Jake has Dyslexia and is high functioning autistic or has adhd. When he was younger he'd stim by biting himself as his teeth would hurt so as a way to chew something he uses toothpicks which is why he likes carrying them around. They're also great for stabbing himself when he feels overwhelmed to get him to focus and it's not like it leaves a wound. His hyperfixation has changed over the years but being an aviator has never changed.
So then comes his dyslexia.....
Many people think Jake got his call sign due to leaving people behind and Rooster calling him that after a flight at Top gun before the mission. While that is the place the others found out his new call sign it was actually his co who would call him that rooster overheard it one day and completely came to the wrong conclusion. While Jake was good at planes his spelling sucked no matter how much he tried to practice his brain wouldn't work. So when his co read his report once he said it was like a game of hangman trying to find the correct words and told Jake that if he came to him he'd write his reports if the hangman told him what to write......
It wasn't until two months later that his co died and the call sign Hangman became nothing more than a bitter reminder of someone he lost. His call sign story completely wrong..... Fuck you Rooster.
Fast forward a few years and the story comes out and Rooster now feels like an utter dick he turned a joke into a complete landslide of which put a rift between Hangman and anyone he worked with practically leaving him friendless bar Javy.
So he tries to fix it and eventually he does, he even gets a husband out of it.
I also feel like Maverick would have noticed signs of Deslexya since he once had to help Goose with his reports as his spelling was terrible due to it. So when he figured it out he unknowingly offers the same offer the co did before... You speak I write.
Summary: Being your best friend’s maid of honour brings a lot into your life- bachelorette planning, dress fittings, and debt mainly- but, perhaps most importantly, it brings an unexpected partner-in-crime in the form of the best man, Bradley Bradshaw.
Warnings: Wedding day shenanigans, a homophobic relative who gets what she deserves, alcohol, swearing, brief reference to the current USA political climate
A/N: Strap in for a ride on the Rooster romcom rollercoaster!
You had only cried twice so far, which you thought was respectable for the morning of your childhood best friend’s wedding. You could even argue that the second cry didn’t count, considering that it had been provoked by overhearing the mother of the bride humming Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA as she helped Katie into her wedding dress.
Anyone who didn’t well up at that didn’t have a heart.
Seeing the girl you’d known since the two of you were in nappies in her wedding dress, ready to marry her soulmate, was a bittersweet kind of happiness. Natasha was the perfect partner for Katie and you knew that they were going to have the happiest life together. There was just a tiny, bitter, niggling part of you that felt painfully aware of how your own love life was lacking in comparison.
The air in the bridal suite was thick with hairspray and excitement, and you resisted the urge to check just once more that the little flower girl definitely had her spare inhaler concealed in her basket. Careful in your heels, you joined Katie in front of the mirror, slipping your hand into hers and squeezing.
“You look so beautiful,” you told her, both of you smiling at each other in the mirror. A bride in white and a maid of honour in navy blue smiled back at you both, and for a moment you swore you saw the little girls playing dress-up that the two of you used to be.
“So do you,” she answered earnestly, “You’re my something blue.”
You groaned dramatically.
“You’re so lucky Natasha loves you even with your corny jokes.”
The two of you dissolved into giggles, interrupted only by an insistent knock at the door. Katie’s smile vanished as you both recognised the rhythm, her joy replaced by nerves in a second as Julian, the well-meaning but intense MC, stuck his head around the door.
“Let’s get this show on the road, ladies! The guests are waiting!”
You glared at him before he ducked out of the room again, seeing the telltale threat of emotional tears in Katie’s perfectly made-up eyes.
“Oh my god, I’m getting married,” she whispered, as though it was the first time she was realising it. There had been several of those moments that morning, each ending in tears that had been carefully dried, however this was the first one since Katie’s makeup had been done.
And the wedding was due to start in five minutes.
You could see her starting to spiral and knew that five minutes were not going to cut it. Thinking on the spot, you set off purposefully for the door.
“Where are you going?” Katie asked frantically as her mother held a tissue under her eyes and encouraged her to tip her head back.
“Buying you time.”
The room where Natasha and her half of the wedding party were getting ready was at the other end of the corridor from where you and Katie had set up camp. Knocking, you prayed that your plan would work.
The door swung open and you were greeted by a man who looked like a Ken doll in his Navy propaganda era. Tanned skin, blond hair, and a shockingly white grin- he was the kind of man you were annoyed at yourself for finding attractive because it was so obvious.
“Well, hello, Miss,” he drawled.
Yeah, he wouldn’t do for this.
“Could I borrow Bradley?” you asked hopefully.
You had only met Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha’s best man, twice- once at the engagement party, and last night at the rehearsal dinner. Handsome, confident, and extremely loyal to his friends, you hoped that he would be the best man for this task as well.
“Rooster! The maid of honour wants you!”
You rolled your eyes at the man in front of you’s wording, and a second later your jaw was dropping as Bradley stepped out into the hallway.
He was wearing the exact same dress whites as the blond bombshell that had answered the door, but they looked even better on him. His sun-kissed dark hair was perfectly tousled, his skin looking even more deliciously tanned against the crisp white of his uniform, and he filled out the shirt and trousers sinfully well.
“Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in the doorway in a way that had you fighting the instinct to swoon. Maybe if you swooned he would catch you in those arms-
“I need you,” you blurted out, and his eyebrows raised in surprise, “I mean, Katie needs you.”
Frowning, he pulled the door shut behind him so that no one inside the room would overhear your conversation. In doing so, he stepped closer to you and you forced yourself to look up from his chest.
“What’s going on?”
“Katie needs her makeup saved because she keeps crying- happy tears, by the way- and the MC keeps rushing us. I have a plan to buy us some time, but I need you to make it work,” you told him, “I can explain on the way?”
He hummed, straightening up.
“Lead the way.”
“Wait, why me?”
You sighed in frustration after explaining your plan around the corner from where the MC was close to pacing a hole in the foyer carpet.
“What part wasn’t clear?” you whispered harshly.
“Why can’t you flirt with him?” he asked, perplexed. You fixed him with an unamused look.
“Bradley, that is a gay man. I don’t think I’m his type.”
“But I don’t know how to flirt with a guy!” he protested, sounding genuinely ashamed of the gap in his expertise.
You rolled your eyes, the prospect of the hair stylist’s wrath the only thing keeping you from tearing your hair out. Settling instead for a calming inhale and exhale that would have made your therapist proud, you settled your hands on his shoulders and began to slowly back him towards the corner.
“Tell him you’ve been cooped up at sea and haven’t felt another human’s touch in months. Channel the eighties porn star you stole that moustache from. Ask him if he wants to find out why they call you Rooster. I don’t care what you do, just buy us enough time for her setting spray to dry!”
With that, you shoved him unceremoniously around the corner.
Barely a minute later, Bradley sidled back around the corner, looking dejected. You straightened up, staring at him in disbelief.
“Don’t tell me he’s straight.”
“Yeah, no, he’s definitely gay. At least, he was until I spoke to him. I may have put him off men for good.”
“Oh.” You rolled your lips together to try and suppress your laughter, but it was in vain. “Did you use the-”
“Yes, I used the Rooster line.”
“Well, you better hope Katie’s makeup is set, otherwise I’ll be sending you back for round two.”
Miraculously, Katie was ready to go in the time it took for Bradley to unsuccessfully flirt with Julian- who kept giving him sympathetic smiles as you all gathered outside the wedding hall. Natasha was ready and waiting inside the hall, and Katie’s excitement had finally dried her tears.
As you carefully arranged Katie’s train on the floor where she was positioned behind the bridesmaids and brides-boys (as you’d been reliably informed was the title of Natasha’s friends’ group chat), you overheard Bradley talking to Jack, Natasha’s nephew and the ring-bearer.
“If you wear your tie, I’ll take you up in my plane.”
“I’ve already been up in Aunt Tasha’s plane.”
Bradley shot you a helpless look, and you sighed and went to join him in crouching in front of the little boy.
“Jack, I will give you ten dollars if you keep your tie on until the end of the ceremony,” you offered.
Jack fiddled with the end of his tie as he pondered your offer.
“Hmm…twenty and it’s a deal.”
Your eyes widened and Bradley choked on air beside you.
“You’re seven years old, what do you need twenty dollars for?” you asked incredulously.
“Savings! My mom says you’re never too young to start building a healthy credit score.”
You felt as though you were close to also doubling as Katie’s something old as you tried to process the words you’d just heard come out of the same mouth you’d been trying to keep from eating the corsages just half an hour earlier.
“Building a healthy- oh my god, just take the twenty and keep your tie on.”
“Pleasure doing business with you!” Jack said chirpily.
You and Bradley left the little conman in order to take your positions at the head of the procession before the doors, Bradley offering you his arm gallantly. You had to remind yourself there was nothing but ceremony behind the gesture, and that it was inappropriate to squeeze his bicep in awe.
“That kid is either gonna be a supervillain or the President one day,” you commented, looking over your shoulder and watching bitterly as Jack folded your twenty into his pocket. Bradley snorted.
“You can be both these days. Just look at-”
“Don’t say his name, we have to try and look happy and hopeful for the photographer.”
“You’re right.” He took a deep breath and fixed a bright smile on his face. “The Democrats are gonna get back in and we’re all gonna be fine.”
You patted his chest sympathetically.
“That’s the spirit, big guy.”
The two of you stopped talking abruptly as Julian shushed you both with a glare, shepherding everyone into their positions and reminding each and every one of you to smile.
“I’ve served under Admirals less pushy than this guy,” Bradley murmured in your ear as the procession music started, and you just barely managed not to snort in amusement. His moustache twitched as he grinned at your reaction. “Oh, and here.”
You looked at him in confusion as the doors opened to the wedding hall; he was offering you a spare pocket square.
“What’s this for?”
“I have a hunch you’re a crier.”
You just had time to hide the pocket square in your bouquet before Julian was all but shoving the two of you to start walking down the aisle.
The ceremony passed in a blur, Natasha and Katie both absolute visions in their white dresses. True to his word- and your bribe- Jack kept his tie on throughout the whole affair and only yawned once.
You dabbed subtly at your eyes as Katie said her vows, mouthing a “thank you” at Bradley when he caught your eye and grinned. You blamed the butterflies that burst into flight in your belly at his answering wink on the champagne at breakfast.
It would have been easy to let your heart get carried away at being held in Bradley Bradshaw’s arms while a corny Ed Sheeran love song played. You could so easily have melted into his strong arms, gotten addicted to the feeling of his hands on your waist, but you reminded yourself firmly that it was tradition for the best man to dance with the maid of honour.
He was just following tradition.
It meant nothing.
“We made a pretty good team today.”
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realise he had spoken at first, not until you felt him looking at you. You swallowed, trying not to dwell on how close together your faces were.
“We did.”
His thumb rubbed over your waist gently and you wished so badly that this wasn’t the end of being in each other’s lives. After today, you would see each other once a year if you were lucky, maybe with a few glimpses into each other’s lives on social media. It had you feeling like Cinderella at the ball.
Once your sparkly shoes came off at midnight, you’d lose your handsome prince.
“I was thinking-”
You didn’t get to find out what Bradley was thinking because Jack chose that moment to barrel into your legs and ask you to dance with him. For a second, you swore that you saw disappointment flashing across his face, but then he was smiling.
“Enjoy your dance,” he said, releasing your hand and heading off to the bar.
You watched him go, trying not to think too hard about what he had been about to say.
A couple of hours into the reception, you were sitting on a stone bench outside the venue, getting some air. The summer evening air was starting to cool and you welcomed the brief respite from the loud music and sticky warmth of the ballroom.
The sound of gravel crunching under feet had you looking up to see Bradley approaching with a glass of champagne in each hand.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
You shuffled over to make room for him, and he handed you one of the champagne flutes.
“Cheers.”
The silence between the two of you was comfortable- surprisingly comfortable, for how little you knew each other.
A gentle breeze blew and you rubbed your bare arm without thinking, feeling goosebumps appearing there.
“Are you cold?” Bradley asked in concern.
Before you could say a word, he was setting his glass down and shrugging out of his uniform jacket to drape it carefully around your shoulders. The heavy, starched material was warm from his body heat and the lingering scent of his aftershave had you tempted to bury your nose in the collar.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, your mouth suddenly dry despite the champagne.
His hands lingered for just a second longer than necessary, making sure that the jacket was secure on your shoulder.
“I don’t think I actually said earlier…you look beautiful.”
Your lips parted in surprise.
“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.”
He chuckled at that.
“What were you going to say earlier?” you surprised yourself by asking him before you could chicken out, “Before-”
“Before our future President stole you away from me?”
You giggled at that.
“Yeah. Then.”
He turned slightly more to face you.
“I was gonna ask if maybe we could keep seeing each other after this? It’s been really fun, being your sidekick today.”
The giddiness you felt at that couldn’t be blamed on the champagne. You opened your mouth to tell him that you absolutely wanted that, but then you spotted an unfortunately familiar face in the distance over his shoulder.
“Oh fuck no.”
His eyes widened in alarm at the aggression in your tone.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise I was misinterpreting this-”
You scrambled to save the situation whilst keeping a careful eye on the person approaching the venue entrance, getting to your feet.
“No, no! We are absolutely coming back to this conversation and I plan on kissing the life out of you, but we have an emergency on our hands.”
He looked utterly bewildered, getting to his feet alongside you.
“You’re gonna kiss me? Wait, what’s the emergency?”
“Thoroughly, but stay focussed, Lieutenant. That-” You pointed to the storm cloud in heels approaching the venue entrance. “-is Katie’s Aunt Angela. The most homophobic bitch of a woman you’ve ever met.”
He whirled around to see who you were pointing at, frowning at the sight.
“I’m assuming she wasn’t invited?”
“No the fuck she wasn’t. Hold my drink.”
He took your glass as soon as you held it out to him.
“Okay- wait, where are you going?” he asked in confusion as you strode off like a woman on a mission towards the entrance.
“Angela!”
His eyes widened as you called out to the woman with unmistakeable anger, and he hastily set your drink down to jog after you before you could commit a crime…unassisted.
Five minutes later, you slid nonchalantly into the seat besides Katie where she was watching Natasha dance with her parents.
“Having fun?” you asked innocently.
She eyed you suspiciously and you continued to smile as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.
“I’m going to choose to ignore the fact that I just saw Bradley pass the window with what looked like my Aunt Angela over his shoulder.”
Your smile didn’t falter.
“I would appreciate that. I can’t answer questions about that without a lawyer present,” you told her primly.
She rolled her eyes with a grin.
“In that case, can I ask about what you currently have on your shoulders and how it looks very much like it was Navy-issued?” she asked, the smug look on her face telling you that she knew exactly who the jacket belonged to.
“…I want my lawyer.”
Most people had gone home or gone off to their rooms for the night, but you were still sat at one of the tables at the edge of the room, sipping from a glass of cool water. Your heels were abandoned on the empty chair beside you, and you watched fondly as Natasha and Katie swayed together on the otherwise empty dance floor, incandescently happy in their own little bubble.
“We have another emergency.”
You looked up in surprise to see Bradley standing behind you- you hadn’t seen him in hours. His jacket was now draped over the back of your chair.
“What’s wrong? Shit, is Angela back-”
“No, no, she’s not coming back. She’s too scared you’re gonna deck her- which, by the way, I was rooting for you.”
You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t quite hide the amused twitch of your lips.
“Wait, so what’s the emergency?”
He slid into the seat not occupied by your shoes and looked at you seriously, facing you with his arm resting on the back of your chair.
“This really beautiful bridesmaid promised to, quote, kiss the life out of me earlier, and here I am, alive and un-kissed.”
You laughed in disbelief, your pulse not settling even as you realised there was no real emergency.
“That’s devastating.”
“Tragic, really,” he agreed, grinning at you.
“It’s verging on Shakespearean.”
He whistled lowly.
“I love it when you talk brainy to me.”
The surprised giggle you let out should have been embarrassing but the way he was grinning at you had you not caring at all.
“At ease, sailor.”
“It’s Lieutenant Commander, actually,” he corrected smoothly.
“That…should not be as attractive as I’m finding it right now.”
He grinned, shifting closer to you.
“It’s only fair. You’ve been walking around, all gorgeous and smart and funny, all day. I never stood a chance.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” you quipped, the breathiness of your own voice surprising you. You blamed the proximity, and his words, and his face.
He groaned at that and it took all of your willpower not to squeeze your thighs together.
“Again with the smartness? You’re killing me here, honey.”
Emboldened, you reached out to trace your finger along his jawline, feeling a little thrill at the way it slackened at such a light touch from you. His eyes kept flitting to your lips.
“You gonna kiss me about it, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He kissed like he danced, confidently, holding you close, as though you were something precious. One of his hands cupped your cheek, respectful of your hairstyle, and the other found your waist to bring you closer. His moustache was surprisingly soft against your upper lip, his lips plush and soft and so very giving against yours.
When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t resist chasing his lips for just one more taste; you could feel him smiling into that kiss.
“I knew it,” he whispered.
“What?” you asked in confusion, your mind made foggy by his kisses.
“Kissing you was worth the wait,” he said simply, as though it was obvious.
Betting I’ve reblogged this before. Betting I’ll reblog it when it turns up again.
In addition to the print terminology stuff: the visual shorthand icons and ad graphics for something about writing are still often pen-nibs, fountain pens and typewriters…
…while graphics of a monitor, keyboard and mouse remain visual shorthand for computing…
…even though most writers now use monitor / keyboard / mouse or even laptop / touchpad.
In addition, headers for “this blog / website is about writing” are often in one of the many imitation typewriter fonts complete with smudges, or just Courier.
The start and end call icons on most / all smartphones is still the handset of a classic desk telephone, and sometimes the open-app icon is a complete phone.
The term “hang up” for “end the call” refers to something even older - one of these…
And of course the Save icon is indeed a 3½ inch floppy disc.
Why it wasn’t a 5¼ floppy is a mystery. The icon version is just as distinctive.
Also, why various OP updates never changed “Save” to the graphic of a CD / DVD or flash drive is another mystery, and nowadays a Save icon should probably be a cartoon cloud.
Phones still make a tuning noise when you’re waiting for someone to pick up even though phones haven’t had bells in years
We still say caught on tape when someone incriminates themselves while being recorded even though there hasn’t been a physical tape in recording devices in years.
Your jeans have rivets on the pockets even though modern sewing machines can sew through denim unlike the ones from a hundred years ago which required riveting to keep them together.
“Also, why various OP updates never changed “Save” to the graphic of a CD / DVD or flash drive is another mystery, and nowadays a Save icon should probably be a cartoon cloud.”
This one is actually pretty easy to figure out– during the time the transfer would have happened the cd/dvd icon came to mean “write to disk”. Floppy is the last real dedicated use persistent storage media. SD is not very iconic and would be confusing while usb is not a dedicated storage medium so the usb symbol would be inappropriate.
By now the diskette is recognizable and has the added bonus of having royalty-free and open use icons ready for designers to plug into their programs.
The same is true for the near-universal symbol of “saving to the cloud” which has been in use for decades– a globe, representing the “world wide web”.
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