#roobob

Rooster could feel the adrenaline leave his body slowly and the bone-deep aches return. Maybe a medic isn’t a bad idea. He tried to shuffle his way out of the crowd, everyone yelling around him and clapping him on the shoulder or back, making him wince. An opening in the crowd had him stumbling forward into a pair of arms. The arms wrapped around him, standing him up. A chuckle rumbled through their chest, “C’mon Rooster. Up and at’em”. 

He couldn’t help but smile, “Hi Bob.” Bob grinned back and wrapped an arm around his waist, taking some of his weight. They slowly shuffled out of the crowd and made it inside when Rooster had to stop. 

Outside of the crowd, he could still hear the whooshing noise around him, black darkness began creeping into his sight. He couldn’t get any air! He can’t breathe! What’s happening? Why can’t-? “Listen to me, Rooster. Listen and follow me, okay?” Who was-Bob! Thank God Bob’s here! “Breath with me, deep breath. Now hold it, and let it out.” Bob's soothing voice passed through the whooshing sound, calm and unwavering. Rooster tried to follow, his breathing hiccupped a few times but Bob never stopped guiding him. At some point, he had shut his eyes, clenching them to slow the tears falling down his face. Gentle fingers wiped away his tears. 

Those same gentle fingers pulled him in, resting his head on a shoulder nestled into a neck.  Bob’s shoulder. Bob’s neck. Rooster raised a shaking arm up and rested his hand along the side of Bob’s neck, thumb stroking along his jaw. He opened his eyes and met Bob’s piercing blues. Bob’s arms tightened around him, holding him steady like a harbor in a hurricane. “The medic is close,” Bob murmured. “Slow and steady, hun.” Hun. I like it. Rooster slowly nodded and followed Bob’s lead down the hall.

As they entered, a medic was already checking Maverick over on an exam table. A second medic came over and pushed them toward a gurney. Bob helped him lay back, hands moving from his waist to his back and around his ribs. Rooster couldn’t help the groan he let out when the medics began poking his injuries. Bob stayed by his side, clutching his hand throughout the initial examination and again when they hooked him up to an IV. His dazed look must have spoken volumes for Bob to pipe up, “They’re going to put you under to rest, Rooster. You need it before you’re transferred to a hospital.” 

All he could think to do was squeeze Bob’s hand. “Stay,” He begged in a raspy whisper. “Please.”