Chapter Text
They get married fast, while they’re still in flight school, high on adrenaline, and it should all fall apart within a year, Jake knows.
It doesn’t.
They’re both too passionate, though Bradley gets grumpy and maudlin, and they’re driven by competitiveness that everyone is sure will destroy them. They’re the best of the best, and they fit together. Jake isn’t a hopeless romantic (that title belongs to his husband), but even he had to admit that there was something back when their eyes met for the first time. Bradley is infuriating, but he’s the only person capable of keeping up with Jake – of course as soon as he lets go of his reservations and thoughts, anyway.
He’s not perfect, not by a long shot, and he drives Jake crazy, but he’s his.
His whole family is sure that they were too hasty, but Jake has never cared about what they thought of him, and he’s not about to start now. Bradley is one of the best things to happen to him, and Jake isn’t someone who passes up good opportunities. Not like this. He has Bradley, and he will never let go.
His husband groans underneath him, stretching lazily, his body a canvas of bites and bruises, Jake’s handprints on his hips.
“You’re such a little fuck,” Bradley mutters, voice rough and ruined. “Left me hangin’ for a while last night, you bastard.”
Jake just smirks, his whole body languid with pleasure. He props himself up on his elbow, one hand gently brushing against his husband’s chest.
“Didn’t hear you complaining.”
The other man throws him a glare. “Oh, I was too quiet, was I?”
He thinks back to Bradley’s pretty gasps and moans, the way his voice broke and he kept going, begging and cursing.
“You were plenty loud,” he says. “Singing like a little rooster.”
“Rooster? Really?” Bradley asks, deadpan.
Jake, however, is very much into it. “Yeah, my little Rooster,” he coos. “Roo.”
To his delight, this causes his husband to flush bright red, eyes closing in embarrassment. He chuckles and pressed closer, face tucked into the other man’s neck, and Bradley wraps an arm around him, pulling Jake even closer.
“If I’m Rooster, then you’re Hangman,” his husband whispers against his temple.
“Deal.”
Two days later, their new helmets are ready. Jake doesn’t really care if anyone notices; they’re not being particularly sneaky, though he suspects people see something other than affection. He has to admit that they tend to rile each other up, thinly veiled insults traded as foreplay until they end up dragging each other into the nearest broom closet. It’s exhilarating, their superior officers know (they had to fill out so many forms), and Hangman feels on top of the world.
Even when they get deployed, their relationship doesn’t die out. If anything, it intensifies, and Hangman has to admit that distance really does make the heart grow fonder. The reunion sex is spectacular, and they talk on the phone all the time. They don’t get assigned to the same squads, unfortunately, but they get deployed together often enough.
Being home together, though, tangled in soft sheets, is almost as good as flying together, Rooster pushing himself further and further to keep up with him. And Jake will always wait for his husband, anywhere but in the air – there, he needs Bradley to be the best he can be. Better than he is now.
“Mav called me today,” comes a quiet admission, and Jake’s arms tighten around his husband. “I didn’t pick up.”
He presses his lips to the top of Bradley’s hair. “I don’t blame you. But he won’t stop tryin’, from what you told me.”
Bradley shrugs. “I don’t-“
“I know,” Jake soothes. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not ready.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, Jake.”
There’s nothing he can say to that. Jake has never had a good relationship with his family, largely left to raise himself and his siblings alone. He doesn’t know how a betrayal like that would feel because he never felt supported by his family, never felt like he even had parents. He still does his best to be there for Bradley.
The subject of Maverick comes back sometimes, though less and less often with every passing year. Jake doesn’t prod, and slowly, they regain some measure of normalcy about it, as much as they can. It consists mostly of joking and teasing each other, as Hangman avoids the topic of the older pilot. Some say they cross the line; Jake says they just don’t get it. Jake and Bradley actually talk, set lines and walls, and make it work.
Besides, angry make-up sex is always great.
They make it work, and over a decade after flight school, they’re still going strong. They have a bastard of a cat that their neighbours take care of when they’re deployed together, and Jake is actually happy. He’s a brilliant pilot, with a confirmed air-to-air kill, he has a gorgeous husband, and they’re happy. Then, they’re called.
“Well,” Jake drawls, looking at the twin emails laying printed on the kitchen table. “That sure is somethin’.”
Bradley’s eyes are wide, apprehension swimming in them. They already know that Coyote and Phoenix have been called, among a few others—the Navy is bringing all their best pilots to one place, and that’s never a good sign. They link their fingers together, reading through the emails, and then it’s silent for a while.
“What do you know, Roo,” Jake murmurs finally. “You may get a chance to jump down from your perch yet.”
His husband rolls his eyes. “You seem to like me on a perch plenty,” he says with a smirk, shifting his hips suggestively. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
Jake snorts and tugs until he has Bradley sprawled on his lap (their kitchen chairs are big and sturdy for exactly that reason), arms wrapped around his waist. He relaxes when the other man pulls him closer, their foreheads pressed together.
“Bradley,” he whispers. “This is big, you know it is.”
Bradley closes his eyes and nods, and Jake’s hands tighten on his waist. He knows his husband, he knows that his brain is always going, holding him back from reaching his full potential. Rooster is a fucking brilliant pilot, but he needs to be more.
“I don’t want to lose you.” The admission knocks the breath out of Jake’s chest, but he pushes through. He needs to say this. “Don’t make me bury my husband, sweetheart.”
The other man swallows heavily, sliding until he can rest his cheek against Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll do my best,” he whispers. “We still have to do the vow renewal.”
Jake smiles, warmth spreading in his chest. Their wedding was hasty and private, only the two of them and Jake’s younger sister as a witness. They were young and desperate, and to be fair, not much has changed. They’re still desperate, hungering for more and more, always more. Only now, they have each other.
“I’ll be holding you to that, Roo.”
They have to arrive separately – Bradley has to settle some paperwork about his last deployment, and Jake makes the journey alone, windows down, music blaring. He settles down in his temporary housing (well, their temporary housing, he and Bradley make sure to always room together), takes a quick shower, and then heads to the Hard Deck when his husband finally texts him that he’s on his way.
Jake smirks and settles in for a show.
It’s not that they play a part in front of other people, more so that they don’t advertise their softness to others (much less the Navy). Besides, their communication method has always hovered between arguing and teasing, and Jake knows it’s not about to change now. He pretends he can’t see their friends rolling their eyes and casting hesitant glances between them. It’s easy enough to do when Bradley’s eyes are shining, and he’s having the time of his life. Jake even goes one step further and puts on their song, the one they tend to badly dance to in their sun-bathed kitchen.
Their life has always been a careful balance of soft and sharp, barbed wire surrounding loving words and gentle hands. It’s how they fly.
“You’re such a bitch,” Bradley gasps against his lips, pushing him against a bathroom wall.
Jake laughs lowly, arms wrapping around his husband’s waist, internally glad that he managed to get Bradley’s mind off of Maverick. Besides, Rooster’s attention should always be on him. They get lost in the pleasure of slow kisses, playfully fighting for dominance, and Jake uses Bradley’s loss of focus to slam him against the wall instead. His husband struggles just a bit, mostly for show, but goes pliant when Jake pushes a thigh between his legs.
“Here?” Bradley pants, already flushed and wild. “Anyone could come in.”
Jake feels a part of himself purr. He smirks. “Guess you’re just gonna have to be quiet.”
He fucks Bradley there, tucked away in a bathroom stall, the other man biting into Jake’s shoulder to stay quiet. Ten years later, and they still can’t quite keep their hands off of each other. Jake doesn’t even care that Javy will send him a dirty look, doesn’t care about anything but his husband right now.
They clean themselves up, and Jake walks Bradley to the car, smirking at how the other man is limping a bit. He knows he was a bit rough, and he knows there’s going to be hell to pay, but even the next morning, his whole body aching after the long night, Jake can’t find it in himself to regret their little tryst. Not when Rooster is so much more relaxed, so much more at ease, smiling slightly even when Maverick appears.
After all, Jake takes his husbandly duties very seriously. About as seriously as his piloting ones.
Bradley doesn’t look at him when Jake comes home that evening, after spewing the painful, but necessary words about his husband’s father. However, Rooster doesn’t pull away when Hangman wraps his arms around him from behind, leaning his head back on Jake’s shoulder.
“I won’t apologise for my words,” Jake says quietly because he’s not a liar. “But I’m sorry they hurt you so much.”
The other man doesn't reply, but he breathes out and relaxes under his touch. They stand in silence for a moment, letting the argument wash away with every breath. It happens sometimes because they're both so stubborn, too honest for their own good, and they don't mince their words. Somehow along the way, they developed a way to deal with it - and it's what keeps them so steady.
"I know you're right, in a twisted way," Rooster says eventually. "I'm stuck in the past, and Mav only brings it out worse. I can't let it go."
"For this to work out, you'll have to," Jake says quietly. "You know he'll choose you to fly with him."
Bradley jerks in his arms. "What?"
Hangman snorts. "Come on, Roo, think for a moment," he drawls. "He won't choose me, not now, and we both know I'm the best."
It's both his arrogance and simple truth. Hangman doesn't have a habit of being humble, and they both know he's one of the best pilots the Navy has ever seen. He's just not what's needed for this mission.
"Think he'll fly it himself?"
Hangman shrugs. "That's what I'd do."
And like it or not, Hangman may be more like Kazansky in the air, but he's painfully similar to Maverick on the ground. He just likes to think he's more well-adjusted.
"He has to choose you for the mission."
Jake shakes his head, pressing closer to his husband. "I'll be the spare," Hangman whispers. "He needs an ace waiting, in case something goes wrong. And let's be fuckin' honest, sweetheart, we know something will go wrong."
Rooster hums. "There's no one else I'd rather have looking out for me."
Jake smiles, burying his face in his husband's neck. They make it work, one way or another.
Even when Jake's predictions come to life, and he has to watch the love of his life fly away, he holds onto that hope. Even when Dagger One and Dagger Two go down, and he has to hear all of it, Hangman stands strong and holds onto their decade together.
And then he flies, he flies like he never has before. He pushes his jet to the edge and over it, and when the enemy plane explodes, Hangman feels like he can finally breathe.
Rooster's words are like coming home, familiar and beloved, and his hands stay steady when he leads the survivors back onto the carrier. His heart is hammering, but Hangman stays strong when Rooster finally stumbles out of the ruined jet, falling into his arms easily. His husband is trembling, and Hangman squeezes his eyes shut, clinging to the last of his remaining calm.
Everything is a mess of shouting and crying, Mav's eyes shining when he looks at Rooster, and Hangman settles next to his husband protectively. They may have talked about things (at least, that's what he's assuming), but he's not about to let Rooster get hurt. He doesn't quite understand the shocked look this gains him because Hangman may be an asshole, but he fucking loves his husband.
It's not the time to think about it.
Rooster has to go to the medical wind, Maverick in tow, and they all squeeze into a small waiting room, Hangman almost vibrating in place. Javy lays a hand on his shoulder, and he leans into it a bit, only remembering to breathe when the doctors clear Rooster to go home. Their fearless Captain has to stay overnight, but Hangman is pretty sure he catches the sight of icy blue eyes in the corridor, and he knows Maverick is in good hands.
Hangman doesn't particularly care about the curious and shocked looks their friends shoot them when he forcibly pushes Rooster into his car. He has a husband to take care of.
They can wait a few hours, he thinks minutes later, pushing Bradley gently against a shower wall, blanketing the man's body with his own. Or a day.
Jake just needs to make sure his husband really made it out alive.