Archive of Our Own

Hangman glanced back over his shoulder with his usual amused expression and shrugged, “Addie maybe, but she’s probably it.”

“Who the fuck is Addie?”  

Coyote making his way to the plane next to Phoenix, answered for Hangman who’d already started jogging towards Hondo for pushup duty, “That’s Hangman’s prop plane. Keeps it in the hangar at the civilian airport.”

“So this is the famous Addie.” Rooster slapped the side of the plane appreciatively. He could see why Hangman liked her so much. She was a beauty, a few years past her prime but meticulously maintained.

“That it is.” Hangman absently agreed as he made his last checks to the logs.

“Did you buy her new?” Rooster asked, gently running a hand over the propeller blade as he made one last pass around the outside of the plane.

Hangman shook his head, closing the books before finally turning his attention to Rooster. “Nah, I saved it from some cheap asshole who didn’t know what he had. Pieced it back together with some help from a mechanic friend. Took about five years to get it airworthy again, but it was worth every minute.”

“She can make it all the way to Texas?”

Hangman rolled his eyes at Rooster. “It can go as long as I can, Rooster.” Hangman loaded his tone with all sorts of innuendo.

Rooster made a gagging noise, and Hangman chuckled, opening the pilot’s side door of the plane. “Get in, Rooster. Ma’s gonna be pissed if I’m late.”

Maverick and Penny had both invited Rooster to come with them. They’d been emphatic that he wouldn’t be a bother, that he was more than welcome, that he was part of the family. But Rooster just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Ever since their first mission back at Top Gun, Rooster had been working on things with Maverick. He’d caught Maverick up on all the things he’d missed out on in his life: the relationships, the accolades, the friends and the enemies. In return, Maverick had a heart-to-heart with him about why he’d pulled his papers from the academy, finally opening up about his mother’s last wish. Both of them had made strides towards regaining the familial relationship they’d had when he was growing up.

But this was just a step too far too soon.

Penny’s parents were hosting her and Amelia for Christmas this year, and they’d invited Maverick and Rooster to come along. Maverick because of his surprisingly steady relationship with their daughter, and Rooster as his nephew of sorts.

The last time he’d sat down with Maverick for the holidays, Maverick told him he was pulling his papers. It was just too much for Rooster, this year at least. He meant it when he told Maverick he wanted to work on it, but relationships like theirs weren’t repaired overnight. He needed time to ease into this, and Christmas, the holidays, felt like the last hurdle, not the first.

Despite Maverick and Penny’s protest, Rooster was planning to stay on base, order some Chinese food, and watch the greatest Christmas movie of all time – of course, Die Hard.

It was Hangman who’d been the one to really interrupt his plan.

“Hey, dickhead,” Hangman ripped the covers off of Rooster’s bed. “Get up and pack. You’re coming with me.”

“W-What?” Rooster raised a hand to block the sunlight streaming in the window. He was still asleep when Hangman loudly barged into his room. It was supposed to be a day off, so he wasn’t exactly alert.

 “You heard me. Up. Pack. You’ll only be gone a week and a half. It shouldn’t take you long. Now get a move on.”

Rooster propped himself up on his elbows, still a bit tired and very confused as he watched Hangman. The other pilot was ambling around his room like he owned the place, throwing open his closet and callously tearing through it till he found Rooster’s duffle bag on the top shelf, which he promptly flung across the room onto the end of Rooster’s bed.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hangman?”

Hangman turned on Rooster with a look of utter exasperation. “I’m not letting you stick around in this godforsaken dorm alone while the rest of us go home. I’ll never hear the end of your sob stories if people find out, and my Ma would never forgive me if she found out I let someone spend Christmas alone so...”

Hangman ripped the first shirt out of Rooster’s closet that his hand touched and tossed it to him. It was one of his many god-awful Hawaiian t-shirts. “Get dressed. We leave in an hour.”

Hangman marched out of Rooster’s room as quickly as he entered.

In his mind, Rooster told himself it was as surface level as Hangman said, that his mother would be mad at him if he left someone alone in the dorms or that he couldn’t stand to hear people fawn over Rooster’s loneliness when they got back, but in reality he knew better.

No one else in the squad had thought to ask where he was going for the holidays. No one else had thought to invite him around.

It brought a smile to Rooster’s face.

His association with Hangman didn’t have the best of starts, but since the mission, the anger and rivalry had really been more of an amusing façade than anything. They both knew it. Rooster had seen a glimpse of a different Hangman when he wasn’t picked for the mission and when he’d flown in to save the day. He’d never say it to anyone, and Hangman would kill him if he tried, but he was pretty sure he could count them as friends now.

“Ma!” Hangman called, tossing his bag beside the door as he kicked off his shoes. “I’m home!”

Rooster followed Hangman’s example and pulled off his shoes, cautiously setting them down beside the door. His duffle still hung from his shoulder. He wasn’t just being careful because this wasn’t his house. Rooster was also being careful because it might very well have been the nicest house he’d ever seen. Logically, he knew kicking off his shoes as Hangman had would not damage the gorgeous stone floors, but he still set them aside with an immense amount of care.

Everything about this house was beautiful, massive, and pristine. The foyer was a natural stone floor leading up to the base of a gorgeous, central staircase with intricately twisting railings that led up and around a second-floor mezzanine. The stone floor gave way to wood on either side of the foyer where, on the left, a set of glass doors showed through on a formal sitting room and, on the right, a more traditional, though still incredibly extravagant living room.

“Jake!” Someone shouted from upstairs. “Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” Hangman called back. He wandered into the house, waving for Rooster to follow him. “We have company.” He added offhandedly.

There was a scurrying sound upstairs, doors slamming, loud footsteps.

“I’d stand back,” Hangman murmured to Rooster as another set of footsteps, then another, joined the parade that seemed to be forming upstairs.

Rooster didn’t really know what Hangman was getting at, but he did as he was told, wandering several steps back and away from Hangman just as three blonde heads came stampeding out onto the floor at the top of the stairs.

“JAKE!”

Rooster wasn’t sure which of the heads – or maybe it was all three – shouted at Hangman, but a hoard of limbs and hair came tumbling down the stairs directly for him. Hangman seemed to expect this, and he stuck his arms out, only falling back a step or two to brace himself as all three people flung themselves at him at once.

“I missed y’all too,” Hangman laughed, a genuine fully bellied, head thrown back laugh, as random arms stuck out and flung themselves around him to hug him.

Rooster was only just making out the people in the mass of bodies wrapped up in Hangman’s arms. It looked like three tall, blonde women in a mismatch of blue jeans and plaid that spelled out Texas as clearly as any sign could.

“When did you get back?” One of the women extracted herself from Hangman and grinned up at him as she asked.

“Just now. Rooster and I just flew into the airfield.”

The woman who asked the question turned on him first, but the other two quickly pulled back at the mention of a newcomer.

“Don’t bite,” Hangman quickly warned them before he circled around to stand beside Rooster in front of the women. Clapping his hands on each of Rooster’s shoulders by way of introduction, “Y’all, this is Rooster. Rooster, these are my sisters: Kaitlin, Andrea, and Veronica. Or just Kate, Andy, and Ronnie.” He pointed at each woman in turn.

From the moment they turned on him, Rooster knew they were Hangman’s sisters. He actually didn’t know Jake had sisters, but there was no mistaking these women for anything else. He could’ve run into them in a supermarket last week before he knew they existed, and he still would’ve known exactly who they were.

The oldest of the trio, the one Hangman had pointed out as Kaitlin, could’ve been Hangman’s twin. They had to be the same age or very nearly so, and they certainly looked enough alike. She was the female Jake Seresin in every way. Tall and toned, with the same nose and mouth, and a sharpness to her eyes that wreaked of witty retorts and teasing jabs.

Veronica, the one who asked the question, was clearly younger than Jake, but also certainly older than Andrea. She was just as blonde as Hangman or Kaitlin, but her hair had a lot more curl to it than any of her siblings. It was really the only thing that distinguished her from Andrea. They looked as alike as Jake and Kaitlin. Both on the shorter side compared to their siblings, with rounder cheeks and kinder smiles.

“Ladies,” Rooster gave a polite nod and stuck out his hand to the nearest sister, Andrea, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Please tell me Rooster is your callsign and not your name,” Kaitlin grinned as Rooster made the rounds shaking hands with each of them.

Rooster chuckled as his hand came to her last, “It’s Bradley, if you prefer.”

“We do.” Kaitlin accepted and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” Veronica leaned over and poked a finger into Hangman’s stomach. “We’re not exactly fans of call signs round here.”

It was interesting to Rooster that Hangman’s sisters, his family in general, knew his callsign, and Rooster wondered if they knew how he’d earned it, if they objected to his behavior, to his being called out, or just to the idea that it had happened at all.

Hangman rolled his eyes and dropped the hand he’d left on Rooster’s shoulder. “Well Rooster’s a bit more palatable of a name than Hangman.” Walking back to the door and picking up his bag, Hangman asked, “Where’s Ma?”

“At the store. She thought she had time before you got home,” Kaitlin answered, reaching out a hand to take his bag. “Give your friend the tour. We’ll take your stuff up.”

“Yeah, we’ll totally take your bags upstairs,” Andrea leaned over at the waist, leaving space to see straight down the half-buttoned plaid shirt she was wearing. She reached for the strap of Rooster’s bag and slipped a finger gently between it and his shoulder, tugging it slowly, almost seductively.

“Hey,” Hangman immediately clocked what she was doing and snapped his fingers. He stared her down over the top of a finger pointed at Andrea. “No,” he commanded.

Rooster could feel his face turning red, but Hangman wasn’t watching him in the slightest, and neither was Andrea anymore. She was already laughing at Hangman’s dad-like tone and running off upstairs with Rooster’s duffle over her shoulder.

“I mean it Andy!” Hangman shouted after her, grabbing the edge of the bannister and leaning around to watch her as she ran across the mezzanine. “He’s weak willed, and I won’t have you corrupting him!”

Kaitlin snorted and hoisted Hangman’s bag up onto her shoulder. “Welcome home, Bradley,” She supplied with an amused look as she took to the stairs after Andrea.

Veronica lingered for a second as Kaitlin disappeared upstairs. “Does anyone else know your home yet?” Her expression was curious and disarming, but her tone was pointed.

Hangman huffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “No, Ronnie, I haven’t told her yet. She’s still at work. Can you call Ma and tell her I’m home and that Rooster’s here too?”

“’Course.” Veronica pulled out her phone and walked towards the sitting room in the entryway. “But I’m not telling her, that’s on you.”

It took a second, in the aftermath of the chaos, for Rooster’s mind to catch up with everything. “I’m sorry, Hangman; I…”

Hangman waved him off dismissively. He clearly already knew where this was going. “Andy always flirts with any friend I bring in. She’s just doin’ it to mess with me.”

Rooster nodded, happy to agree to that explanation. He didn’t have a sister himself, but he wouldn’t want Hangman hooking up with her if he did have one, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. He wasn’t about to get himself thrown out of Hangman’s house in the middle of god-only-knows-where, Texas.

“She’s telling your mom I’m here now?” Rooster thumbed back in the direction Veronica had gone, trying to redirect the conversation, “Does your mom not know I’m here?”

“I literally invited you at,” Hangman checked his watch, “5 A.M. today. It was way too early to call them.”

“Hangman,” Rooster sighed and pointed upstairs in the direction his bag had disappeared, “I can just get my stuff and go find a hotel. I’m not gonna put your family out.”

“Rooster, look around.” Hangman gave him an utterly exasperated look and gestured vaguely to the room they were standing in. “Does it look like one extra guest is gonna to put my Ma out?”

Rooster looked around. The easiest answer was no; it didn’t. Rooster couldn’t tell how many rooms there were in the house, but he knew it was a lot. From the outside, it was obviously three-stories tall, and he was pretty sure the little bungalow he grew up in could fit entirely in the entry and the living room.

“This is really your house then.” He slowly turned on the spot to get the full effect. It screamed Hangman.

Hangman nodded and waved Rooster around the side of the stairs, “It’s called oil money, Rooster. Welcome to Texas.”

“Oh honey, you didn’t tell me you were bringin’ another pilot with you.” Hangman’s mother was the definition of a southern bell. Thick southern accent, curvy figure wrapped in a flowery sun dress, perfectly styled hair, striking blue eyes and a smile as bright as a lightbulb turning on. She was beautiful woman, and Rooster instantly knew where Hangman and his sisters got their model-esque looks from.

She came in, just as much of a whirlwind as her daughters, and immediately threw her arms around her son’s neck, loudly declaring how sad she was that she hadn’t been there when he arrived. Hangman hugged her tightly to him without response for several long moments before she interrupted the silence with a flurry of questions for him all of which he answered.

Hangman pretended to be annoyed with her fussing over his clothes and whether he’d been eating enough, but Rooster could see from where he was standing off to the side that the annoyance didn’t touch his eyes.

It was nice, Rooster thought, that he’d finally found something that made the unshakeable Hangman lose some of his bravado. The way Hangman’s smirk melted into a real, genuine smile when he saw his sisters and his mother, none of the squad would believe Rooster if he told them. Not that he would. That was how he’d repay Hangman for this week. By keeping all of it to himself and allowing him to maintain his mask as the egotistical, carefree asshole.

Really, it was sweet, the way his mother fawned over him and the way Hangman was secretly amused by it. It reminded Rooster of his own mom. The way she’d check him over the moment he came through the door after a sleepover at a friend’s house. The way she rushed through her morning routine to help get him ready for school on time. The way she wouldn’t let him leave the car without a kiss on the cheek and an ‘I-love-you’.

He could feel an emotion, not a good one, bubbling up in his chest watching someone else get the love he so desperately craved. But it was squashed the moment Mrs. Seresin turned on him.

“Now honey,” Mrs. Seresin took hold of both of Rooster’s arms and smiled up at him, practically beaming, “I hope my boy’s been a good host and offered you somethin’ to drink.”

“He’s got a water on the counter, Ma.” Hangman leaned against the kitchen counter with an amused grin playing at the edge of his lips. This was, clearly, the usual for his mom.

“Now why on earth has he got water,” Mrs. Seresin pouted, appraising him with the same eyes she’d given Hangman, “Look at this boy, Jake.” She poked Rooster in the arm. “We gotta get some meat on his bones.”

“Ma’am, I…”

“None of that Ma’am and Mrs. now, Honey. Any friend of Jake’s is welcome round here, and anyone welcome round here can call me Ma,” Mrs. Seresin gave Rooster a tight, two-armed hug around the waist that he instinctively returned, “or Debbie, if Ma’s too much for you. Jake used to get onto me for ‘adopting’ his friends.”

“Don’t worry Ma. I finally brought you a stray. I spared him from a Christmas in the dorms eating takeout and watching bad tv till the rest of us got back.” Hangman said it conspiratorially, like it was the most atrocious existence his mother could imagine and not like it had been Rooster’s reality for five of his last six Christmases.

Mrs. Seresin froze, only halfway pulled out of the hug she’d given Rooster. “Now that,” she said, more to herself than either of the pilots occupying the room, “will absolutely not do.”

“Young man,” she took both of Rooster’s hands and firmly gripped them in hers, “you are always welcome round here. If you’re ever out of a place to go on any holiday, you come knock on my door.”

Hangman silently observed the interaction, eyes darting between his mother and Rooster as he pursed his lips to hide a smirk. From his earlier comments, it was obvious Hangman knew exactly how his mother would react, but there was no way he could know how it would make Rooster feel.

Rooster didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the earnest older woman staring up at him. She meant every word of it; that much was obvious from her wide, doe eyes that bored into his with such desperate need to be helpful, a feature she had very much not passed on to her son. There was something deeply caring in this woman, the way she held his hands and pleaded for him to return. It wasn’t his mom, but it felt, for a moment like a ghost of her. Like this woman had been sent, not by Hangman, but by her. “Yes ma’am.” The words caught in his throat.

“Ma,” Hangman interrupted as the woman’s mouth began to open, no doubt to scold Rooster for saying ma’am. “Can you give us a minute? I’m gonna give Rooster the rundown on everyone before people start turning up.”

“Turning up?” Rooster looked up at Hangman, finally pulling back from his mother.

“Barbecue this afternoon, it’s a homecoming tradition. It’s nothing fancy, but it is lots of people.”

Hangman never gave Rooster the rundown on anyone. He grabbed his fellow pilot’s arm and tugged him upstairs to show him where he’d be sleeping. The bigger of the guest rooms was on the third floor between Hangman’s room and the master. Hangman grabbed Rooster’s bag from a smaller room on the second floor and hauled it upstairs ‘away from Andy’, as Hangman put it.

“My Ma can be a bit… maternal.” Hangman tossed Rooster’s bag on the bed and sidestepped out of the doorway so Rooster can come in. “It’s a bit much sometimes. If you need some distance, just let me know.”

“She’s great.” Rooster dismissed, probably too quickly. Hangman was probably right; he probably should think about how much parental energy he could handle. But the natural instinct to defy everything Hangman said was always lurking in the back of his mind.

Hangman nodded, not really believing Rooster anyway. “Well, I’ll give you a few minutes. We should be back downstairs in about half an hour to help out before people start turning up. There’ll be picnic tables and such to set up in the yard, and last time Ma left Ronnie in charge of that Andy broke a finger.”

“Hey,” Rooster stopped Hangman as he turned to leave. “Thanks… for this. It’s…” Rooster didn’t really have the words. “It’s surprisingly nice of you.”

Hangman, not really knowing what else to say, nodded and made a swift, albeit awkward exit from the room.

“Twenty bucks?” Payback pulled the bill out of his wallet and laid it down on the edge of the table.

“Really Payback,” Coyote called over to him. “It’s not worth it. He’s not bluffing this time.”

It was true. Hangman was not bluffing about his darts skills when he said he was the best shot in the squad. Coyote knew that. Hangman knew that. But Payback didn’t believe that. Payback was pretty good at darts, and over the course of the night before Hangman arrived, he’d bested everyone else in the squad. It was, he figured, only a matter of time before he reigned supreme.

“He’s right.” Hangman agreed with Coyote, “I can’t take your money. It’d be like stealing.”

“Or you’re just scared of losing,” Phoenix egged Hangman on. She’d lost to Payback handily in the last round, so she was pretty aware of how good a thrower Payback was.

“I never said that,” Hangman smirked, “I just don’t think we should be betting money that he’s so clearly going to lose. You’ll be calling me a con artist when it’s over.”

Payback crossed one arm over his chest and stroked his chin with the other hand, “Well if we’re not betting money… How about we bet a ride in Addie? I bet I could show her a good time.”

The smirk staled on Hangman’s face, and his jaw clenched. “Addie’s off the table.”

The whole room laughed, and suddenly Hangman’s objections to robbing Payback blind dropped away.

“God, is this the whole neighborhood?” Rooster asked, looking out over the mass of people mingling in the Seresin’s backyard.

Kate Seresin, Rooster’s current partner at the picnic table, gave a hum of acknowledgment, “It is for now. By the end of the night it’ll be more.”

“Jesus,” Rooster whistled. They had to be just shy of fifty already.

Kate didn’t seem phased, “I mean Jake is kind of the golden boy, hometown hero around here. Small town boy forsakes his life of riches to join the Navy and becomes the greatest fighter pilot of his generation.”

“Debatable.” Rooster immediately shot back at her last comment.

Kate smirked, grabbing a grape off of the fruit platter at the center of their picnic table. “I don’t know about that. Top of his class, two medals for valor, two confirmed kills.” She raised a knowing eyebrow at Rooster as she popped the grape in her mouth, “How many kills do you have again?”

“Did Jake tell you to say that?” Rooster asked her.

“No,” Kate shot back with a teasing glint in her eye. “I happen to love my brother and pay attention to what he’s doing.” The pair went silent for a second before Kate said, “He told me one of those kills saved your ass.”

“It did.” Rooster would grudge Hangman a lot of things, but he would never grudge him that.

Kate picked up another grape and threw it at Rooster. It hit him squarely in the center of the forehead before it bounced off and rolled away across the table. “Well then, take that frown off your face and let him have his moment. (Y/n) hasn’t even got here yet.”

“Who’s (Y/n)?”

As if the Devil had been spoken of, behind Kate, a beautiful, young woman in blue jeans and a tank top burst out of the house and frantically scanned the yard outside looking for something.

“Kate!” She shouted when her eyes zeroed in on the two at the picnic table. “Where is he?” The woman asked, rushing over to them. “They said he was here already.”

“Bradley,” Kate laughed, “This chaotic piece of work is (Y/n). (Y/n), this is Jake’s wingman, Bradley.”

“Hi,” In her rush, (Y/n) only gave him a half smile before turning back to Kate, “And Jake is?”

“Over here gorgeous!”

(Y/n) whirled on the spot.

Hangman stood in the doorway the woman had just come from, carrying a couple of full glasses in each hand, but the moment he saw her turn to him, Hangman relieved himself of the glasses on the nearest flat surface.

(Y/n), like his sisters and mother before her, bolted across the deck and flung herself, full force, into Hangman’s outstretched arms.

Hangman caught her with one arm around her waist and lifted her feet off the ground. His other hand immediately went to the back of her head and held it tight against him as he buried his nose in her hair. His eyes had fallen shut the moment she was in his embrace, and he seemed to be entirely unconscious of the way he was swinging her back and forth against him.

He’d seen Hangman greet and hug a lot of family and friends today, but to Rooster, it was immediately and painfully obvious that this one was different.

“That,” Kate took a swig of her beer then used the neck of her bottle to point after them, “is (Y/n).” Her eyes lingered on the pair in the doorway with a sad smile.

Rooster nodded along, not taking his eyes off the pair, “I can see that… and she is?”

Kate turned back around to stare Rooster down. “What?” It was the first time since he’d stepped through the door that someone, Hangman included, had raised their voice. The look on Kate’s face was somewhere north of shocked and just south of offended. “You don’t know who (Y/n) is?”

Rooster shook his head.

Kate seemed like she didn’t believe him, “Surely, you know Addie.”

Rooster snorted, “The plane? Yeah, how do you think we got here.”

“No, no, no, no,” Kate was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence, “The plane is named after Addie. That,” she pointed the beer bottle back at the couple once again, “is Addie.”

Rooster followed the bottle back to (Y/n).

(Y/n) was back on solid ground, but she hadn’t escaped Hangman’s arms. Both were around her waist, pulling her into him where her palms steadied her against his chest. Hangman was looking down like he was in absolute awe of her existence, as if the sun had only risen that day so that he could look at this woman. She was grinning back up at him just as brightly, happily chatting away about something Rooster couldn’t make out. Whatever it was, Hangman didn’t seem to be giving it much of his attention; he seemed a little too dazzled by the woman herself to concentrate on what she was saying at the moment.

“Are they…” Rooster trailed off, not sure what he was about to ask.

Kate shrugged, “Madly in love? Yes. Dating? No.”

“Why not?”

“Ask him.” Kate suggested, “Better yet, make him get off his ass and do something about it.” Kate shoved off the picnic table and wandered away in the direction of her sisters.

Hangman stayed in the doorway with (Y/n), completely oblivious to the world around him for another five minutes. At some point he recovered from his daze, and the two were going back and forth, laughing and smiling, as they engrossed themselves in a discussion only they could hear.

It was a side of Hangman Rooster had never seen. It was a side of Hangman Rooster wasn’t sure existed. The closest he’d come to seeing something like this from the fighter pilot was after they’d completed the uranium mission and Hangman had saved his life. On the deck of the aircraft carrier, he’d seen a rare glimpse of Hangman’s humanity, a peak at some humble, good-natured guy that lurked underneath. Hangman had quickly stowed that and any other sentiment away, but his mask had been a little thinner ever since. This, what was happening in front of him, was ripping his mask off completely.

Hangman reached a hand up from (Y/n)’s waist to brush a flyaway hair back into place when he caught Rooster’s eye in his peripheral vision. Hangman smiled at him and leaned down to whisper to (Y/n).

The woman whipped around in his arms and spotted Rooster watching them. He thought for a second she might be angry at him for staring at their private moment, but before he could divert his gaze away she broke out yet another smile. Grabbing hold of Hangman, she towed the pilot over to Rooster’s table.

“So you’re the famous Rooster. I’ve heard so much about you!” (Y/n) swung a leg over to straddle the bench opposite Rooster and join him.

Hangman used the bench as a step and sat on the edge of the wood tabletop next to (Y/n), his hand still resting on her shoulder. “(Y/n), this is Rooster. Rooster, this is…”

“Addie,” Rooster corrected Hangman before he even spoke. “Kate was just telling me they call you Addie.”

(Y/n) laughed, “Not quite. Maybe back in the day, but only Jake calls me that anymore. We were kind of hell raisers back in the day, and my dad used to say we were adrenaline junkie. Adrenaline. Addie.” She traced the origins of the childhood nickname for Rooster while her fingers, seemingly subconsciously, traced lines on the back of Hangman’s hand. “You’re welcome to call me that though, or whatever else sticks. I don’t know what horrible nicknames Jake gives me while I’m not around.”

“Nothing too bad, just the usual,” Hangman promised with a grin, “Ursula, Satan, Demon.”

Like a little kid, (Y/n) stuck her tongue out at Hangman. “Meanie.”

“You’ve called me worse,” He brushed it off.

“He’s called you a lot worse, I bet,” (Y/n) turned her attention back to Rooster. “I’d love to get all the details from you. Jake’s never brought any of his pilot friends home.”

“That’s because I don’t have any, Addie.” Hangman said it while making eye contact with Rooster. It wasn’t wholly true, but they both knew it was more true than not.

(Y/n) however seemed completely unwilling to believe that. “If that’s true than who the hell are the random people you always call to talk to me about on the phone.” (Y/n) turned her full attention to Rooster, addressing him like she was letting him in on a secret, “Really if I have to hear one more time how great this Bob guy is or how badass Phoenix’s flying is on the course I’m going to think he’s replaced me.”

She very much was letting him in on a secret. Whether she knew that or was just egging Hangman on, Rooster wasn’t sure. But the flash of warning in Hangman’s eyes told Rooster that Hangman at the very least was aware of the importance of what (Y/n) was disclosing and was not going to let it go any farther than this table.

“They can’t replace you. I doubt Bob owns a single pair of cowboy boots.” Hangman redirected in a tone that was far more teasing than the look he was sending to Rooster.

“We could definitely get him a pair.” (Y/n) looked up at Hangman with a grin, “Come on. It’d be really funny, you walking back onto base with bags and bags of cowboy boots for everyone.”

“It would, and you would,” Hangman agreed, “which is precisely why you’re never setting foot on base.”

(Y/n) gave a pout at that. It was, quite clearly, something they’d discussed before, if not in great detail than at least in a similar joking manner.

Rooster, ever one to get under Hangman’s skin, couldn’t help leaning in and telling her, “Don’t worry, Doll. I can get you on base.” Her face practically split in two from the smile.

“So, that’s Addie.”

A couple hours into the party (Y/n) finally left Hangman’s side and ran off to mingle with a group including his sister Ronnie.

Rooster hadn’t made much of an effort to mingle himself. Between the two of them, (Y/n) and Hangman faithfully introduced him to everyone in the long que of people who came up to welcome Hangman home. (Y/n) made a point to tell each and every one of them that Rooster was a highly decorated TopGun pilot too and a good friend of Hangman’s, and everyone had returned the information with a thanks for his service or enthusiastic welcome.

(Y/n) only pried herself away from Hangman when his sister started loudly calling out questions to her across the yard, and she was forced to leave to answer them.

“That’s Addie,” Hangman never took his eyes off her back.

“When you said…” Rooster trailed off for a second, not entirely sure it was something he should bring up but also unable to stop himself, “When you said you only cared about one thing.”

“I meant her, not the plane.” Hangman didn’t hesitate to confirm Rooster’s suspicions. Casually taking a sip of his beer, he added, “She’s my best friend.”

Rooster cocked an eyebrow, “She’s a bit more than your best friend.”

“She’s not,” Hangman corrected. He risked looking away from (Y/n) to eye Rooster, but only for a second before his gaze returned.

“Why not?”

Kate’s words were echoing in the back of Rooster’s mind. ‘Make him get off his ass.’ Hangman wasn’t lacking in confidence when it came to women, nor had he ever needed a kick in the butt to pursue one before. He thought so highly of himself it was a wonder that he didn’t think every woman was walking around constantly thinking about fucking him. There was no way he could doubt what (Y/n)’s answer would be. Hell, Rooster did not at all agree with Hangman’s assessment of himself but even he could see she would say yes. There was nothing short of adoration in her eyes.

“You know why.”

Rooster really didn’t.

“And then he made Hangman run laps till he threw up on the tarmac.”

“Oh my god,” (Y/n) wiped her eyes where tears were beginning to bud at the corners. “He really said that? To his Captain?”

“In my defense,” Hangman piped up, “it was Maverick.”

Rooster smirked and gave Hangman a nod of acknowledgment. There was no denying that. “It was Maverick.”

Everyone else had left the party hours ago. It was well past sunset and rapidly approaching midnight. At some point the trio of Rooster, Hangman, and (Y/n) had moved their tiny remainder of the party inside to the plush couches in the Seresin’s living room, but the change of scenery had done nothing to dampen the flow of conversation.

Maybe it was the beers – more likely it was the girl tucked into his side – but Hangman seemed incredibly tolerable all evening, and as the night progressed Rooster found himself and Hangman poking fun at each other and swapping war stories like old friends or brothers.

Hangman made a point to include (Y/n) in every story, explaining things about the Navy or going off on tangents about the style of different pilots for her benefit. Rooster found himself including her too, countering Hangman with his own first impressions of their fellow pilots, briefly explaining his connection to Maverick for her, letting her in on his friends’ hairbrained schemes – most of which did not include Hangman for the obvious reason that they were not friends until recently.

(Y/n) laughed and teased her way through it all, freely divulging her own takes on their stories, which Hangman listened to with an almost reverential nature. As he should, Rooster quickly realized that (Y/n) had a great sense of humor.

She was not at all what Rooster would’ve expected if asked to draw Hangman’s perfect woman. Her sweet outward demeanor that Rooster had noticed from the start did nothing to mask the sly, mischievous personality underneath. She exuded the same familiar, caring energy that Rooster had been engulfed in since the moment he entered the Seresin house, but it never stopped her from poking fun at his moustache or Hangman’s hair.

Where she was concerned, she was an open, honest book, ready and willing to show every page to Rooster for the sole reason of her implicit trust in Hangman’s stamp of approval. Because it became apparent to Rooster that bringing him here, introducing him to his family and (Y/n), had been Hangman’s way of giving him a stamp of approval.

(Y/n) played it a little closer to the vest, slightly more hesitant to reveal any of the dirty details, about Hangman’s childhood. Rooster could see the hesitation in her eye every time it came up, and she’d frequently joke or tease her way out of more meaningful stories with offhand remarks about something superficial like how awful Hangman’s teeth had looked back then. Though, every now and then, Hangman would look down at her curled up against him with pleading eyes and nod, and she would excitedly launch into a tale of some adventure or other they’d gone on as kids.

It baffled Rooster, the longer they talked, to think that the pair weren’t dating. Hell, it baffled him to think that they weren’t already married. Their worlds seemed to revolve around each other so readily, so easily. He had scant memories his childhood while his father was still alive, but most of those memories were of his father’s deep and undying love for his mother and him. It was a look of such unconditional love that he hadn’t seen it in years. He’d thought it was a fluke, that it didn’t exist, but it was painted plain as day across Hangman’s face every time (Y/n) was near.

When she was in arms reach, Hangman had to have a hand on her. When she was out of reach, his eyes followed her till she was out of sight, and when she was out of sight it was apparent that he was anxiously waiting for her to come back. And it seemed from everything Rooster had witnessed that the feeling was very much returned.

Rooster could almost laugh to himself as he started chalking up half of Hangman’s asshole behavior on base to (Y/n) withdrawals.

“I should really get home,” (Y/n) sighed when she looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and saw it was two in the morning.

There was no gradual transition. The expression on Hangman’s face shifted in an instant. “It’s late. Stay here. Rooster’s head is pretty big, but it only takes up one room. I promise.”

(Y/n) shook her head and extracted herself from under Hangman’s arm. “I really do need to go. I have work in the morning. Not all of us get weeks off like you lazy bones.” (Y/n) poked Hangman in the arm with a teasing smile.

Hangman pushed to his feet beside her, “Then let me drive. You’ve had more than a few beers.”

“So have you.” She countered.

“Addie, I haven’t had one in a couple hours. Come on.” Hangman slid a hand in the front pocket of her blue jeans and pulled out her keys, dangling them off his finger. “Let’s go.”

(Y/n) seemed ready to protest more, but as she was about to a yawn overtook her. “Oh fine.”

She turned and gave Rooster one last smile, “It was so nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“So explain it to me, again.” Rooster really didn’t mean to pry, but he just had to ask. It didn’t make any sense.

Hangman had left to drive (Y/n) home, and upon hearing the car start in the drive, Kate had wandered back downstairs to check on them. Her brother off driving (Y/n) home looked like it was the least surprising news she’d ever heard in her life, like it wasn’t news at all but a fact.

When Rooster had suggested they drive after him to give him a ride back, Kate had waved him off and said, ‘He’ll sleep on (Y/n)’s couch and jog home in the morning,’ like it was an everyday event. It raised so many questions that Rooster just didn’t have the answers to.

“They’ve been best friends since they were like eight. Jake found her crying behind the elementary school because someone made fun of her shoes. They were these old, ratty hand-me-downs from some cousin of hers. So, Jake thought it would make her feel better if she had new shoes. He snuck a pair of my ballet flats into the bottom of his bag and went and found her after school the next day to give them to her.”

It was a cute story. Rooster could almost picture it. Not from the Hangman he knew, but maybe this Hangman who was much less of an ass.

“And he’s been in love with her ever since.”

“Not quite,” Kate shrugged, giving the cup of chamomile she was cradling a casual stir, “I don’t think it was love until high school. Maybe a childhood crush on a best friend, but nothing more than that.”

“Okay, so what changed?”

“That’s when our dad died. Dad wasn’t a very good guy, rich asshole with a mean right hook for anyone that stepped out of line, which was mostly Jake. I don’t think Jake and I ever mourned. I know Mom didn’t, and Ronnie and Andy were too young to remember him anyway.”

Rooster knew Hangman’s dad had passed away too. He’d known that bit of information for a long time in fact; it was one of the only personal things he’d known about Hangman before he got here. Hangman joked about it in the bar from time to time. It had always irked him, as someone who’d also lost their dad, to hear him be so callous. He’d even commented on it one time, told Hangman to show some respect. Hangman snarked at him over it, but he had shut up about it for a while after that. Coyote wasn’t as kind about it and told him to fuck out of other people’s family business.

“He died a couple years after Andy was born. Jake was a freshman in high school. Mom leaned on him, probably a little too much. He became like a dad, especially to Andy.” Kate took a swig of her tea to calm herself, “He was a better father figure than our dad ever was, so that’s probably for the best.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rooster mused.

“We don’t talk about him much. I don’t think Ronnie and Andy know how mean he really was.” Kate was shifting in her seat and clearly uncomfortable, so Rooster didn’t object when she pivoted the conversation back on course, “Anyway, I think that’s around the time Jake fell in love with (Y/n). She was there to support him when everyone else was just taking things from him. He was losing sight of himself through everyone’s expectations of him, and she brought him back. The whole family, even Mom, wanted him to follow Dad’s footsteps, take over the family business. It was the safe option, the easy option, and the best option for everyone except Jake. But (Y/n) wouldn’t have it. She knew him better than all of us, talked him into joining the Navy, told him the business would be there when he retired. She’s not just his best friend or the girl he’s in love with. She’s the reason Jake is Jake at all.”

True to Kate’s word, Hangman came jogging back the next morning as the sun began to rise. Rooster was up, but none of his family had risen from bed yet to see him come in.

“Morning Rooster, wake up to crow at the sun?” Hangman jogged straight through the kitchen to the fridge and began rummaging around inside.

“Wouldn’t be that out of place around here,” Rooster was already sipping on a cup of coffee sitting at a barstool overlooking the kitchen.

Hangman chuckled and returned to the counter with a bottle of water, “Probably not.”

“How was (Y/n)?”

Hangman raised an eyebrow, cautious at the change in conversation and clearly picking up that it wasn’t totally casual on Rooster’s end. “Fine, bit hungover, but I left her with meds and water.”

“I’m just surprised to see you so early is all,” Rooster shrugged. “Thought you would’ve stayed later? She seems like the high school crush, one that got away, was the love of your life type.”

“Is.”

“What?”

Hangman took a sip of his water before replying nonchalantly, “She is the love of my life. Not was.”

For someone who wasn’t dating her, Hangman admitted his love for (Y/n) so freely, so openly. Not just platonically but as a genuine romantic love, he acknowledged every bit of it. It really struck Rooster.

“I don’t think you get to call them the current love of your life if you moved on.” Rooster pointed with a mock-accusatory finger at Hangman.

“Good thing I never did then.”

That was certainly news, news that would defy every logical assumption Rooster had ever made about Hangman. He was a flirt who thought he was god’s gift to women, and a lot of women seemed to agree with him on that – not that Rooster would ever acknowledge that out loud. There wasn’t a night at the Hard Deck there wasn’t a woman or two on his arm, and yet, thinking back, Rooster never remembered seeing the same girl twice. He honestly wasn’t sure he remembered ever seeing Hangman leave the bar with anyone, for that matter.

“If she’s the love of your life, than why isn’t she in Fightertown with you?” Rooster leaned into what he was saying, “She’s nice, funny, sexy, smart; she’s a way better person than you. She makes you bearable to be around… Did she turn you down?”  

“I never asked her to come with me. She’d say yes if I did.”

“That…” Rooster hesitated for a second, “That really doesn’t sound like a problem. That sounds like a solution. If she loves you and you love her, what’s wrong with that?” Rooster threw back the rest of his coffee like a shot.

Hangman sighed and walked around to slump into one of the barstools next to Rooster. He looked like he was ready to unload something heavy that had been sitting on his chest. “You said it yourself. She is so much better than me, and she deserves so much better than what I can give her. She shouldn’t have to uproot her life and start over every couple years. She shouldn’t have to live by the Navy’s rules and expectations. She…”

For a moment, it was like the words caught in Hangman’s throat, like for once the noose was tightening around his neck. “Half the reason I fly the way I do is because of the missions they send us on. You saw the way Cyclone changed the plan on the mountain mission when Maverick left. That mission was supposed to, was designed to be, a suicide run, and I’ve gone on two like it since then. I already know one day someone’s gonna be knockin’ on a door with a folded-up flag under their arm with my name on it… My Ma’s door is bad enough. If it was Addie’s door they were knocking on…” Hangman closed his eyes and took a breath. “I won’t let that happen to her.”

This was what Hangman meant. Rooster knew that feeling. No matter how much he’d reassured his mom and Mav over the years, he vividly remembered the day he found out his dad had died. He remembered, more than anything, the scream of his mother standing in the doorway, the way she immediately fell to the floor, the way her body shook for hours on end even after she had no tears left to give.

“Jake,” Hearing his name made Hangman open his eyes and look up at Rooster. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. In fact, I respect it. If there was any way I could’ve saved my mom from the pain of my dad dying I would’ve done it, and I know my dad would’ve too. So if you can look me in the eye and tell me that she loves you any less because you never lived together or got down on one knee. If you can tell me that you dying isn’t gonna hurt her cause a priest never made you say ‘I do’, than I say more power to you.”

Hangman turned his head away without a word, staring out the big bay windows into the backyard where the sun was just beginning to light the sky.

Rooster carried on anyway. “But when you see that that woman wouldn’t have told you to join the Navy if she couldn’t handle being in it with you, that she already looks at you like you’re god’s gift to this world, that she isn’t gonna find better because she isn’t looking for better, because she already thinks she’s found the best, then maybe you’ll finally realize you’re making a mistake.”

Rooster tried to find the words. This was a lot deeper than he ever thought he’d get with Hangman of all people. He hadn’t even talked to Phoenix about this shit. The only person he talked to about his parents really was Maverick, but here he was, in Texas, in Hangman’s house, opening up about the worst times of his life.

“My mom was a mess, for years. Losing my dad, nothing could have possibly hurt her more. But she recovered, eventually, in her own way. She never moved on from my dad, but recovering doesn’t always mean moving on. She lived a happy life. And she was never alone. Maverick, Hollywood, Wolfe, Iceman. They were all there for her, for us, when we needed them. You’re an ass sometimes, Hangman, but there isn’t a soul on that squad that wouldn’t fight for your life. And there isn’t a soul on that squad who would abandon your family if they failed. Self included.”

Rooster pushed out of the seat and wandered back down the hall.

He was just ambling into the foyer when, out of nowhere, someone flung themselves at his side. A pair of arms wrapped so tightly around him they must’ve been trying to squeeze the life out of him. That pair was joined only seconds later by another set of arms on the other side.

He’d thought Hangman’s sisters were all still in bed, but Kate and Ronnie must’ve woken up sometime after he came downstairs. Judging by their faces they’d heard every word.

He made eye contact with Kate who whispered a quiet, meaningful, “Thank you.” Her eyes spoke volumes about how much she knew her brother needed to hear that, and Rooster wrapped an arm around each of the Seresins with a small smile.

“Always happy to call Jake out on his shit.”