Finally lovers know no shame

Rooster sighed as he pulled up to the curb. It never failed to amaze him how different this part of town looked when it was less than an hour from the base. But the base didn't have vibrant colours, bright lights, and the smell of fake tan and vodka. He hadn't been home in a while; he had been away on a large operation for a number of weeks, and in that time, something big had happened, too big to just tell his parents over the phone. His mind went to Hangman, how he was probably about to land in Austin to deliver the same news — although it was probable their conversations would go very differently.

Rooster greeted Slider as he came through the club, walking past the drag queens and through the smoke, up the stairs to the back door of the green apartment.

Maverick must have seen him arrive because he opened the door just as Rooster got to the top of the stairs, pulling him in for a hug and kissing his cheek.

"Hey, kid," he said warmly.

"Hey, Dad."

His father must have noticed he was tense because he retreated, furrowing his brow.

"What's up?" Maverick asked.

Rooster forced a smile. "I've got some news, remember?"

"Yeah, but you said over the phone it was good news," Maverick pointed out, and Rooster realised he must look quite anxious.

"It is. I'm just… nervous."

Looking mildly concerned, Maverick led him inside to where Ice was. Rooster gave him a hug, too, before taking a seat on the couch, clasping his hands together. The sooner he told his parents, the sooner he could call Hangman to support him. He had it much easier than Hangman. He could do this.

"You remember Hangman?" he asked.

"How could we forget?" Ice said with a smirk. "You used to bitch and moan about how insufferable he was every day while you two were at the academy."

Rooster smiled. Oh, how things had changed.

"We're, uh…" The more he delayed this, the worse he felt. He just needed to say it. No bullshit. His parents ran a drag club. He didn't need to be euphemistic. So, he simply held up his left hand. "He asked me to marry him. And I said yes."

Both of them just blinked, then looked at each other.

"Married," Maverick said with disbelief. "What do you mean married?"

Ice just tilted his head. "Married as in married, Maverick. You know what that means. We got married three years ago, remember?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rooster." He scoffed, ignoring his husband completely. "You're not getting married. You're not ready for marriage!"

"Dad, I'm nearly forty," he pointed out.

"You never even told us you were dating the guy!" Maverick argued.

Rooster could tell that beneath the shock, Maverick was actually very happy for him, but he was always a little slow to get behind things like this, milestones, anything that meant Rooster growing up and becoming independent. It had been hard enough enlisting in the navy in the first place. Rooster understood why. Maverick had been entrusted to raise him from a very young age. He was more protective than any other parent out there.

"I know," Rooster conceded. "But we had to keep things private, on and off the base. After what you both went through, we didn't want those rumours going around, not until we were serious."

"That included not telling us, either?" Maverick said with folded arms.

"Well, I'll be honest, it took me a long time to realise the reason Hangman was always on my mind wasn't that he pissed me off. I just thought we were both… really competitive with each other."

Rooster hoped that painted a clear enough picture. His parents didn't need to know how they had both figured out how they really felt about each other.

"There's a joke here about the apple not falling far from the tree…" Ice said with amusement.

"Hangman and I want you to have dinner with his parents," Rooster said. "We understand this is a surprise, but we still want to celebrate together."

"Of course, of course," Ice agreed, trying to act as a buffer between Rooster's nerves and Maverick's shock. "Are they Navy, should we know them?"

Rooster's shoulders tensed. "His mother is a Texas Ranger. His father isn't in his life much but he'll be here for this, I think. He's a, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Republican senator."

"And I thought meeting an admiral was stressful," Maverick joked, looking at Ice.

"My dad loved you." Ice shrugged a little. "Eventually." Ice then looked at Rooster again. "What kind of Republican are we talking, Rooster? Mitt Romney or Rush Limbaugh?"

"Well, he's a Republican from Texas. It's as bad as you think."

"He's in for a surprise, then." Maverick grinned.

"His mother is lovely, though," Rooster amended. "I've met her a couple of times."

Technically, Hangman had met his parents before, too, but not when they were seeing each other, just as guest TOPGUN instructors. Hangman held a lot of respect for both of them, so Rooster was sure that wouldn't be an issue.

"Son, if you're expecting us to shut the club, that's not exactly easy to do," Ice said warily.

Rooster shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not asking you to do that. I just want to figure out the best way to do this. I'm not lying about either of you, but… I don't know how to make this go smoothly. It's going to be a lot for Hangman's dad to find out his son is gay and has gay fathers."

"Let's invite them to the club, maybe the senator will get a heart attack and that'll be the last we hear of him," Maverick said, and Rooster wasn't sure if he was joking. As protective as Maverick was, and as much as he had had to step up from his antics to be a father, when an opportunity to be a pain in the ass for people in a position of power presented itself, he always took it.

"Maverick…" Ice chided, using his full callsign to make a point of how serious he was.

"I'm kidding, alright? Besides… conservative senators love me. I was a man in uniform," he beamed.

"Yes, Mav, we all remember the number you did in your Whites." Ice rolled his eyes, but Rooster could unfortunately see the fondness there. He had never been ashamed of his fathers' choice of retirement, but he didn't need to think about what they got out of it. "But we'll talk about the dinner later. Right now, let's be happy for our son, and then let him get some rest. You look exhausted, kid."

Maverick got up and went to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of champagne. They toasted, and for that moment, it was nice to acknowledge it. It made it feel more real. He was getting married to someone he loved with all of his heart. But they weren't going to be able to enjoy it just yet, not until the fateful dinner was over.

Rooster then went to unpack his things and lay on the bed in his room, barely changed from high school, still covered with posters of rock bands and movie stars — his parents used to call it the straightest room in the house, until they realised that very few of the people in the posters were women. Rooster reminded himself that he had faced so many other adversities in his life. This wouldn't be that bad. He and Hangman were in the navy, for crying out loud. It was only going to be dinner. They could handle their parents meeting each other.

Right?

"You know you owe me twenty bucks now," Maverick informed Ice with a grin.

Ice sighed. "A deal's a deal, but I think the fact that we share a bank account makes this lose its sentiment."

"You're just a sore loser," Maverick insisted, holding out his hand until Ice caved and got his wallet out, handing him a bill.

"Because I usually win." Ice just smiled, all smug. "But I'll admit, marriage wasn't exactly on my mind when we first realised this was going on…"

"You know, he's been awfully quiet about Hangman, lately," Ice pointed out. "It's like he doesn't exist anymore."

"There are only a handful of reasons he'd stop talking about him." Maverick smirked. "What do you think? Maybe he's, uh, learned to get along with him? The way you learned to get along with me after a while?"

"We got along so well, I got stuck with you." Ice just chuckled. "Give it a few more months, and I'm sure the kid will tell us if that's the case."

"Twenty dollars he doesn't tell us until it gets way too serious," Maverick decided, outstretching his arm. "He'll be too embarrassed to admit he doesn't quite hate the guy just to say they're casually dating."

Ice laughed. "Our son, the oversharer, keeping his dating life from us? Alright."

"In all seriousness… Rooster looks pretty worried," Ice said more solemnly. "We need to make sure he knows we're there for him. It's a little daunting, but nothing we can't handle."

"Yeah," Maverick said unconvincingly. "But I'll gladly show my, uh, patriotism if needed."

Ice hummed. "Why don't you remind me how that routine went again?"

"Is that an order, Sir?" Maverick asked, cocky as ever.

Ice grinned. "You bet your ass it is."

Hangman had never been so envious of Rooster having gay fathers until now. Well, out gay fathers. He would still bet money on his father ordering his assistant around in places other than the office.

But Hangman supposed it was better his father hear this from him, personally, than someone else or, God forbid, a tabloid. The timing couldn't have been worse; his father had gotten involved in some kind of scandal with cartels only a day or so after he had proposed to Rooster. However, Hangman believed in ripping the Band-Aid off, and, frankly, he didn't give a shit about his father's feelings. This was much more important than whatever was going on with his career.

His mother answered the door, and Hangman tried not to make it too obvious that he was inspecting for bruises on her skin. Old habits die hard. Although his parents had been separated for some time, it didn't take much to stress his father out, and his mother was usually the one to have to deal with it if she happened to be nearby. With Hangman's sudden request for their presence, the scandal, and having to spend time around a wife who despised him and wanted a divorce that he wouldn't let her have, Hangman certainly wasn't expecting his father to be in a good mood.

But as far as he could tell, she was okay. Every time he came back home, she seemed to be doing better and better, looking more confident, standing up straighter, and not taking any of his father's bullshit anymore. That freedom looked good on her.

"Hey, Mom," he said, letting her pull him in for a hug.

"It's good to see you." She smiled. Up until a few years ago, Hangman would have wondered whether she liked having him home because his father always tended to act on his best behaviour when he was around. But now Hangman was confident she didn't live in fear anymore.

When he came into the living room, his father was there, eyes focused on some CNN press conference. He tried not to roll his eyes too much as he noticed that it wasn't live, but a replay, like he was a football coach trying to analyse his team's performance. The senator was still as narcissistic as ever, it seemed. However, his mother's bullmastiff, Peanut, was taking up about two-thirds of the couch, drooling all over his father's assorted paperwork and trying to sit in his lap. It amused Hangman that his father didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight, clearly intimidated by the dog, though he would never admit it. Hangman genuinely wondered if her getting that dog had been one of the reasons he seemed to have stopped giving his mother a hard time, from what he could tell.

Hangman decided to greet Peanut as he came over to him, completely ignoring his father. Petting the dog lifted his spirits a little, but he was still so nervous. He hated how much power his father had over him, even though he had been absent, physically and emotionally, for most of his life. It was only when Hangman had become a pilot that his father had started caring, no doubt because a son in the navy was good publicity for him. Just to spite him, Hangman had always refused to meet up with him anywhere in public; he would not be his photo op accessory. That was also why Hangman had insisted they meet at his mother's ranch tonight. His father hadn't shown his usual hesitation, likely because the press was already hounding him at his mansion so any opportunity to evade the public eye for a while was welcome. Although his father had denied rumours of separation, the press didn't seem to think he would be at the ranch, not when he had many other properties in his name. His mother never would have let his father back here, in her house, if it wasn't for Hangman's call asking to see them both.

"Turn that off, Jake," his mother said, annoyed, grabbing the remote and doing so before he could protest. Hangman was glad she was standing her ground. She wasn't playing homemaker or trying to please him or his ego, particularly when it was clear his father had just been sitting on his ass, waiting for Hangman to show up.

Jake rose from his seat. One of the many reasons Hangman was so grateful to be a navy pilot was rarely hearing his first name. His father had named him Jake Junior and filled out all the paperwork before his mother could protest — she had told him many times that not fighting more was one of her biggest regrets — but as soon as he had been old enough, he had changed his surname to hers: Seresin. He had contemplated changing his first name, too, hating the association with him, but then decided that the best way to stick it to his father was to make a name for himself and be better than he was. However, it was hard to be reminded, sometimes, so his call-sign was a blessing.

"Hello, son," Jake finally acknowledged his presence with that stupid fucking smirk of his, that if he had to see one more time on the news– and shaking his hand firmly like he was some colleague he was trying to impress or intimidate.

"Hey," Hangman replied, gripping his hand no longer than necessary. If only Rooster could see how pathetic he looked right now. It wasn't that he was vying for his father's approval, not anymore, at least, but he just felt himself regress whenever he was around, and he hated that so much. For God's sake, he was a navy pilot, but this actually made him feel anxious.

They all took a seat. Although his father had only been at the ranch for half an hour at best waiting for him, it was clear his parents wanted to get this over with as soon as possible and return to being as far away from each other as possible. Molly was making it clear that she didn't like this any more than Jake did, and that as soon as he figured out how to divorce her in a way that wouldn't destroy his precious image, he better sign the damn papers she served him almost two years ago.

Before Hangman could even start to explain, Jake's phone rang, and he answered without hesitation. Molly huffed, looking at him, unimpressed. Hangman could honestly say he was proud that she could even express herself like this, especially when it was so easy to remember the timid, fearful look on her face during most of his youth.

Jake barked orders at who Hangman presumed was his assistant, Cardone, before hanging up abruptly, acting like nothing had happened as he resumed his seat.

"You had to answer that now?" Molly pointed out with a grumble.

"I'm up to my neck in shit. I've got the FBI trying to link me to Sinaloa all because Grant couldn't keep his God-damned nose clean, and there's only so much I can plausibly deny. I've got re-election to think about. And now I've got to deal with whatever this is, so I don't want to hear it, alright?"

Hangman's fist clenched. He had to remind himself why he was even bothering to tell his father. He had never been one to care that much about obligation or reputation. But he was old enough and brave enough to look his father in the eye and take it like a man. He was marrying his boyfriend whether his father liked it or fucking not.

Jake huffed, then turned back to him with a fake smile. "What brings you here, son?"

"I'm getting married," Hangman said calmly and directly. "I proposed, and–"

"A white wedding!" his father interjected, his expression far more cheerful than Hangman expected, probably because it wasn't that he was happy for him, rather he had realised something he had said was of use to him. "That'll fix this."

"What?" Hangman asked, confused. Typical of his father, to make his wedding about himself.

"Nothing is going to make me look more relatable and personable than a wedding," he elaborated. "A wedding is hope. And a white wedding is family and morality and tradition."

Molly glared at Jake.

"A young woman," He looked at Hangman expectantly. He should have corrected his father then and there, yet a part of him thought this was going so smoothly, so why ruin it with something as insignificant as the truth? "Who doesn't look down on us because of the Sinaloa allegations, willingly joining our family. It'd mean the cover of People, Time, and Newsweek, trending on the Twitter, hashtag Colton 2020. Maybe this could even go viral on RedTube–"

"YouTube," Molly corrected.

"Love and optimism versus cynicism and sex! It would be an affirmation! We could get the Pope's blessing. It's not hard."

Hangman looked at his father incredulously. "The Pope?" Never mind the fact that they weren't religious, let alone Catholic. Rooster had been raised Jewish, and besides, he was pretty damn sure the Pope would not be blessing this marriage.

"You're right, he's too controversial. What about Billy Graham?"

"Didn't he die?" Molly pointed out, seemingly unfazed by this delirium, likely used to Jake getting like that, but she was still eyeing Hangman as if waiting for him to tear down Jake's dreams.

Jake shook his head. "You're right. Too liberal anyway."

Before Jake could go on, his mother spoke first. "You're missing the point. Stop making this about yourself, Jake. Our son is getting married, to…" She started, hoping Hangman would finally spit it out.

Jake did not look happy about getting interrupted, but still heeded her request. "What's her name, son?"

And there it was. He just had to say it. He could do this. He had rehearsed his speech of defiance the whole flight over. This would be fine. This man had no power over him. And he wouldn't do anything to Molly here, not with Hangman around, and certainly not with Peanut around, either.

"Roo… Ruby," he lied, hating himself as the words came out of his mouth.

His mother looked at him with shock and confusion. She and Rooster had met a couple of times and she knew they were serious, if they had broken up and Hangman had found a girlfriend, she would have known.

"Ruby," his father repeated with approval, then furrowed his brow a little. "That's a white name, right?–"

"Jake!" Molly said with disgust.

"So proud of you, son," Jake said, and Hangman genuinely believed he meant it, that he was proud of him for bringing home a woman who might salvage his election campaign, not that he served his country, or tried to be a good person, or anything else about him.

Now, Hangman really wanted to say something, burst his father's bubble, but he didn't get the chance as Jake got up and left, already on the phone to his beloved Cardone, planning where he could head to now to keep hiding from the press.

Molly looked at Hangman, confused. "Did Rooster… learn something about himself between the time I met him and now? Or did you just lie to your father and say you have a girlfriend?"

Hangman sighed, looking into his lap. "I didn't want him to take it out on you or blame you for who I am."

Molly folded her arms. "That's an excuse, and we both know it. You can't let that bastard control you like this. He is not your father, regardless of what your birth certificate says. He's a damn sperm donor, at best. And really, why should you care about what he thinks? Shouldn't you be proud to let him down and piss him off?"

"We… Rooster and I want you both to meet his parents," Hangman then said. "I want him to come, and I got nervous, and I… I choked. I'm an idiot. Although, he didn't exactly let me get a word in."

"I know," she said with understanding. "But I raised you to be better than this. How do you think poor Rooster is going to feel when he finds out? You're going to have to tell your father before the dinner–"

"Maybe we should call the dinner off. Elope, get married in Vegas," he suggested, half-joking, but his mother wouldn't have it.

"You better make this right," she said sternly. "I've never told you to man up but right now, this is your responsibility."

Hangman decided there was no point debating it. He had done something stupid and cowardly, and he had better fix it as soon as possible. Maybe his father would have a heart attack upon hearing the news; that would solve things.

But as he started walking towards the back door, he could see his father wildly waving his hands around and cursing. There was never going to be a good time to drop this bombshell, but there was certainly a bad time, and this was it. Hangman knew he had to admit the truth before they met for dinner, but he didn't have to do it too soon. The shorter the gap between the confession and dinner, the less time his father could spend on a hypocritical tirade about morality and family.

Although it still didn't change anything about Rooster's parents not exactly being conventional, either. If a boyfriend wouldn't send him to the hospital, gay parents who ran and starred in a drag club would. But Hangman supposed it would have to be taken one step at a time.

Hangman's cell buzzed in his pocket. Rooster. Perfect timing, as always. If he ignored the call, he would know something was wrong. The least he could do was answer…

"Hey, angel," he answered, not wanting to say his name out loud should his father hear.

"Angel?" Rooster said. "That's new."

"How are your parents?" Hangman then asked, desperate to change the subject.

"They're good," Rooster answered, still clearly worried for him. "I was wondering how you were, and how your father took the announcement. Have you told him yet?"

"Sure, sure, uh…" Hangman decided to walk somewhere more private, seeing his mother's assuring but pleading gesture, reminding him that he didn't have to worry about her being alone in a room with his father, that she could handle it, that she had her gun and Peanut, too. "I might have… Imighthavetoldmydadyoureawoman," he uttered in a jumbled rush.

"What was that?" Rooster asked after a beat.

"I might have told my dad you're a woman," Hangman said more clearly. "Well, technically, he assumed that, and I didn't correct him."

"I was hoping I heard that wrong." There was a terribly long pause "You… you said you weren't ashamed of me. You said this wasn't going to be a problem, that you wouldn't let his bullshit interfere with us."

Hangman sighed, hating how hurt Rooster sounded. "I know what I said, and I know it was wrong, and I know I was a coward."

"You didn't think to lead with both of my dads being some of the best navy pilots this country has ever had?" Rooster pointed out. Hangman could tell that that had been something Rooster had had to use a lot growing up, compensation for the 'flaw' that was having gay parents. He hated that he had pushed Rooster back into that mentality.

"You know me, I didn't think, period," Hangman tried saying, hoping to lighten the mood, but he could tell it wasn't working. "But I'll… I'll fix this," he promised.

"Yeah, sure, you can go find a woman your father will be happy with. That'll fix this," Rooster retorted, hanging up before Hangman could say anything.

He deserved that, he knew he did, but it didn't change how much he hated himself. He wiped a tear from under his eye.

"Well?" His mother asked expectantly. He hadn't heard her come out after him. "How did it go?"

Hangman smiled as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Oh, it went well, alright. I might not even be getting married now. Problem solved," he joked, his voice breaking.

She looked disappointed but still came over and hugged him.

"If you two love each other as much as I think you do, you'll get through this. But you're going to have to really prove that you're committed now."

Hangman knew he would have to be realistic. No matter how much he rehearsed the speech in his head, it wasn't going to come out as intended. But maybe he didn't have to tell him right now. Maybe he would let Jake think what he wanted, only so Hangman could put him in his place at the perfect moment.

Because he would be damned if he let his father ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Although Maverick hadn't been eavesdropping, he had heard him speak loudly, although the words were muffled by the door. Then, it had sounded like he was trying not to cry, and that had made Maverick pause. He waited until he couldn't hear anything anymore, then came to knock on his door warily.

"Rooster, it's me," Maverick said. "Can I come in?"

There was a sigh. "Yeah, it's open."

When he walked in, Maverick's slight smile faded as he noticed tears in Rooster's eyes. He came closer, sitting at the desk chair adjacent to his bed.

"Oh, sweetie, what happened?" Maverick asked. Rooster might have been a grown man, but he would always be Maverick's kid, and seeing him like that hurt. "Was that Hangman? Do I need to have Ice kick him out of the Navy?"

Rooster let out a sad laugh. "Oh, it's nothing. The senator," he spat with disgust, "isn't expecting Rooster, he's expecting Hen."

Maverick furrowed his brow, taking a second to realise what he meant. "Hangman lied and said he had a girlfriend?"

He nodded in confirmation, sniffling. "He… he said this wasn't going to be a problem. He made it sound like his dad was dead to him and didn't matter, but then he chickened out. What the hell are we going to do? He's going to get hit with the double-whammy of his son being gay and his in-laws being gay, too. Not that it's your fault, or anyone's, or that it's wrong, but I just– I really wanted this to go well, you know? I didn't want this to be such a big deal. I thought it would be a formality, then we could focus on our wedding, our day."

"Rooster…" Maverick started, voice as soft as he could make it. "Is this guy even worth marrying if he's treating you like this? If he's ashamed of you?"

It hurt that Rooster didn't shut him down immediately or insist that Hangman wasn't like that. There was a sad remark in there about how Hangman had left Rooster hanging but it wasn't the time to make it.

"I… I really don't know," Rooster admitted, worried.

"I'll tell you what, though," Maverick then said, trying to sound hopeful, but not wanting to sugarcoat. "This dinner… should be his last chance. If he hasn't toughened up, told his father where to shove it, and stand up for you… you'll know it just wasn't going to work out."

"Everything okay?" Ice asked from behind them, having heard them talk and Rooster sobbing, but it was clear from his tone that he already had a feeling it wasn't.

Maverick explained what had happened while Rooster just stared blankly into space, feeling lost. Ice pressed his lips together, looking at their son with sympathy.

It brought them both back to when Rooster was younger and they were still learning what it meant to be parents, where every little problem felt huge because it was new. This wasn't the first time Rooster had come to them with a boy problem, but it was the first time they found themselves having to help answer a question as serious as Should I still go through with this wedding?

"I'm sorry, kid," Ice said. "You don't deserve that."

"Thanks," he muttered. "God, this dinner is going to be a disaster. Should I just call it off?"

"Don't jump the gun yet," Ice suggested. "Maybe you both just need a few days to cool off, and maybe Hangman will grow a pair and fix this. It's not worth giving up yet."

"We want to meet him, Rooster. We want you two to be happy. Don't make hasty decisions now. He's worth one last chance, isn't he?"

Rooster shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with his engagement ring.

"Tell us how he proposed," Ice suggested, hoping that would remind Rooster of better aspects of their relationship.

A wry smile crept across Rooster's face, contradicting the anger he had felt before. It was clear to Maverick and Ice that he really must love Hangman. "He brought me to see a Blue Angels airshow. After a while, he starts disappearing and reappearing, says he needs to go to the bathroom or get another drink, so he tells me to record the show for him. As the show is about to end, one of the C-130Js that had landed comes back up, and starts skytyping Marry me Rooster? Well, tried to, it came out looking like morse code. It was only when he landed and showed me the ring that I figured out what he was trying to say." He snickered, clearly thinking of the memory fondly but trying not to show it too much. "I don't think he had permission to do that, I think he bribed someone, and that if he wasn't a senator's son, they might have taken his wings for that."

"Ballsy," Maverick said with a grin. "Now I really want to meet the guy."

"It does sound like something you would do, Mav," Ice mused. "Although, you wouldn't have bribed anyone, you'd have, let's say, borrowed the plane, since you love to ask for forgiveness, not permission."

"Honestly, I should have thought of that when we got married."

"I liked your proposal anyway," Ice assured him.

As Ice sipped the last of the champagne, he really wasn't surprised by the titanium ring sitting neatly at the bottom of the glass.

"I never pegged you for the traditional type, Mav, but you've proved me wrong tonight," Ice said, carefully letting the ring fall into his hand.

"You still need to answer the question."

"You still need to ask the question," he countered.

Maverick got down on one knee, the wind from the beach whipping through his hair. "Tom Kazansky, will you marry me?"

"If I had a dollar for every time you called me by my actual name… well, I'd barely have enough to get something out of a vending machine," Ice joked. "But yes, Pete Mitchell, I will marry you."

Their lips met, Maverick's hand on his cheek, and it felt like time could go on forever, like right here, right now, in this little slice of paradise away from the rest of the world, all that mattered was them…

"This line of conversation wouldn't be the worst way to start dinner," Ice commented.

The more Maverick thought about Rooster's anecdote and all his subtle mannerisms, the more he recognised that what his son and Hangman had was worth saving. It didn't change the need for Hangman to step up and tell the truth, but it made Maverick want to help in whatever way he could — without coddling him too much, as Ice always pointed out he did. But there was potential for something here. A point to make.

And, if the characterisation he got from the proposal story served Maverick right, Hangman sounded like the kind of guy who could appreciate the plan forming in his head.

Ice must have already suspected Maverick was distracted because he suggested giving Rooster some space for a while, remarking that they could eat a late dinner together in a couple of hours. But the look Ice gave Maverick made him realise that he was more transparent than he thought. After over thirty years of being together, he should have understood by now that nothing got past his husband.

Maverick kissed Rooster on the head, then followed Ice down the hall to their room.

"Whatever you're scheming, put an end to it," Ice said without skipping a beat. "This is too important."

"How do you know I was scheming and not just trying to think of the right thing to say to our son?" Maverick retorted, but it was pointless.

"Because I know that look, and I don't like it."

Maverick smiled. "It's the only one I've got."

Ice sighed like he didn't know what to do with him. Obviously, both of them were concerned for their son's well-being, but it wasn't their place to interfere, not to a crazy extent, at least. Rooster had seemed so happy about Hangman when reminiscing about the proposal. It would be a shame if their relationship was destroyed over something as stupid as a stuck-up, bigoted senator-in-law.

"I know this is important to Rooster, I wouldn't try to sabotage this," Maverick assured. "I just want what's best for him."

"I hear a but coming." Ice pointed out.

"The two of us know more than anyone what it's like to feel like we need to hide, so in all honesty, I can't blame Hangman for panicking. But I want our son to be proud of himself the way we're proud of ourselves now."

"I agree," Ice said. "But he is not a little boy. This is his relationship; he needs to make the decision."

"I know that," Maverick assured. "That doesn't mean we can't help him, though."

"Do you want to tell me what you have in mind?" Ice suggested.

He smirked. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Ice put his hands on Maverick's shoulders. "Just remember what I said, alright?" he warned. "This dinner is not going to be pleasant — if it's even happening, at this rate, although I want to hope it does. The least we can do is not make it worse."

"Oh, I wouldn't say worse. I'd just say… eye-opening."

"I'm going to regret not stopping you, aren't I?" Ice concluded with resignation.

"Bullshit. We're going to have fun." Maverick grinned.

If the senator was expecting a woman, a woman was what he would find there waiting for him.

Rooster had been staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever, but it really had only been about an hour or so since his fathers had left him alone to think. He didn't want to lose Hangman. He couldn't. But he wasn't going to put up with this bullshit, either. And the best way to really let Hangman prove himself was the dinner, as Maverick had pointed out. They hadn't come this far only to back out now. Hangman's asshole of a father was not worth their relationship.

He decided to call Hangman, having ignored the continuous vibration of his phone as Hangman had left voicemail after voicemail, a sign he was clearly still awake even though it was just past midnight in Austin. He needed to hear his voice now, have Hangman reassure him that he would fix this. Hangman had a reputation for doing some impulsive stupid shit, but he would always find a way to make things right. So why should Rooster believe that this wouldn't be the case now? He had faith in Hangman, deep down. He really, truly, did.

When Hangman answered, his voice was hoarse. "Rooster? I know I fucked up, and you have every right to be mad, but I-"

"I love you," Rooster interrupted him. He needed to say it. Although they hadn't been arguing for long, the tension in his chest had become unbearable. He hated fighting with him. They worked so well together, both as pilots and as partners. It made Rooster angry that they were dealing with such a stupid obstacle, but knowing that Hangman was just as upset made him feel less alone, less abandoned.

"I love you too, Rooster, so much. I'm so sorry!"

"I know," he lamented, tears pricking his eyes at the desperate relief in Hangman's voice. "But you know that it's not enough to say it."

There was a pause. "Wait… You mean?–"

"Yes, I still want this dinner to happen, but it is going to be a test for us. I need to know that you're going to stand up for us, regardless of what your father thinks," Rooster explained. "I don't expect you to make him walk through a pride parade, but I expect you to not let his opinion affect us, one way or another. I don't want to see surprise on his face when he comes through the door. I don't want you to scapegoat me as a way to come out. I want you to tell him the truth before he gets here. That's the only way it's going to mean anything. Otherwise…"

Rooster really didn't want to give him such an ultimatum, but he wouldn't let himself be swayed by Hangman sounding upset — even though Rooster had never heard him cry so much before. They couldn't just sweep this under the rug.

"I-I get it," Hangman said. "I do. I really do. I'm going to fix this."

"Please do. I don't like being mad at you. Not like this, not when it's this serious. Not after…" Rooster sighed, realising he really struggled to stay mad at him. "Not after you've made me so damn happy."

"You mean more to me than anything else in the world. I'm not giving you up."

"Show me that."

He could practically picture Hangman's watery smile. "I will."

It seemed neither of them wanted to hang up, both still relieved and cautiously optimistic.

"So how was your flight to Austin?" Rooster then asked.

Hangman just laughed. "You asked me that already."

"I missed hearing your voice," Rooster admitted. "How's the weather?"

"It's summer, and it's Texas, hon. It's hot."

"Tell me more. Anything. I want to pretend you're here next to me."

It wasn't unusual for them to do that, fall asleep in each other's arms when they were too exhausted to keep a conversation going, but too headstrong not to try.

"Next time you come down here, I'm putting you on a horse," Hangman said, dodging the possibility that this could all go so badly that Rooster would never come down to the ranch again. But Rooster tried not to think about that.

Rooster chuckled, closing his eyes and laying down more comfortably on the bed. "You say that every time," he pointed out.

"I mean it this time. I'm going to teach you to ride," Hangman insisted.

"I'm already good at riding. Just not horses."

"Yes, you are," Hangman said coyly, stifling a yawn.

There was something of a question hidden in that statement. Although they had resolved some of their tension, they weren't quite back to normal yet. Sure, Rooster had started this teasing, but he could tell Hangman wasn't being as direct as usual about taking it anywhere, likely fearing this wasn't appropriate given their still too recent fight. So, he would have to give Hangman some encouragement.

"What are you wearing?" Rooster asked, direct.

"For your fantasy? I'm in a cowboy hat, leather assless chaps," Hangman said, exaggerating his Southern accent.

"Oh, yeah? What else?"

"I told you, it's hot," he reminded Rooster. "Nothing else."

"What are you really wearing?" Rooster asked, curious.

"An old, washed out pair of pajamas." Hangman confessed with a chuckle.

Rooster hummed. "I like the cowboy more."

"Thought you might," Hangman said, his smirk coming to Rooster's mind so easily. "What are you wearing?"

Rooster wasn't doing much better, wearing old clothes that didn't really fit him anymore. He had been too lazy to get clothes out of his bags, instinctively reaching for the closet still filled with stuff he had had since he was a kid. Maverick never threw anything away. "I'm in my pilot whites."

"Tease. You aren't," Hangman called him out.

"Are you complaining, cowboy?" Rooster asked with faux sternness.

"No, Lieutenant, I am not."

Using titles and taking orders was not something pilots always liked in bed. Being referred to the way their instructors did tended to conjure images that nobody wanted to think about when they weren't at work. It also made things awkward at work. Nobody wanted to crash because they got called Lieutenant and their minds went into the gutter.

But Hangman liked the obscenity of it, liked how much it had made Rooster blush at first, and that was precisely what made it so hot between them.

"You want me to give you an order?" Rooster asked, his voice low.

Hangman sighed, and Rooster could hear fabric rustling. It didn't even sound like he was trying to make it subtle.

"What's the point of asking me to order you around if you won't even wait for my instructions?"

"Because if I don't listen, you're going to have to punish me," Hangman answered.

"Why do I have a feeling you're looking forward to that?"

"Because you know me too well." Hangman was always a little shit, but in bed, there was a subtle breathiness to his voice that really made it feel different, knowing that deep down, beneath his cheekiness, he was very aroused by Rooster giving him orders.

"What would you do to me if you were here?"

"Nothing, until you gave me permission," Hangman said sweetly.

"Good answer," Rooster commented.

"The question is, what would you do?" Hangman asked, his voice more raspy by the second.

Rooster bit his lip. "I'd find a way to shut you up."

"I thought you had missed my voice."

The fucker was right. And that was all Rooster wanted to hear now.

"Then start touching yourself, and let me hear you."

"It's a good thing this ranch is nice and spacious, then," Hangman said with a wistful sigh. "Can't imagine what you're going through, having to stay quiet, must be torture…"

"Fuck you," Rooster muttered.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Now, Rooster really couldn't resist either, very quietly sliding his hand down beneath the fabric of his boxers. He was very hard, and if it wasn't for the fact that the navy had a lot of security protocols about the use of technology, he would want to show Hangman.

"Oh, is someone losing control?"

He swore Hangman had ears like a bat, despite his penchant for ignoring authority figures. But Rooster couldn't take the slight demeaning tone in his voice, their roles now reversed from before, starting to stroke himself and hold back a moan.

"You know, I actually think you sound hotter when you're desperate like that, can't be the loud whore you usually are."

Rooster cursed under his breath. This wasn't going to last for much longer. "Keep talking."

"I always loved making you scream my name, let everyone else on base know exactly who you belong to."

With his desperation to keep quiet, Rooster's response was more like a whine, and Hangman seemed to like that a lot based on the groan he let out in response.

"Do it, Rooster. Say my name."

Rooster was still desperate to draw this out a little, make Hangman wait a little longer to hear it, breathing in shudders.

"Come on. Come on, hon. Say it."

"Shit, Hangman…" Rooster babbled.

"Again," Hangman insisted. "God, I love you so much. Say it again," he demanded.

Rooster did as requested, over and over again, egged on by Hangman's praise and encouragement until he came into his hand, his breathing heavy, his heart racing.

"Fuck, I love you, Hang," Rooster said, out of breath, and that alone seemed to push Hangman over the edge too, to Rooster's surprise. Hangman was not that romantic usually, and it made him wonder whether their fight had him so worried that he questioned if he would ever hear Rooster say those words to him again.

Rooster listened as Hangman came with a long moan, jealous that he could do it with such exhibitionism in his voice. The images of Hangman lying there lazily, spent, that broad grin on his face, made Rooster lick his lips.

"Damn, Rooster," Hangman said after a little while, both of them having lost their ability to speak temporarily.

He just hummed in response, a little proud of how arousing they had both managed to make this. But even though there was some relief, it didn't change what was coming for them, a very important test of their commitment to each other.

"I'm going to make things right," Hangman then said, his voice a little more earnest, the way it had been before. "I promise you."

Rooster smiled a little, allowing himself to feel hopeful. "I know you will."

Hangman wasn't getting cold feet, he wasn't. He had heard Rooster's warning loud and clear. He would handle his father, prepare him for the first meeting with Rooster and his parents.

He had only decided to delay the revelation to ensure that once the truth came out, Jake would have no exit. Hangman had stayed quiet during the flight on Jake's private jet to LA, making small talk with his mother as his father argued with Cardone about the way they could cover up the scandal they were in.

Jake had also brought Cardone so he could be their driver, but when they landed, Hangman beat him to the driver's seat of the rental BMW. Jake always preferred to travel in style. As they had discussed on the flight, Molly insisted she took the front passenger seat because sitting in the backseat gave her motion sickness. She hadn't been too sure what Hangman's plan was, but was willing to go along with it.

"Motion sick?" Cardone asked sceptically. "You're a Texas Ranger and you get motion sick?"

"We'll be late," Jake said, incidentally stopping his mother from needing to answer that. "Let's go, Cardone."

As soon as everyone was buckled in, Hangman locked the car, knowing the child-proof locks were on for the rear doors. Jake looked up from his phone.

"There's something you should know about Ruby..." Hangman started, slightly giddy at the thought of his father having no way out of this now, feeling like he was taking his power back.

Jake sighed. "It was too good to be true. I knew it: she's black."

"No, he's white."

In the rearview mirror he saw the exact moment Cardone understood what was going on, clearly amused and trying not to laugh. "Like father, like son…" He muttered quietly but Hangman certainly heard it, and so did his mother, based on the giggle she stifled.

Jake didn't even react, he just blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of what he just heard. "What?" he asked weakly.

Hangman smiled proudly. "His name is Bradley, callsign Rooster. We met at the academy."

"But… but now they let women in the academy too!" His father pointed out, like Hangman had forgotten something important.

Hangman shrugged. "I wasn't looking at women. I'm gay."

"And clearly, so were the women." Jake huffed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Destroying my already frail reputation, giving it one last blow-"

"Enjoying the stupid look on your face? Yeah, I am, Jake," Hangman confirmed with a laugh.

Jake grunted. "Don't call me that. I'm your father–"

"On paper only. That was how you wanted it until you realised I could be your little Republican showpony. Disappointed yet?"

"Are you making this up so I back off?" Jake asked, confused.

Hangman shook his head. So typical of his father to believe the world revolved around him. "You're not nearly that important."

That seemed to hurt Jake's pride deeply, and his expression went from disoriented to vengeful. "Alright, have your fun, take me for a drive, but if you think I'm going into some fag's house–"

Calmly, Hangman took out his phone, still driving with the other hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" Molly asked, taking the phone from him when he was done dialing and holding it up to his ear so he could drive with both hands again.

"TMZ?" Hangman greeted, beaming at his father as their eyes met in the rearview mirror. "Hi, I have information about the location of Senator Jake Colton. I know you've been looking for him–"

Jake lunged forward as far as the seatbelt would let him. "Oh, you wouldn't–"

"I have it on good authority that he's going to be in San Diego in about, oh, forty-five minutes."

Jake's eyes widened. That would barely give him time to run into the house, assuming traffic didn't get too congested, and it was LA, so that chance was minimal. His father actually tried to unlock the doors, demanding he turn the car around in a tone so childish it made Hangman laugh.

"He's in a black BMW M5, California license plates, ending in 245," Hangman added, then gestured for Molly to hang up as the voice on the other end of the phone asked him who he was and how he knew all that.

"See, now you won't have to come in, Dad," Hangman said, talking to him like a toddler having a tantrum. "But that house is the only place where you can hide from the press. I can play this game as well as you, old man."

He huffed. "Damn it, I should have been pro-choice."

There was silence again as Jake struggled to figure out what to say or do about this situation.

"Are you at least the man of the relationship?" He asked after a moment, breaking the tense silence.

Hangman gave him a funny look. "We're both men, that's the point."

"I meant do you do the fucking?" Jake insisted, seemingly ignoring the invasiveness of his own question. Molly was speechless, Cardone buried his head in a file, looking mortified, and Hangman barely avoided crashing the car. "I beg your pardon?"

"What's so difficult to get? Are you the one on top or not?" Jake clarified bluntly.

"You've taken no interest in me, ever, but now you want to know details of my sex life?" He scoffed, astonished by his father's brashness. "I don't ask you if you top your assistant?"

"Because it's obvious I do!" Jake looked at him as if he'd grown a third arm. Cardone didn't look like he was going to say anything or offer to be in a car with the three of them ever again. "I just want to make sure you're not a fag, can you blame me for that?"

Hangman made an incredulous face as he tried to process what he just heard. "I'm about to marry a man, and you still have doubts?"

"Oh, you know damn well it's not gay if you just fuck men–"

Hangman wasn't going to put up with this shit, his father's bizarre logic that he could fuck a man in the ass and it had no reflection on his sexuality, that masculinity was purely derived from power.

"Spare me your speech, Roy Cohn," Hangman just said, turning up the volume of the music. He'd had a playlist ready and had connected his phone to the car's speakers, so before Jake could finish his sentence, the whole car was attacked by a blaring "Baby, I'm your man!"

"For the record, Wham! was fine," his father insisted, raising his voice so he could be heard above the loud music. "It was only when he came out that he ruined–"

"Oh, can it, Jake!" his mother interjected, singing even louder over the music.

Hangman smiled at the incredulous face of his father, not used to Molly telling him what to do, and that seemed enough to shut him up for good, because he just sat back down and looked out the window broodingly.

Rooster was pretty sure he had had more water tonight than he had in days, his mouth perpetually dry as it hit him that this dinner was about to go down. He had checked his tie was straight, that the table was perfect, that his shirt didn't have sweat stains, many, many times, and yet he was still huffing and puffing, more than he would if he had done two hundred pushups.

Ice dashed down the hall, and Rooster sighed with relief. He always cleaned up nicely. But the lack of Maverick's presence gave him reason to worry. What was he doing? Surely, it didn't take him this long to shit, shower, and shave to look presentable?

"Ice, where's Mav?" Rooster asked with concern.

Ice furrowed his brow. "I thought he was helping you with dinner."

The unmistakable clicking of high heels on the hardwood floor made them both turn around. Mother of God.

"Hello, boys," Maverick greeted in a falsetto tone, before someone hit play on their speakers, and Cherry Bomb started blaring.

Rooster just gaped at his father, not quite fully dolled up like for a drag show, but almost; he wasn't in one of his usual slutty outfits, and the makeup was softer too, less dramatic than Maverina's signature face, and he– she was dressed like… well, like a senator's wife. And that was when Rooster realised this was not just a complimentary performance for dinner. He had merely thought Maverick had just been trying to drag out this introduction out of spite, but now realised he had been thinking of a different type of drag.

"Dad, what… what are you doing?" Rooster asked, trying to sound calm and non judgemental. It wasn't like it bothered Rooster that his father did drag, he liked seeing him happy and when he was assured the performance would stay PG, he enjoyed going to watch Maverina at the club. He just hadn't expected her to make an appearance for the dinner.

"I'm softening the blow," Maverick explained in his normal voice. "The senator's going to have to deal with his son being gay, so I thought I'd, well, play it straight for the night."

"You can't seriously expect this to work. They'll think we're insulting their intelligence, Maverick," Ice pointed out.

He just smiled. "Maybe I am, what about it?"

"And you…" Ice went on, looking behind Maverick at Slider, who had now come into the light. "You knew and didn't tell me?"

Slider put his hands on his hips. "This is payback for you not letting me perform at the club."

"Slider, you are one of my closest friends and I owe you my life for when you were my RIO. You also have no performance skills. The only thing you've got going on for yourself is a stage name–"

"In his defence, it is a great stage name–" Maverick interjected, envy clear in his voice.

Rooster chuckled a little, although he was still in shock. "This, I've got to hear."

Slider grinned proudly. "Donatella Dunaska." He looked at Rooster expectantly. "You get it? Because of Don't ask, don't tell?"

Rooster just looked at him with disbelief.

"Ah, you were too young to remember that," Slider said sheepishly.

"Slider, Don't ask, don't tell was repealed in 2010," Rooster corrected. "How young do you think I am?"

Slider was about to reply, but they all fell silent as they heard a car pulling up. Ice peeked out the window. Rooster cursed under his breath.

Maverick must have realised how stressed he was because he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me this is okay," Maverick said. "I don't want to embarrass you or sabotage your relationship. I really do want this to go well for you both. I just want to mock the senator."

Maverick didn't exactly have time to get changed now, but Rooster wasn't quite against this. He just hoped Hangman would see the humour in it, too. "Of course, it's okay. It'll be fun watching his reaction."

"And Ice? Are you mad?"

Ice shook his head. "I could never be mad at you when you look this good."

Rooster tried to put that out of his mind as he came to the door, still sweating bullets. Regardless of how things went, and how derailed they ended up, there was one guarantee: they would be talking about this night for the rest of their lives.

Hangman had barely managed to get out of the driver's seat before Cardone had shoved past him to get in front and speed out of there before the press arrived. He also pointedly wouldn't meet his eye, although Hangman knew damn well he was still humming to that Lady Gaga song he had played in the car.

"Let's get this over with," Jake muttered, looking around himself with paranoia as they scaled the stairs to the apartment.

He knocked on the door, and Rooster soon opened up. God, even in that short time he had missed seeing him so much. And tonight was about proving that, so, without hesitation, he stepped closer, allowing their lips to meet. Rooster was a little surprised but kissed him back nonetheless.

"Whatever expectations you have for tonight, throw them out the window," Rooster muttered, and Hangman didn't know what to make of that.

They parted, and Hangman gestured to Rooster, not giving a damn that his father was looking at him with a combination of annoyance, astonishment, and shame. "This is Bradley, Rooster, as I like to call him. And these are–"

"Oh, hello! Welcome to our home!" a shrill voice interrupted, and Hangman blinked a few times as he realised he could see Admiral Kazansky, but Captain Mitchell was, well, not quite himself, clad in a frilly, light pink dress that Hangman was pretty sure looked like something one of his great aunts might have worn, certainly not the extravagant or fun dress he'd expect a drag queen to wear. She really fit the bill of a conservative housewife, down to the pearl necklace, modest makeup, and sensible shoes. This was when Hangman realised that his and Rooster's relationship might not even be the highlight of the night. Rooster also seemed somewhat unsettled, making Hangman think this had not been planned, let alone by him.

Hangman leaned close to Rooster as they walked into the house. "Hon, what the hell is your dad doing?" he asked through his teeth, not judgingly, but clearly amused, though a little unsure how the rest of the evening would go.

"Apparently, proving a point to your dad," he answered, the tone of his voice indicating that he really had no idea what was going on.

Had this happened a few days ago, Hangman might have been a little more panicked, worried about a stunt like that making things go even worse. But right now, he was incredibly entertained as he realised his father was falling for it, hook, line, and sinker. Hangman was already happy with the knowledge that his father was freaking the fuck out about the press, so making him realise how idiotic his theories of masculinity and politics were would only be the cherry on top.

"I'm Patricia, this is my husband, Tom Kane," she greeted.

Ice turned to her with a questioning look, but Hangman could tell what she was doing; on the remote possibility that the senator recognised the name Tom Kazansky, he might be more respectful and decent than he would be to a couple of nobodies, and she wanted to see the true, unfiltered Jake Colton.

Molly seemed a little surprised, looking at Hangman as if expecting him to know what was going on. He had told her about Rooster's fathers at the same time as he had told her about Rooster, and he had mentioned Maverick's drag career a couple of times, so she wasn't completely taken aback by Patricia, more interested in Jake's reaction to her.

They took a seat at the dining table. A pilot Hangman definitely recognised was dressed in a shirt and slacks, leading them to the dining room, apparently, a butler of sorts. He served bread and poured glasses of wine. Hangman gulped about half the glass down. He might have gained some confidence from that car ride, but with all the little surprises and the promise of more to come, he was still pretty damn nervous. Rooster seemed to catch his drift, but at least seemed pleased that Hangman had not, and would not, shy away from Rooster being the love of his life.

The small talk started about as expected. When Patricia asked Jake about work, he didn't hesitate to speak at length about his entire political career from start to finish, his campaign promises, and his values. Nobody could get a word in, and Hangman could tell both Ice and Maverick were trying to ask Molly about her work, too.

"And my mother is a Texas Ranger," Hangman finally said, stopping his father in his tracks. "A very good one. She's highly commended. She's solved cases that people have spent years trying to figure out. And she's never been afraid of exposing corruption on the force."

Molly smiled. "I do take pride in my work. Although not as much as some people… What about you, Patricia?"

"Well, I'm a homemaker, that's all I've ever wanted to be since I was a little girl," she responded.

"As all women should!" Jake concurred.

Molly tried to conceal her eye-roll, but it was still obvious to Hangman. The pilot returned to start serving more food.

Jake ignored her. "And what about you, Tom?"

"I work in the entertainment industry. I manage a dance troupe."

Hangman raised an eyebrow at Rooster. He knew that his parents ran a drag club, and had never shied away from it. Most people on the navy base went there for drinks on their weekends off. Nobody was ashamed of it. But the vagueness of Ice's words made Hangman realise this was strategic, complementary to Maverick's gender swap. They were going to play the part, act like the perfect in-laws, then, Hangman hoped, pull the rug out from under Jake in a way that would be oh-so satisfying.

"Ah, ballet, such a fine art," Jake said presumptuously. "You know, what happened to the good old days, when dance was sophisticated, modest. Nowadays, all the youngsters seem to do is shake their ass–"

"As if you've never gone to strip clubs to see just that," Molly uttered.

"So, what do you think about our boys getting married, senator? Isn't love such a wonderful thing?" Patricia asked, clearly having no intention of beating around the bush.

"It came as a shock to me, that's for sure," Jake answered, apparently forgetting about the rest of his sexist remark in favour of insulting him somehow. "You know, I always used to tell my son growing up–"

"Growing up?" Hangman interjected. "You weren't even around."

Jake shot him a glare. "My career unfortunately interfered with my ability to commit to parenthood," he answered like a true politician. "It's one of my deepest regrets in life."

"Bullshit," Molly muttered under her breath.

"As I was saying," Jake resumed. "I always used to tell my son growing up that there was nothing wrong with fucking a man in private, he just couldn't be gay about it. The ancient Greeks and Romans used to do it. Nothing wrong with that, but when the liberals come and make it so flamboyant–"

Hangman choked on his water, trying to stop his father from elaborating any further, horrified. Sure, he'd heard variations of that so-called life lesson before but he'd never heard him say it so openly to complete strangers. He didn't think he'd have the balls to, but he guessed in his own twisted way he truly believed what he was saying was logical.

"What? I can't even discuss my political beliefs over dinner? Is that the kind of snowflake society we live in now?" Jake asked.

"Christ, Dad," he uttered, watching Rooster chug the rest of his wine glass in the corner of his eye.

It was clear nobody wanted to even attempt to respond to that. Ice maintained a polite quietness, delighted to pass Molly the potatoes when she asked for them. Hangman and Rooster kept making eye contact, as if asking the other to do something about it when they had no idea where to begin.

"I didn't suspect that would ever happen to my son, not after he joined the Navy! Back in my days there were no faggots in the military-"

Ice turned to Patricia, amused. If only the senator knew how wrong he was.

"Now that's an idiotic issue," Patricia started, making Hangman look at Rooster worriedly again, "You know, I used to think homosexuality–"

"More salad, Hangman?" Ice suggested, meeting Hangman's gaze with a slight panic.

"I'll take some," he said gladly.

"Me, too, Dad," Rooster added.

Patricia paid it no mind, continuing to speak, "–was one of the things weakening this country."

"Really?" Jake asked with interest. "I would have to agree with that!"

"That is until I found out Alexander the Great was a fag. Talk about gays in the military!" Patricia laughed with a falsetto so theatric, Hangman was utterly stunned that his father really seemed to have no idea who she really was.

But Hangman realised that that was precisely what he could use to his advantage. Not only was he going to learn that he was essentially flirting with a man in drag, who was telling him what he wanted to hear, but Hangman was going to knock him off the high horse he still thought he was on.

"What men do in private is their business," Jake replied smoothly.

"You know, what, Patricia, I think that really does make sense," Hangman said, making all of them look at him strangely. "Men in battle are often close to each other for strategic reasons. There's nothing gay about it." He turned to stare Jake down with the fakest smile he could muster. "Which is why when you bend your assistant over your desk and fuck him until he can't walk, it's all just to help your campaign, right, Dad?"

The way Jake looked at him reminded him of a bull about to charge. In the corner of his eye, Patricia seemed so proud of him, like this was so much better than what she had expected. His mother was trying not to burst into laughter.

"Dessert, anyone?" Rooster said with a nervous chuckle. "I could go for dessert."

"I'll help you take it out of the kitchen, son," Ice offered, the two of them dashing out, not before Rooster could shoot Hangman a grin of disbelief, confusion, and amusement.

As Rooster shut the kitchen door behind him, he could still hear Jake and Patricia continuing their discussion although Hangman had certainly knocked Jake's ego down a notch with those comments. But Patricia got increasingly provocative with her remarks and conversation topics, and for that reason, he and his father both were at a loss for what to do. Maverick always had a tendency to push buttons, as did Hangman, but how far was too far?

If Rooster hadn't expected his father to be in drag or pretend to agree with the senator's views, he certainly hadn't expected Hangman to reveal something so scandalous that it had taken everything in him to not jeer and laugh so hard until he cried. The tension of uncertainty was even greater, but Rooster wished he had recorded that conversation on his phone, purely to replay the look of pride and satisfaction in Hangman's eyes.

Another bottle of wine was sitting on the counter, and Rooster didn't hesitate to take a generous swig. The only thing that stopped him from downing half the bottle was Ice snatching it from him with an audible pop so he could take some for himself.

"I thought Hangman's dad was a conservative senator. What do you mean he's fucking his assistant?" Ice asked, bewildered.

Rooster just shrugged vaguely. "I don't know!"

Although they both sounded fretful, really, both of them were in disbelief.

"I had faith in Hangman to stand up for us, but that was unexpected," Rooster commented.

Ice went to the fridge and started placing the ramekins of creme brulee on a tray. They had bought them from a nice bakery, the same one that had done Ice and Maverick's wedding cake. Slider had insisted on trying to make something, but nobody needed to be subjected to his cooking, hence why most of dinner had been catered externally, too. Slider's only contribution had been buying the bread and wine.

As they came back out, they found Patricia had migrated to one of the empty seats very close to Jake. She was laughing so obnoxiously, and Jake seemed to like that. Molly and Hangman were looking at each other with bewilderment, their wine glasses noticeably less full.

Hangman caught Rooster's eye, worriedly motioning with his head worriedly towards Patricia. Ice cursed under his breath. Rooster was confused until he looked closer at Patricia and realised her wig was displaced. Jake was too drunk — and apparently, infatuated — to notice, but so was Patricia. It was surprising that this act had lasted for so long, but it couldn't end like this. It had to end with Maverick's shit-eating grin in the midst of a dramatic reveal.

"Does anyone mind showing me where the, uh, bathroom is?" Hangman asked, standing and coming closer to Patricia's side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up with confusion, but must have registered the concern in Hangman's eyes because she smiled and said, "Of course, my dear, I'll show you!"

As Patricia stood, her wig became even more lopsided, but Ice swooped in and kissed her on the mouth to cause a diversion.

"One kiss, darling," Ice muttered.

"I'm only going to the bathroom!" She protested.

"Uh, we'll all go!" Rooster chimed in, figuring he would rather be regrouping with Hangman and his parents than stuck in a room with his in-laws — although, really, only one of them was the issue.

They all shuffled towards the hall, somehow ending up in a formation that shielded Patricia from Jake's line of sight.

"My men!" Patricia exclaimed, even higher-pitched than usual. "Isn't this wonderful? All of us together. So moving, I think I'm going to cry!"

As soon as the door to Ice and Maverick's ensuite shut, all of them let out a collective sigh of relief.

Hangman barely remembered getting to the bathroom. It had all happened so fast. His head was spinning a little. It was chaotic in every way, but pretty damn fun, too. He just hoped that they could get it under control without arousing too much suspicion. His father had probably already made some snide remark about him and Rooster in the bathroom together.

"I'm never wearing this cheap wig again. It can't stay put during a dinner, imagine what it might do during a performance!" Patricia rambled dramatically, feistily fiddling with bobby pins to try to put the wig in place again. "Losing a wig without another one ready underneath, I might as well lose my reputation. The day that happens we should shut the club, sell it, go into hiding–"

"Dad, calm down, it's fine. If the senator couldn't tell when he was sober, I doubt he's going to figure it out now that he's drunk and… well, a little smitten with you."

"At least I've still got it," she said, looking at herself in the mirror proudly as she glued down the lace front again, "I could really use a Pirin pill right now."

Hangman looked at Rooster, tilting his head. He had always been open about his family's history and his past, but drugs had never come up. Hangman wouldn't judge, of course, but he was concerned.

Rooster shook his head, leaning closer. "Slider just scrapes the A and the S off aspirin pills and gives them to my dad when he's stressed. Placebo goes a long way…"

"Dear, if you cry it'll ruin your makeup," Ice reminded her.

Patricia shook her head. "You're right. You're right. We don't have time for this." She then turned to Hangman for distraction. "Hangman, darling, tell us everything about your father fucking his assistant."

He chuckled. "Well, there's not much more to say. They're fucking and he doesn't think it's gay."

"Gagged," she just commented.

"Come on, Dad, let me pin the back," Rooster said, noticing how frustrated she still seemed, and aware of the time.

As Rooster took over, Ice came closer to where Hangman was, making him a little nervous. With everything that had happened tonight, he had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be having a formal introduction to his in-laws, who were also two pilots he admired deeply.

"I get it can be difficult to deal with people like your father," Ice said with understanding.

"He's no father to me," Hangman muttered.

Ice smiled grimly. "Even when it's a stranger, it's hard. When Mav and I were in the navy… for both of us to be gay and in a relationship together, if we had been open about it, it would have been suicide. I'm glad it's gotten better for you and Rooster, but I also acknowledge that it's still a battle."

He nodded, humming in assent, his eyes habitually going to Rooster.

"I was worried when Rooster told me what happened, but I had faith that if you were as special to him as I thought you were… you would make this right, and you have. That takes guts. Even for a navy pilot, to stand up for yourself and who you love, takes guts."

"Thank you. I… I'm so sorry for what I did. I'm not ashamed of Rooster, and I'm not going to let some stupid, conservative asshole make me question that for a second."

"Emphasis on stupid," Maverick said, now reformed in her outfit, but speaking normally. "I say this with no offence, kid, but your father really isn't the sharpest tool in the shed."

Hangman snickered. "No, he's not. But, in his defence, I have to say, you're a pretty convincing conservative lady. I dare say he's falling for you."

Maverick grinned, but before he could say anything, the sound of increased chatter from the other room made them all fall silent. Hangman could hear his mother more than his father, which was a good thing, but perhaps his infatuation with Patricia really had gone too far now.

"Think we better go tell him?" Rooster suggested.

"Nah, let him sweat for a bit," Hangman decided. "I want to hear him admit his little crush on dear Patricia, then we'll break the news."

Maverick chuckled. "Oh, I like the way you think, kid."

Molly took another sip from her wine glass, frustrated to be alone in the dining room with Jake. Hangman and Rooster had acted as a buffer up until they left, and now she had to put up with him on her own. She was horrified but not surprised by the things he had said over dinner. What a terrible impression to make on her son's in-laws! She didn't care about it from the perspective of reputation, but she at least wanted Rooster and his parents to realise that Jake was an anomaly in their family and she wasn't like him, nor did she tolerate his bullshit.

"Something strange is going on…" Jake said, oblivious to her resentment towards him.

She turned to him, uninterested. "Oh, really? What do you mean?" She thought he might finally be coming close to the truth, but with a man as dense as Jake, you never knew.

"Patricia and Tom. I know just what's going on."

"Let's hear this," she said as she took another sip of her wine. She wondered how she had put up with him without becoming an alcoholic.

"He mistreats her so terribly. It makes me furious, the contempt he has for her. Did you see him when she talked? He looked almost frightened." He tutted. "And how he kept trying to change the conversation whenever she tried to say something smart and political. It's such a shame. She's a wonderful woman, and she's being dismissed by her husband!"

Molly realised those months of therapy had paid off because hearing him say something so ignorant didn't make her want to strangle him. Instead, she wanted to laugh. He really did believe Patricia was a prim and proper conservative housewife. More than that, he apparently was so taken with her that he was getting protective over anybody who didn't agree with her views or let her speak, unable to comprehend that every word she said was a mockery of everything Jake represented.

"Oh, so now you recognise what a battered wife looks like?"

He looked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Is your head so far up your ass that you can't see that that's exactly what you used to do to me? All those couples therapy sessions that you insisted on then made about yourself." Her voice then took a mocking tone. "Oh, poor senator has to deal with his campaign. Poor senator wants a new yacht. Poor senator can't get laid because he's too stressed to get it up properly–"

"Lower your voice," Jake said as his cheeks reddened, but if the others could hear, she didn't care. She wasn't going to sit there and let him act like a pompous ass. This night wasn't about him.

"What? You, a politician, can't handle a bit of criticism?"

"First our son and now you!" he said accusingly. "You're embarrassing me in front of Pat– Rooster's parents."

She scoffed. "You know, if you want us to look like the perfect all-American family, flirting with your son's mother-in-law is not the way to do it."

"I am not flirting–" He tried to defend himself, but it was pointless.

"You can keep telling yourself that, but I don't think anybody will believe you."

He sat up straighter, then. "I am a man, I have the right to flirt. Besides, weren't you the one that wanted a divorce? God, this twenty-first century society and its matriarchy. You should really be more like Patricia, the perfect example of how women should behave–"

"Yeah, not quite," Patricia interjected from behind them, and both Molly and Jake turned to see Hangman, Rooster, and his parents come back in.

Patricia came closer, her hand coming to her hair, revealing that she was wearing a — rather expensive, Molly guessed — blonde wig.

Jake gasped. "I knew it. Cancer. That's what you're trying to hide."

"No, senator, think simpler. Happier. Gayer, if you will," Patricia said with a smile. Molly wasn't even sure if she should refer to her like that anymore, given the change in voice, too. Patricia reached into her chest and pulled out two silicone inserts, all but tossing them at Jake who looked at them like they were from another planet.

"Breast cancer, tragic. You know, the chemicals they put in those damn vaccines–"

"My name is Pete Kazansky-Mitchell. I'm a man, senator," he explained, his voice dropping even lower than his usual. "Does that help now?"

"I don't understand," Jake said, suddenly disoriented.

"I'm a man," Pete repeated. "We're both men."

Jake just blinked. "What?"

"They're gay, Jake," Molly clarified, astonished at how he wasn't getting it. "Like our son and his fiancée. Like you and Cardone."

"I told you, Cardone and I have a professional–" Something then seemed to occur to him. "Wait, did you say Kazansky?"

"Yeah, we're also Jewish," Pete added.

Jake quickly made the sign of the cross over himself, then ran a hand through his hair with shock, like Pete had said he was Satan incarnate. He then seemed to think a little harder.

"Tom Kazansky? And Pete Mitchell? Why are those names so familiar?"

"Well, Dad, they were pretty damn good pilots during their time in the navy," Hangman said, and it warmed Molly's heart to see the look of pride on Rooster's face, too. "You might remember them better by their callsigns: Iceman and Maverick."

"Six air-to-air kills combined…" Jake muttered. "So… so… the two of you, two of the navy's best pilots… are fags?"

Molly huffed. "For God's sake, get a grip, Jake."

Jake shook his head, refusing the truth. "No, this doesn't make any sense. You can't be… gay like that and be navy pilots. It doesn't work!"

"Your son would beg to differ. How many times does someone need to tell you? They're gay and pilots. Rooster has two fathers who are also gay and pilots. You are gay. So is Cardone."

Molly realised she must have finally gotten through to him because instead of snapping back angrily or going on another tirade, he looked like his whole world had come crashing down, his theories of masculinity and sexuality utterly disproven.

"But I… I'm the top," Jake explained, his voice softer with defeat. "And that… that has to count for something. I'd still fuck you!" he simply said, turning to Maverick, as if it was a huge compliment and not a desperate request.

Maverick just shook his head with a grin, albeit a sympathetic one, and placed his hands on Jake's shoulders. "Hate to break it to you, senator, but that's… unlikely, to say the least."

"You believe in the sanctity of marriage?"

Molly understood Jake's surprise; not even he, as conservative as they came, believed in that.

Maverick smiled. "Sure, senator, but also, I'm a top."

With a sense of panic Molly had never seen on his face before, Jake bolted to the door, like this had turned into some kind of intervention for him, and he was still vehemently in denial.

He stopped and turned around with a slight grimace, only to say, "I just want to say, Mr. and Mrs., uh, Admiral… Captain…ette… I hope this doesn't influence your vote?"

"Oh my God, Jake," Molly said incredulously.

As the door opened, someone shouted, "Senator Colton!" and Jake shut the door in an instant.

Molly had genuinely thought the night couldn't have been more karmic and eye-opening for Jake, but she was glad to have been proven wrong.

After a silence that felt like forever, someone's phone — presumably Jake's — vibrated, making him jump. Jake answered on speaker.

"The press is on their way," Cardone informed him. "Somehow, they got the address of the house."

Jake scoffed. "No shit, they're already here! Get your ass back here and get me out of this!"

He kept peering through the windows, and all the camera flashes and chatter made Hangman realise it was real.

"Wait, you mean TMZ is actually outside?" Hangman asked with disbelief.

Jake looked at him funnily, although the panic in his expression was entertaining. "Why are you surprised?"

"I called Phoenix. It was a bluff. As if I have a contact at TMZ!"

Hangman was a little surprised that his father didn't question that all too much, just cursing under his breath. "Grant, the little shit. He must have done this to me."

"Maybe he thought it would distract from his scandal," Cardone suggested.

"Yeah, by creating a bigger one!" Jake scoffed.

"Being at your gay son's in-laws is more of a scandal than being connected to the Sinaloa cartel?" Molly asked drily, and Jake just looked at her like that should be obvious.

"How did he even find out I was here?" Jake asked.

"That might be, uh, your fault," Cardone reminded him.

Jake furrowed his brow. "How?"

"Because when we landed, Grant called to ask if you were coming to see him in Beverly Hills – you know, so you could actually do something about his upcoming court date – and you bitched that you were going to have to drive all the way up from San Diego. Combined with the fact that you share your phone's location with him, he's not stupid, Jake."

"Of course, I share my location with him, what if something happened to me?"

"In a drag club, Jake?" Cardone pointed out. "Look, I'm going to try to park somewhere, but it'll be up to you to get yourself out of there. Don't be too long. I'm not getting sucked into this mess."

"Fine," Jake gritted through his teeth, hanging up and aggressively shoving his phone back in his pocket. He huffed dramatically and put his hand on his forehead. "Oh, God, I can see the headline now: Captain Grant and his coke, Senator Colton and his cocks."

Molly squinted at him. "That doesn't even make any sense."

Jake sighed. "The press rarely does."

"Jake Junior and his Rooster," Hangman added cheerily, happy to remind himself of his name just to watch Jake narrow his eyes at him.

"This is not about you," Jake said with disdain. "I could be ruined over this! I'm up for re-election. I'm involved in a scandal. I'm in the home of a gay couple who owns a drag club. I get you want to get homo-married, but how many lives must you destroy to do it?"

"You know what, Jake?" Hangman then said, having truly abandoned that part of him that still felt a need to please his father or not aggravate him. "Yes, I'm in a relationship with a man. Yes, I'm a fag, as you would put it. But I know who I am. And while Rooster's family may not fit your idea of tradition, they're a better family than you'll ever be to me."

Hangman then turned to Rooster, who looked floored by Hangman standing up for their relationship, and was still a little in shock over the events of the night. Hangman took him by the hand, then got down on one knee. "Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw Kazansky-Mitchell, do you still want to marry me?"

Rooster just grinned. "You're damn right, I do." He then closed the distance between them, cupping Hangman's face and pulling him in for a deep kiss. Hangman was so flooded with relief and joy that he didn't let his father's scoff bother him – although Ice, Maverick, and Molly all seemed quite happy for them.

"You know, I realised we're going to have an impossibly long last name once we hyphenate," Rooster commented once they parted.

Hangman laughed. "Hey, at least they'll never forget us."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're in love," his father said. "What about me? How the hell am I getting out of here?"

Hangman wanted to just tell him to man up and walk right out, but the look of mischief in Maverick's eyes intrigued him, so he let him speak.

"You know, I think I've got a great way for you to blend in, senator. All of us, actually, if we really want."

Judging by the look on everyone's faces, they soon caught Maverick's drift. Everyone except Jake.

This night just kept getting better and better.

"Hold still, I'm trying to pluck your eyebrows," Molly said to Rooster, who was still laughing. Both he and Hangman kept trying to look over their shoulders to where Maverick was doing Jake's makeup. Meanwhile, Ice and Molly were having fun doing Hangman and Rooster's; they had decided this would be a fun way to end the night, even though neither of them had any problem being seen walking out of a drag club together.

Having been given free reign over any makeup she wanted, Molly had opted for exaggerating her go-to look for a night out with her friends, and was checking out the impressive collection of wigs Maverick had on display in the room, wanting to try something different for once.

Ice hadn't done much to himself compared to everyone else in the room – always opting to go subtle with his makeup to complement and not overshadow Mav – but the outfit he was wearing, while remaining masculine, was glamorous and with just enough bling to be eye-catching.

Maverick had decided to shock the senator by completely removing every trace of conservative, demure Patricia, but hadn't gone for his signature Maverina face, deciding instead that he liked the way the senator looked terrified every time Maverick caught him staring at his bare face, and to go with that he had decided to borrow one of his husband's suits. It was a deep blue velvet, not something he would wear to a navy event, but one he would wear to cheer Maverick on during one of his sets.

Ice looked satisfied with his work as he added the final touch of lipstick to Hangman's face. Rooster and Hangman had managed to find a set of matching air hostess uniforms that had been used in a previous group routine. Rooster's was red, while Hangman's was blue, as were their respective lipsticks and eyeshadows. With the lacy white dress Maverick had picked for Jake, the three of them would look pretty damn patriotic.

Hangman spun around dramatically in the chair when he was done, looking at Rooster with approval. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Rooster smiled, still overjoyed that after the chaotic night they had had, things had still worked out, they were happier than ever. "I could say the same to you."

He took Hangman's hand, helping them both to their feet, their heels a slight challenge to stand in, but all their navy training, balance work, and time in the gym meant they oddly weren't too hard to adjust to.

"You're not going out like that," Jake said, tutting with disapproval. "I didn't raise a whore. And I didn't raise you to marry one, either."

Hangman sputtered. "Well, one, you didn't raise me, and two… you're seriously offended by a v-neck? They're fake tits, Dad, I'm not exactly revealing myself."

"I think he's just jealous you got the better costumes," Molly said with a grin.

Maverick moved to grab something. "However, you will be revealing yourself, senator. Put this on."

Jake looked at him, confused. "Where's the rest of it?"

"I did try to find something a little more conservative, given your taste, but you're a lot taller than most of the other queens, and we don't generally go for modesty, so this will have to do." Maverick explained.

He passed the dress to Jake, as well as a platinum blonde wig. He almost looked afraid of the objects in his hand, but got up and went into the other room nonetheless.

Hangman was still trying to stifle giggles. Although Jake had tried hard to hide his face, they had seen enough.

"Dad, I've seen you do better makeup than that. Actually, I could do better makeup than that," Rooster commented. "You could have at least made him look pretty."

Maverick grinned, shaking his head. "Hey, now he's ugly on the inside and the outside."

"I've got to say, I'm with your old man on this one, Rooster," Hangman agreed.

There was some awkward shuffling as Jake came out, wobbling in the white platform heels he was wearing. Now that he was standing, it was clear that the outfit highlighted how long his legs were, and not in a good way, more in the sense that he resembled a daddy longlegs. The wig genuinely did frame his face nicely, but that was about the only flattering part of this. The blue eyeshadow was horrendously eighties, the lipstick was far too bright for him, and the sharp contour made him look like a bad copy of a Patrick Nagel illustration. The dress could have even looked flattering on him if only there'd been a belt on it to give it at least the illusion of an hourglass figure, but Maverick had conveniently forgotten to mention that, opting for letting the senator resemble a quite boxy shape.

"What do you think?" Jake asked sheepishly, turning to the rest of them.

Rooster and Hangman were snickering, making Jake growl.

"This is reminding me of something…" Ice said.

"Me, too," Molly agreed, until they both turned to each other and exclaimed, "The Hall and Oates silver album!"

Both Rooster and Hangman looked at them with confusion.

"You kids need to educate yourselves," Ice said. "It's a great album."

"Not as good as H2O, in my opinion," Molly added.

"Can we just leave already?" Jake demanded with the impatience of a toddler.

God, if he had thought the house was bad, the club was a nightmare. Freedom of expression everywhere, it made him sick. People kept looking at him, and it made his heart race. Was it that people recognised him? He would like to think he was so famous that even the liberals knew him, but he was doubtful here. So what was it? Did the dress not fit him properly? Was he not attractive? Was his hair out of place? Was there lipstick on his teeth?

Everyone else seemed to blend right in, dancing with people as they walked out with the rest of the drag queens, including Rooster and Hangman. Molly seemed to be having the time of her life, escorted by Ice while Maverick was stuck with him. He wanted to kill whoever decided to play Dude Looks Like a Lady over the club speakers.

"Come on, you've got to be enjoying this at least a little, senator," Maverick said, his hand on the small of Jake's back – never mind how much taller Jake was than him, especially with these heels that were so hard to walk in that he felt like a circus freak. Thank God, it was dark in here, otherwise everyone would see he was clinging to Maverick for dear life.

"Nobody wants to dance with me," Jake muttered.

"Oh, why didn't you say so!" Maverick said with sympathy. "I'll be your partner."

Now, Maverick got really handsy, helping him to tango out of one of the side entrances to the clubs. To his relief, even as they waded through the mass of reporters, none of them gave him a second glance. That should be a good thing, but for some reason, not being recognised was really getting to him. In a place full of gay men, the senator felt more and more like the other type of fairy, the one that would wither away and die without constant attention.

"Come on, Tinkerbell, you'll be alright," Maverick said, shoving him forward with a slap on his ass so hard he nearly tripped onto the asphalt.

Finally, he spotted the BMW, Cardone standing and leaning on the outside of it.

"Alright, there's my ride," Jake said.

"Oh, so that's the assistant," Maverick concluded. "Not as young or as twinky as I expected, but I don't blame you, he is good looking."

Jake wasn't sure how to feel about that, an oddly possessive sense of jealousy rising in him, the idea that Cardone was anyone but his making him clench his fist.

"Are you sure the others aren't coming?" Jake asked, still hesitant to face Cardone. A part of him was ashamed of the way he looked, but another was wondering how their dynamic might change now that Jake had had some pretty serious revelations about himself that night.

"They've got a fun night ahead of them. It's a time to celebrate. You're welcome to stay, too. By now, we know the press isn't going to recognise you," Maverick reminded him. "Or you could come back another night. You know, Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs..."

Jake furrowed his brow. "Die Hard?"

"I might be a fag, senator, but I still have excellent taste in movies."

"A man after my own heart," Jake said with a faint smile, slightly astonished he had said it out loud.

Jake's mind was still stuck on the tone of Maverick's voice, the implications of what a drink was. Was he just yanking his chain or was he really offering something? Was he supposed to be flattered or offended? Did it mean something that he was still standing there when he could see Cardone kept tapping his foot and checking his watch, ready to leave without him? God, this night was a headfuck, in every possible way.

"You'd better get going, senator," Maverick suggested. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"Agreed. Well, alright, I, uh– Thank you," Jake managed to say.

"You're welcome. And if you want me to do less of a rushed job on your makeup another time… my doors are always open."

Jake wondered if that was also an innuendo or merely a statement of hospitality. But he would think about that later. Right now, he cared about making it to the car without breaking a leg, and he barely managed to achieve that.

Cardone paid him no mind, still seeming to be waiting for something, but Jake didn't have the time, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him aside, opening the car door.

"Whoa, whoa, lady, what the hell are you?–" Cardone protested.

"Just get in the car and drive, will you? We've been here long enough."

Cardone just looked him up and down with a mix of interest and regret. "I would darling, but I'm taken and he's a jealous guy."

"Cardone, it's me," Jake gritted through his teeth, his voice as low as he could make it. "Now move, we have to get out of here."

It took him a moment, and Jake was about ready to slap him if that would snap him back to reality.

"Oh my God, Jake?" Cardone asked with disbelief. "You look–"

"What the hell did I just tell you? Yes, it's me, I'll explain later, let's just go already."

Cardone just bit his lip in a way that Jake could no longer deny was arousing. Oh God, maybe Patric– Pet– Maverick had been right, he… liked Cardone looking at him like that, didn't he? What did that make him?

"Yeah, we can go alright, princess. Get in the car, you're mine tonight," he demanded. The slight bossiness to Cardone's tone and less than subtle roaming of Jake's body put paid to any lingering belief that Jake could ration this as heterosexual behaviour.

Because if wanting Cardone to have his way with him made him a fag, then so fucking be it.

They stepped out of the club — more like stumbled, at this rate, both still as elated as ever. Tonight had certainly been unforgettable, but they were both pretty tired by now.

"Alright, should we go back upstairs and call it a night?" Rooster asked. "My room has a queen bed. We'll fit."

Hangman shook his head with a wry grin that promised something better. "No need, my dear, I booked us a hotel room in advance because I think I want…" His hands came to Rooster's hips. "Privacy for what I want to do to you."

"Wow, you assumed everything would go that well, huh?"

"Well, I did make it up to you, didn't I? In style, I might add." Hangman had said that coyly, but Rooster could tell deep down he was deeply relieved, so happy that things were okay for them. Not just okay, better than ever.

Rooster smiled. "You did indeed. Lead the way, then."

Rooster didn't see the address that Hangman put into the Uber request, so when they arrived, he was quite surprised. The hotel was nice enough that it made Rooster wonder whether Hangman had helped himself to his father's credit card. Hangman had always made a point of not relying on his father, never wanting to owe him anything, and Rooster had always respected that principle.

"I know what you're thinking," Hangman said. "But this is a celebration, and I think given how the senator acted tonight, this is merely an entitlement. Besides, with how much he spends on his assistant, I doubt he'll notice."

Rooster chuckled. "I'll be sure to thank him, then."

When they made it up to the suite, it was even more impressive, not just in size, but Rooster spotted rose petals all over the bed and a very expensive bottle of champagne on ice with some strawberries and cream. Never mind the fact that they were both quite intoxicated right now. It was the romantic touch that counted.

They washed up first, using the hotel's complimentary toiletries, including a bottle of makeup remover that Hangman must have asked for in advance. They both smelt of alcohol, sweat, and smoke, so the shower was more than welcome. The water pressure was thankfully decent, too.

"I still can't believe it," Hangman said.

"Believe what?"

"That somehow…" He washed some soap suds off Rooster's shoulders. "This night ended up being one of the best nights of my life. We held strong. Jake got knocked off his high horse. And we had a lot of fun, too."

Rooster turned, kissing him. "I'm glad it worked out, too. All I wanted was for us to be happy regardless of what your dad thought."

"Again, I… I'm so sorry for what I said. I hate that I did that to you and made you think that I was ashamed. I'm not. I swear to you, I'm not."

Rooster shook his head. "And you more than proved that tonight. I love you, Hang."

He smiled. "I love you, too."

They turned off the taps and grabbed the fluffy white towels from the bench, but as Rooster went to get out, he was stopped by Hangman's palm on his chest.

"Just give me about five minutes," Hangman said, his voice lowered in a way that made Rooster more than curious.

He waited diligently, feeling like getting dressed was pointless — although, really, he didn't have any clothes here, so he would have slept in a bathrobe if needed.

There had been some rustling noises in the other room, but when they ceased, Rooster walked out, and the sight made him let out a laugh of disbelief.

"I told you Austin was hot," Hangman explained.

Hangman was on his side, head propped up by his hand. He had nothing on but a cowboy hat, and very tight leather pants.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy?" Rooster suggested.

Hangman hummed, and Rooster came to lie next to him, their lips meeting hungrily. His hand came to Hangman's hip, and he soon realised that Hangman's pants were missing some fabric around the rear, able to squeeze his ass without resistance.

"You know, if you wanted to do costumes, I could have put on my pilot whites," Rooster pointed out.

"I thought it would be fun to switch things up, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind for next time, Lieutenant."

The intonation of his voice made Rooster roll on top of him with a groan. After the evening they had had, Rooster was pretty happy to end it with a bang.

Jake wasn't sure what the fuck was in all the makeup that had been put on his face, but it was taking a hell of a lot of effort to wash it off. His skin was bright red and irritated. All of the hotel's white, Egyptian cotton towels were now stained beige and pink.

"That's the last of the towels," Cardone said, passing him another one. "At this rate, I'll have to ask the hotel maid for more."

"Great, I've been scrubbing my face for hours and it's still not off." It had been fifteen minutes at most, but to Jake it had felt like a lot more.

Cardone looked at him, confused. "With what? Soap still should have done something. It worked for all the stains you left on me."

Jake furrowed his brow. "I just tried to rinse it off with hot water, was that not enough?"

Cardone chuckled. "Apparently not."

"And how would you know how to take makeup off?" Jake tried to counter, but he really didn't sound that threatening.

"Have you never seen a single ad for a makeup remover on TV?" Cardone asked.

"They don't air those kinds of ads between Fox news segments," he retorted.

He had never felt so awkward around Cardone before. Sure, when they had gotten to the hotel room Cardone had booked for them, they had had more intense sex than before, Cardone's hands eagerly stripping him down, digging his nails into his skin, dirty-talking, well, dirtier than ever. More than that, Cardone had been the one ordering him around, contradictory to their usual dynamic in and out of the office, a continuation of how he had spoken to him in the car. But afterwards, it had hit Jake that all of this had been initiated as a result of him being in drag. In the heat of the moment, he had been more focused on Cardone's reaction, but now he was back to spiralling about whether any of this meant anything. Would Cardone be willing to do that again, even if Jake wasn't in drag? Frankly, Jake had to ask himself the same thing: could he be that submissive without wearing a dress? Did it matter that he had enjoyed that enough that he would do it without having to dress up?

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that," Jake admitted sheepishly.

Cardone just furrowed his brow. "Sorry? Why be sorry?"

He looked at him, bewildered. "Because I looked like… like a–"

"I can't tell if you're genuinely mortified or if you're just fishing for compliments," Cardone said with a small laugh. "You looked hot like that, Jake. I told you that, didn't I? And I showed you, too."

Jake had never seen Cardone so eager. That determination in his eyes was something Jake usually only saw when they were burning the candle at both ends, desperately trying to get a speech or proposal done, obsessively checking to ensure it benefited Jake and his campaign as much as possible. But Cardone had been squeezing his thigh the whole car ride, and when they got into the hotel room — thankfully, the halls were empty at this hour — he didn't skip a beat as he shoved Jake against the wall.

Cardone's lips crashed against his hard enough to leave a bruise. His hands gripped Jake's hips roughly. It took Jake a moment to process the whimper that left his lips. Was he really that desperate to have Cardone treat him like this?

"God, you want it bad, don't you, baby?" Cardone uttered with a demeaning tone that Jake usually used on him. The pet-name was new too, but Jake would be lying if he said it didn't affect him.

"Yeah…" Jake said with an exhale, panting a little.

The gap between their bodies closed, and for a moment, all they did was grind roughly against each other, but Jake was surprised to see Cardone have the upper hand, pushing with a strength that Jake didn't know Cardone had in him.

"Get on your knees," Cardone then ordered.

It wasn't like Jake didn't want to; he had been thinking about it the whole ride back, pictured how Cardone would react if he had tried that while they were driving. But there was still a voice in the back of Jake's head reminding him that it wasn't gay so long as he stayed dominant. However, right now… he realised he didn't care to be. He didn't want to fight Cardone back. He liked Cardone being in charge here. And that realisation made this as frightening and vulnerable as the first time Jake fucked Cardone, if not more.

As Jake obliged, their eyes met. He was surprised to see a subtle softness in Cardone's gaze. Could it be that Cardone was having his own realisations, too? As Cardone unzipped his pants, somewhat hesitantly, Jake acknowledged that he wanted this, that even if tomorrow morning, their dynamic would revert to its default, right now, he wanted this.

After all, if an admiral could do this with another man and still be a pretty damn good pilot… what was stopping him?

He grabbed Cardone's slacks and pulled them down, then rested his hands on Cardone's hips and looked up, making it clear he knew what he wanted. He was ready.

"You really think I looked good?" Jake asked.

"Calm your ego, I mean the eyeliner was a rushed job, and the dress needed some shapewear, but with some practice, you'd make one pretty lady." There was a pause. "I've watched enough Drag Race to critique you fairly, Jake."

He looked at Cardone with disbelief. "You have?"

Cardone just laughed again. "Why don't you just get some sleep? I think you've had to deal with enough revelations today."

It was pretty late now. Cardone was right. With the suggestion of soap, most of the remaining makeup came off, although he was sure that shit on his eyelashes would leave stains on the pillowcase.

They had booked adjoining rooms, never wanting anybody to think they shared a bed. Even if they had sex, one of them would always go back to the other room, just in case. For some reason, when Cardone did that tonight, it left Jake with a feeling of emptiness. He really did like having him around, beyond professional settings, although he would never say that to his face. He couldn't make this weird. But maybe when he had those kinds of thoughts about Cardone now, he wouldn't have to spend so much time trying to justify them.

Jake wasn't sure what possessed him, but at about four in the morning, unable to fall back asleep, he grabbed one of the burner phones he used for travel, looked through the navy database, and dialled the number he wanted, debating whether to hang up multiple times as the phone ringed.

"This is Maverick," he answered sleepily.

"It's me," Jake said so quietly that he had to repeat himself. He was more paranoid making this call than he was when he called Sinaloa.

There was a chuckle on the other end. "Oh, hello, Tinkerbell. Did you get your attention yet? Did your man like you all dolled up?"

Jake decided not to respond to that. "I was… I was wondering if you could… teach me–"

"Teach you what?"

Jake hesitated, and even debated hanging up and tearing up the SIM card, but eventually replied, his voice small and trembling. "Makeup."

"You want me to teach you how to do drag makeup? At… ten past four in the morning?"

Jake huffed. "Not now, obviously, just… another day. Which, by the way, if you tell anyone what I just said to you, I'll deny it and sue."

"Alright," Maverick surprisingly agreed, "on one condition."

"Name it," Jake replied a little too quickly, his heart pounding.

"You have to tell me why," Maverick said cheekily.

Jake paused. It wasn't like Maverick didn't already have an idea, but saying the words aloud still felt like a strange thing to do.

"I liked it," he admitted very quietly.

"Maybe, but you did not enjoy it so much that you'd humiliate yourself to call and confess your desires. I was there. I saw you looking in the mirror. You were terrified, not overjoyed, and I've put enough people in drag to know when they like the end result. So there has to be more to it."

Jake grunted. "Alright, someone else liked it."

"Was it the assistant? Judging by the fact that you're still up this late, I'd say he liked it multiple times even," Maverick realised, cheery.

"Will you do it or not?" Jake asked impatiently.

Maverick paused, leaving him hanging for just a moment before giving him his answer. "Sure, like I said, my door is always open…"

As Maverick hung up, Ice turned to him. "What was that all about?"

"The senator wants drag lessons."

"You're kidding." He scoffed, looking at Maverick and waiting for him to say he was just messing with him, but soon realised it was the truth. "You're not. And you said yes?"

Maverick shrugged a little, going to lie back down. "I want to keep him close–"

"Should I be jealous?" Ice asked coyly.

Maverick just laughed. "I want to keep him close so he might get more open-minded and be a better father and in-law," he elaborated.

"I can work with that." Ice sighed. "I seriously can't believe you did that tonight."

"Well, it paid off, didn't it? I think everybody ended up happy, most of all, Rooster."

"Absolutely," Ice concurred. "I'm glad he and Hangman worked things out. Although I didn't doubt how much they loved each other for a second. I knew they would get there."

Maverick hummed in assent. "We did a pretty damn good raising that kid, didn't we?"

Ice smiled. "I couldn't agree more."

One Year Later

One could divide the seats very clearly by whose parent they were associated with. The rangers were all in their formal brown uniforms, the senators and their spouses looked as pompous as ever, the pilots were dressed sharply in their navy Whites, and as for Carole's cheery family and friends and the drag queens… well, they certainly served as a reminder that this was a celebration.

As Rooster walked down the aisle towards Hangman, his parents on either side, he could barely contain his grin. Hangman seemed to feel the same, and as the distance closed between them, Rooster could see his eyes were bright with tears. Phoenix and Bob were their respective maid of honour and best man, both looking very happy for them.

"You look good," Rooster whispered as he came to stand across from him.

"I am good, Rooster," Hangman responded, those words taking them both back to a moment when they had realised they were falling for each other.

In the corner of Rooster's eye, Maverick was crying as he took his seat. It was hard not to tear up, too, but he was sure he would after. On the way down the aisle, he had seen Molly crying, too, smiling sweetly at both of them, and Jake looking… about as sentimental as he was capable of; he might have started evolving but he was still emotionally constipated, and likely would be for a while.

The officiant started the proceedings as they joined hands. The rabbi would then repeat certain parts in Hebrew and add her own words. Rooster and Hangman made valiant efforts to remain composed during their vows, but struggled. Hearing Hangman say he loved him in front of all these people made Rooster want to kiss him right then and there. He had heard those three words so many times, but this was so special.

When they both stomped on the glasses, the cheers and shouts of Mazel Tov! filled Rooster with elation. They were happy, and they had a room full of people happy for them, too. No matter how many times he and Hangman had kissed, this one felt special, and was one he would cherish forever.

As they walked out surrounded by friends and family, his hand firmly interlocked with Hangman's, Rooster didn't think things could get any better.

Hangman was pretty sure he had never cried so many tears in one day. But every time he met Rooster's eyes, all the little specks of colour reflected in the light above them, he was hit with such a pang of fondness knowing that they had just professed their love for each other. He was still aware of the wedding band on his finger, and the matching band on Rooster's. Hangman didn't think that excitement was going to wear off any time soon; frankly, he hoped it would last forever.

Their first dance felt so magical. It was like the world didn't matter, in this moment, they had each other and that was all that mattered. Of course, it wasn't going to be too sappy. They had picked a nice ballad to start with, but then the band segued into Save a Horse, which got a lot of Molly's ranger friends cheering.

Hangman caught his mother's eye, noticing that Penny's hand was interlaced with hers. Ice and Maverick had gotten along so well with Molly that they had ended up setting her up on a blind date with Penny, a bartender and daughter of an admiral. Maverick had had a one-off fling with her many years ago, and afterwards they had remained friends. Hangman knew his mother had dated a few women during the separation from his father, but now that the divorce had been finalised, she could be much more open about it, and he was so happy for her. Of course, his father was also learning to be a little more open, but to a much lesser extent. He had insisted on having Cardone as his plus-one for 'business reasons', and Hangman had decided not to press him, although he had certainly noticed that Cardone's tie matched Jake's cufflinks.

They had decided that Rooster would throw the bouquet to the crowd, leaving Hangman to watch with glee as it landed perfectly in Cardone's hand — who had been way at the back, likely not intending on being a contender. If there was a god up there, Hangman appreciated his sense of humour.

Cardone looked at the bouquet like it was a foreign object, and Hangman was more than ready to draw more attention to him and Jake. But then, to Hangman's — likely, everybody's — surprise, Jake walked right up to Cardone and kissed him on the mouth. A few people cheered. Hangman was in shock. Cardone most definitely was too. Of course, his father had to steal the limelight from him on his wedding day.

He was so caught up in the sight that he didn't notice Rooster had come over to him.

"I'm pretty sure Jake's going to blame that on the bottle of Johnnie Walker he's been working on," Rooster commented, clearly just as amused.

"You know, they've been spending a lot more time together outside of work," Hangman commented. "I think your parents really made Jake open his mind… and his heart."

Rooster hummed in assent. "He does look happy. What's the bet we'll be doing this all over again soon?"

He laughed nervously. "A gay Republican wedding. I don't even want to think about how that's going to work."

"I think your dad's going to make a pretty intense Bridezilla, if I'm being honest."

Hangman snorted. "God help us."