#hangnix

"Nah, that was all you, Bob. Don’t sell yourself short." Phoenix insisted proudly.

"No, please do sell yourself short, Baby," Hangman interjected with a laugh, the cockiness and resentment were practically dripping from his voice, even through the radio.

"Please go screw yourself, Bagman," Phoenix spat back. "Ignore him, Bob, you did amazing."

"It’s okay, Phoenix; he’s just joking." Bob said, always trying to keep the peace, especially between Phoenix and Hangman. Bob was getting pretty good at standing up for himself, but the two of them always seemed to be at each other’s throats and Bob found that he was usually, unintentionally, the reason.

"I wasn’t, actually," Hangman quipped again.

Phoenix’s blood was about to boil; if it wasn’t likely to get both her and Bob a court martial, she’d dive on the cocky blond's plane just to give him a good scare. Instead, she settled for some "playful" verbal abuse.

"Bagman, everything everyone says behind your back is true."

"Was that meant to hurt my feelings, Phoenix?"

"I swear the only reason they let you fly solo is because your WSO would purposely sabotage you both just to get some damn peace."

"Oh, really? That the best you got?" Hangman taunted.

The breezy jovial feeling that had filled the air of the jet just moments before had gone stale, and instead a thick layer of smog-like anger had fallen over the aircraft cockpit. The temperature within had surely gone up by at least a few degrees with all the red hot words flying from Phoenix's mouth into her mic.

Bob's cheeks glowed to a flaming red as he listened to the two pilots bickering, entire body tense, helpless to remove himself from the mid-air argument, just waiting for the right moment to interject. He’d been in this situation many times before—he knew the drill. But that didn't make him any less uncomfortable. "Okay, c’mon, guys—" he began timidly, yet a level of assertion still came through in his voice.

"Great work, aviators!" Mav’s voice came like a shock over the radio, squashing the argument before it could manage to turn physical. No student had died on Mav's watch so far, and he wasn't looking to change that any time soon. Especially because 'purposeful collision due to mid-flight training disagreement' would not go over well on an accident report. "Let’s get these birds back on the ground. It’s quitin' time!"

--

Steam filled the empty locker room. Phoenix breathed deeply as she stepped out of the shower. She always felt like she had gained a new life after her shower at the end of each day; the amount of sweat produced under those flight suits was ungodly. She also liked to imagine that the boiling water was washing away all the boys’ BS that she had gone through that day. She loved, almost, all of them—though she’d never tell them that—but being the only girl on a team of men, Navy men, was rough. She was sure at least two of them truly were raised in a barn, and she knew Bob and Rooster were the only ones who even knew what the word "filter" meant.

She thought on her boys fondly, unable to hold back her smile, as she toweled off her hair behind the emotional privacy of the her locker door. She'd never dare show this side to them. This was still the military, after all, and she was still a woman. No matter how many times she proved herself tougher than the men around her, her and soft emotions were not allowed to coexist without ridicule. Wiping the condensation off of the mirror, she looked at her own face in the tinny glass, it had been hardened over her time in the Navy, and it reminded her of the look of rage on Hangman’s as they clambered back into the hanger. She laughed lightly. That was without a doubt the best thing she’d seen in weeks. She wished she could’ve had it photographed so she could look at it when she was having a bad day.

She didn’t truly hate the cocky pilot, but she had been nearing the line between it and mere distaste with his recent antics. After their first mission together, it had seemed like all grudges between any of the Daggers had been squashed; Hangman and Bob had been fully civil up until a couple weeks ago when Hangman decided to make the younger pilot his verbal target practice. Everyone had noticed the shift, but no one could tell exactly what triggered it. Bob had finally started to stand up for himself in the past couple days, which Phoenix was thankful for because any time anyone else said anything to Hangman, the treatment just got worse. It needed to end, and soon. Phoenix was ready to string Hangman up, but she knew acting out would only risk getting both her and Bob disciplined. She didn’t know what she was going to do. But she was sure as hell going to do something.

She finished getting ready to head home and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She tossed her hair into a loose bun as she walked out of the lockers, preparing to face the scorching heat already constantly present even this early into the California summer. Fanboy intercepted her in the hall outside the locker rooms. His face immediately told her that whatever he was about to say wasn’t another corny joke about his favorite tv series.

"There’s something you should know," he said.

--

"BAGMAN!"

Lt. Jake "Hangman" Seresin might not have finished at the very top of his classes, but he was smart enough to know that that yell could only mean one thing: he was about to get the chew out of a lifetime from one Lt. Natasha "Phoenix" Trace. He pulled his signature toothpick out of his mouth before turning on his heel to see the livid brunette storming down the hall, fire ablaze in her eyes.

If anyone else had been in the vicinity, they would've sworn they felt the temperature shift.

"What the hell, Hangman?" Phoenix barked, shoving a hand roughly into his chest, and sending the unprepared man stumbling back a couple steps with an unsophisticated mix between a "WOAH!" and "HEY!"

"What do you mean ‘what the hell'?" Hangman shot back, gathering himself and stepping forward, squaring his broad shoulders towards her. "You can't just attack a man without telling him what he did to provoke it."

Phoenix's face was now inches from his. Hangman could feel the rage on the heat of her breath.

"Watch me," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Don't even start that crap with me. You know full well what you did."

"Humor me." Hangman said with the same tone he would have used in a casual conversation with a friend, which this situation very much was not.

There was finger in his face. He pretended there wasn't, looking past it directly into Phoenix's face.

"I am so fed up with your immature little grudge against, Bob."

"I didn't know I ever had one."

Hangman's tone was aloof, and it drove Phoenix crazy. How could he be such a prick? All she wanted to do was punch him in the jaw. She didn’t know why she always felt like she was about to explode with Hangman, no one else made it so difficult for her to keep her emotions in check, but she held it together—this time. She wasn't going to make herself any promises for the future.

"You two were supposed to be cool after the mission, I thought you had agreed to lay off him! I don't know who you think you are, but Bob is just as, if not more, qualified as any of us to be here. And you know it! But your fragile little ego just can't take that he's smarter than you, can it?" She practically spat the last words, ensuring they hit Hangman square in the face.

Phoenix saw his eyes soften for just a second and knew that she'd hit a nerve, but his expression didn’t change. He just continued to look at her with that same stupid, smug expression he always wore.

"And I have laid off him. He's not my concern any longer." He shrugged, popped the toothpick he'd been holding back into his mouth, and started to turn away. Phoenix forcefully grabbed his arm.

Her grip was stronger than Hangman assumed it would be.

"Really? 'Cause that's not what it looked like to Fanboy when he saw you corner him in the lockers after that last flying exercise. He said you looked ready to throttle Bob before he stepped in. That's low, even for you. We got you fair and square in that exercise. If you don't want to lose, try not making stupid mistakes. And one more thing," Phoenix said, leaning into Hangman's face, fists clenched so tightly at her sides they were pure red. "If you ever try taking your sore loss out on Bob again, we will be having a very different conversation that will not be much of a conversation at all."

"Is that a threat, Trace?" Hangman said coolly, a smirk on his face.

"It's a promise," Phoenix snapped, pushing past him forcefully, her shoulder smacking into his.

Hangman dropped his head and laughed, his tongue twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Head still lowered, he called after the receding footsteps, "Wow, I didn't know you had a heart, but since you clearly care so much about him, I'll leave Bob alone."

The footsteps stopped. Hangman turned to face them, shaking his head lightly.

"But it's gonna cost you."

Phoenix cocked one eyebrow in an ‘I knew this was coming' fashion.

"Really?" She said, crossing her arms over her chest, taking a step closer.

"Really." Hangman shot back joyfully, also taking a step closer. He was clearly enjoying this.

"Fine. I'll bite. What's your price?"

"Go on a date with me."

Phoenix scoffed, staring at him agape as if she hadn't heard him correctly or refused to believe he'd actually said what she thought he said.

"That's the worst joke you've ever made, Bagman, and you've made a lot of bad jokes." She scoffed again as she turned and continued toward the exit.

"Maybe because it wasn't a joke." There wasn't a drop of sarcasm in his voice.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," said Phoenix, turning back to him again.

"You want me to leave Bob alone? That's my price. One date, and we'll never have this issue again. I promise." He held up three fingers in a "scouts honor" kind of way.