A/N: Welcome back friends! Firstly, please note that there's been a minor change in series order; I've update the story titles as relevant (this slots in before the previous No.5 When 24hrs feels like 24 years). Secondly, it was bugging me and I needed a giggle (there's hardly any mission/team bonding fics out there these days which is sad...), and it kinda relates to a chapter in my BIG story (that I've talked about heaps on AO3) titled Trials of the Trident that I'm writing. Like, it's a real loose relation, but it's there. To assure you that I'm not blowing hot air over my big story, I've got 7.5 chapters written for ToTT so far, and the word count is already sitting around 60k, so it's not going to be a short story, for sure! And you poor people haven't even been put through two of my favourite fics; Standing Opposite Sides of the Bombed Divide, and Hornet's Nest - coming to this site soon!

This story fits in both the Bravo Bingo, and Book of Bravo series; but before Bombed Divides - so Trent is still in the dark about the bingo.

I'm putting a . between lines where there's meant to be a larger gap between paragraphs as this site doesn't let you, which is super annoying. Fingers crossed it works!

Anyway, enjoy this bit of silliness, and let me know what you think! :D

Clay won the next round of Bravo Bingo, much to Brock's - and his wallets - annoyance, and it went a little something like this.

It was a cool, crisp morning in Virginia Beach. There was a light frost on the ground, the skies were clear, and the smell of spring was in the air.

Including the pollen. Lots and lots of pollen.

Ray cursed as he dug through his pockets for the packet of tissues he'd grabbed off the counter, left out for him courtesy of Naima, and cleared his nose for what felt like the tenth time in the last five minutes.

"Perry!"

Blinking through the tears – damn his eyes stung something horrid – he turned and spotted Doc walking across the carpark towards him. "Hey Doc," he greeted once the man was closer. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Doc looked him up and down. "Well you look like shit."

I look better than you was the retort he'd planned on saying, but he had to turn and sneeze instead. "Ugh."

"Gesundheit." Doc grabbed his chin and put him through an impromptu inspection. Given the fact his eyes were aching, not to mention the rest of his head, he let the multiple protests he had planned slide and suffered the indignance of a parking lot checkup. "And this is why you come to me before your antihistamine shot is due," the man tutted, jabbing his fingers into the delicate underside of his jaw as he felt his glands for some unknown reason.

Ray tried to pull back, and was given a rough tug on his ear as payback. "Now I know where Trent gets his bedside manner from," he grumbled, rubbing his ear to ease the sting. "Damn."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. The smirk Doc was wearing said it wasn't as quiet as he'd hoped. "I'll be fine."

"Sure you will. I'll just put away my 'caution, slippery surface' sign then, shall I? Given it's not your tears and snot flooding the carpark."

Ray glared at the man as much as he could. He could kind of make him out through his streaming eyes. Enough to see Doc's eyeroll, anyway. "I'm not a toddler."

"Could've fooled me." Doc grabbed him by the upper arm and marched him unceremoniously up the stairs, through the halls, and into his office before Ray had the presence of mind to put up a protest. "I'll remember that the next time you're doped up on morphine and whining because you can't put your shirt on the right way."

"That was one time," he hissed, folding his arms across his chest and absolutely not pouting like the toddler he totally wasn't. "Morphine dilemmas can't be held against me. It's not fair."

"Uh huh." Doc rifled through one of his cupboards, grabbing a bottle and shaking out two pills which he handed over with a glass of water. Ray, knowing when to pick his battles, took the medication. Besides, this hay fever was really kicking his ass – he wanted to get rid of his allergies for twenty-four hours so he could focus on the day ahead. The pills he was handed would at least get him through that.

Just as he was in the process of downing the drugs and water, there was a sharp pain in the meat of his upper bicep. He barely avoided choking, glaring up at Doc who simply smiled. "Those are the temporary measure, you know this. The injection is the two-week management for your symptoms, and needs time to kick in. The overlap from the injection starting and the pills wearing off means you need both now."

"You could've at least given me some warning," he groused, rubbing the stab site. "That hurt."

"The last time I gave you a warning, it took me five minutes longer to inject you than it usually does." Doc disposed of the needle in the sharps bin, and had the audacity to grab a lollipop from his desk draw and hand it over. Ray pursed his lips but didn't take it. Doc stared back, unimpressed. "It's grape flavour."

Dammit. "Hand it over," he grunted, sticking his hand out.

"Besides," Doc added, smirking as Ray unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it in his mouth with more annoyance than the sweet deserved. "I figured you'd want to shake the allergy before overseeing the Greenies jump training today." Ray hummed noncommittally. "And Brock and Clay's jump check."

The lollipop hit the linoleum floor with a wet, slightly sticky thud when it was accidentally spat out. "Fucking what now?!" Ray looked at the man, aghast. "They're doing what?!"

"I'm guessing you haven't seen the updated manifest," Doc chortled as he grabbed a second lollipop from his desk, unwrapping it and sticking it in Ray's mouth for him. It was the least he could do, given Bravo 2 now had his face in his phone, searching for the day's runsheet with Green Team.

"Who signed off of this?!" Ray sputtered when he found it. "Who said I wanted to deal with their shit today? This isn't fair!" Doc resolutely ignored the foot stomp that accompanied the words. "Who -?" There was an unintelligible screech. "Blackburn?! What the fuck did I do to him?! Urgh, this is such bullshit!"

When he'd been signing off everyone's medicals that morning to declare them fit to jump, he'd seen one Brock Reynolds and one Clay Spenser listed down the bottom of the manifest. He had thought it was rather magnanimous of Ray to offer to oversee the Terrible Two on a day that was already going to be busy for him.

He really ought to have known better by now that Ray would be anything but willing when it came to those two. "I'm sure you'll be fine," he said, aiming for reassuring and failing miserably; instead laughing at the glare sent his way. "It's not just you on board, you'll have the Jump Masters and Mac with you." Foxtrot 1 was a good operator, and a good person. He was calm, level headed, and knew how to roll with the punches far better than most operators he'd come across over the years.

If anyone would be a good support buddy for Ray on that plane, it was him.

Ray just snarled under his breath, and stormed out of the room in a huff.

"Have fun, you cantankerous bastard," he sniggered. Secretly, he did like Ray. But Bravo 2 didn't even thank him for the lollipop, so he had no qualms about hoping Ray's day was... eventful. Yes, that was probably the polite term to use.

He hoped his day was eventful.

Ray stalked his way to Blackburn's office, ready to give his boss a piece of his mind.

What in the hell had possessed the man to assign Brock and Clay to the Greenie jump ship? And more importantly, why in the hell was he letting them do their cert checks today of all days?!

Doc could laugh all he wanted, but he had no interest in being an unwilling passenger on their crazy train.

He knocked on the door once and entered, not even bothering to wait for a reply. "Sir."

Eric, who was leaning back in his chair, looked up from his cup of coffee. "Ray," he greeted mildly. "Something I can help you with?"

"Yes sir. I'd like to know why the hell Brock and Clay are doing their jump certs today." He tried to keep his annoyance out of his tone, but based on the raised eyebrow, he didn't succeed. "Sir," he added, trying to remain respectful of their different positions.

"Is this because you're genuinely interested, or because you don't want to deal with them?"

Ray bit his tongue before he could reply with 'well what in the hell do you think?!' - instead saying, "we don't usually combine jump training with jump re-certifications, sir. The tadpoles take priority." Which they did. After Brian Armstrong's death, the military had gone through a vigorous overhaul of all their procedures to ensure such an event didn't happen again. It included the Jump Masters and Green Team Trainers double checking one another's work before the ramp opened, and that there were as few distractions on board as possible to keep everyone's heads in the game. While a re-check happening at the same time as jump training wasn't unheard of, since the overhaul it was highly unusual.

Hence his reaction, which was actually perfectly reasonable in his books. Even if his first thought had been to call in sick and run as far away from the pair as possible.

He hadn't psyched himself up for this when he woke up. He hadn't had enough coffee, either – which meant this entire situation was wholly unfair.

"A very diplomatic answer," Eric replied around a poorly concealed smirk, before turning serious. "Trust me, I didn't want to do it to you, but I don't have a choice. If those two haven't done their jump checks by the end of the week, they have to redo the longer competency course the FAA insists on when licenses expire."

"They can get an extension -"

"They've already had it," Eric interrupted, not unkindly. "The extension is only three months, and they're at the end of it. We've been trying to get this done since the Jump Masters flagged their checks as upcoming four months ago. You boys just kept getting spun up when we had something scheduled."

Ray pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly, knowing there really was no other option. If anyone's license expired, even if the check was a day after the expiry, then they had to go through an FAA-led competency program, which was a three-day course and had to be booked in advance. If that happened, it meant that Clay and Brock would each have to tandem jump with someone else on any missions that required them to drop in until they were signed off. And given those bookings could take months to get, they really were out of options.

"If it had been anyone else," he sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "One of them is fine, even paired up with someone else. But what did I do to deserve both of them?"

Eric shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be fine," his CO offered with as much sympathy as he could muster. Ray didn't think it was enough, quite frankly. "I doubt they'll find a way to stress you out too much while you're up there."

He shook his head and headed for the door. "You say that, and yet..." he didn't bother finishing that sentence as he let himself out of the room; resolutely ignoring the huff of laughter that followed him out the door.

.

As they both learned later on, things did not go fine.

"Do you think he's onto us?"

Brock didn't turn his attention away from his phone, but he did peek out the corner of his eye to where Ray was standing with Mac Lyders, deliberately facing them. "Hard to say," he replied after a moment's contemplation. Ray seemed calm, but then... that was Ray. He could be hard to get a read on, some days.

Which was ideal for him, because he did love a challenge.

They'd been the paragons of virtue the moment they stepped on the plane, wandering past the tadpoles watching them curiously with their parachute bags slung over their shoulders, chatting amicably, before sequestering themselves in the upper hold as they waited for their Jump Instructor to join them. Staying out of the way, staying out of trouble; just like Jason would want - read: demand with threats of bodily harm if they didn't.

Their Jump Master, Tommy Jones, had to assist the other Masters with the greenies briefing and preparation, which would take significantly longer than the one they needed, so they were left to their own devices for a good part of the hour before they took off.

.

Had Ray looked at them when he finally walked on board, twenty minutes after they'd arrived?

No.

Had Ray made any indication he'd known they were joining him today?

Also no.

Had Ray acknowledged them in any way when he walked past them to drop his bag off?

Kind of, if the irritable grunt was anything to go by as he stomped past.

.

Which made him an excellent – not to mention worthy – target.

.

Admittedly, it was actually supposed to be Sonny with them, but due to Lindell sending the Texan on a two-day demolition's seminar last minute, to play with some new charges that Brock was just dying to get his hands on, they'd been assigned Ray instead.

Oh well. If Bravo 2 didn't appreciate the effort they put into this for him, that was his problem. Brock would also throw a fit, because they'd put in a lot of effort for this.

They'd known about their re-cert's coming up for months, which at first hadn't meant anything to them, other than updating a slip of paper.

But then they'd found out – quite by accident – that the senior members of Bravo – consisting of Jason, Ray, and Sonny – had been instructed to assist with the new intake whenever they weren't spun up, and... well.

Who was he to pass up an opportunity that had all but thrown itself in his lap?

Trent must've known he was planning something, because he told him to not do something stupid enough to get killed, and left it at that.

Clay, when he'd gotten him alone that afternoon already had a list for him to look through.

He was so proud. His little padawan was growing up so fast.

.

The final idea hadn't hit him until two days after receiving their training reminder email. He, Clay, and Cerberus had been on their way to one of their favourite trails for a half day hike when they passed a small cluster of shops, then a sign that advertised a gymnastics academy. Brock hadn't quite slammed on the brakes, but the U-Turn he executed the moment there was a gap had been perfect as they changed direction.

He'd ignored Clay's confused grumbling and Cerberus' unimpressed whine as he pulled up to the front of the building, his mind whirring over the possibilities such an innocent place afforded them.

When he'd told Clay what he was thinking, they'd both raced inside with grin's a mile wide.

The plan was simple.

They had to complete three jumps; the first at fifteen thousand feet, the second at twenty-five thousand feet, and the final one at thirty-five thousand feet. The first two would be a HALO drop, with the last a HAHO so they got as long a freefall as they could.

Plenty of opportunity to mess with Ray. But the timing had to be perfect, which was why it was important that Ray be oblivious to their scheming in the lead up.

"What are you two planning?"

Brock blinked and looked up from his phone to find Ray standing over him, arms folded across his chest and a frown firmly in place. He hadn't heard the man approach, but he wasn't going to let on to that fact. "Well hello to you too," he greeted cheerfully, locking his phone and giving his brother his full attention. "How've you been?"

"No games. What are you doing?"

"Wow, Ray. That hurts," Clay exclaimed, pressing his hand to his chest and looking at the man, affronted. "Here we are, minding our own business, waiting for our turn to jump, and you accuse us of doing something when we're clearly not." He shook his head sadly. "Ye of little faith."

"None whatsoever," Ray agreed bluntly. "Don't make me ask again."

Brock and Clay rolled their eyes at one another. "Honestly, are you that traumatised by us that you can't take us at our word anymore?" Brock asked, schooling his expression from the smirk he wanted to make, to the slightly hurt one the accusation probably deserved. If it was anyone else, it would definitely be hurtful. But for him it was just hilarious.

Oh, if only he knew what was coming.

"Nope." Ray eyed them both, and they simply stared back. There was an irritated grunt. "We have impressionable youth on board," he said eventually, "and gruff, no nonsense Jump Masters. Behave, or I'll have you running hills for a month, you hear me? And that's after whatever Jase does to you."

They both gave him a lazy salute, and Ray turned on his heel and stalked off.

"Okay, so he's definitely onto us," Clay muttered once Ray was out of earshot. "Sucks to be him. He'll be looking for something, and he ain't going to find it until we give it to him."

Brock snickered and lifted his fist. Clay bumped it enthusiastically.

Phase one complete.

Chapter notes: The re-certs/jump check's are loosely based on my experiences in the aviation industry, where pilots have annual 'check and training' checks they have to go through to ensure they're still competent. From the brief research I did, there is something similar for sky divers, at least when they're first signed off, so in the interest of this story, there's an annual competency check they have to do!