Chapter Text
“Buy you a drink?”
Hangman dialed up the sleaze on his smile deliberately, hoping it would make Maverick laugh. If he came across too earnest, too eager or sincere, he was pretty sure the captain would shut him down right away—gently, the fucker—with some speech about crushes on mentors being normal, and processing adrenaline from the mission, and maybe even feeling an attachment or sense of ownership over someone you’ve saved. It would all be kind and sincere and genuinely concerned about Jake finding happiness and blah blah blah blah blah.
He didn’t need sincere caring or genuine concern. He needed this to work—to check off stage one of his master plan ASAP. If he could make Maverick laugh, get him to lower his guard, make him think that it was a joke or a dare and not anything worry about, then there would be a much better chance of this happening. He didn’t mind a long shot—enjoyed the opening to show how good he was at beating the odds—but on the other hand, he had no problem stacking the deck in his favor. This wasn’t a game he was playing to challenge himself; it was one he was playing to win.
The sleazy grin worked, mostly—Maverick didn’t laugh, but he did grin, wide and easy, his posture relaxed and open. “Is that your best line?” the man teased. “Kids these days,” he said with a mock sigh, winking over the bar at Penny. “No effort, no pizzazz. Too used to getting everything they want at the tap of a button. Sorry, hotshot. If you want an easy pickup, go to Grindr. I’m swiping left.”
“Why would I want easy?” Hangman replied, sliding onto the barstool next to Maverick and planting an elbow on the bar, leaning in close. “I like it hard. What kind of pickup line does it for you, baby? Should I call to check if your runway is ready for a landing? Maybe I ask you if I can bring some joy to your stick?”
That did get a laugh, and Hangman grinned in victory, leaning a little closer. “So is that a yes to that drink?” he murmured into Maverick’s ear, letting his lips just barely brush against skin.
“Well, considering we first met after I bought you a drink—and the rest of the bar, too—” Maverick replied, “—I guess I can let you return the favor.”
“Great!” Hangman said cheerfully, jumping to his feet and latching onto Maverick’s arm to tow him toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”
“Whoa, hey, go where?” Maverick asked, not exactly fighting against Hangman but not letting himself get hustled out the door, either.
“This is a special drink, Maverick,” Hangman explained. “It needs a special setting.”
“How special?” Maverick looked wary now, apparently suspecting a prank.
“Very special. Good special, I swear. You’ll like it. Come on, you said I could. Not going to go back on your word now, are you?”
Maverick didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he finally, grudgingly, nodded. “Let me settle up my tab with Penny, and then I’m all yours.”
“Oh, I hope so…” Hangman purred. The look he got in return was surprisingly penetrating. He’d waited until the man was a few drinks in, wanting him looser, softened up, those sharp instincts dulled—but apparently, he hadn’t waited long enough. Damn. But it was fine—totally fine. The look only lasted a beat or two, and then Maverick was doing exactly as he’d said, passing his card over to Penny, chatting with her as it ran, then leaning over the bar to give her a peck on the cheek before heading back over to Hangman.
“Well, you’ve got me, Seresin. What are you going to do with me?”
“C’mon,” he said, leading them outside, “we can take my truck.”
“I’ll follow you on my bike.”
Hangman just shrugged and decided not to argue. He’d pretty much expected that Maverick would insist on having his own ride.
It didn’t take them long to reach their destination—a state park tucked away from the city lights.
“Did you bring me out here to kill me?” Maverick asked, dismounting from his bike as Hangman stepped out of his truck.
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Hangman replied, lowering the tailgate on the cargo bed and hoisting himself up. “But you do get a drink first.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his flask and dangled it enticingly. Maverick huffed a laugh and went over to join him, accepting the hand Hangman offered to pull him up. He’d arranged a pallet of blankets and pillows there earlier, and it hadn’t gotten shifted around too much from the driving. With the grip he still had on Maverick’s hand, he pulled him down into the cozy nest, urging him to lie back.
“Take a look at that sky,” he said, gesturing to the magnificent view above them. “Best setting I could find to share some of the best whiskey Texas ever made.” He pressed the flask in Maverick’s hand, and the man took a sip, letting out a pleased hum at the taste.
“And here I had you pegged as a tequila man.”
“Just because I’m from Texas?” Hangman laughed. “Nah, man. I had the worst hangover of my life off tequila when I was eighteen, and I haven’t been able to stomach it since. I usually stick to beer if I just want a buzz, but when I’m looking for something more, it’s whiskey for me, all the way. Strong, spicy…and well-aged—that’s how I like it.”
Maverick chuckled. “That one’s better than your other pick-up lines, I’ll give you that.” He rolled on his side, facing Hangman. “And then there’s all this. The flask, the blankets, the setting…all for me?”
“Handpicked for you,” Hangman agreed, not bothering to be coy about it. “Hondo mentioned once that you’re an astronomy geek. This spot has some of the best stargazing within fifty miles.”
“Good choice,” Maverick said, taking another drink from the flask. “Good whiskey, too. Now tell me why.”
Hangman rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d need to draw you a diagram, captain. Not with your reputation.”
“My reputation is that I’m the kind of guy who’d suck you off behind the bar. No full-on seduction needed.”
Hangman couldn’t help but shiver a little at the words. Because yeah, he’d heard some stories. If the rumors were to be believed, the list of commanding officers Maverick had pissed off was only exceeded by the list of times he’d gotten caught with his pants down—or with his head tucked in between the legs of someone else with their pants down. Hangman knew that all the stories couldn’t possibly be true, but they sure were fun to hear. Maverick wasn’t the end goal here—more of a means to an end—but he was pretty enough and reputed to be slutty enough to be a whole lot of fun to imagine. Thinking about his exploits had given Hangman a good time with his right hand and his imagination on more than one night since the beginning of the assignment. And he had every intention of enjoying tonight, too. He’d start hitting his real target in the morning—but there was no reason not to have some fun before then.
“And if I wanted quick and easy, that’s what I’d have gone for,” Hangman said. “But I told you already—I like it hard. I want to spend tonight in your bed. All night. And maybe a few more nights, too. I didn’t do this for a hook-up. I’ve got an ocean of leave ahead of me and nothing to do with my time. I’d like to spend some of it with you.”
Maverick hesitated before he spoke. “We both know you wouldn’t have any trouble finding plenty of people who’d love to fill up your leave.”
“But I’d like to spend it with you.”
“I was your commanding officer—”
“And now you’re not anymore. Mission’s over. I’m no longer in your chain of command.”
“I’m still a superior officer. There are rules about this, you know.”
Hangman just rolled his eyes. “Sorry, sir, I know how much you love following the rules. ‘By-the-Book Mitchell,’ that’s what they call you, right? I apologize for even suggesting that you would consider besmirching the honor of the navy by—”
Maverick snorted. “Fair enough, point made.” He still didn’t look convinced, though. Hangman took a slow breath and channeled his most sincere expression—while also angling his body to show off his physique to its best advantage. Stacking the deck, as usual.
“I know all the reasons why we shouldn’t, Maverick. I’m not careless or naïve. It’s why I went to the trouble of setting up the whiskey, and the blankets, and the setting. It’s all to show you that I’ve thought about this. That it’s not a whim. I know what I want, and I’m willing to put in the work to have it. I’m not going to fuck it up—I won’t be indiscreet, I won’t get either one of us in trouble. I’m not looking for anything long-term that might make problems for you down the road. All I want is what I’ve asked for—tonight, all night, and a few more nights, too. I can make it good for you.” He leaned a little closer, inching in bit by bit, until he was close enough to fall just short of grazing their lips together. “I can make it…very good for you.”
He let that last sliver of space between them close, dipping into a slow, seductive kiss. Maverick didn’t pull away. He kissed back—light, exploratory, threading his fingers through Hangman’s hair for a minute or so before using the leverage to pull him back. Two sets of green eyes met, and Hangman tried to read the expression in Maverick’s.
He’d hoped to find the man turned on, had expected to find him looking conflicted, and had been prepared for the possibility that he’d look regretful or apologetic. Maverick was a wild card in too many ways to count, but Hangman’s read of him was that he was, down to his core, a genuinely decent man. As hard as he’d ridden them all in training, it had been because he was bound and determined to keep them safe, to make sure that they could complete the mission and come home at the end of it, unharmed. He cared about the people under his command. He wasn’t the type of officer to throw his power around or take advantage. And that meant there was always the risk that no matter how tempting Hangman made himself, Maverick was going to say no, that it was a line he simply wouldn’t cross.
But the expression Hangman found wasn’t one he could easily parse. Maverick looked thoughtful, assessing. Hangman had seen him look at planes that way: weighing and measuring what they were made of, how far he could take them, whether they’d let him down.
“The smart choice would be to tell you no,” he said. “But I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m not interested. I’m also not enough of a hypocrite to let a difference in rank get in my way now just because I’m on the other side of it.” And didn’t that lend credence to some of the many, many rumors Hangman had heard. “If we both want this and agree on what it is—agree that it’s not taking advantage, that you’ve thought it through, and that you’ll protect yourself—then I can let my reservations go. Even if you still haven’t answered my question.”
Hangman frowned. “Yes, I did. I said—”
“No, you didn’t.” Maverick cut him off, his voice so firm and final that Hangman’s mouth snapped shut without him actually intending it to. “You’re holding something back. I’m sure of that, even if I don’t know what it is.”
Damn it, this was why he’d wanted the man drunker. Those sharp eyes caught way the hell too much. “Maverick, I…”
“I owe you my life. I owe you Rooster’s life.” Maverick’s tone made it perfectly clear which of these mattered most to him. “That’s earned you every bit of leeway I’ve got to give. Tell me I can trust you, and I will. That’s all I need to hear.”
“I…” The words stuck in his throat, which was as baffling as it was inconvenient. Lying had never bothered him—and this wasn’t even a lie. He’d meant everything he’d said to Maverick. He did want him, he didn’t intend to hurt him, and he fully intended to follow through on a string of mutually enjoyable nights in his bed. If he had an end goal that followed after that, what did it matter? It would only impact Maverick indirectly. So why was it so hard to look into those eyes and promise that Maverick could trust him?
“I may not tell you everything,” he finally managed to say. “But I promise to be honest with you.”
Even to him, it sounded weak. Would it be enough for Maverick?
Maverick thought it over, slow and careful in a way that Hangman had never seen from him before. Then he nodded. And this time, he was the one who initiated the kiss, taking it a step further as he rolled into Hangman, letting their bodies come together. He felt good, pressed close like that—compact but strong, warm. He tasted like good whiskey and kissed like he meant it, nothing tentative or unsure.
Hangman started getting into it, pressing deeper into the kiss, angling his body so he could get some friction and pressure against his rapidly stiffening cock, grinning when he felt his partner’s growing response. “Take me home,” he whispered. “Don’t you want to see how good I look spread out over your sheets?”
Maverick huffed out a laugh. “So you’re just as cocky in bed as you are outside of it, hmm?”
“Oh, darling, I’m cocky everywhere,” Hangman retorted with a Cheshire-cat grin. Maverick rolled his eyes but planted another soft kiss on his lips and gave him a final squeeze before pulling away.
“My place is about a fifteen-minute drive from here,” he said. “Follow me there, and we’ll pick up where we left off.”
“Yes, sir,” Hangman promised with a mocking salute. “I’m very ready to be at your service.”
Maverick’s laughter rang through the cool night air as he hopped off the cargo bed, got on his bike, and roared off into the darkness. Hangman was quick to follow, more than ready for the next act of his carefully scripted play to begin.