That particular morning, Mouse's footfalls were louder, less calculated. His shoulders felt heavier, and perhaps they were, burdened with knowledge known only by few.
He kept a near white-knuckled fist at his side, willing himself to keep his set pace as he trudged down the corridor.

"Scott," A voice called out.

They said his name, he realized, rather than his call sign. He contemplated ignoring it, to pretend that he hadn't heard them. But he recognized the owner of the voice, and he didn't want to ignore them, not ever. No matter how much it pained him to say it, even though he never intended to voice that truth to anyone, so long as he lived.
He realized that due to recent events, death may have been sooner than he previously anticipated.

He changed his pace, slowing his unsure footsteps to allow for the other to catch up.

"Hey," Hangman greeted, slowing his jog to stay in line with Mouse. "Thought you'd be happier to see me." He jabbed in his usual joking manner, smiling around his toothpick.

Scott didn't respond, lacking confidence in how to not betray every feeling he'd ever felt up until that point. He was notoriously bad at hiding when he was upset, and Hangman seemed to be rather quick at detecting that failure.

"You alright?" The pilot murmured, dropping his cocky smile, unsure of how to proceed. Scott chanced a look toward the other, noticing Hangman's narrowed eyes, frantic to find out what was going on.

"Once, uh—" Mouse began, cutting himself off with a frown. "Once Ice..." He tried again before his throat constricted, emotion unwilling to let him continue.

Hangman didn't say anything in response, waiting it out. Mouse was unsure of whether to find it helpful or aggravating. He forced his heavy tongue to swallow around his clenched jaw, slowing to a stop as he turned to face Hangman.

"Cyclone pulled out Mav." He explained slowly, voice quieter than before.

The air between them seemed to grow heavy after the confession was muttered, allowing the space it occupied to become stifling.
Hangman's form betrayed nothing, but his face seemed to falter, just for a moment; realizing the weight of what that meant for their fate. Without the senior pilot, they wouldn't meet mission parameters. With Maverick gone, surely they'd burn.

"Fuck,"

That was all Hangman had responded with, eyes moving to focus on a space just above Mouse's shoulder, contemplating. Mouse liked to believe that the other man was, just as he had, running multiple scenarios through his head of how they'd die on their mission.

"What's he gonna do?" Hangman asked after a moment, looking into Mouse's eyes, searching; for what, the other was unsure.

Mouse didn't reply, quietly shifting under the expectant gaze burning into him.

"Nothing?" Hangman scoffed, tilting his head as he looked down at the shorter of the two. Mouse shrugged meekly under the scrutiny. Though the incredulous expression wasn't directed at him, it still felt crippling all the same.

"Everything good?" They heard Phoenix call out, footsteps nearing them.

Mouse looked up, eyeing her and the accompanying Rooster and Payback. All three were tense, shifting slightly when Hangman moved his arms to cross them over his chest. The WSO raised his brow before his face fell, realizing what the conversation must have looked like for them. An aggravated, sour-faced Hangman questioning a submissive, resigned Mouse.

"Yeah," Hangman muttered his answer. Mouse craned his head backward, eyes darting up to look at him.

"She wasn't asking you." Rooster grumbled, gaze resting on Mouse in assessment.
"You good?"

Mouse watched as Hangman frowned, his face threatening to do the same.

"Yeah, we're fine." Mouse confirmed in a murmur, shrugging his shoulder again. He didn't feel the want or the energy to explain away the previous conversation shared with Hangman, instead, he nodded toward the classroom just a few yards away, surely occupying the other students along with their unwanted new instructor.
"We should head in."

Phoenix nodded her head in agreement, eyes still narrowed and ever calculating. Scott let his shoulders drop from their previously tensed position as he turned around, leading the way. Hangman was quick to catch up, a steady hand coming up to rest at the shorter man's bicep. Scott found the pilot's silent worry amusing, but ultimately appreciated the gesture.

"Alright," Rooster muttered in reprimand from behind them. The grip at Mouse's arm fell away with a tug, causing him to stop in his tracks, eyes landing on Rooster's glare. It wasn't directed at him, but Hangman.

"The hell—" Hangman began, fixing his eyes on Rooster with an unamused scoff.

"Leave him alone," Rooster ground out.

"Uh," Hangman muttered dumbly, brows knitting together to make up a confused glare. He was upset at the accusation, but unsure of exactly what Rooster was insinuating.

"Look," Phoenix began as Payback crossed his arms over his chest from beside her. "You've blurred the line between hazing and bullying. Cut it out." Her voice was level in volume, but her tone betrayed her feelings.
"Or we'll get your CO involved."

Hangman reeled back at the accusation, Scott refraining from doing nearly the same.

Phoenix jerked her head to the side, suggesting her and the others to leave. A pointed look at Scott seemed to be urging him to do the same. He reluctantly followed, shuffling his feet as he heard soft steps trail behind him. Once the others had entered the room, he turned to face Hangman's blank face.

The pilot's expression was closed-off, as it had often been up until their point of their explosive kiss. Mouse had thought they were past hidden feelings and not communicating, perhaps not.

"Guess they're a little confused." He offered up weakly, watching the taller man carefully.

Hangman didn't say anything in response, not betraying whether he had even heard what the other had said. Scott hated the fact that the other was so much better at putting on a mask, one that he had no idea of how to see through.

"Let's just—" He started.

"Keep it quiet." Hangman finished.

It wasn't a suggestion, but a statement, possibly even a demand. An expectation Scott needed to meet, or settle for something torn from him that had only just begun.

"I don't—" He began to say, before immediately faltering, forcing himself to take a breath.
"Okay," He acquiesced, gaze opting to focus at their feet rather than meet his pilot's eyes.

He could handle that. He wasn't a stranger to secrets. He could do secrets. He'd do whatever he was able, to keep the only good thing going for him.
He just hadn't expected it. A man as confident as Hangman pushing for this? He haphazardly rubbed at the center of his chest in attempt to endure the odd ache beginning to radiate there. Once he felt that he had enough courage, he looked up. Unsure eyes meeting blank ones.

Hangman jutted his chin out in a nod. Scott understood the suggestion and found himself immediately following it. He chanced one last look in the other man's direction before reluctantly turning to enter the room.