@allytheally: hi :) here's a prompt: you reblogged this thing a while ago about the seatbelts on aircraft (one on the shoulder, waist, and individual ones for the thighs) (https://www.tumblr.com/tickle-bugs/715247149506609152/hey-there-i-work-with-fighter-jets-super-hornets?source=share) and I think it'd be great if you wrote something incorporating this idea... like maybe lee!hangman and ler!rooster or lee!mav and ler!iceman and/or ler!slider? honestly any pairing would be cool
“Gooooood mornin’, Rooster.” The heavy impacts of boots on the stepladder send Bradley’s eye twitching. Hangman’s presence has a volume the way bright light slowly wears on the eyes.
“What do you want?”
“Me? I just came over to help with your pre-flight checks.” Hangman grins, cocksure. A sliver of sunshine lights up his eyes over the edge of his aviators.
“I’m clear, but thanks.” Bradley gives a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hands.
“Lemme give it a second opinion.” Hangman hoists himself up to get a better view of the cockpit. He makes a big show of scanning over the switches and buttons and humming in thought.
“Knock yourself out.” Bradley snorts and turns away. Hangman’s indecipherable muttering falls easily away under the buzz of his brain. He double and triple checks everything, noting the feel of each switch and knob under his practiced hands. Finding the rhythm of his plane is half the ritual.
Wiggling fingers fit suddenly into the curve of Bradley’s waist and he barks out a laugh, knees jerking against the straps holding him.
He blinks at Hangman. Hangman grins at him.
“Don’t--” Bradley dives to grab his hands, but the seatbelts, ever-dutiful, wrench him back into place.
“Oh, now that sounds like you’ve got somethin’ loose. No pilot should be making that noise.” Hangman tuts, but he doesn’t stop, just lets his stupid hands do their stupid crawl across his stupidly sensitive stomach. Bradley lets out a giggly shriek and tries to fold in half.
“Oh, Mav wasn’t kidding. This is my lucky day.”
“Youuuu--” Whatever half-baked insult Bradley was aiming for is smothered by his own laughter.
“Meeeee. Say, are you ticklish anywhere else? Gotta catalogue this for future use. Scream once for yes or twice for no.” Hangman tazes his sides and Bradley’s voice cracks around his laughter.
He’s going to die in this plane. He better die in this plane, otherwise he’s going to gut Hangman like a fish.
…No, he won’t.
Bradley manages to plant his hand square on Hangman’s face and start pushing, and the ultimatum between continuing the torment or falling onto concrete makes Hangman finally, blessedly let go.
“Seems like everything’s in order. Pleasant skies, Rooster.” Hangman pats his shoulder and hops down out of sight.
In his mind’s eye, he’s shaking Hangman by the shoulders until his brain falls out of his ears. In practice, he’s turning his burning face and shy half-smile back towards the controls with hopes of killing both.
…
“Mornin’, Bradshaw.” Hangman pops up like a gopher. Bradley jumps and nearly flips his lounge chair.
“Seresin.” He exhales tightly through his nose. He stays very still—maybe he can still salvage the last throes of the sun-warmed nap he was finding his way towards.
“You seem tense.” Hangman cocks his head in something that passes for concern. The rushing ocean suddenly sounds more like an omen.
“There’s no one else around for you to bother right now?” Bradley leans up on his elbows to search for the other Daggers. He can hear Fanboy laughing somewhere, he thinks, but Hangman’s giant head blotting out the sun is the only thing he can see.
“Nope!” Hangman makes a big show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Bradley’s eyes widen.
“Don’t you dare.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. Don’t what?” The expression that Hangman generates overshoots innocence by a country mile.
“Tickle me, you asshole.” Bradley winds an arm around his torso and scrambles up in his lounge chair. The fluttery kick of anticipation slaps a smile straight across his face.
“I can’t believe you fell for that.”
“Fell for--”
Bradley pauses as it dawns on him. Watching it dawn on Hangman is worse--his entire face brightens with mischief.
Bradley starts stammering through a protest and giggling through another, but Hangman’s kneeling over him before any of it becomes coherent. He flails hard enough to send them both tumbling into the sand. Never in his life has he been more grateful to be alone, if only to keep the pitch of his laughter between him and the menace causing it.
He makes a note to keep his shirt on at the beach.
…
Maybe a week or so of this puts Bradley in a…strange headspace. Distracted.
Touch is nice, but there’s more of it lately, enough to make him notice and crave its absence in a way he hadn’t before. When Phoenix leans into his side or Fanboy claps his shoulder, he misses the warmth of their touch after. Even Hangman’s utter nonsense sets a gentle buzz into his chest. It’s dizzying.
He’s so lost in the ache of it that Mav catches on, and it kicks solidly into that tangle of ‘complicated shit’ between them that he keeps putting away for increasingly rainer days. He’d gotten so used to Mav tiptoeing around him as if he were fragile that the first gentle touch on the shoulder almost shatters him.
The Daggers meet for a barbecue at Mav’s and Bradley shows up early with a bottle of Ice’s favorite Pinot. Things may be complicated, but the mushy smiles on Ice and Mav’s faces are not. It’s nice, putting ‘complicated’ in motion towards being something else. Something lighter.
Later into the night, Bradley’s got his feet kicked up on the couch in the hangar and the radio crooning slowly in his ear.
He watches Mav and Ice dance--more of a sway, really, as they banter. Mav’s got a playful tilt to his smile, one that suggests he’s being as much a menace as he’s visibly in love. Bradley smiles and hums along, halfheartedly wondering what Mav might be pestering Ice with.
“This seat taken?” Not waiting for an answer, Hangman picks up his ankles and takes their spot. Bradley brings his heels down hard on his thigh. He gets a swat on the ankle for his trouble. Still, the weight of Hangman’s arm on his legs is comforting. Solid.
A room full of people to bother, yet Hangman finds him. Hm.
“Why’re you so obsessed with me lately?” Bradley nudges him with his ankle. Hangman’s eyebrows raise.
Well. He’d meant to say that with a bit more tact but it’s out there now, between them.
Hangman snorts softly and passes Bradley a beer. He pops the caps on both and pockets them. Probably donations for Coyote’s collection.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw.” Hangman gives him an utterly complex and unreadable look before taking a swig of his beer. ‘Complex’ and ‘unreadable’ are not words that belong anywhere near him.
“You didn’t answer the question.” Bradley frowns.
“It’s a stupid question.”
“Seresin.” Bradley leans forward to smack his shoulder.
“Alright, fine.” Hangman exhales tightly. “You’ve been moping around like a dark fuckin’ cloud these past few weeks and we couldn’t figure out how to get you out of it. We ran out of ideas and eventually Mav realized he couldn’t hide from us anymore, so he coughed up a solution. Something he said we could try, and I quote, ‘at risk of your lives’. Never thought he’d suggest tickling, but--”
“You went to Mav?”
“Yeah, and Mav—“ Hangman imitates the way Bradley’s voice cracks— “told Phoenix to try it if all else failed, she told Bob, Bob told me, and now we’re here. And it worked.”
Bradley’s brain stalls out. He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands.
“Oh my god. So everyone knows?” He peeks through his fingers. Hangman shrugs.
“Well, I don’t think Fanboy was paying much attention.” He scratches idly at his jaw.
“Mav said if all else failed. I didn’t—you guys didn’t try anything else.” Bradley fiddles with the label on the bottle.
Hangman raises his eyebrow in the precise shape of ‘oh really?’.
“Remember when Bob tried to buy you soup? Or when Payback made a fool of himself trying to sing Great Balls of Fire? Or when Fanboy tried to introduce you to Star Trek? Or—“
Oh.
For maybe the only time in his life, Hangman snaps his jaw shut. Bradley furrows his brow.
“Look…point is, you keep making that exact face you’ve got right now, and concerned parties asked me to investigate.” Hangman swirls his finger around Bradley’s face. He swats it away on habit, but fondness bubbles in the base of his throat.
“Concerned parties?” A smile sneaks under his mustache.
“Yeah, Phoenix and the rest of them were worried. Not me though.” Hangman takes a long, incriminating swig from his bottle.
“Not you?” Bradley tilts his head teasingly.
“Nope. I’m a neutral party. Like Sweden.”
“It’s Switzerland, dumbass.” Bradley knocks shoulders with him. Something about Hangman’s smile tells him he already knew that.
“Sure. Whatever.” Hangman throws his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers brush Bradley’s arm. The fondness settles into a resonant hum deep in Bradley’s chest.
“You’ve got your shit with Mav and your past. I get it. But some of us would like to see you smile more than twice a week.” Hangman gestures with his bottle. His movements are loose in the practiced Seresin way, but the care on his face is stunningly plain.
“Some of us?” Bradley grins. Hangman narrows his eyes.
“Concerned parties.” His cheeks grow rosy even as he scowls.
“You are obsessed with me and I’m telling Phoenix.” Bradley pats his shoulder and makes a break for it. A fist grabs a handful of his collar.
“Like hell you are!”
The (thankfully empty) bottles clatter to the floor as Hangman wrestles an already-laughing Bradley back down to the couch. He tries not to think too hard about hearing Mav cheer in the background.
…
Bradley does not start fights. He does not. He finishes them.
He slips past Phoenix and Bob, nodding in passing, and ducks up to Hangman’s Super Hornet. He can feel their eyes on him--especially Bob, he’s got a killer stare for someone so quiet--but he ignores it.
It’s not a fight, not really, but if he thinks about what he’s doing too hard he’s going to lock himself in a supply closet somewhere.
Bradley hops up the steps alongside the cockpit.
“Rooster! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your ugly mug?” Hangman grins and bats his eyelashes.
“I heard you were challenging Mav. Wanted to get a good look at you before you spend the rest of the evening with your face to the tarmac.” Rooster holds up his fingers like a picture frame.
“Try not to miss me too much.” Hangman winks, insufferable as always.
“Miss you? Every second you’re not buzzing around down here is a second of peace.” Bradley reaches up and knocks on his helmet.
“Would you kindly get the fuck off my plane?” Hangman swats lazily at him. Bradley bats his hands away.
“Before you go, just thought I’d see how your pre-flight checks are going?”
Hangman goes rigid. Bradley grins evilly at him.
“Bradshaw, don’t you fuckin’—“
Bradley fumbles with Hangman’s hands and flight equipment until he can jam his fingers right into the soft parts of his side. Hangman yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. The seatbelts ensure there’s nowhere for him to go, and the clacking of the buckles only spurs Bradley on.
“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this, Hangman.” Bradley tuts and shakes his head, worming his fingers up under straps to get at his ribs. Hangman well and truly shrieks.
“I am g-going to kill you!” Hangman shakes with the force of his laughter, folded awkwardly into his seatbelts. He shoves uselessly at Bradley’s chest.
“And I’m never gonna let this go. Think I could get you to do that again, or are you a one hit wonder?” Bradley squeezes quickly at Hangman’s thigh. His hands slap down hard on top of Bradley’s and he starts cackling his way to incoherency.
Bradley raises his eyebrow and times the squeezes to every escape attempt. It’s incredibly entertaining to listen to Hangman reinvent the squeal. He wonders if the other Daggers know about this yet.
The sound of a throat clearing nearly sends Bradley toppling backwards off the plane. Strong hands heave him upright and he turns--Maverick’s eyes crinkle around the edges of his sunglasses.
“Appreciate you getting a head start on destroying him, Rooster, but I believe that’s my job.” Mav pats him on the shoulder. Bradley goes to duck away, but Hangman makes a swipe for his sides, and he can’t let that stand. He leans back into the cockpit and tickles Hangman’s ribs until he’s screeching between hiccups and an interesting shade of red.
“Aren’t you ssssupposed to help me?” Hangman crumples in around Bradley’s hands, wriggling like a worm on a hook.
“Help you? No. Teach you? Sure. Wheels up in two minutes. Hopefully you’ll learn a thing or two about getting your ass handed to you.” Mav pulls Bradley back by the shoulder. He lets it happen. Hangman thunks his head back against his seat, chest heaving.
“Bold words, Pops. We’ll see who comes out on top.” He clicks his tongue and winks. Insufferable bastard.
“See you in the skies, Hangman.” Mav pokes Hangman’s stomach.
…
The lounge at Top Gun hums with quiet chatter through the evening as the Daggers share drinks. Bradley’s tucked against the wall with Phoenix and Bob under his arms. He’s half watching Fanboy and Payback fumble through a game of pool, half listening to a story Phoenix is telling, and fully content to lose himself in the sound of her voice.
The door slams open, welcoming a sweaty and disgruntled Hangman to the room. Scattered laughter and teasing applause kicks up among the other Daggers. He gives the entire room the finger.
“Yeah, laugh it up. I was off my game.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Coyote offers him a pity beer. He takes it.
“I wonder why.” Bradley chuckles. Phoenix swats his chest. Hangman locks eyes with him, absolutely feral. Bradley goes to make a run for it, but Phoenix hooks her arms under his. He could break her grip if he really tried, but…
When Hangman barrels towards him and tackles him over the back of the couch, Bradley can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.
Summary: The only reason that Jake tenses up when Bradley kisses his neck is because he was taken by surprise, and there is absolutely no other reason.
Warnings: mentions of sex, crude language
AN: was inspired by @amazingmsme and their Top Gun anon lately, and, having seen TG:M like a dozen times, felt like I should come write something
The room was so warm that Rooster nearly felt like he was suffocating, the stifling heat of what they spent the last hour doing mixing with the burning of Jake’s body heat. Rooster had thought the hate sex was good, but this? This was ineffable.
He laughs to himself, thinking about the stupid ass SAT word he had learned more than a decade earlier now. Ineffable, a word to describe the indescribable? Isn’t that a bit paradoxical?
“Roos?” Hangman mumbles, eyes opening. He had been blinking a little longer every minute or so, a sign Rooster had become familiar with, signalling that his boyfriend was on his way out.
“Don’t worry,” Rooster whispers back, his head craning slightly so he can put his lips to Jake’s neck. “It was nothing.”
Jake tenses up, a hot puff of air quickly leaving his nose, cheeks dusting the slightest of pinks.
“What was that?” Bradley says quietly, leaning his head so he can catch Jake’s expression.
“Oh,” Bradley says before returning his lips to Jake’s neck. Jake tenses again, and he can almost sense the confused puppy look on Bradley’s face.
“My eyes are closed!” He argues, “you surprised me again!”
“Surprised you? Jake, I just had my dick in you, this is the surprise?”
Jake’s cheek flush a bright red this time, and he laughs. “Not cool, Rooster, low-hanging fruit and all.”
“I wouldn’t say they were low-hanging-”
“Bradley!”
Rooster laughs, hearty and full, before bringing himself back down to lay his head on Jake’s chest.
“I’m gonna kiss you now, Jake.”
“Nope!” Jake’s hands shoot up, and he struggles to push Bradley’s head away from his neck, even with both hands.
“I knew it!” Bradley’s hands are suddenly on Jake’s sides, sending the blonde into a fit of pitched giggles that are completely uncharacteristic compared to his usual pompousness.
“Roos, it tihihickles!” Jake screams, hands scrabbling to choose between pushing Bradley’s head away, where his teeth are nibbling at his collarbones, or push away his hands, which are growing dangerously close to his ribs.
“That’s the point, Jake,” Rooster returns, smiling far too fondly down at Jake for the blonde’s liking.
“Sohohorry! Plehehease! Mehehercy!” Hangman yells the closer he feels the hands roam towards his ribs. He feels Bradley laugh against his neck, warm breath adding to the warmth of his face.
“What are you even apologizing for?” Bradley giggles. His laughter is soon overshadowed by a noise he could only ever describe as shrieking, though Jake would deny it to his dying day.
“NOHO! BRAHAHADLEY! FUHUHUCK OHOHOFF!” Bradley’s right hand reaches that spot right at the top of Jake’s ribcage and Jake absolutely loses it. He thrashes enough that they end up flipped, Jake huffing on top of Bradley, loose giggles still escaping. “You’re terrible.”
“Oh, you know you love me.” Bradley leans up just enough to kiss Jake’s nose, not at all helping his blush fade.
“I’d bet you’re just as bad,” Jake huffs, “or even worse. I bet you’re even worse, you big baby.”
“Not even close, baby.”
“Well,” Jake has a smirk on his face that sends a chill down Bradley’s spine, “good thing Mav’s downstairs and Phoenix is just a call away.”
With that, Jake is dashing down the stairs, grabbing a shirt off the floor while he runs to find Maverick. Bradley knows that Jake’ll find out sooner or later, but he can’t help but chase after him anyways.
- not sure if you’ve touched any ao3 fics about tg:m yet (if you haven’t, let me recommend PurpleArrowzandLeather and EarthAngel_44 for starters, but i have SO MANY ao3 recs), but i totally love the idea that mav ends up kind of adopting the dagger squad and they always end up at his house somehow
- everyone will have regular movie nights at mav and rooster’s, and whenever one of them is stateside they’ll stay at their place
- mav was DEFINITELY the one to expose to the group that Rooster is ticklish, probably telling a story from when he was a kid, and it definitely led to a massive dagger squad tickle fight
- i think everyone learns pretty early that bob is ticklish, phoenix is probably trying to get him to let lose and ends up poking him and he falls off his chair at the hard deck (or,, he really did get “baby on board” from being crazy ticklish, so hangman already knows prior to the mission that bob is crazy ticklish)
- bob has the cutest squeaky laugh, and mav usually can’t even tell the other daggers to stop because it’s just a such a cute sight
- in contrast, i think phoenix is only ticklish in very few places (her knees and hips) but she will actually maim anyone that even tries to tickle her (… i also headcannon phoenix as a lesbian bc i am a lesbian and she is fine as hell with very lesbian energy)
- I think rooster probably got lucky at some point, maybe phoenix was comforting him after finding out everything that happened when he was a kid and he ended up finding out that she was ticklish and she just kinda let it happen to cheer him up
- rooster is not as ticklish as bob (or hangman 👀) but he’s definitely surprisingly ticklish in a lot of places
- he kind of just giggles and erratically swats around when someone tickles him, but he can’t really manage to get them away
- i also hc rooster’s worse spots to be his ribs and his hips
- i think hangman is probably a 7/10 on the scale of ticklishness, nothing compared to bob’s 10/10 but also a lot compared to phoenix’s 4/10
- his chest and neck are super sensitive, which the team probably found out when mav squeezed his shoulder in passing
- i think he has a really hearty, big laugh, and he kind of just lays there with his arms to his chest and takes it (i headcannon that he comes from a family of only sisters, so he’s used to just letting them tickle him sometimes because he knows he’s a lot stronger than them)
- i think coyote is probably secretly very ticklish, but only jake knows since they’ve known each other so long, and he would absolutely expose every spot on jake’s body if he ever told anyone
FEAST YOUR EYES!! EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS! Seriously, if this doesn’t convince you to watch Top Gun Maverick I think you’re just a lost cause lol (I kid, I kid) & thanks for the fic recs, I’ll have to check them out! But I gotta be honest, I haven’t been reading as many fics what with school & all eating up my time
Group movie nights are the goat for any fandom with a lot of characters. Like, they’re just BEGGING for a sleepover! & Maverick totally exposed Rooster because he’s a cheeky lil shit like that. But I don’t think he meant to, he said it as an offhand comment & then when Rooster inevitably tells him to shut up about it or Jake wants to know more he gets all >:) about it
I’m a huge simp for Rooster so I like to think he’s pretty bad, but you’ve got MAJOR big brain energy for saying Hangman’s worse. Like, that man is waaaaay too smug & cocky, he needs an anti hubris button. & lucky for everyone else, he does 😊
Thank you SO MUCH for these headcanons, I go bouncing off the walls whenever someone sends me headcanons like this. Seriously, you made my day
& I just have to add my own 2 cents on this, because I LOVE the idea of the dagger squad finding out Maverick is ticklish. They’d jump at the opportunity to bully him. I feel like he’d be watching Rooster wreck Bob & say something like “you’re just as ruthless as your dad” & he immediately stops & is all like 👀 & turns his sights on him. Like just slowly stalking closer & asking “nonchalant” questions. & when Mav puts the pieces together it’s too late
