Lock & Key: Part Six - B.B

WARNINGS: hangman being a sexist asshole (which i don't believe he is but for the plot...).

When you all returned to the bar, it was busying up inside. The usual crowds were there from different walks of life, all aviators or friends and family of the navy. You, Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob were sitting in a booth, all talking about football and who you all thought won.

Your top dried pretty quickly with the rising heat inside the bar, despite all the doors being open, letting the mild breeze flow in. There were so many people crammed inside the building that it ramped up the heat a few notches. You were just in your bikini and your top and denim shorts, your sliders fitting loosely on your feet. You hair was shoved up into a messy bun, the salty water causing it to return to its natural form, and without a hairbrush, putting it up was the best you could do.

You were sitting on the inside seat of the booth, getting a great view of the bar and the pool game going on between Rooster and the rest of the pilots. You had zoned out of the football conversation and were just staring at Rooster. His huge biceps bulging beneath the Star Wars graphic t-shirt and his ass that looked amazing every time he bent over to take a shot in his - now dry - jeans.

His sunglasses still hung on the middle of his shirt, dipping it down to see a glimpse of sun-bleached chest hair. You couldn't get the image of his body from your mind. Last time you saw him, he looked nothing like he did now. And you were now blatantly staring at him, admiring the way he moved and knowing just how he looked underneath those clothes.

"Locket?" Hangman waved a hand in front of your face from next to you.

"Hmm?" You snapped back into the conversation looking to the blonde beside you.

"Another drink?" He asked, a playful smirk on his face.

You looked at your empty glass and pushed it towards him, "Yes, thanks."

He looked at you, almost as if he was trying to read your look, before nodding and getting up to go to the bar. You turned nonchalantly back to Phoenix and Bob who were looking at you in a confused, almost scared way.

You furrowed your brows, "What? Is something wrong?"

Phoenix stuttered, "Since when do you and Hangman get along?"

You made a face, "I mean we kind of wordlessly resolved things from yesterday. I wouldn't say we're friends, though. Why?"

Bob looked to Phoenix then back to you, "He just looks at you weird, now. That's all."

You looked between the pilots in front of you, trying to figure out what they were saying. But the alcohol that you'd drank had been going straight to your head, so your judgement was lacking. You had no idea what they were getting at.

"Sorry, what?"

"Do you think he likes you?" Phoenix asked.

Your mouth dropped at the absurdity of the question and as if from no where, Rooster appeared beside Phoenix, pool cue in hand.

"Sorry, what am I missing?" He butted in.

"Nothing at all." You told Rooster, shooting daggers at Phoenix.

"What's going on?" Payback and Cayote suddenly joined the conversation, blocking off the booth.

"Jesus, nothing's going on! Go back to your game." You attempted to shoo the boys away but they weren't having it.

You covered your face with your hands, absolutely mortified at Phoenix's suggestion and the group all piped up, begging you to tell them what was going on.

"We think Bagman likes Maverick Junior." Phoenix said, sipping her drink.

"Phoenix!" You blurted out in horror.

The boys all looked at each other with wide eyes and burst into laughter. You felt your face go red and you groaned, propping your legs up on the seat of the booth and burying your head between your knees.

"I could see it, you know!" Payback exclaimed.

You shook your head in silence, not even looking up.

"Listen, he's a very good looking guy - you're a very good looking girl. I could see it happening." Cayote said, sliding in to sit next to you and nudging you with his arm.

You groaned in response and lifted your head, looking up at everyone with a pout. You scanned everyone's amused face and then you caught Rooster's expression. It was deadpanned and unimpressed. He didn't seem pleased at all at the suggestion of Hangman liking you.

"He doesn't like me, okay? We're enemies." You sighed, putting your feet back on the floor.

"Mitchell, have you ever read romance books? The best couples are always enemies first." Phoenix joked.

You kicked her lightly under the table and she gasped, both of you unable to not laugh. You all burst into laughter but Rooster slid away from the conversation, going back to playing pool. You made a face as he walked away but thankfully he didn't catch it.

"He'll be back any second with my drink, okay? So all of you shut the fuck up and go back to whatever you were doing because you're embarrassing me." You told them all.

Everyone held their hands up in surrender, and backed off, the boys all giggling and laughing at the thought of you and Hangman. You widened your eyes at Bob and Phoenix, sighing in relief as everyone left you alone.

"We're just teasing." Phoenix added with a smile.

You nodded, "I know...but do you really think-"

"Another round has arrived!" Hangman announced, sitting down next to you and handing you your drink.

"Thanks." You said with a smile.

He furrowed his brows, nudging you with his shoulder against yours.

"You okay, sunshine?"

You cringed and helplessly looked to Phoenix for some non-verbal assistance.

"Y-yeah. I'm good. Are you?" You asked him, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

"I'm great." He said with a smirk, looking from your lips back to your eyes.

You held eye contact for a beat longer than you would've liked. You shot up, grabbing your drink and announcing you had to talk to Penny.

Hangman shifted, "Oh, okay, let me get out-"

"No it's fine, I can-"

You were just trying to get out as fast as you could, however, you completely misjudged how tight a space it would between Hangman and the table. So as you were awkwardly trying to scoot past him, your ass was practically in his face.

You cursed to yourself, closing your eyes with embarrassment as you had to squeeze past him. Hangman laughed behind you, holding his hands up and hovering them by your hips.

"Listen, if you wanted to give me a lap dance, you could've just asked, sunshine." He laughed.

You resisted the urge to turn around and hit him and finally let yourself free, stumbling as you were released from the tight space. The drink in your hand toppled a little, spilling onto your chest slightly. You gasped at the cool liquid dripping down your skin and you paused, looking down at your white top going see-through again.

The team cringed and 'ooh'ed at your fail, but you regained some composure to just let it go. Your eyes went to Rooster almost immediately like a magnet. His eyes stayed on your face, not even bothering to look at your top. He had a look on his face you weren't sure you had ever seen before. He was unimpressed, his brows pushed together, his lips straight, as if he was confused and studying you.

"Wow, this is a whole show." Hangman commented behind you.

You sighed, turning back to look at him.

"Locket, if you need a hand cleaning that up, you know where to find me." He winked at you, looking you up and down as he took a drink from the beer bottle he was holding.

"Shut the fuck up, Hangman." You spat at him, slamming your drink down on the table behind you.

You shook your hand of the beer that had dripped from the glass. The group oo'd and ahh'd at your attitude, egging him on slightly.

"Oh come on, Locket, it's just a joke. Unless you're into degrading dirty talk, then I'm all in, baby." He smirked up at you.

"Shut up." You said, feeling rage bubbling inside of you.

"Listen, we all know you're here because of your old man. If you really wanted my respect, all you have to do take me to the bathroom and we can sort it out." He licked his lips.

"Listen to her, and shut the fuck up, Bagman." Phoenix piped up, shooting daggers at the blonde.

He shrugged, and you were preparing yourself to pounce on him and beat his ass to the floor. Where this man got his audacity, you'll never fucking know.

"Because we all know your Dad must have had a hand in landing you every single job you've ever had. So you must've had to show your skills somehow, right?" He taunted.

Your blood was boiling and you could feel your heart rate increasing.

Rooster slid off of the edge of the pool table, bracing himself to either grab you or punch that son of a bitch in his smug face.

"I bet you spend more time on your knees than you do in the air, sunshine."

"You motherfucker!" You shouted, launching towards him.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist before you could go any further, the rest of the team shooting up to their feet, shouting at Hangman and getting you as far away from him as possible. Pool cues fell to the floor, commotion rose and Phoenix even had to be pulled back by Cayote from how she was pouncing towards Hangman.

You were being lifted away from the action, the strong pair of hands and the body behind you holding you with ease - despite your kicking and flailing. You knew it was Rooster, you could tell by his silence. The bar was crowded and it had erupted in noise, the music in the background now totally drowned out.

"Put me down!" You shouted, gripping his arms.

You both passed your Dad, looking shocked and confused as he was standing by the bar, too far from the action to have seen what was going on.

"y/n?" Your Dad looked at you.

"I'm taking her home before she - or I - kills Hangman. You need to talk to him, Mav." Rooster, said, before walking you both out of the bar.

He finally set you down on the deck outside. You turned around sharply to look at him.

"What the hell?" You exclaimed, still riled up.

"He's an asshole, don't lower yourself to him." Rooster said, fixing his t-shirt.

You caught a glimpse of his lower abdomen but chose to ignore it.

"He's a sexist pig!"

Rooster stood in front of you, his hands on his hips, looking at you like your Dad. Disappointed and pissed off.

"He's just saying that stuff to rile you up, you should know that."

You scoffed, "I do know that, Bradshaw, but he took it too far."

Your voice cracked a little and Roosters demeaner changed slightly, softening his stance to cross his arms over his chest.

"I know," His voice lowered, matching his body language.

"But you can't satisfy him by giving him the reaction he wants. Because now he's gonna be happy and his ego's going to be boosted."

"That's not my fault, Rooster."

He sighed, "I know...just, next time, maybe don't try and fight him."

You smirked a little and so did he. You both took a beat in silence. The night was dark but the moon was shining in the clear sky. It was still warm and the relaxing waves from the sea serenaded you as you and Rooster stood outside.

You walked to the wooden railing of the bar and leaned your forearms onto it, taking a deep breath in and out. Rooster watched you from behind, trying to ignore how you bent over slightly, letting your shorts ride up your upper thighs.

Rooster ended up at the opposite side of the railing, leaning on it so he was still facing the door of the bar, watching in case anyone decided to come out.

He leaned his head back, cracking his neck either side and sharply lifting it when he heard footsteps coming towards them.

"Sweetie, are you alright?"

Your Dads voice startled you. You turned around and saw him coming out of the bar, standing between you and Rooster. You sighed and nodded.

He looked worried. And pissed.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? If I could kick him out, I would." He said.

You smiled weakly, "It's okay, he's just looking to wind me up."

Your Dad shook his head, looking down at the ground before looking back to you.

"I've warned him that if he does anything to you again, he's out."

You nodded, "Thanks, Dad."

Your Dad almost didn't notice Rooster. They both awkwardly and silently shared a look and a nod.

"I think Rooster should take you back home. I don't want you on your bike when you've been drinking."

You and Rooster hesitantly looked to each other, before sheepishly looking back at your father. He pointed a finger to Rooster.

"Walking home." He reiterated.

Rooster nodded, "Yes, sir."

Your Dad took a moment or two to take his eyes off of Rooster, giving him a fair warning to do exactly as he says. He eventually turned his attention back to you and walked forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Get home safe, I won't be too far behind you."

"Waiting to take Pen home?" You asked, a slight smirk on your lips.

Your Dad fought back a smile, "Maybe. I'm a gentleman."

"Uh-huh..."

He shook his head with a grin and waved you and Rooster goodbye before heading back inside.

It was just you two left, now. You both looked at each other and grinned. You swear you could see him blushing a little but you didn't know if it was sunburn or not.

"Ready to go, ma'am?" Rooster asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You curtsied, "Yes, sir."

He smirked and he gestured for you to walk down the stairs first. You passed him, giving him a lingering scent of your floral perfume. He followed you down and you both started walking side by side down the quiet dirt road.

The night was still and hushed, the waves clapping against the shore and the occasional wind chime making a harmonic tune when the gentle breeze passed by and in between all of the houses by the beach. Other than the sounds of the beach, and the distant music and chatter from the bar, you and Rooster were silent.

A car approached in the distance at a steady speed. You felt a hand slide onto the small of your back, and you looked up to Rooster, who was moving you from being on the inside of the road, to the outside, out of danger. You smiled to yourself at the small gesture and you let him shift you. His hand lingered on your back as the car passed, and then he dropped his hand. You swear you could feel his hand stuttering over your skin for just a second, as if he was fighting to take it off you.

"So...uh-"

Rooster attempted to start a conversation but you both whipped your heads around at the loud, startling sound of a motorbike engine revving behind you.

"See you in the morning, assholes!" A voice screamed at you from the bike as it whizzed past like a rocket.

It was Hangman, with Cayote hitching a ride on the back. He whooped and cheered as they rode past. The fright it gave you, sent your hands automatically to Rooster's arm beside you, instinctively gripping on for dear life. Once you both had registered what and who it was, you relaxed, sighing in relief.

"Jesus, they shouldn't be riding that drunk." Rooster exhaled.

You looked up at him. And he looked down at you. Your hand was still holding onto his bicep. He glanced at the way your small hand could barely fit around his arm, and then he looked back into your eyes, with an eyebrow raised. As if he was surprised you hadn't removed it. But you were tipsy enough to engage in physical contact, so...you didn't take your hand away. You just wrapped it around, holding on even tighter.

He had to fight to hold back a smile, tucking his hand into his front pocket to make it more comfortable for the both of you to walk like that.

"Bit more muscle there than there was ten years ago." You commented with a playful smirk, looking up at him.

"It's not been ten years." He stated.

"Nearly, though."

He huffed.

"It wasn't because of the last night, was it?"

You didn't look up at him but you could feel his eyes on you.

"What? The seven minutes in heaven? No." You answered.

"Hey, it was more than seven minutes." He defended.

"Hmm."

"At the time, I remember that being my record."

"It was seven minutes of absolute bliss, Rooster." You said, tapping his arm with your fingers.

He stayed silent for a moment.

"Why are you calling me that?"

You looked up at him, "It's your callsign."

"I know but...we're by ourselves. You don't have to call me that, now."

You smirked and looked ahead of you again.

"I just don't want you to think this relationship is anything other than professional."

"Too late, Mitchell."

"Bradhsaw." You looked up to him with a cheeky smile.

"Mitchell." He countered.

"Bradley."

His lips parted at the sound of his name.

"y/n."

You both went silent, looking at each other with some sort of look that didn't need any words. You broke eye contact first, going back to looking down at your feet.

"Sometimes I forget my actual name. Dad's starting to call me Locket out of training."

"Does he know the origin of your call sign?" Rooster asked, leaning into you a little.

"Hmm, no. And I don't plan on telling him."

"Has he not asked?"

"Oh yeah, he has. But he thinks it's about the actual locket he gave me when I was younger and not the metaphorical locket that is my vagina."

Rooster snorted, "I've been in both."

You scoffed, looking up at him.

"Shut up, seven minutes hardly counts." You retorted.

"I've been in your physical locket for longer." He said.

"That's true, though you're not in it anymore. I actually can't find it. It's lost." You sighed.

"Hmm, that's sad." He hummed.

Another few moments of silence hung between the two of you. And you were desperately grabbing at your brain for something to talk about.

"What about your call sign? Do you forget your own name?"

You cringed. Bad conversation starter, y/n.

"Yeah, I guess." Rooster started.

Oh, maybe not.

"Sometimes here, I like to forget it. Sometimes I just want to be Rooster. I don't want to be Bradley or a Bradshaw."

You could feel his arm tense a little. You looked up at him. The way his face adorned the moonlight and his scars somehow complimented his cheek and jaw. You looked to the moustache and smiled.

"You look just like him, you know?" You said softly with a smile.

He looked down at you for a moment. He looked from your smiling lips to your soft, dilated, eyes, and he looked back to the road silently.

"You really do. He'd be proud of you. So would Carole."

He smiled, looking down at his shoes. You squeezed his arm in encouragement.

"Your Dad must be proud of you, huh." He said, changing the subject.

You smiled, "Yeah, I guess. It's quite the name to live up to, though."

He nodded, "I understand. I'm just known as Goose's son to all the admirals and stuff, cause they knew him, you know?"

"Yeah, it's the same with Dad. Although, your situation is different."

Rooster scoffed a laugh, "It's laced with sympathy and awkwardness. Everyone hates death. No one likes talking about it. So, they kind of tread on eggshells around me."

You bit your lip, not sure on how to respond. You and Rooster would have deep conversations about his parents and being a pilot when you were younger, but it's been so long that you feel different around him. Because things are different now.

"Are you still pissed at Dad?" You asked, referring to how your father pulled Rooster's paper's from the academy 8 years ago.

"Yep." He answered shortly.

"Just so you know, I had no idea why he did it. I don't know what was going through his head." You told him.

"It's fine, it's not your fault."

"I just wish I could have talked him out of it but he told me after it was done."

"It's not your fault, y/n." Rooster said firmly.

"It's his fault. And he refuses to talk about it." You scoffed.

"I think I have reasons in my head that could be true but now he's here and he's our instructor it's just...weird. I don't think my grudge is going away any time soon. So...sorry."

You shook your head, "No need to apologise. It's fair, and he knows that. But I do think he's wanting to put in the work. He really cares about you."

Rooster nodded, "I know."

"He wants a relationship with you, Brad."

It slipped out before you could catch it. You hope he didn't notice the old nickname. But when you looked up to him, he was wearing a huge smirk.

"Why are you smirking?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"You called me Brad."

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes.

You reached your house and Rooster continued to walk you up the stairs to the deck.

"We're becoming friends again. I can feel it." He said.

"No we're not." You disagreed, holding back a smile.

"Yes we are. Don't fight it. It's natural, baby." He bit his lip and shimmied a little.

"Jesus Christ," You rolled your eyes, unlacing your arm from his.

"Come on, friend, dance with me." He smiled, his lip tucked between his teeth.

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He was now doing some dance moves you hadn't seen since high school, right in front of you...on your porch.

"I'm not your friend, Bradshaw." You told him matter-of-factly.

He groaned, holding a hand out to you, "Yes you are. Come on. Dance with me."

"There's no music, hotshot." You smirked, watching him as he kept moving.

"I don't care. That's never stopped us before, come on."

"No." You shook your head.

He kept his hand outstretched and a hopeful look in his eye. You really wanted to be stubborn and hate him and this stupid situation but you couldn't hide it for long.

You rolled your eyes and slapped your hand into his, "Fine."

He spun you under his arm and you both started dancing like mad men, your sliders and his sneakers causing a racket on the wooden deck. You giggled and laughed and he did, too. And whatever this was, whether it was a friendship or nothing at all, you were enjoying it.

He twirled you too many times to count, and with your already tipsy state, you ended up tripping into his arms.

You both stilled, listening to each other catch their breath. His hands stayed at your waist, holding you upright. He chuckled as you both stilled, placing your hands on his forearms.

"Oh man, it's nearing bed time for me I think." You hummed, holding onto his arms.

He nodded, standing up straight and keeping his wide hands on your waist. You looked up to him, licking your lips and looking at his stupidly beautiful face.

He looked at you like he always did. That piercing look that could burn a hole through you if he really tried. His dark eyes looked almost black in the moonlight and you didn't miss how his fingers twitched tightly against your waist. You slid your hands up his arms, slowly, feeling every bump and ridge, until you came to his shoulders.

You hummed under your breath, looking at his exposed collarbones and the top of his chest, his sunglasses still weighing his top down.

"Does this mean you're admitting to us being friends?" He whispered to you.

You looked back into his eyes, your bottom lip trapped in your teeth.

"I'd say we're...acquaintances." You whispered back.

He smirked, "I'll take that."

His eyes looked straight into yours, as if he was trying to read your mind. You could feel your breath getting quicker and your chest getting heavier. His hands were still on your waist. You wanted them to move south. Why wasn't he budging? Were you not being obvious enough with your shortened breath and your 'fuck me' eyes?

Touch me, you almost wanted to say.

But he slid his hands from you before you could even think about it. Your breath hitched, and your hands moved from his shoulders quickly.

"Goodnight, Mitchell." He said as he walked down the steps of your porch.

You waited until he turned back to look at you, "Goodnight, Bradshaw."

He bowed to you, holding a hand over his chest so his sunglasses wouldn't fall as he dipped his torso down then up.

"y/n."

You curtsied, "Bradley."

He looked you from your toes to your hair and then focused on your eyes, before holding a hand up with a grin, and walking away.

You watched him leave until you physically couldn't see him anymore.

You rushed to grab the key from under the mat, shoving it in the lock, unlocking the door, getting in the house and slamming it behind you. You threw the key into the bowl beside the door and you leaned back, letting your body rest against the door.

You didn't stop smiling until you drifted into sleep.