Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rooster struggled to keep up during PT, and shooed away Phoenix when she attempted to hang back with him. It was difficult not to doze off every couple seconds even when his lungs burned in protest. Even Bob passed him not long after. No matter how hard he tried to keep up, his muscles only seemed to grow weaker. This was the first time he feared not making it to the end.

By some miracle he finished, coming in dead last while everyone else were readying to hit the showers before they changed into their flight suits. Rooster ground to a halt when he saw Maverick waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest as he eyed Rooster through slitted eyes.

Rooster stopped in front of him, hands on his knees as he bent over, coughing so heavily that he feared he may throw up. His throat burned, skin prickling against his rough uniform. Sweat poured down the back of his neck, yet he shivered at the same time. He felt both cold and hot despite the sun bearing down on him, the air thick with humidity.

“Rooster!”

The man in question raised his head weakly, unwilling to hear what Maverick had to say to him.

“That was your slowest time yet. The the hell has gotten into you? The rest of the squad if already readying for training,” Maverick pointed out.

Rooster made a show to straighten. It didn’t help the vice that tightened around his chest, threatening to squeeze every last drop of oxygen from him. “M’sorry…..Mav.”

Upon hearing Rooster’s hoarse voice, Maverick’s fatherly instincts finally kicked in. “Bradley?” He closed in the distance between the two of them and caught his godson’s eye, a frown on his face. “Hey, talk to me, man. What’s going on with you?”

Rooster couldn’t bring himself to meet Maverick’s gaze for long. He smothered another cough into his elbow as he fought to stand to his full heigh, chest continuing to ache. “Nothing, I just had an off morning is all. We don’t need to make a big deal out of it,” he mumbled as he pulled around Maverick and jogged swiftly towards the lockers.

Maverick was forced to follow, easily keeping pace with Rooster. Rooster was aware of him witnessing every cough and even stepped in to stop him from jogging right off the sidewalk into the grass. Maverick opened his mouth to speak, but Rooster only pulled farther ahead and slumped in relief when they finally made it to the door.

Rooster squeezed himself in without looking to see if Maverick was behind. The last thing he wanted was another long, drawn out conversation. His head was pounding far too much for that at the moment. Maverick had gotten better about the lecturing, though Rooster always knew that Maverick would see him more as a son than an equal. It hadn’t bothered him thus far, though they were only just starting their path of reconciliation.

He shouldered his way into the locker room to find the rest of the Daggers preparing for their next training exercise. Most were already showered and were changing into their flight suits. Hangman, noticing Rooster’s late arrival, eyed him curiously.

“Hey, Roo Roo. What took so long? Got a cramp or something?”

Despite the mission that Rooster and Hangman completed together, Hangman could still be an asshole. It may be part of his personality, yet today Rooster was hardly in the mood. The tension in his head began to spread through his face, under his eyes and through his sinuses. He had no time for Hangman’s jabs today.

“None of your fucking business, Bagman,” Rooster growled as he pulled his sweaty shirt over his head and thrust it aside.

Fanboy and Payback exchanged a glance while Phoenix whistled while grabbing Hangman by the shoulder. “Knock it off, man. Can’t you tell he’s not in the mood for your bullshit today?”

“Sorry. Didn’t know he would be so sensitive in the mornings. C’mon, let’s leave Mr. Sensitive alone.” Hangman collected most of the pilots as they whooped and hollered as they left the showers, adrenaline pumping as they readied for their next training exercise. Maverick was giving them more leeway than usual now that they had proven to the Navy how valuable they really were.

Rooster was relieved when the rest of them left, as he could slump on the bench, head in hands. The chill was only growing worse and the prospect of standing to actually take a shower felt almost impossible. His vision swam whenever he so much as turned his head to the side, lip curling against the discomfort in his head that caused his stomach to churn. He was suddenly thankful that he hadn’t eaten anything this morning.

“You look like shit.”

Rooster head snapped up much faster than intended when he heard Phoenix’s voice. She stood back a few paces as though reluctant to share the same air as him.

“You look like shit,” Phoenix repeated when Rooster didn’t respond. “It looks like you awoke from the dead to join us here today. I’m surprised that Maverick even let you finish that run.”

Rooster shrugged. “He respects me a a pilot, that’s why.”

Although Phoenix didn’t argue, her head tipped to the side as though wanting to challenge him. She thought better of it and gave a nonchalant shrug. “If you say so. Don’t kill yourself up there.” With that, Phoenix turned and followed the rest of the pilots out of the room without another word.

Partially relieved at watching her go, Rooster supposed now was as good a time as ever to finally get himself ready. He forced himself to stand and shower, though it took much more effort than he was used to. Nearly half a dozen coughing fits shook his entire frame throughout, so by the time he emerged from the shower, dried himself off, and stepped into his flight suit, he was more ready for bed than he saw to fly a jet. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he took one more detour to his locker, briefly staring at the pictures of himself and his dads in the inner door.

Rooster was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when anyone padded in. He closed his locker and turned, almost jumping out of his skin when he saw Maverick standing right there.

“Mav,” Rooster wheezed, eyes slitted as he struggled to control his breathing.

Despite their height difference, Maverick could be quite stoic when he wanted to be, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at his godson. “Rooster, you’re grounded.”

Rooster’s eyes seemed to bug out of his head. His jaw dropped as he gave his head a furious shake. “No! You-you can’t. I’m fine,” he protested.

Maverick’s face softened as his head gave a small tilt. “Kid,” he began in the same tone that Rooster heard his entire life after his father died.

“I said I’m fine,” he all but growled. “You don’t need to treat me like some kid!”

“Maybe I would if you stopped acting like one.”

The words were out of Maverick’s mouth before he could stop it, Rooster was sure of it. He couldn’t bring himself to look in Maverick’s direction, let alone meet his gaze. He mumbled something against his chest as he shuffled from foot to foot, a renewed sense of strength sparking through him thanks to the agitation he felt towards Maverick.

“Rooster, you’re grounded,” he repeated as though Rooster hadn’t spoken. “Unless of course you’d like to have a second opinion at the infirmary. I think Savant is there today if you want to try.”

Rooster felt a flash of apprehension as he gave his head a small shake. Dealing with Maverick was enough, he didn’t need to bring Savant into things too. Savant was beyond fair in his assessment, though even he knew what Savant would say he if had a good look at him.

“Fine,” Rooster huffed.

Maverick’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Very well. Do you need me to give you a ride?”

Rooster made a show to wave him off when his legs decided now would be the perfect time to fold. If not for Maverick beside him, nor the bench so close, Rooster was certain he would’ve struck the ground. Embarrassment threatened to engulf him as Maverick helped set him down heavily with his hand refusing to leave Rooster’s shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Maverick sighed.

“You need to stay for everyone else. Don’t cut their airtime because of me.” He would never hear the end of it if Hangman was taken from the air just because Rooster’s immune system decided to crash.

Maverick pondered carefully before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I have a compromise. I’ll stay here but I don’t feel comfortable with you driving by yourself.”

“Compromise,” Rooster echoed as Maverick dialed a number and rested his phone on his shoulder, taking a few steps away from Rooster to speak. However, Rooster could still hear.

“Hey, Ice. I have a favor to ask……

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rooster stood outside of the barracks, an overnight bag packed beside him. His left foot tapped impatiently as he saw Ice’s familiar vehicle pull up in front of him. Rooster struggled to rise to his feet, the overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Apprehension coiled in his stomach like a snake ready to stride as he opened the back passenger door and tossed his bag on the seat before closing the door and turning to the passenger door.

He swung open the door and sat down heavily, doing everything in his power not to look over to see the concerned look on his uncle’s face.

“Too sick to fly, huh,” Ice questioned in his new raspy voice that Rooster feared he would never get used to.

Rooster shrugged before pressing his forehead against the cool glass. “I guess,” he mumbled, not caring if he sounded like a moody teenager.

Ice hummed to himself before placing the car in drive and peeling away from the sidewalk.

Rooster was thankful that most of the drive was silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak with Ice, as even though they were just starting to return to each other’s lives, Rooster had always been close with him. Rooster always enjoyed being with his uncle, yet now he felt only awkward. He didn’t want to inconvenience Maverick or Ice, though Maverick had made it clear that he didn’t want Rooster alone without anyone to take care of him. Rooster was far too tired to argue, which is why he found himself pulling into Ice’s driveway.

“This way, kiddo,” Ice whispered as he looked over to Rooster with nothing but affection in his eyes.

Rooster forced himself to look away, smothering coughs into the crook of his arm as he pushed the door open with his foot. He slunk around to the passenger side to grab his overnight bad, feet dragging as he followed Ice up the porch and through the front door.

“Your room is exactly how you left it,” Ice assured as he closed the front door behind Rooster. “Maverick insisted we didn’t move anything.”

At the earnest quality to Ice’s force, Rooster felt a genuine smile show on his face. “Thanks, Uncle Ice.”

Ice reached over and grasped Rooster by the shoulder. His grip was hard and steady. The strength was something that Rooster hadn’t anticipated, and felt that he never wanted him to let go. “Go get settled and I’ll be right there.”

All of Rooster’s instincts were shouting at him to push Ice away, or respond that he didn’t need anyone to check in on him. Yet, something stirred in his heart that told him to let Ice fuss over him. Ice was the best caretaker he knew, and Rooster felt he had taken enough time away from Ice as it was.

Rooster nodded as Ice retreated back to the kitchen. Rooster coughed against his shoulder as he struggled up the stairs with his overnight back slapping against his back. He made a quick stop at the restroom before the bedroom, noting that nothing much had changed. The astronaut nightlight was still in the bathroom, as well the starry shower curtain. The mirror was even littered with the glow in the dark stars that Maverick and him had pained when he was about nine years old. It was as though looking through a time capsule back over a decade before.

Rooster wasn’t given much time to ponder as his entire face started to itch like he couldn’t believe. He set his bag down heavily and reached for the box of tissues on the back of the toilet lid. He barely managed to pull out a handful before clamping them firmly over his nose.

“HRsh’Shs! HRchs’Shs! HRcsh’Shs!” Rooster almost doubled over as the sneezes scraped his throat. He was left coughing and panting before blowing his nose and throwing the tissues away. It did less than he hoped for the building congestion, nor the pressure building behind his sinuses. Damn was this hitting him harder than he expected.

After washing his hands and changing into a plain gray t-shirt and sweats, he tucked the tissue box under his arm and dragged himself over to his childhood bedroom, easing the door open softly.

Ice wasn’t kidding; everything in the room was the exact same. The Power Ranger sheets were the same as well as his Batman lamp. The posters on the wall of bands and childhood movies felt almost suffocating with Rooster sitting on the bed heavily. The familiar squeak of the springs reminded him just how old this bed was, and short. He eyed the end warily, wondering if he would even fit anymore.

“RHs’SHsh!” Rooster fumbled for even more tissues desperately. He breathed heavily into their folds, nose running, breath hitching. He squeezed his eyes shut heavily before ducking forward. “RHs’SHsh! RcsH’shSh! HrcSH’Sh!” Rooster cut the fit short and blew hard, attempting at any cost to rid himself of that tickle. The last thing that he wanted was for Ice to see him fighting a fit of sneezes. It was bad enough he was sick at all in his childhood room without being reminded that his uncles still saw him as a child.

Rooster tucked the used tissues into his pocket before flopping back on the bed. There he saw the poster directly over his bed of a F-14 Tomcat. He couldn’t help but grin as he remembered excitedly telling both Maverick and Ice that he would fly one someday. That felt like a true lifetime ago.

A soft knock at the door nearly had Rooster sitting up until Ice lifted his hand to halt him. “It’s alright,” he rasped as he shuffled in. “No need to get up on my account.”

Rooster smiled shyly as he slumped back down on the bed, his pillow swallowing his head. “You weren’t kidding that you didn’t change anything.”

“That was all Maverick.” Ice grunted as he came to sit on the side of the bed, barely finding space thanks to how small the bed was. “He wanted it to be familiar to you when you came back.” Ice shot him a pointed look. “Because he knew it was only when you’d come and not if.”

Rooster was about to reply to that with an explanation of his own when his nose interrupted things. He barely had time to pull a single tissue from the box and lifted it up to nose, facing the wall as he couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than sneezing on his uncle. “HRSH’Sh! HRcSH’Sh! RHcs’Shh!”

“Bless you!” Ice grabbed the tissue box free from Rooster as if guessing why he wasn’t doing it himself. He handed them over and looked away as Rooster cleaned himself up, blowing softly until his nose no longer felt like it was leaking down his face.

Rooster held the tissues sheepishly until Ice lifted a wastebasket into view. Cheeks bright red, Rooster threw the tissues away and shifted so that he was even farther from Ice.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Ice broke in, a frown clear on his face. “We’ve been through worse than the sniffles, haven’t we?”

Although true, Rooster didn’t want to think back on that. Instead he continued to sniffle as he looked down at his hands, wishing that a hole would open up to swallow him whole; anything not to have this conversation with Ice right now.

While Rooster was trapped in his own mind, he didn’t notice Ice lift his calloused hand to his forehead. Rooster didn’t duck away, and he wasn’t quite sure why not. Perhaps it felt good to feel Ice’s comforting touch once more.

“I don’t think you have a fever but Maverick said that you were dizzy. Are you still dizzy?”

Rooster shrugged once more.

“I’ll bet it’s because you haven’t eaten. You must be hungry.” Ice reached into his pocket to set a small container of Vics on the edge of Rooster’s nightstand. “For that cough until Maverick can pick up some meds on his way home. I want it to be as fresh and potent as possible.”

“Why are you doing all of this,” Rooster suddenly blurted before he could stop himself.

Ice tipped his head questioningly. “Because you’re my son, and I care about you. I’ve always cared about you, Rooster, Maverick too. Did you forget that?”

Rooster felt tears leap to his eyes. Suddenly it felt hard to breathe in a way that had nothing to do with his illness. He watched as Ice’s gaze glowed in affection for him.

“Get some rest and I’ll be right back.”

Ice turned and left with Rooster reaching out a hand pleadingly for him. His throat felt like it was closing as tears drenched his shirt and caused his nose to run. A sob finally tore free as his entire body shook with them.

“Why didn’t this happen when you were alive?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rooster? Rooster!”

Rooster awoke to feel someone hitting his cheeks lightly on either side. Heart hollow, he hardly had the energy to open his eyes even when the man above him was practically begging.

“Thank God,” the man in question gasped as he fell weakly on top of Rooster. “I thought you suffocated on your own mucus in your sleep. I couldn’t wake you.”

“Bagman,” Rooster groaned as the reality of his situation came crashing down upon him. He was grounded on the carrier, not by Maverick, but by another Admiral. He was on a carrier, not at home anymore, sharing a bunk with Hangman. They had certainly grown closer these last few months of deployment, but that didn’t take away the ache from his dream.

Ice was dead and all hope of reconciliation was gone.

“What’s wrong,” Hangman questioned as he slid onto the floor beside Rooster’s bottom bunk. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

‘Because I did,’ Rooster wanted to scream. He felt the rush of hot tears threatening to fall as he turned on his side facing the wall, expecting to see himself laying on Power Ranger sheets. However, all he saw was the standard Navy white sheets in a crowded bunk without posters littering the room. There was no warmth in here, not through any fault of their own. Maverick wasn’t going to round the corner to his rescue, nor Ice pop up to care for him.

No, Rooster was on his own.

“Hey.” Hangman squeezed in behind Rooster. It was a tight fit as these bunks were hardly big enough for one, yet Hangman managed, chin rested against Rooster’s shoulder. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Talking was the last thing that Rooster wanted to do. What good would it do? It wouldn’t bring Ice back. Nothing would.

Hangman seemed to take the hint for what it was as he sighed heavily before wriggling out of Rooster’s bed. “If you need anything, or want to talk, you know where to find me.” With that Hangman climbed on the bunk above Rooster, shifting a bit before settling down for the remainder of the night.

It was only when Rooster could hear Hangman’s gentle snoring that he pulled his pillow close to his mouth and sobbed until he couldn’t breathe.

Ice was gone and there was nothing he could do about it.