"Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor." Cyclone began, eyes traveling along each aviator's face as he stood at the front of the room. Mouse kept his head up, though he immediately felt the need to curl in on himself at the tell-tale feeling of his peers' eyes burning into the back of his head.
"And as of today, there are new mission parameters." The admiral continued, the screen ahead beeping quietly.
"Time to target is now four minutes. You'll be entering the valley level at reduced speed. Not to exceed 420 knots."

"Sir," Bob began, brows knitting together. "Won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?"

"Well, Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft." Cyclone reminded, eyes narrowing. "What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain?"

Mouse watched Hondo's head drop, tilting his own head to the side in order to spy Hangman from across the room. The pilot's fingers fidgeted silently with a toothpick in hand, wary eyes darting to meet Scott's in shared confusion.

"You'll be attacking at a higher altitude, level with the north wall." Cyclone placed his hands at either side of the podium he stood at, leaning into it.
"Gonna be a little harder to keep your laser on target, but you will avoid the high-G climb out."

"We'll be dead a minute into the mission." Payback muttered from beside Mouse. The WSO nodded his head in agreement, keeping his eyes on the admiral.

The monitor ahead began to beep, a blue icon lighting up, moving across the screen at a steady rate.

"Who the hell is that?" Cyclone murmured.

"Maverick to Range Control." Hi father's voice crackled over the radio. "Entering Point Alpha. Confirm green range."

Mouse leaned forward in his seat, eyeing Rooster's baffled expression among a few others as Range Control responded in affirmative.

"Setting time to target: Two minutes, fifteen seconds."

"2:15? That's impossible." Payback muttered. Mouse shrugged his shoulders in response, feigning nonchalance, and entirely investing in believing that Maverick would achieve the set parameter.

"Final attack point. Maverick's inbound." Their ex-instructor spoke in finality.

They all watched with bated breathe for those few minutes as Maverick toed the edge of death in meeting the time with sixteen milliseconds to spare.

"Bull's eye." Scott realized, in awe.

"Yes!" Bob cheered quietly as a few other aviators stood from their seats in shock.

"Damn." Hangman muttered, respect filtering through his tone.

"You're all dismissed." Cyclone bit out, stalking out the door, with Warlock quick to follow.
Scott frowned in thought, unsure of what direction his father's naval career may go due to the stunt.

"Hey," Bob jogged up to him with a friendly smile. "There's a bonfire at the beach by the Hard Deck tonight, near that old parking lot. You want to go?"

"Uh, sure." Mouse matched his friend's smile easily, standing from his seat. "What time?"

"Starts at 7:00." Bob answered. At that point, all of the aviators that had previously occupied the room had left, perhaps in search of something fun to do after their unusually short time in the classroom.
"I can pick you up." Bob offered, moving a hand to the arm of his glasses, gently pushing them further onto his face.

"It's okay, I'll meet you there, alright?" Scott assured. Bob simply nodded his head with another kind smile, turning to leave the room. Scott followed closely behind, reluctantly giving the other WSO a small wave in goodbye as their paths diverted when they made it to the corridor.

He kept his file folder in hand as he walked along the side of the wall, the files tucked protectively against his left thigh.
His eyes lifted to watch mindfully ahead, narrowing at an ajar door to a classroom a few feet away, more particularly the shadow cast onto the floor of the hallway. He let his sure feet slow to a timid walk as he neared the entryway.

Hangman leaned into view, toothpick nestled comfortably at the corner of his mouth as he pushed his back further into the structure of the doorway. His eyes lit up, smiling around the pick in his mouth as he straightened up, giving Mouse his full, undivided attention, while the other man shifted under his watchful eyes.

Two confident hands came into view as Hangman took a step toward him, grabbing at either pocket of the shorter man's flight suit, and tugging gently. Mouse softly stumbled into Hangman's space, favoring to look at the patch on Hangman's suit rather than any other part of him. They took a few steps into the room, Hangman as their guide with a hand at his waist, shifting them away from the door as an elbow jutted out to click it shut.
The feeling of a calloused hand prodding at his chin forced him to look up, and into ever present eyes of green.

Hangman kept a firm hold at his waist with one hand, tugging him further into his direction. His other hand darted to snatch the toothpick from his mouth, keeping it between his forefingers as his palm moved to rest at the hinge of Scott's jaw.

He leaned in slowly, teasing, as his lips only just glanced across Mouse's own. The shorter man grew dizzy at the feeling, hand moving up to grip at the bicep of the arm wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers digging in, desperate for a sense of balance, direction. His other hand dropped the folder, allowing it, and the few papers it held to flutter to the ground at their feet. He moved his now free hand to rest at Hangman's side, forcing it to remain lax rather than cruelly twist into the fabric of the flight suit that lay beneath it.

Hangman pulled away from the whisper of a kiss, craning his neck to the side of Mouse's face. He dipped his head, ghosting his lips across the edge of the other man's jaw. Mouse tilted his head further to the side unconsciously.

The pilot didn't stop there, furthering his brutal teasing by depositing a breathy kiss at the side of Mouse's neck. The brunet welcomed the affection all the same, palm skirting along Hangman's ribcage as the other man moved the hand on his jaw to clutch at the back of his neck, coaxing him closer with a steady pull.

"Jake," He murmured in a quiet sigh, practically a whisper.

Hangman pulled back, eyes watching Scott's carefully before surging forward, kissing him in earnest. Scott was quick to return it, pushing up against the balls of his feet to deepen the exchange.

He felt a final sense of belonging, just by a simple, uncomplicated kiss from a very complicated man.

He faltered at the thought, pulling away for just a fraction of a second. Jake moved, taking the hint with immediate recognition, but his assumption being entirely wrong. He ended the kiss, instead, brushing soft lips along Scott's jaw.
Scott hummed noncommittally, mind now burdened with the remembrance of a secret. One he wished to share, but ultimately decided in doing everything in keeping it hidden.