Lock & Key: Part Four - B.B

As soon as your boots touched ground, you ripped your helmet off, already fuming at the fact you failed at the mission. Rooster looked at you briefly as he walked to the training room, but turned his head away quickly. Bob walked hesitantly next to you, already having a feeling you were about to blow.

"Rooster." You called out.

He kept walking. You stood your ground and shouted.

"Rooster!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at you. He was probably just as fuming as you. His hand gripped his helmet in one hand and the other held onto his tactical vest. He didn't move. And neither did you. It looked like a stand off.

"What the hell was that?" You gestured to the jets with your helmet.

"I'm gonna go..." Bob commented quietly, before slipping away inside.

Rooster shook his head and bore a cocky grin on his face.

"What?" You snapped, annoyed at him even more.

"We were the only team that got to the target, Locket." He stated.

"I fucking know that, Rooster, but we would have been dead the second we evacuated."

"Mitchell-"

"No," You silenced him, holding your finger up and walking towards him with purpose.

"We would have been dead, and it would have been your fault. Maybe you think you could get out of the insane dogfight that would occur after that but I know I wouldn't. 5th generation fighters, Rooster. You can't lag behind schedule. If I - as your wingman - advise and tell you to do something, for fucks sake just do it!"

You were out of breath when you finished ranting. Rooster stood in front of you, just listening to you fume. His jaw was clenched tightly, beads of sweat trickling down his temples and the bridge of his nose. You felt like you were burning up, again. Whether it was how raging you were or how hot the flight suit was, or even if it was because Rooster hadn't averted eye contact with you the whole time you were ranting to him.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a piece of shit, Locket." He said.

His volume and tone made you realise how loud you got. You felt sweat drip down the back of your neck and you shivered a little.

"Fuck," You sighed, wiping your sweaty upper lip.

"I didn't mean to...shout and talk to you like that." You told him.

"I'm sorry. But I know how risky this mission is and I don't want to lose anyone. I get that this is training but you have to think about the consequences that would come even if you were just 20 seconds late."

He nodded, looking away from you as if he couldn't stand to be around you any longer.

"I get told off enough by your Dad, y/n, I don't need it from you, too." He said.

He turned, giving you one last glance before walking back inside, rubbing the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

You sighed, letting your head roll back to your shoulders.

"Fuck me." You whispered, before regaining your composure and walking back inside.

Everyone changed back into regular uniform and were called to the briefing room to go over the failed missions. No one succeeded. You were the only team to actually get to the target but apart from that you were toast.

Phoenix and Bob sat down the front as usual, with Rooster by himself on the other side of them. You sat up the back yourself with Hangman in front of you and the rest of the team in their own pairings.

You had gone through everyone's mishaps and mistakes and everyone was doing the same thing. You were all going above ceiling height, or 'crashing', or in Hangman's case, going too fast.

"You kill everyone if you're too fast, Hangman." Rooster commented.

Hangman smirked and leaned back, "They couldn't keep up."

Everyone collectively rolled their eyes and your Dad moved onto you and Rooster's team.

"Why're you dead? You're team leader up there. Why are you - and why is your team dead?" Dad started, talking to Rooster and showing the GPS flight you took.

"Sir, they were the only one's who made it to the target-" Phoenix interrupted.

"A minute late. You gave the enemy aircraft time to shoot you all down. You are all dead." Your Dad spoke and you could feel a shift in his tone.

"You don't know that." Rooster interjected, looking down at his lap.

"You're not flying fast enough. You don't have a second to waste." Hangman said to Rooster.

You gulped, feeling something bigger brewing. Not only between Rooster and Hangman, but with your Dad, too. Something wasn't right. And you think you were the only person who felt it.

"We were the only team that made it to the target-"

"And a superior enemy aircraft intercepted you on your way out." Your Dad argued.

"Then it's a dogfight." Rooster one-upped.

You shook your head at his response. You knew exactly why he was this way and so did your Dad. But the lid was about to pop off of whatever this three-way argument was.

"You have no chance against 5th generation pilots in an F-18, Rooster."

"It's not the plane, sir...it's the pilot." Rooster said in a commanding voice, knowing exactly what he was saying and why.

You sucked in a breath and held it. The tension could be cut with a knife. You looked at your Dad. He used his line.

"Exactly." Your Dad said in a shaky tone.

You exhaled sharply and held a hand over your mouth to compose yourself. Your Dad wasn't having any of Rooster's back chat and vice-versa. You felt hotter than you did up in the air.

"There's more than one way to fly this mission." Rooster stated matter-of-factly.

"You just don't get it do you?" Hangman scoffed, leaning forward.

You cringed, clamping your mouth shut, and looking at the back of the blonde's head as he spoke. Rooster didn't even turn around. He wasn't entertaining anything Hangman was saying.

"On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back."

You clenched your jaw. What was he getting at?

"No offence intended, of course." He added.

And the lid popped off.

"You're conservative. That's all. I get it." Hangman continued.

"Lieutenant, please." Your Dad pleaded.

This man needed a silencer. You were ready to go off on him at any point. You were armed and ready to go. Your foot bounced up and down in your claustrophobic boots, and your collar seemed to be getting tighter against your throat.

How dare he speak to Rooster like that. There are always rivalries with pilots but this was getting to be a step too far.

"Listen, Rooster. We need to get out of this mission alive. You have to go faster. This is no time to be thinking about the past."

Oh you fucking cunt, Hangman.

You looked to your Dad and he looked to you. The same look of dread at what you both know was about to happen. And neither of you could really stop it.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rooster twisted his head to the right. He didn't turn fully. He just moved enough to show he was listening, now.

"Rooster-" Your Dad tried to cut in.

"I can't be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man?"

"That's enough." Dad cut in again, his voice raising.

You gulped, shifting to the edge of your seat in case you needed to break up a fight. Or get in one. At the rate Hangman was going, you wouldn't be surprised. It wouldn't be your first rodeo fighting off an overly-cocky aviator.

"And he was flying when Rooster's old man-"

Rooster pounced and everyone shot up in their seats, fighting past their tables to reach both parties in time. Rooster swung at Hangman but he was dragged away at just the right time. You stood between the two of them, pushing Hangman back. Your Dad was still standing at the front of the class, frozen and unsure what to do. He was panicking now and you knew it.

"You son of a bitch!" Rooster shouted, still getting dragged back by Coyote and Fanboy.

Chairs and tables screeched and crashed onto the hard floor, everyone shouting at each other to keep people calm.

"Hey, I'm cool! I'm cool." Hangman shrugged the guys off of him, fixing his collar.

"But I mean...come on. You think we wouldn't find out about the Mitchell family, either?" Hangman added.

"Hangman. Shut the fuck up." You hissed at him, heading towards Rooster.

"It's not every day you get to be in the same class as your Dad, is it, Locket?" He taunted.

You shook your head, attempting to ignore his baseless words.

"She's just pissed she'll never fly as well as her old man. And maybe she's pissed that Rooster is getting favoured over her."

"Lieutenant Seresin!" Your Dad snapped.

You pressed a hand to his arm, attempting to calm him, and walked up to Hangman. You could feel your skin crawling with rage as you approached the cocky smirking pilot.

"Talk about me, my Dad, or Rooster like that ever again, and this will be your last fucking mission, Hangman." You threatened.

"That's enough." Your Dad's voice echoed in the silent room.

All you could hear were the heavy breaths of the team, and an ashamed silence. You backed up from Hangman and stood in the middle aisle between the two men and in front of your Dad, who's face had dropped and gone white. You clenched your jaw and hung your head in shame.

"Everyone is dismissed."

-

You stood next to your Dad in front of Admiral's Simpson and Bates. You were both getting told off for what happened today. Apparently your Dad had made a deal that no one was to know about your relationship so that they wouldn't think you were getting special treatment.

"Sir, I don't think this will make much difference. Hangman is arrogant, but he's a great pilot. He's only saying these things to get a rise out of Rooster." Your Dad told the Admirals.

"It's day three, Maverick. This can't happen. You need to fix this sooner rather than later." Bates told your Dad.

"I will, sir. I've got an idea for teamwork skills." He said.

"And Locket? You'll get away with speaking like that to Hangman because he was the one who instigated it, but if you ever use language like that again to anyone, you'll be forced off the team. Do you understand?"

You swallowed, "Yes, sir."

Both of the Admirals looked to each other then back to you and your dad, sighing.

"You're dismissed. Take the night off. Everyone needs time to rest." Bates added.

"Thank you, sir." Your Dad spoke, turning to the right and walking out the door, you following along.

You both sighed in relief as soon as the door closed behind you, leaning against the wall next to the door. Your Dad looked to you and you turned to look at him, smiling weakly.

"You alright?" He asked, reaching his hand over to yours.

You nodded, "I'll be fine. You?"

He exhaled through his nose and squeezed your hand, "I need the night off."

You smirked, "I get it."

You squeezed his hand back, "I'm your wingman, Dad. Always have been."

"Always will be, sweetie."

You smiled, letting go of his hand and pressing a kiss against his cheek before walking past him.

"I'm heading to get a shower. I'll see you back at the house?" You asked, walking backwards down the hall.

He saluted you, "Yes, ma'am."

You smiled and turned back, walking towards base camp.

-

You got to the locker rooms and prayed it would only be Bob or Phoenix or someone like that inside, as you heard showers going. You walked in and checked up and down the room, walking in confidently when you saw there was no one there. You got to your locker and put the key in, opening it up.

The locker room wasn't a place you loved. Especially now that they were unisex. Guys stank and were extremely messy. Girls were messy in a familiar, clean up later kind. But guys were just unnecessarily messy. In the academy, you and the rest of your class had to be pulled aside to get in trouble for having piss marks all over the toilet floor. That's how disgusting the men were. You'd think after years of practise, they'd know how to aim.

The lockers stunk of the usual sweat and BO, along with a few scents of cologne and perfume hovering in certain areas. You dug your towel and toilet bag out and sat them on the bench behind you.

When you looked back up, Rooster walked into the room. Your stomach dropped and your mouth went dry, swallowing as you caught his eye.

He had clearly just come out of the shower and was only wearing a towel lowly around his hips, his surprisingly ripped, tanned, torso glistening and dripping with water. His shoulders looked broad and muscular and you didn't fail to notice the dog tags he wore backwards around his neck. The chain sitting right below his Adams apple, and the dog tags sitting between his shoulder blades.

He noticed you looking him up and down. He didn't have anything new to look at but he still checked you out. You cleared your throat and placed your attention back on the locker.

He didn't say anything. And neither did you. You looked behind you slowly and watched as he took his uniform out, setting it on the bench between you. He caught you looking and you whipped your head around, closing your own locker.

"Saw you in Bate's office." He spoke.

The sound of his voice caused a ripple up your spine. You slowly turned, leaning back against the lockers. He kept his back to you, sorting his locker out. You were screaming inside.

Jesus Christ, when did he get this big?

"Yeah. I'm guessing you and Hangman got the same treatment?" You asked, folding your arms.

He nodded, looking back at you. His hair was messily tousled on his head and water droplets dripped onto his forehead and neck.

"Yeah, we did. I don't get why you had to be there, though."

You shrugged, "We were told to keep the father-daughter relationship on the down-low. They didn't want anyone thinking I'd get special treatment. But that's blown out the water now."

You sighed, pushing yourself off of the locker and you swung a leg over the bench, straddling it. Rooster furrowed his brows, looking down at you as he folded his polo shirt.

"That's shit. It doesn't matter who your Dad is, you're a completely separate person from him."

"I know." You agreed.

"And Mav wouldn't treat you any differently than he would with us out on the field. You're really good. It's in your blood. You don't need special treatment."

You smiled a little at him. Why was he suddenly being nice to you again?

"How are you after what Hangman said?" You asked.

You watched as Rooster picked up a white t-shirt and lifted it over his head, grunting softly as he pulled it over. This training was hard on everyone's bodies. You couldn't blame him. But you also couldn't help the rush of blood that flooded south at the noise and view.

"Not great. It was a low blow, even for him. I think we need to sleep on it and hopefully he'll come to me tomorrow to say something but...I doubt he even will." He sighed, fixing his shirt and moving his dog tags round to rest above his shirt between his pecs.

You swung your legs back around to face the opposite way, knowing he was having to put underwear on. You sat your toilet bag in your lap, pretending to search for something inside.

"He's an asshole. You didn't deserve that. And who knows, maybe he will apologise." You shrugged.

Rooster scoffed behind you, "Yeah. I don't think so."

You bit your lip, rummaging aimlessly through your toiletries. You could feel him looking at you and you hated it. His eyes felt like lasers at this point, and they were stuck on the back of your head.

It was silent between you two, now. Neither of you sure what else to say. The only sounds in the background was the running of showers and distant chatter from other locker rooms. You stood up and sat your bag down, turning back to Rooster.

He was fully dressed, again. But in casual clothes. A white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. You smiled a little at him and he reciprocated.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to move or say something. He didn't. And you didn't. You chewed your lip and fiddled with your rings. He looked at your hands then back to your eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked, amusement laced in his tone.

"I uh...I need to get changed." You said, itching the back of your head awkwardly.

A smirk grew on his face and he nodded, shutting the locker door. You watched timidly as he picked up his gym bag full of clothes.

He looked you up and down, "Nothing I haven't seen before, Mitchell."

Your mouth hung open slightly, taken aback by his comment. You didn't even attempt to say anything. He just kept that smug smirk on his face and walked out, leaving only the fresh smell of his body wash behind and the ache between your legs. You didn't even notice how you had crossed your thighs over one another. He must have noticed. Embarrassing.

"Jesus Christ, y/n." You whispered to yourself, leaning your forehead on the locker.