenant Bradshaw, see if the reminder of it there with you might help you remember to rein in the disrespect in future,” Ice explains smoothly, quirking a brow meaningfully.
Bradley flushes from head to toe, gaping for what feels like an eternity before he recovers. “Sir, that isn’t necessary…” he pleads, resorting to his most repentant look. It never really worked that well on Ice growing up but it was occasionally successful with his Mom and Mav.
Ice just returns the look calmly. “That isn’t your decision to make. I can wait as long as I need to, but I’m keeping a tally, Bradshaw. Is it worth dragging this out?”
He ducks his head, fumbling with his belt as he pulls it out the loops and thrusts it towards, heart thumping against his ribcage. Ice accepts it and picks up the chair Rooster vacated a moment before, setting it down away from the desk before he can bend over the cool wood. “Drop ‘em and bend over the back of this.”
“Sir, I usually bend over the desk…” Rooster points out with a frown.
“And I’m trying a different approach to see if the lesson sticks better. I shouldn’t have to repeat the same lesson two weeks later, kid. Go on.”
He groans but shoves his jeans down to his knees, giving his godfather a pleading look. “They can stay.” He relaxes a touch at the confirmation and bends over the chair, quickly realizing the reason for the new position. With him bent over the back of the chair, his butt’s well positioned for Ice to get his sit spots and thighs. He grimaces, thinking that none of the events in the past twenty hours have been worth what’s to come.
- - - - -
Ice waits for Rooster to get into place, relieved the kid hasn’t inherited Maverick’s ability to keep digging once he’s been confronted. His list of infractions is quite something, especially for Rooster, and Ice feels a mixture of concern and disappointment warring within him. The young man is one of the best pilots they have, Ice is proud of the work ethic and tenacity, especially in light of Mav pulling Rooster’s papers years before, but he’s observed the deterioration in the behaviour of both men lately and it’s time to start putting an end to it.
He folds the wide leather belt over, thinking it looks vaguely familiar, and steps close to Rooster. “You understand why you’re about to lose your ability to sit comfortably for a few days?” he prompts, tapping the leather against the kid’s cotton briefs as finds his target.
“Yes sir…” The words are spoken softly, Bradley’s nerves clear.
“Tell me.”
He groans. “Sir…” he protests.
Ice lets his non dominant hand land heavily, catching the tops of his thighs. “Let me know when you’re ready to continue.” He focuses on those heavy swats waiting for Bradley to concede. It doesn’t take long.
“Shit! Okay, sir… wait!” Rooster shifts his hips uncomfortably, scrambling to answer as Ice pauses the impromptu spanking. “I got kicked out of tactical training, borrowed Mav’s lock picking kit and broke into your office…”
Ice nods at the back of Bradley’s head. “And why were you dismissed from training?”
It takes a moment for the kid to answer reluctantly. “My commander didn’t like my attitude, sir.”
“Try again.” His hand falls again, encouraging him to answer properly.
“Ow–shit! Because I was disrespectful, sir.”
“Mm. We’ve talked about that attitude of yours, haven’t we?”
“Uh, yes sir… Ice, I’m sorry.”
Ice doesn’t usually expect Rooster to speak to him in a particular way, especially behind closed doors, but today he falls back on title hoping to drive the lesson home. “I’m not uncle Ice right now, it’s Admiral Kasansky or sir.”
“Sorry, sir…” Bradley squirms. “Yeah, we’ve talked about it… sir.”
“I don’t make a habit of repeating myself, Rooster, as you’re about to find out. Next time, you won’t get a choice and you’ll regret the disrespect. Do you understand me? If you don’t, ask Maverick what disrespectful attitudes get you around here. He learned that lesson the hard way. I suggest you don’t make the same mistake.”
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again…”
Ice decides he’s made his point with words and taps the belt down once more before raising it and swinging it down sharply, making the kid grunt in surprise. He paces the stripes so that as the burn of one reaches its peak the next one lands, the sound of it making Rooster jump in the otherwise quiet room. Bradley does a good job of staying still and trying not to cause a fuss, though he yelps and curses his way through the hiding Ice gives him.
He recognises the change in Rooster’s breathing and considers stopping now, but remembers he offered this in lieu of three paddlings and sets his jaw, continuing to light his butt up for him. Bradshaw’s yelps are softer and Ice recognises the way the kid’s white-knuckling the seat beneath him to stay in place. His legs are trembling a little with effort and there are glimpses of angry red visible through the white Calvin Kleins. Ice lays his free hand on the kid’s back, pushing him forward a little and pressing down enough to guarantee he won’t push himself upright, something he was prone to trying in his younger years.
“Nearly finished…” he murmurs, steeling himself and focusing the final dozen across his more sensitive undercurve and upper thighs, letting the stripes overlap so that Bradley will feel the evidence whenever he sits down over the coming days. He lets out the breath he hadn’t realised he’s been holding, rubbing Rooster’s back for a minute.
Rooster sniffles, sucking in a shaky breath. “Jesus, Ice…”
“I know. Are you going to watch your attitude though?” He asks in a steady voice, trying to keep the kid focused.
“Yeah, I’ll be more careful.”
Ice nods and lets him up, waiting while the young man he sees as his own drags his jeans up with a hiss and some muffled curses Ice hasn’t heard before. He decides he doesn’t want to know. Let the current lieutenants keep their secrets. He catches Rooster by the scruff of his neck, his trademark move with the younger pilot, and pulls him in against his shoulder. “I don’t like having to do that, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you on the right path, Bradley.”
He hears the kid sniffle, breath coming out in shaky bursts as he reigns in his emotions, and lets him take as long as he needs. It takes longer than sometimes, but that’s not really surprising. He usually reserves his tougher love for Maverick, and Bradley’s not had to face it in over a decade. He steps back and offers his godson a smile, eyes softer than they’ve been all morning. “You and Maverick have been leading each other astray, hmm?”
Bradley’s brows draw together as he considers the question before he shakes his head, shifting in embarrassment and looking away. “Uh, no sir… I don’t think this is a me and Mav thing…” It’s a soft admission that Ice has to concentrate to hear properly.
“Ah, I see. Trying to figure out where you stand with me then?” He asks knowingly.
Rooster shrugs but the tell tale heat coloring his cheeks gives him away. Ice’s smile grows. “Look at me, kid,” he prompts, leaning forward and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “We’re the same as we’ve ever been, kid. You’re still very important to me, and I still love and care about you and want to see you thrive. There are still boundaries and consequences when you screw up. I promise.”
Bradley looks into his eyes, searching for something he must eventually find because he offers Ice a shaky nod and relaxes a fraction. Ice hands him back his belt, still looking intrigued as he tries to place it.
“It was my dad’s…” Rooster admits softly, hands shaking a little as he returns it to his hips. Ice thinks that’s probably made the lesson all the more memorable for the young man squirming before him and nods his understanding. He smiles when Rooster speaks with a worried expression before he can comment. “Wait, sir, what about the commander?”
“Leave him to me, I’ll let him know I’ve handled it,” Ice tells him easily. He doesn’t mention that he’ll have a word with the commander and find out what the man said to trigger Rooster, because the kid usually reserves his sarcastic non-respect for Mav and Ice these days. “And I’ll be able to assure him this won’t happen again. Right?” He lets some steel bleed into his voice, rewarded when Rooster gulps and nods immediately.
“Yes sir,” The junior officer tells him earnestly. “Never.”
Ice fights a chuckle, thinking that’s probably optimistic on Rooster’s part. Instead of saying that, though, he reaches out to mess his hair, thinking it must be getting long if he can see the slight curl of it at his temples. He glances at his watch, grinning when Bradley shifts away, pulling a face and trying to fix his hair. “I have an hour before my next meeting, how about we go and hunt down a decent coffee and a bagel?”
Rooster breaks into a genuine smile, eyes twinkling, and nods. “Uh, yeah. I’d like that, sir.”
“Come on, we’ll take my car. It’s more comfortable than yours, there’s more padding in the seats.” He winks at Rooster, laughing at his blush as he nudges him towards the door and locks up behind them.