His movements were robotic, no thought behind them as he silently ran a lint brush along the jacket of his dress blues. Near silent footfalls came from behind him, but he didn't move, continuing his project with utmost care. His tense shoulders were the only recognition he gave his visitor. A palm placed itself along the top of his back, nestled gently between his shoulder blades as Maverick moved to stand beside him, eyes trailing down to look at the jacket. Scott halted his incessant brushing. The uniform was clean long before he had walked in.

"Hey, Dad." He murmured gently, turning his head to the side to watch him. Maverick didn't say anything nor did he look back at him, keeping his eyes on the jacket. Scott leaned over to grab it, letting the hand at his back fall to rest at his father's side. He fluidly shrugged the uniform onto his shoulders, meticulously putting it on. Maverick watched him silently, offering the gloves carefully placed at the edge of the bed. Scott took them, putting them on swiftly before turning to grab at his cap. He held it at his side, flipping back around to meet Maverick's eyes.

"Look's good." His dad voiced, tone soft, eyes going over his form.

"I'm sorry," Scott said quickly, voice just above a whisper. Maverick's eyes shifted to look into his own, narrowing.
"He was your best friend." He explained, eyes glossy with emotion. Maverick's gaze looked much the same, brows furrowing while he blinked in an attempt to keep it at bay.

"I'm sorry too." Maverick spoke up, moving a steady hand up to swipe his thumb over the tear that escaped from the corner of his son's eye, patting his cheek gently.

When they left, making it to the service just in time, a flood of dark navy surrounded the cemetery. His eyes trailed over the sea of uniforms, resting on faces to attempt to recognize any of them as he and Maverick moved closer. He made out Rooster's mustache and set his sights there. A hand at his shoulder caused him to turn around. Maverick moved to stand close to him, hand at his neck to pull the side of his son's face nearer to him.

"I see Penny." He murmured into his ear. "You stay with your friends, alright?"

"Okay," Mouse said, reluctant to leave Maverick alone. His father squeezed the back of his neck in reassurance before veering from Scott's chosen path to move toward Penny. He watched him go, before decidedly joining the nearby group. He noticed Hangman was right alongside his front seater. He found himself growing increasingly nervous the closer he got.

"Hey," Payback greeted, with a nod. "You doing alright, man?"

"Yeah, fine." Scott assured him, while everyone in the group seemed unconvinced as they eyed the bruise on his cheek. "You okay?" He eyed his pilot's form.

"Just a few bruises." Payback gave a small smile. "Thankfully none on the face." He said in mock seriousness, which got a few laughs out of the group.

"How's Mav doing?" Phoenix asked, turning her head to the side to look across the grass at their instructor, who was conversing quietly with Penny.

"Putting on a strong face I think." Mouse explained, eyeing Maverick with a concerned expression.

"How are you doing?" A voice butt in, Scott looked up to meet Hangman's. He was startled by the question and the caring personality it alluded to. He shrugged lightly, stunned into silence.

"How about we go to The Hard Deck after, alright?" Phoenix offered up. Rooster immediately hummed quietly in agreement. Again, Scott shrugged, but decided to nod his head.

The burial service wasn't very long, but to Scott it felt like an eternity. An endless feedback of his father's tortured expression as he punched the admiral's wings into his casket. Scott felt helpless, watching Maverick go through such grief. He wasn't alive for Goose's premature death but he was sure it matched in severity. Though Iceman's death was expected, he couldn't help but think that it was all too soon.

After the fly by, Maverick approached the group of him and his friends. His eyes were red, a tell of tears being previously shed.

"Admiral Simpson has expressed his concerns with the mission getting closer. Therefore, Lieutenant Mitchell and I will not be taking out any more time to mourn, we will see you all tomorrow." He spoke concisely, raising no arguments before he gave a parting nod to Scott.

"You sure about The Hard Deck?" Bob had asked, having not said anything since the beginning of the service. Scott was thankful for his silence and equally so for his ensuring that Scott would be okay with the planned event of going to a bar.

"Yeah, meet you guys there." He nodded quickly, needing the distraction from the impending danger of the upcoming mission.

-

Mouse tugged at the neck of his t-shirt as he stepped into the bar. He only took a few minutes to throw something on before heading out the door, his Top Gun peers seemed to have done so in similar fashion, arriving at virtually the same time. Phoenix, who must have been the first to get there, waved her hand from a table. He noticed a round of beers already set beside her and Rooster. He exhaled quietly through his nose, jogging over to meet them. He moved to sit beside Rooster, shooting the pilot a quick smile. Bob, Payback, and Coyote were soon to follow, respectively sitting across from Scott with Bob right next to Phoenix.
Hangman was the final one to arrive, standing at the table for a moment, eyeing the last unoccupied chair. Scott craned his head to the side as he looked to his left at the empty seat. His eyes shifted up to connect with Hangman's before he rolled his eyes, moving to ignore the man in favor of listening in on one of Rooster's stories.
He looked out of the corner of his eye as Hangman reluctantly lowered himself into the chair. He saw a hand dart out, toothpick resting between it's knuckles as it snatched an unopened beer from the middle of the table. His gaze followed the drink to watch Hangman twist the cap off, taking a sip before setting it down. The toothpick rolled languidly between thumb and forefinger before being set in the corner of the other's mouth. Scott watched as the lips around it morphed into a grin. His eyes traveled up to the man's face when he realized he'd been caught. Hangman's green eyes were sparkling with mirth as he quickly winked. Scott's head jerked backward slightly, taken aback at the bold demeanor Hangman always exuded.

"Up for some darts, pool, food... What have you?" Scott tuned in Rooster's voice from a previous conversation, head turning to look at him. Everyone seemed set on food besides him, who felt that if he ate anything he'd most likely be unable to keep it down for very long.

"Darts sound great to me." Scott perked up. He was infinitely better at darts than he was at pool or football.

"No, nope." Rooster said immediately, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat. "I'm not playing darts with you, you used to beat my ass every time."

"No, come one." Scott muttered, begging for the other to acquiesce. Rooster shook his head with finality in the midst of Mouse's disappointment. He turned to look at Bob with a pleading expression, but the other WSO got the hint from Rooster that he shouldn't partake in the game so he quickly shook his head as well.

"I'll play." Hangman voiced from beside him. Rooster rolled his eyes, an irritated expression adorning his face as soon as his rival opened his mouth.

"You don't know how to let things lie, huh, Hangman?" Phoenix laughed.

Scott was reluctant, but decided to nod his head. Hangman moved to stand, dragging his chair to the side, and gesturing a hand to allow the other to go first. Scott took the offer, leading the way across the room and toward the board. He grabbed the darts, turning around to see Hangman a few feet away, hand held out expectantly. He sighed, dropping the darts into the other's hand before moving to stand beside him, eyes watching the board intently.
"First to down a hundred." He quietly instructed.

"Thanks, doll." Hangman played up his Texas accent much to Mouse's annoyance before wasting no time in throwing his first dart. He landed at the twenty, then hitting the twelve, before landing on twenty again. Scott moved to grab them, keeping his eyes on the board as he stepped backward. He stumbled into Hangman who must have moved closer, earning a smirk when he turned around to look at him. Scott looked back at the board, rolling his shoulders with an irritated exhale before hitting the bullseye, the bull, and then overshooting to hit the six. He looked to Hangman who raised his brow at the board, moving to collect the darts before aiming silently. Mouse watched the other as he threw all previous technique to the wind and hit the edge of the board. His second dart pinged off the wall while the other veered right to sail into the nearby hallway that led to a storage room.

Scott cocked his head to the side when he looked to the other, but Hangman gave his answer with a helpless shrug.
Scott sighed before moving to jog down the hall with Hangman following soon after. The area wasn't lit, causing for increasing difficulty of ever finding the dart. He leaned down to scan along the edge where the flooring met the wall before straightening to turn to Hangman.

"What was that for?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

"What was what for?" Hangman played dumb, giving way for Scott to become more irritated.

"Do you enjoy this?" Scott muttered, eyes widening incredulously. "Dicking around just to piss me off?" He could make out Hangman's wide grin in the dark.
"Don't answer that." He bit out immediately, turning around again to look for the dart. He walked a few steps before fishing out his phone, turning the flashlight on to scan around the room. He sighed, dropping his hand to rest at his side in a moment of defeat. He flipped around to see if Hangman had any such luck to see that the pilot was leaning against the wall, toothpick in mouth as his lazy eyes traveled over Scott's body.

"Can you help?" Scott whisper-yelled, normally soft brown eyes hardening into a glare.

"I am." Hangman explained, kicking a leg out to make his stance more comfortable. "Making sure you don't get hurt and all." He gestured a flippant hand to the dark atmosphere around them.

"Jesus Christ," Scott muttered under his breath before taking a step forward, placing his phone in his pocket, flashlight and dart now easily forgotten. "Okay, let's hash it out." He held his hands at his sides, palms facing outward.
"What is wrong with you?"

Hangman froze at the insinuation, grin dropping off of his face.

"You're warm one minute and ice fucking cold the next." Mouse explained, throwing up his hands in incredulity. "It's aggravating."

"Didn't think you could get riled, Pip." Hangman teased, using a play on his call sign. Scott moved to jab a finger into his chest.

"I can and you know damn well how to make me." His voice rasped in an angry whisper. Hangman's smile returned, taking some form of pride in the other's admission.

"Cute," Hangman said simply, causing Scott to scoff immediately after.

"Is this all some big joke to you? Jokes about my personality, my looks, my father?" Scott's voice rose slightly, taking a step closer. They were nearly chest to chest as he jutted his chin up toward the other with a defiant look.
"You want me to do the same? What about your dad?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. Hangman noticeably stiffened so Scott decided to keep at it.
"Was your daddy there? Or did he fuck off to—"

Hangman, grabbed him by the shirt collar, backing off the wall to flip the dynamic and pin Scott harshly against it.
"Stop," Hangman seethed, lip twitching.

"Struck a chord, huh?" Scott hissed out, shoulders aching at the weight of Hangman keeping him held to the wall. "Want me to keep going?"

"If you don't shut up," Hangman warned, but Mouse chose not to heed it.

"What'd he do, not love you enough? Oh, did he leave for a pack of smokes?" Scott prodded, eyes glaring up into Hangman's own.

"Shut up!" Hangman fired, moving to step closer, their faces just inches away from one another.

"No," Scott growled, an angry edge to his voice.

Hangman crowded the space between them, right hand moving to grip roughly at Scott's hip as his left held onto the side of his face. Scott felt the pilot's mouth surge forward to press against his own, their teeth knocking against each other. The hand on his cheek pressed him further into the kiss, causing him to wince at the feeling of the pad of the other man's thumb digging into his bruise. Hangman's teeth teased his bottom lip, spurring him into kissing back. The hand at his hip soon moved to wrap an arm around his waist, tugging him closer to fall flush against Hangman's body.

"Where the hell did they go?" Scott recognized Phoenix's mutter in the sea of noise outside the hallway. Her voice was nearing.

Scott was brought back to the reality of the situation, the reality of where he was, the reality of who was kissing him. Before Hangman could even react to the possibility of the others finding them, Scott placed a hand at the side of the pilot's face and shoved as hard as he could.

Hangman stumbled slightly to the side, his hand moving to rest on the wall beside Scott's head to lean against it, body pressing heavily against his own so as not to get caught, panting heavily in his ear.

Phoenix along with Bob and Coyote walked past the entrance of the hallway just a few feet away, concerned expressions on their faces. Mouse watched with baited breath as they moved on, the warm breath traveling down the side of his neck causing him to shiver. Hangman reeled back after, his eyes were filled with an odd mixture of fear and guilt before Scott watched them turn into pure, unadulterated anger. Scott's brows furrowed, confusion crowding his features as his eyes darted across the other man's face. He froze there, awaiting a reaction, an answer, something. He was uncharacteristically on edge, searching Hangman's eyes for some sort of familiarity. Confident eyes or a lazy smirk, nothing like what he was witnessing. Hangman's hand slid down the wall quickly, dropping to his side. Scott flinched away from the gesture, dark eyes frantic. He held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn't. Hangman's expression didn't falter, but his form did, as he stumbled a few steps back. His eyes trailed over Scott's swollen, nearly bruised lips that were thanks to him, before they darted up to meet Scott's in one final glance before turning toward the exit. Scott watched him leave, not making a move until he'd turned around the corner, running a shaky hand through his hair. He pushed off of the wall behind him, landing on unsteady feet before he carefully trodded back into the rowdy atmosphere.