The last remnants of the unforgiving sun filtered through the clouds, bleeding a deep orange into the horizon, reflecting harshly against the soft waves tossing along the shore. The light burrowed through the windshield, glaring into his eyesight. He tugged the visor down with a small wince, hand snatching a pair of aviator sunglasses from the center console before climbing out of the car.

He straightened, hand resting at the edge of the door to push it shut. He tugged at the short sleeve of his woven button up, looking down at his chest to cast an assessing an eye over his clothes. He frowned in thought, running a hand down the tan shirt.

"Mouse!" Bob called out, the other WSO shot his head up, greeting him with a smile. Bob tossed a beckoning hand toward himself from where he stood on the beach. Scott jogged over to meet him.

"Hey," Mouse smiled.

"You're late." Phoenix chastised, two beers in hand. She extended one toward him. Mouse took it easily, nodding in thanks. He made quick work of putting his sunglasses on his face, shielding his eyes from the golden hour light surrounding them. He took the time to survey the people around them, all in varying states of drunkenness. Coyote was enthusiastically moving his hands around as he conversed with Rooster and Payback. He seemed set on a game of football, the stitched leather ball in hand as he mockingly glared at the other two.

Mouse let his eyes glance to Hangman, whose cocky smirk was present as it always was when in the public eye.
Rooster seemed peeved by it, ignoring the other pilot in favor for walking over to Scott as soon as he spotted him. His reprieve didn't last long, Hangman right on his tail when he noticed Scott's arrival as well.

"Hey," Rooster greeted, shooting Hangman an annoyed glance before nodding toward Mouse.

"Hi," Scott replied immediately, attempting to conceal his smile of amusement by wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Glad Mav's back." Bob said quietly, a sheepish smile on his face. Scott felt his chest warm at the gesture, lifting his free hand to rest at the other aviator's shoulder.

"Me too," He agreed, squeezing lightly.

Bob ducked his head at the attention, nodding slowly as he took a sip from his plastic cup. Mouse craned his neck slightly toward the other, peering into the cup, finding that it was just coke.

"Sure you're not dating?" Hangman butt in, eyes running over the two. It was voiced as a joke, but to Scott, the insinuation cut a little deeper.
The joke brought out a few chuckles and fond eyes directed at he and Bob.

"Why, you jealous, Hangman?" Payback shot out with a laugh, amused.

"Wh—" Hangman scoffed, sputtering as he reeled back slightly. "Ew, no."

That earned a few eye rolls and shaken heads, but from Mouse, he received a small frown.

A new conversation kicked off around him, but he couldn't shake it off. He blinked, clearing his throat quietly as he backed away. Bob turned around when the hand at his arm fell away, brows furrowing.

"Bathroom," Mouse explained lamely, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. Bob nodded quickly, shifting back to smile at Phoenix's quiet storytelling.
Mouse found himself unwilling to look up at Hangman as he left, no matter how much he had hoped the other was watching.

The Hard Deck was more or less empty, most of the servicemen currently occupying the nearby beach. He smiled at Penny, giving her a small wave as he stalked toward the bathroom. The door swung open a little too aggressively, which he chalked up to his frustrations. He moved to the nearest sink, eyeing the empty stalls for anyone occupying the room. After he was certain no one was there, he allowed his shoulders to slump, eyeing his reflection in the mirror.

He looked fine, better than. He was well dressed, a simple shirt paired with light wash jeans. He looked great, even, but his emotions crowded the forefront of his mind at all times. He may have not looked it, but he felt exhausted, even after a full night of sleep. The feeling of constant aches he previously wasn't accustomed to, not since basic, at least. But this time, those aches were beyond just the physical. They seemed to radiate throughout his very being.

A hand moved to tug at the handle of the faucet in front of him, a steady stream of cold water shooting into the drain below it. He extended his palm, experimentally letting the water thread through his fingers. The cool touch seemed to travel up his arm and into the bundle of pain in his chest, alleviating it somewhat, albeit, only for a moment.

The quiet creak of the door's hinges allowed him only a moment of warning before Hangman was edging into view of the mirror, standing just behind him.
Scott watched him carefully before he looked down to pull his hand away from the water, using the other to shut off the tap. A hand snaking around his waist, palm resting against his stomach, caused him to look up. He eyed their reflection, but Hangman payed no mind to the mirror. He focused on watching the side of Mouse's face, jaw, neck, as he moved his other hand to rest at his hip.

"Hey," Hangman had murmured, finally looking into the mirror to meet the other's gaze. His green eyes were warm, welcoming, and gentle, but they also held a fire. The brunet was unsure of what it entailed.

"Hey," Mouse parroted softly, biting the inside of his cheek as he broke their eye contact. He dropped his head, looking down at the hands on his torso. He watched them for a moment, but their position didn't last long. Hangman slid his left palm backward to rest both hands at Mouse's hips, turning the other man around to face him. He kept the hold on his hips, gently pushing Mouse to meet the sink behind him.

He moved a hand to pull at the sunglasses from Mouse's face, dropping them into the brunet's shirt pocket before joining his hand with one of the unmoving ones beside it, slotting his fingers between Mouse's own. He used his other hand to grip at the underside of Mouse's jaw, tilting it to the side as he leaned closer, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. Scott didn't reciprocate, keeping still, even as the blond moved.

"What's wrong?" Hangman murmured against the shorter man's mouth, head pulling back completely.

Scott let out a breath, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He watched us Hangman furrowed his brows, leaning in to kiss away the other's worries, but a hand at his chest halted him with a small shove. The pilot frowned, stepping back, and letting go of Mouse's hand, allowing it to drop dejectedly to rest at his side.
"This isn't—" Scott began, before cutting himself off, forcing himself to breathe.
"I hate this." He ground out.

Hangman's head pulled back in muted shock at the confession, hurt coloring his face before the expression morphed into a mask of confidence.
"Jesus, tell me how you really feel." He bit out, scoffing.

"Look, I..." Mouse started, a frown working its way onto his face.
"I can't do this, alright? I thought I could, but I—"

"What?" Hangman muttered, arms crossing over his chest in defense. "I said I'd do better." He stressed, voice even, taking a step closer. "I've tried, I swear to God, I'm trying to make up for it."

Scott reeled his head back, brows knitting together. "Wait," He pulled away from the sink, leaning forward.
"What do you—"

"I've been clingy, I can fix that." Hangman muttered in an attempt to make up, seemingly ignoring the other's words. "I should have known you didn't want me tugging you around like that."

"...That's not what I'm taking about." Mouse said in answer, confusion setting in further.

"Then what the hell am I pouring my heart out for?" Hangman shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

"This!" Mouse yelled back, gesturing a wild hand between them. "This—this secret!"

"What?" Hangman spit out.

"I can't hide it." Scott muttered, giving up. "The way you're always having that dumb, cocky smile on your face. How you look at me after trainings. Or how you watched my dad today, like you respected him, looked up to him; almost as much as I do. Or your jealousy tonight, even if you won't admit it."
He took in a deep breath, forcing himself not to meet Hangman's eyes, unwilling to gauge his reaction.

"And oh my god," He hissed. "When you have that stupid toothpick in your mouth. It's like you want me to climb you like a tree in front of everyone we know."

Then, did he decide to reluctantly look up at Hangman, who was unusually quiet. The pilot's slack mouth upturned into an immediate smile, still remaining silent.

"Please speak," Mouse muttered in a plea, frustrated.

"I'm just thinking about what that would have looked like."

"What?" The brunet's brows furrowed.

"You climbing me like a tree in class today." Hangman's smile deepened into a near grin, licking his lips. Scott heaved a sigh, annoyed.

"And the reason I offered that we keep it a secret, was because you didn't see your face when they showed up." Hangman jerked his head toward the wall, where just beyond it, their friends were conversing.
"You looked nervous, scared, I don't know."

"Oh," Mouse muttered dumbly.

"But we don't have to keep anything a secret, alright?" Hangman supplied easily.
"Personally, I'd love to take you up on the toothpick offer."

"Not an offer." Scott bit out. Hangman chuckled, taking a step forward and grabbing at Scott's hand, tugging him to meet his chest. He wrapped both arms around his waist, grip nearly suffocating.

"We'll see." Hangman murmured. Mouse looked up, into his eyes, realizing by the other's distant expression, that he was imagining the scenario again.
He jabbed his finger into the man's abdomen, causing Hangman to huff quietly. After his attack, he moved to mirror him, wrapping his arms around the pilot's midsection to reciprocate the hug. He leaned up, kissing at the beginning of the other's neck. Hangman hummed, clearly content.

"You wanting to head out?" Hangman asked. Mouse pulled his mouth away, instead lowering his head to rest against the taller man's chest. The cotton fabric of the shirt scratched lightly against his cheek as he pushing into it, sighing quietly.

"In a minute." He decided.