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The first time it happens, Bob’s too annoyed to really think too hard about it.
He’s sweating profusely, the hot California sun kicking their asses as they did their 200 pushups. Phoenix is furious, silently fuming as she gets up off the tarmac and heads for the lounge. Bob doesn’t blame her - she’s told him point blank that she’s going on the mission. She’s going to be out there. And he believes her. Wants it as badly as she does. And Hangman’s not on her list of people she wants to fly with.
He’s not on Bob’s list either but Bob’s list has just started.
“So, baby on board,” Hangman says as he follows Bob across the tarmac. Bob ignores him, wiping the sweat off his forehead and pushing his glasses up his nose. He wants to get out of his flight suit so badly, go stand under a cool shower for awhile. But Hangman is still following him.
“What do you want, Bagman?” Bob says, glancing over his shoulder at the man. Hangman smiles at him, though it’s not kind.
“We gotta come up with what your callsign means,” Hangman says, meeting Bob’s brisk pace. “How are you going to pick up anyone with a callsign that’s just your first name?”
“My first name is Robert, actually,” Bob snaps, rolling his eyes when Hangman laughs.
“Right, because that’s much better.”
“Hangman, I really don’t care. I’m not here to ‘pick anyone up’, I’m here to fly,” Bob says, pushing open the door to the building and sighing as the air conditioning hits him. Hangman touches Bob’s arm and he flinches, pulling his arm away. When he looks up, Hangman’s face is curious, puzzled.
“If you won’t pick anything, I’m just going to keep calling you Baby On Board,” Hangman says, smiling. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Bob tries not to feel bad about that.
“That’s fine,” Bob says, taking a step down the hallway. “As long as you know this baby is going to be on this mission.”
“Oh yeah?” Hangman asks, catching up to Bob easily. The energy shifts between them and Bob can handle teasing. He’s good at that. “Phoenix bringing along a stroller to push through the skies?”
“You’re such a dick, Hangman,” Bob says, rolling his eyes. He pushes the lounge room door open, Phoenix already at her spot next to the radio. “Go bother someone else.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Hangman says, laughing as Bob shakes his head. He walks over to sit near Phoenix, resting his weight on the counter. Phoenix gives him a look and he shrugs.
“Bagman,” he says as Maverick’s voice comes through the radio. Phoenix just nods and settles in to listen.
---
Bob likes to run in the early mornings, before the sun comes up and people start milling around the sidewalks. He can wear his shirt without any sleeves and take off down the street, forgetting about everything for a while.
So that’s why he nearly turns and bolts in the other direction when he sees Hangman outside of their building, stretching, as he jogs down the stairs to head out. He pauses at the door, debating going out through one of the other doors, but ultimately decides he has to be a big boy and face his annoying coworkers.
“Well, good morning Bob,” Hangman says easily when Bob walks up next to him. He glances at Bob’s attire but doesn’t say anything. Hangman is wearing running shorts and no shirt. Bob pointedly doesn’t glance down at his chest. “You also an early morning runner?”
“Yep,” Bob says, pulling his heel to his ass to stretch. Hangman watches him for a moment as he holds a calf stretch.
“What route do you take?”
“Wherever the wind takes me, Bagman,” Bob says, seriously debating starting his run without fully stretching and stopping somewhere to finish up, just to get away from Hangman’s inquisitive stare.
“The Santa Ana winds?” Hangman asks, laughing when Bob rolls his eyes. “I guess you don’t want a running partner.”
“Do you keep up this much mindless chatter while running?” Bob asks, looking at Hangman fully. He sees Hangman’s brow furrow for a moment before he smooths out his face.
“No, I can be quiet.”
Bob hums, disbelieving, and adjusts his headphones in his ears. “You say less than ten words and I’ll buy you breakfast.”
“Deal,” Hangman says, holding out his hand. Bob shakes it, not letting the contact linger. He pulls out his phone and turns on his running playlist, watching as Hangman does the same. He jerks his head to the right and Hangman smiles, gesturing for Bob to lead the way.
They’re about a mile in when Hangman makes them stop, hand on Bob’s elbow as he pulls Bob off the path and points to the way the morning sun is reflecting off the ocean. Bob smiles, fondness creeping into his brain as Hangman snaps a photo on his phone, smiling down at it.
“All set?” Bob asks, smiling at Hangman. Hangman smiles back.
“You bet’cha, baby,” he says, taking off down the path again. Bob rolls his eyes as he follows.
---
Bob finds Hangman in an empty classroom, throwing a marker up into the air as he lounges on a desk. He doesn’t look up when Bob walks in, just keeps tossing the marker up into the air higher and higher. Bob can see he has a toothpick between his lips again.
“If you’ve come here to lecture me, please leave,” Hangman says, voice hard. Bob shoves his hands in his pockets and walks up to where Hangman is sitting, kicking his feet off the chair he’s using to rest them on and sitting down. Hangman glares at him, kicking his feet up on a different chair.
“I’m not here to lecture you,” Bob says carefully, watching the movement of Hangman’s hands. “I’m not an overly preachy person.”
“Man of few words, I dig that,” Hangman says, winking at Bob. Ignoring him completely, Bob continues.
“No, but I am here to ask you what the fuck is wrong with you.”
The marker falls onto Hangman’s chest as he stares, mouth agape, at Bob. Bob doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, as Hangman sits up in his chair and furrows his brow at him. There’s a tense moment where Bob isn’t entirely sure Hangman doesn’t want to punch him.
“Excuse me?” Hangman asks, voice dipping into sarcasm. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Yeah,” Bob states. “I didn’t think you’d be cruel enough to bring up his dead father.”
Hangman blinks and seems to cool down at that. He scratches his ear.
“Yeah, that… that was a bit far. But Bob, come on,” Hangman says as he learns forward, elbows on his knees. “You know that if someone doesn’t kick Rooster’s ass into gear, he’s going to die on the mission.”
“You don’t know that,” Bob starts but Hangman cuts him off.
“I’ve known Rooster for a long time. He flies like my grandpa. And if he goes on the mission, he’s going to continue to fly like that, and then what?”
Bob watches as Hangman rubs at his forehead, his hands shaking a bit. Bob frowns at him. “What if he doesn’t get picked?”
“What if he does? What if any of us do? It’s a suicide mission, Bob.” Hangman huffs, laughing slightly. “It’s a suicide mission we’re all dying to go on.”
“You give this treatment to everyone else, or is Rooster special?”
Hangman laughs. “Rooster’s special because the man hates my guts and wouldn’t listen if I tried to sit him down like I did Coyote.”
“You sat down Coyote?” Bob laughs. Hangman rolls his eyes.
“Man’s my best friend, Bobby,” Hangman says, hand on his chest. He scoffs and looks away from Bob. “But yeah, I did.”
“That’s surprisingly sweet of you,” Bob says, laughing as Hangman rolls his eyes. “What, I didn’t know you had a sentimental bone in your body!”
“I have plenty of bones, Floyd.” Hangman winks. Bob rolls his eyes. They quiet for a moment, laughter dying between them, and Hangman sighs. “I should go apologize.”
“Yeah, you should.” Bob shrugs when Hangman glares up at him. “It’s what a team leader would do.”
“Oh, that’s low, baby. It’s good, it’s going to work, but that’s low.” Hangman’s eyes are twinkling with mischief and Bob decides he needs to run before he’s pulled into whatever Hangman has in mind.
Hangman’s laugh follows him down the hall.
---
The ceiling of the hospital room is starting to fade when Bob hears his room door open. He doesn’t move his head, still dealing with the dizziness of an adrenaline crash. His body feels like it’s on fire, shaking apart at the seams. He’s never had to eject before.
“Bob?” It’s Hangman, voice cautious. “You awake there?”
Bob waves his hand slightly, not turning his head. He pulls the blankets up on his chest a bit higher, feeling weird with Hangman’s intense presence.
“How are you feeling?” Hangman asks, pulling over a chair. Bob turns his head finally, brows furrowed. His glasses are on the tray table, too far away to reach, so he’s stuck with blurry vision. Hangman is a blob in front of him, edges fuzzy and face unreadable. Bob blinks and closes his eyes.
“My head hurts,” he says quietly, reaching up to cover his eyes. There’s a migraine growing in his head - he can feel it behind his eyes.
“That can happen after ejecting,” Hangman says, standing. Bob hears him walk across the room, footsteps getting quieter, and the light behind his eyelids lessen. “The crash, both physical and emotionally, really sucks.”
“Yeah,” Bob sighs, opening his eyes a bit. He hears the click of a light switch and he audibly sighs as the room plunges into half darkness.
“They had all of the lights on in Phoenix’s room too,” Hangman mumbles, bumping the edge of Bob’s bed. “I have your glasses - want me to slide them on for you?”
There’s a weird lump in Bob’s throat and he shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it.”
He blinks as the world comes into focus. Tears spring to his eyes as he takes in the room and the burning behind his eyes starts to fade. Hangman doesn’t say a thing - he sits back down in the chair and leans an elbow on Bob’s bed.
“Why are you here?” Bob asks after a moment of just blinking his tired eyes. He looks at Hangman, expecting a smirk, grin, playful smile. Instead, all he finds is surprising sincerity.
“You guys are my wingmen,” Hangman says, shrugging. Bob frowns.
“We’re like, all each other's wingmen,” Bob says slowly, smacking his lips. Hangman hands him a glass of water almost immediately.
“I guess,” Hangman says, keeping his hand out to take the glass back when Bob is done. “But you two were my first here. That’s special, baby.”
Bob shakes his head instead of rolling his eyes. Hangman smiles at him, sitting down again.
“You should tell the nurse you’re getting a migraine,” Hangman says softly, patting Bob’s hand. “They have the good medicine.”
Hangman stands, refilling Bob’s water glass and placing it on the tray table, close enough to reach. He moves towards the door and Bob feels his hands shake.
“Hey,” he calls, watching as Hangman turns around and smiles. He still looks a little rattled and Bob thinks he gets that. “Thank you.”
Hangman’s smile softens slightly. “Anytime.”
---
They’re standing in the cemetery, shoulder to shoulder still, when Hangman leans closer to Bob. Everyone around them is talking, milling after the proceedings finished.
“Hey,” Hangman says, catching Bob’s eye. “Would you pound your wings into my coffin when I die?”
Bob snorts. “Would you?”
Hangman winks. “Of course, baby.”
---
Bob’s numbly following Phoenix out onto the tarmac when he feels a hand on his elbow. He’s almost ashamed to say he knows exactly who’s touching him before he turns around. He has to get moving, needs to be caught up to Phoenix, but she keeps on walking when she sees who’s stopped him.
“Robert,” Hangman says, softly. Bob turns to look at him, mouth pinched.
“That’s new,” Bob says, pulling his arm free from Hangman’s fingers. He turns so they’re face to face, alone against the wall of the carrier.
“You’re going off on an insane mission. I thought it’d make sense to use it one last time, just in case,” Hangman says, his wink not quite settling right on his face. Bob shakes his head softly.
“Well now you’ve just exhausted your life-long limit, so if I come back, you better think of something else to call me,” Bob says with a grin, laughing when Hangman chuckles. “And I refuse to go by Bert.”
Hangman laughs a little harder, hand coming up to his chest. He shakes his head, looking at Bob fondly. It’s a weird look, one Bob’s not used to whatsoever. He shifts on his feet, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
“I gotta,” he starts and Hangman nods.
“I know. I just,” Hangman takes a deep breath. “Be safe.”
“That’s more something you should tell Phoenix,” Bob says quietly, cheeks warm. Hangman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“But I’m telling you, baby. Be safe.”
Bob nods, turning on his heel and walking away before he can overthink that statement.
---
Bob finds him in the hallway outside of his room.
Hangman’s just standing there, staring at the door with his hand outstretched. Bob frowns as he walks closer, tapping his hand against the wall to make sure Hangman isn’t about to jump out of his skin.
“Jake,” Bob says, watching in delight as he catches Hangman off guard. The man smiles, dimples on display, as Bob walks up. “You okay there?”
“Peachy,” Hangman says instantly, reaching out to touch Bob’s elbow. “Isn’t your room clear down the hallway?”
“It is,” Bob says slowly, not sure how Hangman knows that. “Haven’t talked to you yet.”
Hangman seems to accept that because he pushes the door to his room open, letting Bob follow him inside. It’s the same as everyone else's, just with a touch of Hangman in the extra blanket on the bed and a bottle of face lotion on the nightstand.
“You were in the sickbay,” Hangman says, turning around suddenly. His hands reach up, like they want to touch Bob, but stop before doing so. He shakes himself. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Bob whispers, patting his own torso. “Aside from the wicked drop we’re all about to experience, I should be fine.”
“Yeah,” Hangman breathes, eyes flicking across Bob’s face.
“Are you okay?” Bob asks, realizing he hasn’t yet. Hangman laughs hollowly and takes a deep breath. He looks at Bob, really looks at him, and Bob feels more vulnerable than he ever has. He wants to cave in himself, bring his hands up to his chest.
“Yeah,” Hangman says again, and then he’s stepping into Bob’s space, cupping his jaw in his hands and kissing Bob softly.
Bob freezes for all of a millisecond and then melts into Hangman, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Their jumpsuits bunch between them and Bob shifts his hips, feeling Hangman up against his hip. Everything comes roaring to him at once and he gasps as he steps back. Hangman still has his face, gently fingers on his jaw. He steps back into Bob’s space but Bob holds up a hand, the walls closing in on him a bit.
“I’m sorry,” Hangman says instantly, stepping back. “Fuck, that was - fuck, I should’ve asked.”
“No,” Bob says, too quickly. Hangman stares at him, face blank. “No, that was… Jake, believe me, I want to keep doing that.”
Hangman grins at that, his dimples coming out again. Bob looks away from them so he can keep speaking without crying.
“But uh,” he coughs, hand to his chest, “there’s something, uh… there’s something I should tell you before we start kissing again.”
Hangman nods, gesturing for Bob to continue. He still feels a bit trapped, up against the door, so he ducks around Hangman so he’s in the middle of the room. Hangman watches him curiously but doesn’t say anything.
“I’m trans,” Bob says, hands shaking at his sides. “I’m trans, and if that’s - if that’s not your thing, I can just go. We don’t ever have to talk about this again.”
Hangman’s mouth hangs open, brow furrowing slightly. Bob shifts on his feet, thinking about how to get to the door, when Hangman reaches out and touches his arm, fingers gentle.
“Hey, wait, first off,” Hangman says, tugging on Bob’s arm until they’re sitting side by side on the edge of the bed. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’ve - I’ve learned,” Bob says softly. Hangman’s jaw flickers.
“Still,” Hangman says, squeezing Bob’s elbow. “But secondly… I don’t want you to leave.”
Bob’s heart is in his throat as he looks up at Hangman. The man is just smiling at him, face entirely too soft.
“Are you sure?” Bob asks, insecurity getting the better of him. But Hangman just nods, squeezing Bob’s elbow again. Bob grins at him. “Good.”
He surges in to kiss Hangman, pushing Hangman’s hands off his face so Bob can touch his gently. Hangman moans and leans back on the bed, pulling Bob with him. Bob feels Hangman against him, again, and he shudders at the thought.
“Baby,” Hangman sighs as they pull apart, impossibly fond. He reaches up and pushes Bob’s hair back on his head. “Baby, I want to give you the world.”
“Shut up,” Bob says, kissing Hangman again.
“No, I do. But I… I’ve never been with someone trans before. I don’t know… the protocol.”
“God that’s the hottest thing you've ever said,” Bob laughs, kissing Hangman again. “I had top surgery when I was in my 20’s and I’ve been on T since then. Have you ever seen a woman’s vagina?” Hangman nods a bit. “It doesn’t look like that down there.”
“Interesting,” Hangman says, pulling Bob in for another kiss. “This is the weirdest dirty talk of all time.”
“Informed consent is sexy,” Bob says, slipping a thigh between Hangman’s legs and pushing up softly. Hangman whines, head pushed back into the bunk. He pulls Bob’s face down to kiss him again, hard, and Bob shudders.
“You’re sexy, baby. Now please, tell me where I can touch you,” Hangman gasps. Bob smiles, the term of endearment slipping over him easily. It feels warm, comforting. Familiar.
“Everywhere, darling,” Bob replies, watching Hangman’s face flush a pretty shade of pink.
---
“Sweetheart, did you need anything?”
Bob looks up from the paperwork he’s been working on for hours. Jake stands there in the doorway, a smile on his face. Bob shakes his head but beckons Jake over. Jake comes easily, setting his water bottle down on a bookshelf so he can wrap his arms around Bob’s shoulders. Everything still feels so new, not even a week away from the mission, that Bob wants to feel Jake’s skin at all times.
“What happened to baby? ” Bob asks, pushing out his bottom lip. Jake frowns at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Sweetheart is something I’d say,” Bob says, scrunching up his nose as Jake touches his face gently.
“Do you not like when I say it?” Jake asks, frowning. Bob shakes his head, cheeks flushing as he pieces together his words.
“I like being your baby,” Bob whispers, leaning his head on Jake’s arm to gaze up at him. Jake grins, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“You’ll always be my baby, honey,” Jake says against his skin. “Promise.”