“You’re sure you don’t wanna swing by your aunt’s house?” Rooster asks, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as Fly Like An Eagle by the Steve Miller Band floats through his impressive speakers. “No skin off my back. Swear it.”
You’re ogling at his house, your tongue thick with excitement and your bare feet settled on the soft carpet of his car. But you just shrug, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sigh.
“Don’t want her to harsh my vibe,” you tell him honestly.
You’re far too excited to have your vibe harshed--you just genuinely don’t care about any of the prairie skirts your mom packed and can very easily live without the needlepoint your aunt gave you as a Christmas present. You’ll get new things, better things.
“What are you gonna wear?” He asks.
He rolls into the driveway seamlessly, peering at you from the corner of his eye.
“Wasn’t planning on wearing anything,” you tell him. “That gonna make your heart give out, old man?”
He tuts at you, a smile tugging at his lips.
The sun kisses your bare shoulders and Rooster watches, sunglasses low on his nose, as your tilt your face towards the sky.
“Already calling me your old man and I’m the romantic supposedly,” he sighs, grinning. You grin right back at him, laughing as he cuts the engine. “You’re really out to lunch, aren’t you, kid?”
Wordlessly, you hand him your skates and climb across the seat to straddle him. He’s surprised, surprised enough to laugh. He can feel your skin, hot from the sun, pressing into his gently as you blow a raspberry in his face and then deftly climb out of the car barefoot.
He’s ogling at you now as you stand beside his car, all the weight of your body on your left hit as you hold it and tilt your head at him. He’s so pretty--his face definitely looks his age, little fine lines pressed into the skin beside his mouth and eyes. But you like it; he looks cool. He looks real cool.
“C’mon, old man,” you tell him, nodding towards the door leading into the house. “Show me around. Now that we’re shacking up and all. Gonna need to know where the bar is so I can fix you a nightly martini.”
Hangman(to the Daggers):...Yeah, it's Rooster's big night. He finally decided he wants to sit down and talk with Maverick.
Rooster: I just kept hearing this voice telling me, "Talk to Maverick. Talk to Maverick." So I finally said okay, and Hangman shut the hell up.
Hangman(grinning): I did, it's a true story!
an underrated moment in tg:m is when mav & rooster are looking at the half destroyed enemy base and mav runs off without warning, to which rooster's just like
"MAV-
"okay"
followed by both of them running like fuckin muppets across the base
Maverick(to Rooster): I'll let you in on a little secret for when you're shopping with your significant other. Always pick the ugliest, worst choice, and you're off the hook. That's how I got out of shopping for this couch.
Rooster:...There was an uglier couch than this?
Maverick: The one I picked had dragons on it.
Rooster: Wow, you're sneaky. You know, you act like you're all about brute force, but you're a finesse player, man.
Maverick: Trust me, Bradley. Don't budge until you hear the magic words, "Oh, I'll just do it myself."
Iceman(walking into the living room, to Bradley): You're done shopping already? You and Maverick, you just don't know how to shop. You know, your godfather once tried to get me to buy a couch with dragons on it...!
Maverick(sighs): Yeah, I guess I'm just bad at it...