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thewulf · 8 months

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Downright Gorgeous || Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Summary: Request - Hi! Can you write a request about ‘86 Maverick where they’re like at the club or something and some other pilot tries to flirt with the reader and that makes the reader feel anxious and nervous, so when Maverick sees this, he gets all mad at the other pilot and protective over the reader and he defends her. Just something angsty and fluffy:) I’d totally understand if you don’t want to write it

A/N: Who doesn't love a good Top Gun 1986 Mav! He's so precious.

Pairing: Young Pete "Maverick"Mitchell x Y/N

Word Count: 3,400+

You’d known Pete for almost as long as your brother, Nick, had. He’d only beaten you by a few days. You were a Naval nurse that always seemed to be stationed close to your brother. The first time you met Pete was when he got sucker punched in the face by a rather handsome man in Tom Kazansky. He went running to medical and you were his nurse. He was enamored with you quickly, especially learning that you were Goose’s sister, twin sister at that.

After years of playful flirting and happen chances you were moved to Miramar right after your brother and Pete were shipped off. Curious it was. You missed him, truly, so it was a little exciting to get the call. The two of you were literally attached at the hip growing up, being twins and all. This was the loneliest time in your life, you’d be amiss to say you were jealous he’d found a replacement for you so quickly after he left for flight school. Those couple years between school and deployments were your least favorite as the two of you barely saw each other.

You were captured in that Mitchell charm rather quickly that first time you met him. It took you a moment to piece together that he was your brothers new friend. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think he was handsome as hell, even if he wasn’t the kind of guy you’d normally go after.

You knew you could look but couldn’t touch. Not with Nick’s best friend. He’d skin your ass alive, and you knew that. That didn’t stop you from forming a massive crush on him as you got to know him more throughout the years though. The two of you shamelessly danced around what could be on a daily basis. Nick knew there was probably something more there. Even if he tried to deny the connection the two of you had. He’d only be able to stop it for so long. But he’d keep trying for his sake. He knew as soon as Pete committed to somebody the time he got with his best friend would dwindle quickly. But, if Pete was going to get with somebody he’d be thrilled for it to be you.

You’d just gotten into Miramar and settled in when your brother invited you out to The Hard Deck for some drinks. He promised it wouldn’t get too rowdy knowing you were much more of a homebody rather than a party goer these days. When Nick casually mentioned that Pete would be coming with him you quickly agreed. Nick wasn’t stupid. He knew all about your silly little crush on his best friend. He could get you to go almost anywhere if Pete would be going. He then turned around and convinced Pete to go by mentioning that you agreed if he’d be there. Little did Nick know he was playing mini matchmaker as the two of you got closer and closer with each little activity he’d planned.

When you walked through the front door of the Hard Deck, after putting some effort into the way you looked because… Pete, your attention was drawn to the bar where your brother and Pete were already sitting, “Well I’ll be damned. Y/N Bradshaw out at a bar. A sight rarely seen.” He stood offering his seat to you as the bar had already filled out earlier on in the night than you’d expect. You’d be lying if you said you thought far too much of the little interaction. He was just being kind. You were his best friends twin sister after all. Nothing more, no matter how much you wished it differently.

You rolled your eyes punching him in the shoulder, “Keep that up and I’ll high tail it right out of here Mitchell.”

He winked leaning on your barstool rather than Nick’s, “Love that mouth on you Bradshaw.”

“Jesus, I’m sitting right here.” Nick sighed rolling his eyes at the two of you. Seemingly realizing the two of you were closer than ever at actually going for it. He’d seen Pete lay it on thick before, but this was something else.

Pete flicked his eyes over to his friend, “Wish you weren’t.” That got a laugh out of you. He was so fucking smooth when he wanted to be. Nick simply flipped him off before muttering something, grabbing his beer, and heading to the other side of the bar.

“Can’t believe that worked.” You laughed while flagging down the bartender to order your drink.

Pete smiled at you, taking in your appearance. You hadn’t a clue the massive crush he too harbored on you. Nick didn’t know for sure, but he thought he knew it was deeper than he was making it out to be. Pete wasn’t shy about making comments. He was always careful not to cross a line. But lately things were changing for the two of you. He was utterly pulled to you. Wanting to be around you at nearly every turn. Like two magnets drawn to one another.

“You should know by now Goose does what I ask him to.” He raised his eyebrows studying your face for your reaction.

“Does he now?” You asked leaning back after thanking the bartender for your pale ale.

Pete nodded slowly grinning right at you.

“Won’t be the same case for me. But you know that.” Not having a clue where the outwardly confidence was coming from you took a sip of your own beer eyeing him curiously.

Laughing, he nodded his head in agreement, “Trust me pretty, I do.” Pete smirked seeing the inevitable blush that started forming on your cheeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d used that name on you, but damn did it make your heart race. You wanted nothing more than to have him think you were pretty.

You decided to push it tonight because why not? Pete always pushed it, maybe it was your turn, “Pretty?” You asked leaning forward towards him, utterly interested as to what he had to say to that.

Pete raked his eyes up and down you sitting frame slowly, so slowly, “Downright gorgeous if I’m honest.” He nodded agreeing with himself.

“I don’t think Nick would like you saying that.” You could’ve sworn your heart stopped at the way he smiled at you. Like nothing you’d ever seen before with him.

“Goose isn’t around. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He leaned forward staring right at your lips. He surely wasn’t afraid to hide his desires. Desires you wished the two of you could act upon.

Before anything further could go on Pete was pulled into another conversation to his side, literally. A hand grabbed him and pulled him. You heard the groan as he turned back to you, “Be right back pretty. Iceman here needs some help.” He winked at you before receiving a clap to the back of the head earning a snicker from you.

It wasn’t five seconds later another person tried and succeeded in sitting at Pete’s spot, “I’m sorry, that spots taken.” You spoke not looking over. Truth be told you hated confrontation more than anything.

“Well, I’d argue it’s not.” A male voice spoke. You rolled your eyes finally looking over at him. ‘Course he was a pilot in those pretty white Navy uniforms you loved so dearly. He would’ve been handsome had he not opened up that ugly mouth of his.

“My friend is just using the restroom. He’ll be right back.” You looked around for Pete after losing him in the crowd to his pilot buddies. Your brother was long lost to the crowd as well. You’d just have to deal with the pig on your own.

“I’ll hold his spot until he’s back then, beautiful.” That got you to look at the sleezy man once again. He just wasn’t getting your hint.

This right here was why you avoided places like these. You peaked around once more feeling defeated not spotting any familiar faces in the crowd, “I’d rather you not.”

He laughed, a gross sound compared to Pete’s casual one, “Playing hard to get is adorable hun.” He cooed, mocking you. Surely a man who rarely got rejected. Maybe you should just get up and give up the spot. It wasn’t worth it at this point. This douchebag was being relentless, and he wouldn’t stop, you knew that.

Your frustration was evident on your face, he clearly wasn’t picking that up, “Please, just go, my boyfriend will be right back.”

He laughed that nasty laugh, throwing his head back, “Oh he’s your boyfriend now? Was just your friend a moment ago.” He leaned forward placing a hand on your knee. You jerked it back quickly without much of a second thought while sending him a nasty glare.

“Don’t touch me.” It didn’t sound as menacing as you’d have hoped. A shaky sounding voice exited as you’d prayed somebody would come and save you. The dude clearly didn’t have any boundaries.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He cooed at you again with that stupid smile creeping up all over again.

Lucky for you Pete had seen the interaction as he was keeping an eye on you. The dude seemed harmless at first until he laid a hand on you. Disgust crossing your face let him know you weren’t comfortable in the slightest. He had to do something. You were his best friends sister.

Before you could respond Pete did for you, “Get the hell out of my seat. The fuck is wrong with you?” Pete nearly growled. A sight you had yet to see from the man. It made you feel weirdly attracted to him at that very moment, a protective nature unfolding before you.

The man smirked while getting up from the seat, “The friend boyfriend I presume.” Shooting you a wink he turned back to Pete.

Pete shook his head, “Fuck off Lieutenant.” You saw the man glance at Pete’s status on his uniform indicating his recent promotion to Captain. There was something. The man rolled his eyes this time before walking away leaving you with an enraged Pete.

He turned to you looking you over. His expression softened seeing your irritated gaze, “Are you alright Y/N?” He asked looking you over, afraid of what the answer could be.

“I’m fine.” You looked away from him quickly feeling almost embarrassed at how quickly the entire thing escalated.

He sat down looking at you skeptically, “Are you sure?”

You nodded finding his concern more than endearing, “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound like it Bradshaw. The woman I know is usually a lot more decisive.” He pressed wanting to make sure you actually were fine. As much as you tried to deny it or wanted to hide it Pete knew you. He knew what your ticks were and handsy men were certainly one of them.

Closing your eyes, sighing, then taking a sip of your beer you thought for a moment, “I’m okay. You got here just in time. I just…” You paused not sure where you were going with it, “Never mind.” You spoke softly in frustration with yourself. Why was being real and vulnerable with him seeming so impossible? He’d been nothing but patient and kind with you, why were you having a hard time returning the favor? Digging down into the next layer seemed so scary, you’d never let anybody do it before. Maybe, just maybe, you were terrified to take the next step with somebody. Let alone your fucking brothers best friend.

Pete shook his head terribly unsatisfied at that answer, “No say it pretty girl. Stop hiding from me. It’s just you and me here, nobody is listening in.” He could see your eyes nervously trailing the bar. Like you were planning your escape. God, he really did know you and your mind because that’s exactly what you were planning, the great escape.

You gulped down a few drinks of the cold beer trying to find the nerve before continuing, “I just wish men would listen. I told him no five times and he wouldn’t take the damn hint Pete. It’s not the first time either. Seems like every time I come to one of these stupid bars this type of shit happens.” You sighed setting the coaster you were playing with in your hands down, “That’s why I hate coming out. It happens more often than not.” You admitted to him. Slowly you looked over to him, afraid of the reaction you would get from him. So often you’d get dismissed, your concerns tossed aside. It’s truly why you just stayed home. It was easier to avoid the situation entirely rather than get victim blamed for whatever action the man of the day decided to do.

You watched him process your words though. Really listen. A brief flash of hope surged through your body as he seemed to be the first male, other than your brother, who actually listened to you, “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to worry about that. I’m sorry we are like that…” This time he paused looking away from you, trying to find his words. Because this wasn’t easy for him either. He was Pete, the playboy. The guy who flirted with anything that moved. The guy who could get whatever he wanted. But with you? You made him feel special. You filled a void he’d been searching for. He was convinced that was why he was the way he was. He was searching for that something that he could never seem to find. Then he found you. But you were off limits. So, he doubled down and tried to find something just like you, or better. But that was a pipe dream, he knew it. Nobody was like you. Nobody could compliment him as well as you did. Nobody seemed to come even remotely close to challenging him like you did. You were quick, witty, charismatic, everything he was looking for in a partner.

You nodded listening to him. Before you could respond though he continued, “I won’t lie to you Bradshaw, I was one of those guys. Been one of those guys. Thought it was charming or some shit like that. But you’ve opened my eyes to it. A lot of these guys think they know better, they’ll never listen. They’re asshole pilots.”

You laughed at that, feeling a small weight being lifted off your shoulders. Pete was digging with you, willing to get deeper than either of you had before, “Like you? An asshole pilot?” You joked with him, wanting to lift the mood just a bit.

He pushed your side lightly, loving the banter between the two of you. That’s how he knew you really were okay. Or that you’d be okay. He’d make sure of it, that was for damn sure, “Oh pretty.” He tossed back the last bit of beer from his glass, snickering after he gulped it down, “You’re sitting with the biggest asshole pilot out here.”

You laughed at that comment, “For some reason, I don’t have a doubt in my mind at all.”

He grinned enjoying seeing you with a smile on your face once more. He adored that smile of yours, “Only in the air though.”

You pushed his side in return, “Now I know you’re lying.” You shot him a wink loving the reactions you were able to stir out of him.

“You’re nothing but trouble Bradshaw.” His laugh was infectious. You couldn’t help but to join in giggling with him. There was something about him that just made you feel so utterly like yourself, perfectly content.

Feeling overly confident you answered him, “I don’t think you’d have it any other way. I get the feeling you like it.”

He nodded, a growing smile on his face, “I do. You know what else I like?” He looked you over again, letting you know just how pretty he thought you really were with that smirk washing over his face.

You cocked your head to the side wondering where he was going with this, “What’s that?”

He grinned loving every second of this, “You, I like you Y/N.”

You were sure your cheeks were as red as a damn tomato, sure of it. Your heart picked up to a rapid-fire speed as you processed what he said to you, “You… what?” Was all your brain could think to spit out at that comment.

His smile only grew seeing you work through it knowing he had completely thrown you off your game. He loved doing that to you. The overthinker you were surely didn’t account for this though, “I like you. Isn’t it obvious Bradshaw? I call you pretty, flirt with you all the time, annoy your brother to death about you.”

The blush on your cheeks surely darkened at that, “You do? He’s never said anything.”

Pete nodded, “Don’t think he’s actively trying to hook his best friend and sister up.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” You laughed realizing how ludicrous it really did sound. Was this actually happening? He actually liked you?

When you went silent for a moment and got that far off stare he knew he needed to speak up, “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N.” He took your hand in his, a bold move. One he’d been dying to do for quite some time. Between the alcohol and the confession and your obviously good reaction to it all had him feeling a little bit more daring with you than he’d normally would have been.

“You like me?” You turned to him with a look of confusion on your face.

He nodded quickly, “I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

“You probably did. I’m just clueless sometimes.” You smiled relishing in the feeling of Pete holding your hand in his much larger ones.

“You don’t say.” He gave your hand a squeeze letting you take your time. Not forcing you into any sort of confession.

But you wanted to give him one, because damn did he make you feel all sorts of things, “I like you too. You know that?”

This time it was his turn to have that shocked expression cross his face, “You do?”

“A lot.” You nodded your head at him, “More than I probably should.”

He leaned in a little closer now, closer than he’d been before, “I’d argue against that Bradshaw.” Brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face he took you in at a distance much closer than he’d normally seen you. Breathtakingly beautiful, that was his conclusion.

“At the bar? Really guys?” Your brothers annoying as hell voice broke the concentration the two of you had on one another. Pete rolled his eyes while you turned away in embarrassment.

Pete sighed before flipping his eyes to his RIO, "Goose! Really man?” Pete threw him a nasty look before pulling away from you.

“That’s my sister.” He shot him an equally as nasty look with his arms crossed over his chest. If your face wasn’t as red as a damn tomato from the confession it surely was from getting caught by your brother.

“Adult sister who can make her own decisions.” You coughed making sure to insert yourself between the bickering boys.

Nick only flipped you off. Pete gave you a high five loving how you could get under your brothers skin just as deep as he could. He was convinced the two of you were made for each other.

Nick scrunched his nose getting that defeated look across his face, “I don’t condone this.” He pointed at the both of you.

“But?” You interjected knowing he had more to say. Nick always had something more to say.

“I can’t stop it either.” He shook his head before looking right at Pete, “Maverick I swear to God if you hurt her in any way… I’ll beat the living shit out of you.”

Pete smiled knowing that was a valid threat, “I wouldn’t expect anything less Goose. Trust me though, I think it’s her you have to worry about. She’s going to break my heart.” Pete shot you one last wink before grabbing your hand in his. Letting Nick know just how serious he was planning to take this one. You weren’t like his flings of the past. You were different. You were you. He was waiting on you and here you are. Ready to start this life with him, one step at a time.

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theloveoftoms · 1 year

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one hell of a pilot - maverick x reader

summary: after a recent breakup, your long-time friend goose suggests you join him and the others at a bar off base. maverick and you forge a meaningful connection <3

a/n: hello babes, guess who's back from her far too long hiatus, this girl! I started writing this a few weeks ago, and I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy, I know writing it was a blast! I have my poetry final today, so wish me luck lolz. have a great day :)) - xoxo mac

wordcount: 4.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, shitty ex-boyfriend, language ;0

Today had been a rough day. Training at Top Gun had increased to a new level of difficulty. With each new assignment and flight training demanding a new level of grit and determination to accomplish. And it certainly didn’t help that your heart was still in the process of mending from the pain caused by your most recent boyfriend, well, now I suppose, ex-boyfriend.

The day at Top Gun was finally over, and the thought of coming home to your single-unit pleased you in the moment, but you knew damn well, that the second you got back to your apartment, the dread of it all would sink in.

So, after a shower, and a luke-warm beer that you had forgotten to put in the refrigerator, you found yourself perched on the arm of your living room couch, fiddling with the remote that never seemed to work, but probably just needed batteries. You found some shitty action movie on tv and ate a plate of strawberries as the sound of fast cars and men with Floridan accents became a comforting lull in the background.

Your night, or at least how you had planned it, would consist of, 1) the second half of this shitty movie 2) the leftover chicken quesadilla you had waiting for you in the refrigerator and 3) the cheap thriller novel that you had found at the drugstore last week. What you didn’t anticipate happening, was the doorbell ringing promptly at nine, just after you had finished your dinner.

So, you pulled yourself up from the couch, and on the way to the door, when you passed a glimpse of your reflection in the hallway mirror, you debated grabbing a cardigan or a blanket or something to cover up your sloppy look. You were wearing a navy-branded t-shirt (courtesy of your days at the academy), and pair of biker shorts that appeared to be non-existent as they hid beneath the excess material of the mens tripple-XL shirt. But the closer you got to the door, the further that thought was in your mind, and you decided, that whoever was on the other side of the door would just have to deal with your post-work image.

“y/l/n,” Goose stated confidently, a hand resting on his hip, “you busy tonight?”

Your posture relaxed when you realized who it was; the man you practically grew up with.

You deadpanned and gestured to yourself, “does it look like I’m busy Bradshaw?”

Goose shrugged, not entirely sure how to reply to that retort of yours.

“What do you need Goose?” You asked nonchalantly, both wanting and not-wanting to get back inside to the comforts of your sofa.

“A couple of the guys and I are going to grab drinks at the Duke and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along?”

You gestured to yourself again, “Does it look like I’m fit to go to a bar Nick?”

“It looks like you need a pair of fuckin pants,” he said jokingly, which earned a slap to his bicep.

“I know things haven’t been great for you lately y/n,” Goose said, “with Brett and all.”

Brett. Just hearing his name brought an unwanted surge of pain through your chest. Specifically, the surge of pain that you had been trying to push away for the past couple of weeks. You didn’t cry about him anymore, in the daytime that is. But at night, when you would lie in bed beneath the darkness of the moon, missing the presence of having someone to curl into, the tears would come, and they would temporarily make an impression on your pillowcase. But as you slept it off, the tears would dry, and you would wake up the next morning feeling mostly okayish.

“And I think,” Goose said, bringing you back into reality from the facade of memories that you had been reminiscing upon within your mind just then, “if you came out with us tonight, you’d have more fun than you would here,” he said, gesturing to your townhome, “spilling a tub of ice cream all over yourself while you sit alone with the lights off.”

Way harsh Goose, you thought to yourself. But he did have a point. You hadn’t been out in forever. The last time you actually went and got drinks like a proper twenty-something-year-old was with your parents when you relocated to San Diego for your position in Top Gun. And that was just at some locally owned Mexican restaurant that happened to have a bar inside. Maybe it would be good to get back out there?

You rolled your eyes, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

So, as Goose, your childhood best friend stood in your kitchen, washing the plate you had used to eat your chicken quesadilla, you were busy in your room getting yourself ready for the evening. You dressed yourself in a lacey black tank top that looked only slightly like lingerie, but didn’t if you wore it tucked into a pair of straight-cut jeans and wore it alongside a pair of low beige heels. As you ran a comb through your wavy hair, you couldn’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Sure, it was a pretty typical outfit that other young women of your age wore when they went out for drinks, but it was cute. And it did provide you with the security of looking just like every other woman. Thats exactly what you wanted to appear to be; just like every other woman. Brett had dumped you because you weren’t ready to settle down with him. You weren’t ready to move in, you weren’t ready for marriage, and you sure as hell weren’t ready for children. Brett wanted you to finish up Top Gun and then lie low for a while, putting your career aside. “Be realistic,” Brett had said, “This pilot shit can’t last forever. Maybe look at getting a different job, one thats more feminine?”

Your career was very important to you. You had worked so hard to climb the latter that that is the United States Navy. Your career was the highlight of your life. It was everything you had ever worked towards. And you weren’t going to give that up. And as much as you hated to admit, the reason of your recent break-up, had been affecting your ego ever so slightly.

So tonight, as you admired your curves in the mirror, and put on some mascara, you told yourself that you were just like every other woman.

…

“This better be worth it,” you grumbled, shutting the door to Goose’s Bronco, scanning the beach-side dive bar with your eyes.

Off in the distance, the evening tangerine hue was beginning to creep up and onto the horizon, putting the day to sleep in preparation for the night. And alongside the dimming of the evening, the neon lights of the dive bar became more welcoming.

The Duke, the off-base bar that Goose had insisted you join him and the others at, was the kind of place that had charm, but only if you knew where to look for it. It was the kind of place with neon lights and drinks that were both cheap and good. It was the kind of place that people came to forget about the day they had just had. Thats what you wanted. And the aura of the loud music coming from the bar would sure help with that.

“Trust me, y/n,” Goose reassured you, responding to your question, “it will be.”

You wanted to believe Goose, you really did. And the moment you saw the table of guys that you’ve began to come to know as your group of friends, the night already seemed better.

“Look who made it!” Iceman said as you approached the table, making you feel welcome, “Its good to see you Cobra,” he said, calling you by your call sign.

You smiled and as you took a seat at one of the empty chairs, saying your ‘hellos’ to the other classmates that were here. And at the end of the table was no other than Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell – perhaps, your greatest competitor – sitting laxly with a beer in his hands and his regular leather jacket draped around his chair.

Damn he had nice arms.

“Evening Cobra,” he said to you, leaning back ever so slightly in a way that seemed to be slightly too confident.

“Maverick,” you offered as a form of pleasantry.

Slider, who was busy looking at the drink menu slapped it down on the counter, pointing to one item in particular. “Now this,” he said, his finger drawn to a platter of five tequila shots, “this is what we need to get things going.”

So, as soon as a one of the circulating waitresses happened to be walking by your table, she wrote down, and then brought over the collective order of your table, the night certainly got a whole lot more exciting.

“Alright,” Goose said, handing you your stalky shot glass of 100% pure tequila, complete with a rim of salt and an accompanying lime, “To good times,” he said nodding.

“Good times,” you repeated along with the others, before drawing the glass to your mouth, tasting the dryness of the salt right before proceeding to take the shot.

The warmth of the alcohol tricked down your throat as you swallowed, and you forgot just how strong shots could be. You weren’t sure if swallowing it as quickly as possible made the uncomfortable sensation better or worse, but as soon as the clear liquid was all emptied from your glass, you jammed the lime into your mouth and squinted your eyes shut as a way to combat the sensation. You weren’t the only one. It seemed everyone at your table, was just to realizing how strong Slider’s chosen shots were.

“Shit,” Goose groaned, setting his glass down on the table, “And you enjoy these Slider?”

Slider shrugged, grinning, “Its awful right now, but hey, come ten minutes, you’ll feel real great.”

Opening one of the beers on the table, you rolled your eyes Sliders comment, “It’ll take more than that,” you sarcastically groaned to Goose who was seated beside you.

“What was that y/n?” Iceman asked.

You shook your head, “Ah, it was nothing.”

“Do I hear you wanting to go for a round two?”

Now, a sensible you would have said no. But since it was Friday night, you wouldn’t have to get up early tomorrow for class. And its not like you had any other plans for the day besides catching up on some paperwork and going on your usual walk. So for once in your life, you threw caution to the wind and agreed, “You got it Ice.”

So, naturally, when your platter of shots arrived, you passed them out, handing each one of the guys their respective glasses with a smirk.

“Maverick,” you said charmingly – gee, thanks alcohol – and you tried to avoid the warm feeling in your chest when your slender fingers skimmed against Maverick’s as you handed him the glass.

“Three, two, one,” you counted down, giving yourself, and possibly the rest of your group, the mental preparation prior to that same burning sensation that would wreak havoc in your mouth prior to swallowing and quickly placing the lime in your mouth.

There was a collective groan from your table as the five shot glasses returned to their small cedar serving plank.

You laughed, washing down the remaining remnants of the uncomfortable taste with the beer you had ordered. “I am not doing that again.”

So, for the next while, as the effects of the alcohol began to make itself present in your body, you sat at the table, just chatting and hanging out with your classmates, sharing stories from your lives before the navy. And while the five of you talked, you couldn’t help but stare at the opposite end of the table where Maverick was seated.

Sure, naturally, prior to this evening, you had realized that Maverick was attractive, but being in a relationship with someone didn’t really allow you to fully appreciate his beauty. With his dark hair, carelessly brushed in an effortlessly windswept way atop of his head, and his oceanic eyes, that in some lights appeared green, and in others, appeared to be almost blue.

Physically, he was gorgeous, but your past interactions with him intrigued you to what it would be like to know him. He had an ego, one that was strong and unaffected, but there was something about his drive, about his reach, about the passion he put into everything he did. You couldn’t help but wonder if one knew him intimately, if he would pursue them with the same passion and drive.

The thought cleared from your mind when his eyes met yours, making you look away, and ultimately force yourself to think of something other than the man that is Maverick.

You hadn’t noticed, but with the loss of your collective sobriety that each one of you can your friends had came in with, the music in the dive bar began to form a sound for itself. The radio collection, of rock, and pop, and some hard core groovy songs had elevated in loudness, so much so, that in a section of the bar a cluster of people had begun to dance among the cleared spot in the building.

“Do you guys see that?” Slider asked, his face drawn in a grin.

You turned in your chair, studying the dancers with your eyes, then turning back to face the table, “What?” You asked.

“That blonde over there,” Slider said, “She’s giving me some serious fuck me eyes.”

Hearing those words come out of your classmates mouth nearly made you choke on your beer, you weren’t expecting that.

“Wanna join me Ice?” Slider asked, “She’s got friends.”

You rolled your eyes as the two of them as they both threw themselves out of their seats and leisurely sauntered over to the dance floor.

“Anything to get laid,” Goose muttered jokingly when the two men began to sway to the beat of the music not quite beside, but very much near the two women.

“You could probably meet someone out there Cobra,” Goose said, more directly to you.

You scanned the crowd again, “I’m not too sure if I want to,” you gestured to the men, “they all look like their mothers still pick out their clothes for them.”

Maverick snorted from his spot over across the table, “She’s got a point Nick.”

You turned to face Maverick and flashed him a grin, “see, someone gets me!”

Goose shook his head, trying to hide his smile before saying, “I’m going to go give Carol a call, I promised I’d call her tonight. You two try and stay out of trouble,” he said, lecturing the two of you like children.

Seemingly the moment Goose left the table, Maverick’s gaze met yours. You were usually fine with eye connate, but there was something about the way that Maverick’s enchanting green eyes were staring into your own that made you feel both nervous and calm at the same time. You weren’t too sure what to say, or what the two of you could talk about, so as a way of diverting the imminence of your conversation, you took another drink of your beer, which only provided a moment relief where you weren’t required to think of what to say.

“You dance?” He asked you, the comment coming out of nowhere.

You shook your head, “I can sort-of dance, but I don’t that often,” you told him unsure of why you chose to tell him that. “And you?” You asked him back.

Maverick shook his head grinning, “not really my thing either.”

And then from across the room you heard a voice of familiarity, and right away you knew who it belonged to. Brett. Your ex-boyfriend Brett. The man who broke your heart Brett.

As much as you didn’t want to turn around, and face the man who had told you to take a step down from your career, your suspicions got the best of you, and as much as you didn’t wish to see him, there was some sort of burning panic in your chest that wouldn’t be fulfilled if you didn’t turn in your seat.

There he was. Standing tall, with his sandy hair, and well sculpted physique, whispering tiny inaudible thoughts into the ear of a woman with bleach blonde hair. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you wanted to leave. You wanted a sinkhole to come up into the bar and swallow you whole. And the moment Brett flashed you a grin, one that said, this is my new woman, you jealous? You felt the desire, no, the need to get out of the bar. You weren’t ready to face all of this just yet.

But time doesn’t always work in your favour. And so the moment Brett walked over to your table, his arm linked tightly around the slender waist of the bleach blonde woman, you weren’t too sure what to do.

Brett smiled in the kind of way that reminded you of what it was like to know him, before spewing out pleasantries and introducing the woman known as Crystal who was joined at his hip. “Its good to see you out y/n,” he said coyly, and in that moment, a ping of hatred found its way through your heart, how had you ever been with this man.

But instead of telling him off, as much as you wanted to, you smiled bluntly, your eyes revealing your true nature, “And its good to see you indulging in pleasures other than morning runs and cheap beer from the gas station.”

As Crystal gave you a dirty look, Maverick snorted before walking over to your end of the table and putting an arm around your chair, “I think its time for you to be on your way man,” he said to Brett.

Brett shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “I was just coming by to say hello,” before he walked away, his hand moving down from Crystals waist circulating above her ass. Good riddance Brett!

You turned to Maverick, flashing him a gentle smile, “thanks for that Mav,” before pausing and looking to the door, “if you don’t mind, I think I just need some air.”

And without protest, you pushed yourself up from your seat, and tried to compose yourself as the night time air hit your face. You felt warm – thanks to the alcohol – but the coldness felt lovely on your skin. You felt refreshed, cleansed almost.

On the opposite side of the Duke, was the sandy beach leading up to the ocean, which now, in the dark of night, was illumined by nearby houses and buildings, and the light of the moon reflected calmly on the waters. You decided to walk onto the sand, removing your heels from your feet and letting the now-cold sand wiggle around your toes as you walked, until you found a spot within the sand to take a seat.

Gosh, the one person you didn’t want to see tonight was Brett, and surely enough, he was there. You hated that you saw him, and you hated that you weren’t quite over him yet. Naturally, things would take time, you just wanted to get through that as quick as you could.

Behind you, you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, which made you turn, your awareness of your surroundings coming into a fuller passage.

It was Maverick, waking slowly towards you through the sand. “Mind if I sit?” He asked.

You gestured to the available ground beside yourself, “by all means, be my guest.”

You didn’t really feel like you wanted company, but then again, it was Maverick, only Maverick, and you didn’t want to turn him away after he had stood up for you back there.

And as soon as Maverick sat down beside you, the warmth and familiarity of his scent filed your way through the air, a blend of sandalwood and citrus, and cedar, and near-summer nights, you found yourself relax a bit in his presence.

For a while, the two of you just sat there beneath the moonlight in one another's company, just listening to the sound of the waves upon the shore. It was peaceful.

“So that was him?” He finally asked you.

You nodded, turning your face ever so slightly to face him, “that was Brett, the Marine.”

Maverick nodded, “Goose told me about him,” he paused, “he seems like an ass.”

You chuckled, not too sure why, “you’re right about that.”

You weren't too sure how much of your failed relationship you wanted to share with your friend. You and Maverick weren't particularly close, but the two of you obviously cared about one another.

“I just hate,” you sighed, “I hate how when I was with him, I didn’t even realize how big of a dick he could be.”

Maverick looked over to you, as if he knew you were going to say more.

“He told me to give up my career after I’m done at Top Gun,” you said, feeling a sense of relief by telling someone else about the matter, “He wanted to get married, and have kids, and he wanted me to follow him wherever he went.”

Maverick scoffed.

“And its not that I even hate that that’s what he wanted, I hate that part of me, a very, very, small part of me, considered it. And sometimes, all I can do if worry about if I made the right decision, and walked away from him, from that life for the one Ive worked so hard for.”

Maverick shook his head, and in a more quiet tone, he turned to face you, “don't ever doubt yourself like that. Ever.”

You looked away from him, feeling some warm sensation in your chest, but when Maverick resumed to speak, you had no other choice but to turn back to face the brunette.

“You’re a pilot,” he said, “Its in your blood, its in your veins, its who you are. And you’re damn good at it. Hell, somedays I wish I was nearly as good as you. You fly with so much precision and drive and when you're up there, I only wish I could have a fraction of whatever it is that you do, because you are just so so good at it.”

You looked back to Maverick, noticing the soften in his usual expression. His moonlight eyes were on you, and only you.

“And if you ever think you would be better off with some dick like Brett, you’re wrong, because someone who loves you, shouldn’t hold you back from your potential, they should push you, they should inspire you to do better, to be better, to become better.”

For a while, the two of you just sat in silence, absorbing the pure intimacy of one another's gaze. You hadn’t realized how cold it was beginning to get because you were too busy thinking about what Maverick had just said. You didn’t realize the trail of goosebumps that had found their way across both of your arms, the cool night time air that brushed against them. But Maverick did.

Maverick slipped his arms out of his leather jacket, and draped it around your shoulders, a peaceful expression on his face. “Here,” he said, dawning the jacket, the very one that smelt so much like him it made you relax, “Its not super warm, but its better than nothing.”

When the warmth returned to your arms, almost the minute you gathered the material around yourself, your thoughts were finally gathered back into your head. You turned to Maverick, your knee brushing up against his faintly, but just enough that you were aware of its presence, and the way in which the faint warmth radiated through the fabric of both his jeans and yours, until you became hyperaware of its presence, and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” you told him.

“For the jacket,” you said, pulling the leather closer to your chest, “and for what you said. No one has ever told me that before.” You paused a moment, “it means a lot.”

Maverick’s expression softened and he looked at you contently, “its the truth,” he said softly.

You leaned into him, your head now resting on his shoulder, you felt a sense of peace, a sense of relief, you felt relaxed in Maverick’s presence. And when he leant his head, gently atop of yours, you knew that what Maverick had said was genuine.

And so, like you had initially thought, when Goose suggested the idea of going to a bar, you thought you would have maybe made one or two bad decisions, maybe choosing to kiss a man with far too much tongue, or follow him home. But what had ended up amounting from the evening was far better. You made a real connection, with someone who you would later find out, would become well worth you time.

That was the night you had met Maverick for the second time. The night when the two of you forged a connection one that even time wouldn’t be able to take away.

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