Chapter Text
If he was being honest, Jake had never considered what it would take him to feel fulfilled in life. Basically, from birth all he wanted to do was to appease the man who many called his father. Not that the man was anywhere in the realm of fatherly. Sure, there were moments of bliss; but those were few and far between since his mother had passed. So, he did what any good son would do. He got good grades through school, played all of the brash and stereotypical American sports – and succeeded at them, dated the pretty blonde girl who had wealthy parents, and never questioned his father to his face. No matter how hard he strived, the man who had donated DNA to his life was not satisfied. The first time he had received a B in a class at the stark age of nine, he learned that not satisfied was a significant better disposition than angry. The welts left on his back from the belt pulled and strained when he moved, but he kept quiet, and life went on.
By the time Jake was seventeen he not only was taller and outweighed his father – significantly decreasing the beatings his father could dish out – he was smarter too. He never stayed in the house if his father was drinking. This meant he spent ninety – five percent of his time at his friends – the few that he managed not to push away – or roaming the streets of his small Texan hometown. By the time he turned eighteen he had made the executive decision that he would never be stuck in that godforsaken town that was haunted by the ghosts of his past. He signed up for the Academy the Monday following his eighteenth and could not force himself to look back.
Being raised to stand up straight and be the best made him an outlier in the Academy. He did well – the best in his class, but he still did not feel fulfilled. He made a friend, Javy Machado, the only person to look past the prickly exterior and see the lonely boy that screamed out for the comfort he had never received. Javy filled in some of the holes in his soul, but he still felt empty. When they graduated, Jake could not bring himself to tear those holes open again and Javy was all too ready to stay by his side.
The Machado’s opened their door to him when it was obvious he had no one to return to on his breaks. Maria Machado became the mom he had missed out on in his life. When he was with that family, the cold exterior melted a fraction. He felt the warmth of a loving family for the first time in nearly his entire life. However, the stark reality of his actual family would remain an ever presence in his mind. He sat, but never settled into Javy’s family. The moment he would leave, the Jake his father had raised would return – no mistakes, no feelings. Thus, Hangman was born.
Though he had no doubts about himself, the invitation to Top Gun made his breath catch in his chest. He knew he was good. Yet, being up against the rest of the best the Navy could offer made his skin prickle. However, like with everything in his life, he knew he had to face this with the notion of making no mistakes.
That idea came crashing down when Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw walked into class. Rooster was the antithesis of everything Jake had been in his life. He was cautious, slow, and overly affectionate. Where Jake could not allow himself to make friends outside of Javy, Rooster made friends with each and every person he came across. Yet, even with his disposition on life and flying, Rooster was a damn good pilot. He and Rooster were neck and neck for that trophy with each passing hop. Between Rooster and his best friend, Natasha “Pheonix” Trace, Jake feared for the first time that he might not actually easily take the win.
It was not just his flying that pissed Jake off, though. No, Rooster unsettled Jake to his core. Growing up in Texas, the option of dating anyone of the same sex would have been as close to a death sentence as one could get without actually being dead and gone. Sure, Jake had grown to understand that he might take an interest in men. However, no man had ever piqued that interest enough for Jake to act on it. Relationships were hard for Jake and one night stands with women came with far fewer risks.
Rooster screwed that all up. Before he had seen him fly, heard him speak, or even knew his name, Jake had taken one look at Rooster and felt a distinct pull in his chest. Jake hated it. So, he did what he did best. He remained cold towards the man that made him feel warm all over. He gave him hell for his flying. He taunted him for his every move. And at the end of Top Gun, with the Trophy securely in his grasp, Jake felt colder than he had in ages.
“Hangman!” some officer screamed from across the mess hall. “You’re out of here. They want you back at Top Gun.” Jake stopped dead, his fork halfway up to his mouth. Top Gun? Why? He placed his fork back down, grabbed his tray – dumping it on the disposal cart, and made his way to the officer. Grabbing the paper with a nod from the officer, he scanned the sheet that gave away nothing. He was going back. Back to the place where he met the man who made his heart stumble and his skin feel clammy. Back to where he pushed away the man who he still thought of daily before the man could ever even know what he meant to Jake. He knew being in those halls would make each moment come forward with renewed fervor. What the fuck was he going to do?