#ship: fanro | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joaquinwhorres · 2 years

Text

Tailspin - Part 1 (Fanboy Garcia x F!OC)

SUMMARY ››››› Having grown up just across the bridge from North Island, Carolina Alvarez has been told her whole life to stay away from the Top Gun boys. And for the most part, she has. That is, until Fanboy catches her putting quarters in the jukebox at The Hard Deck and initiates a game of cat and mouse that ends with her exactly where she swore she’d never be.

PAIRING ››››› Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x F!OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,721

WARNINGS ››››› None

MASTERLIST ››››› Here

A/N ››››› These two are my babiest babies. I'm absolutely in love with this couple. Mickey is such an underrated character, and everything I've been planning for this love story just has me so excited to share more of this.

If Caro had things her way, they wouldn't be here.

Instead, the group of girls would be in the middle of a dancefloor, surrounded by strangers as they downed enough shots to feel like they were living inside of a synth pop song.

She'd even be happy with taking over a line of stools at the shitty bar three blocks down from their apartment, drinking beer and alternating between telling stories and guessing at what was happening on the sporting event broadcasted on the TVs.

And if there was no other acceptable place in the vast array of options that the San Diego nightlife offered, they could have bought a couple bottles of wine and binged The Bachelorette from the comfort of their own home.

But they were here. And instead of a scandalously tight dress or shorts and a cute tank top or a soft set of pajamas, she wore a cotton sundress from Old Navy which had only been meant for Sunday dinners with her abuela. Then again, wearing it to the pseudo-goodbye party for her best friend for the past four years seemed like an acceptable exception.

Sami grinned at her across the table. "I still can't believe you agreed to come here," she said.

Caro shrugged. "You have to finish your bucket list, and I wanted to spend time with you."

"But you're here," Sami said, gesturing around the room. "You hate this place." It felt surprisingly cramped for a beach front bar where one whole wall was windows. If Caro had to guess it had something to do with the little model airplanes and mugs that hung from the ceiling and the fact that every wall that wasn't a window was covered with Navy memorabilia. The bar also might have felt more crowded than it actually was given that half the people here wore the same tan uniform. But as small as the place felt, there was a relaxed atmosphere that permeated the place, reminding her of her abuela's living room during a family party.

"I don't hate this place," Caro corrected, her tone suggesting Sami's ridiculousness. "Just everything it stands for."

Sami laughed at this, and the other girls broke into smiles and shaking heads.

"Drinks are good though," Caro said, toasting Sami with the Collins glass of her mojito. "And the company's not bad."

"You can't tell me you don't enjoy the eye candy either," Amber added, lifting the tiny black straw and pointing it towards the group of Navy guys in the back whose loud cheers carried across the bar as one of them stood up from where they'd just taken a shot on the pool table. He was shaking his head, but a friend had already peeled off from the group and towards the bar.

"It's like they were plucked out of an Abercrombie ad," Amber said, her voice laced with awe.

"That's their whole appeal," Caro remarked, watching as the red haired pilot drummed his hands against the bar top waiting to be served.

Sami acknowledged this with a nod of her head and wry smile. "You're not wrong."

"You're a little wrong," Kayleigh disagreed, punctuating the statement with a pause and a glance around the table to make sure she had everyone's attention. "They're fantastic in bed."

Caro rolled her eyes with a smile as Amber and Sami laughed. Kayleigh took a sip from her drink looking very self-satisfied.

"I'm sure they're only half as good as they think they are," Caro remarked, and Kayleigh gave another shrug.

"Still three times better than most men."

As Kayleigh was the only one with experience, having snagged a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Texan pilot last year, Caro ceded the point with an incline of her head.

"Speaking of all this," Sami said, waving a hand in Kayleigh's direction. "You need to help me with strategy."

This seemed like an excellent opportunity for Caro to slip away and make her way over to the corner of the bar that she'd been eyeing all night. "Got it," Caro said, pointing a finger at Sami. "I'm going to go find the perfect song to make someone come over and sweep you off your feet."

Sami's brows furrowed in confusion before her eyes landed on the old fashioned jukebox that was currently belting out Creedence Clearwater Revival. Her face softened into a teasing grin. "I'm not going to see you for the rest of the night, am I?"

"Not if everything goes according to plan," Caro shook her head, scooching out of the booth. She smoothed down the skirt of her dress before looking up at her friends. "Any requests?"

The group shook their heads, and Caro turned away from them, weaving through the crowd towards the jukebox, its neon lights guiding her way.

There was something innately comforting about sifting through a jukebox's catalog of songs. Even when she found herself in the very place she'd been warned away from for most of her life, at least she was here with the Beatles and the Eagles and Patsy Cline. The familiar song titles greeted her like old friends' faces in a high school yearbook, and as she flipped through them and remembering people she'd forgotten about and finding other surprises like "Mambo No. 5" it was enough to put her at ease for the first time all night.

Sami might be leaving. Adulthood might be before her. But her music was here and would be for as long as there were jukeboxes.

So, even when she sensed someone come up behind her, she didn't stop to look at them or feel tension creep up her spine at the prospect of conversation. She remembered that a jukebox naturally caused lines and that she had all night to peruse through its songs before making sure her friends were either going home with someone else or safely back in the Lyft with her.

Caro finally located the song she had been searching for in the back of the alphabet, pressing in the number and smiling softly as the familiar strums of the guitar filled the bar along with the shaking tambourine.

It was in this moment, as she listened to the first few lines of the song and fiddled with her next quarter, that the person behind her spoke.

"This is a great song."

Caro looked over her shoulder, finding a young Naval officer with a buzzcut standing a few paces behind her. Maybe, if he hadn't been so right that this was a great song—or if he hadn't left so much space between himself and her, honoring the privacy of her jukebox ritual–or if hadn't offered up the warm and earnest kind of smile he gave her—maybe, if he hadn't done all that, she would have just nodded or shot a quick smile and gotten out of there. But instead, because he seemed to get it and the compliment was simple and straightforward and not about her at all, she offered her own genuine smile back along with a "Thanks."

"It's the Temptations right?" he asked, taking a step closer.

The smile faded from her lips as her lapse in judgment became all too clear.

"Van Morrison, actually," she corrected, turning back around to the jukebox and slipping her second quarter in.

She flipped through the pages slightly faster this time, passing by "Dancing in the Moonlight," "Hey Mickey," and "American Girl" as she worked her way back to the beginning of the alphabet. Behind her, she could feel the officer take another step closer, and her back stiffened. Rather than continue to creep up behind her, though, he moved into her line of sight, standing next to the jukebox to watch the catalog pages turn.

"Need a recommendation?" he asked, shooting a slightly more hesitant smile than before, this one going completely ignored.

"From the man who thought The Temptations sang 'Brown-Eyed Girl?'" she asked, letting the question sink in as another two pages of song options went by. "I'm good."

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head at himself. "Maybe I can redeem myself."

"And maybe I'm not interested," Caro retorted.

The words hung in the air between them, the sheepish smile slipping from his face, instead replaced by a slightly bewildered expression. She couldn't entirely blame him. The words had come out sharper than she'd meant them to, and all things told, this was far from the worst pick up attempt she'd ever faced.

Her finger slipped from the next button as her shoulders relaxed from where they'd been raised in defense. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I just–I don't date sailors, so you're wasting your time with me."

Confusion overtook his features, his eyebrows drawing together in a questioning look as his head tilted to the left. It was almost like he'd never experienced rejection, which, based on his boyish good looks, wouldn't be all that surprising.

"You do know you're at a Navy bar, right?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"And you know people come to bars for reasons other than picking someone up, right?" she returned, mirroring the head tilt.

He laughed at this, acquiescing the point with a nod. "I don't suppose it'd make a difference if I told you that I was more of a pilot than an actual sailor, would it?"

She eyed his haircut which was unusually basic for a Top Gun boy. His demeanor also seemed to hide the trademark overinflated sense of ego especially well. Compared to Kayleigh's Texan from last year, she had to wonder if he was lying in hopes that her answer would be anything other than what it was.

"Not a good difference," she remarked, a smirk curling up the corner of her lips. "I don't even talk to Naval Aviators if I can help it."

"In that case, I'm honored," he said, grinning good naturedly, and she shook her head at him, turning back to the jukebox and her selection.

He moved a bit closer to her, the smile fading as his eyebrow rose instead. "So, no Navy boys at all no matter what? No dating or flirting or letting them buy you a drink?"

"Nope," Caro said, letting the "p" pop.

"What about a song?" he asked, tilting his head towards the jukebox, and Caro felt a smile grow despite herself. She tilted her head to look up at him.

"I already put my quarter in."

"Another song?" he persisted, and she shook her head.

"If it means that much to you though, I'll dedicate my next song to you." Caro said, looking back down to the song selection. It was in the beat between her offer and his response that she found the perfect selection, pressing in the selection as he voiced his doubt.

"This isn't going to be good is it?" he asked, and Caro grinned as she backed away from the jukebox.

"It's a great song," she responded with a shrug before spinning on her heel and making her way back to her friends, enjoying the last verse of "Brown-Eyed Girl" in peace.

Upon arriving at the table she found they were down a girl.

"What happened to Amber?" Caro asked, sliding back in next to Sami.

Kayleigh looked over her shoulder towards the bar. "She went over there to buy some girl a drink and hasn't come back." She shrugged, turning back to face the other two girls. "Looks like it's going well."

Caro's gaze was drawn to Sami who seemed perfectly fine with Amber ditching the group for a girl despite the fact that tonight was their last night together and supposed to be all about Sami. Before Caro could comment on it though, Sami spoke.

"Oooh, I like this song," she said, nodding along to the lyrics. "Good choice."

"Thanks," Caro said, pausing to listen to "Fox on the Run" instead as she contemplated whether or not to push the issue of Amber's disappearance.

...you think you got a pretty face

But the rest of you is out of place

I've heard it all before…

Seeing Sami bop along to the upbeat song was enough to make Caro decide to let the issue drop. Instead, she steered the conversation into learning Sami's top picks of boys for the night and what she had nicknamed each of them. From there, Kayleigh picked out a few that she thought might be underrated–Buzzcut included–and both teased Caro mercilessly for her lack of interest in choosing any of the boys whatsoever.

It was in the middle of pestering Caro to at least choose the one she'd find the least objectionable if they were the last two people on earth, that Sami stopped mid-sentence. "Didn't we, like, just hear this song?"

The table quieted, each girl listening to the familiar tambourine and tenor voice.

"We definitely did," Kayleigh agreed, the confusion Caro felt mirrored on the other girls' face.

"I swear to God Caro, if you're going to John Mulaney us with 'Brown-Eyed Girl,' I'm giving out your number to every Navy boy in this place," Sami threatened.

"I only put in the two songs!" Caro protested. "It's probably just a weird coi–" she stopped mid-thought, turning in her seat to face the jukebox. No one was there. Or anywhere near it really. But as she scanned the bar, finally finding Buzzcut sitting by the pool tables, the source of the repeat was all too clear. Because he was already looking at her. He smiled and mouthed something to her.

As if she could read lips across a crowded bar. Or at all.

Annoyed confusion overtook her face, and he responded by tapping his ear.

A reluctant, mildly amused smile grew as she shook her head and turned back to her friends.

"Oh my God, Caro, who are you smiling at?" Sami asked, bumping shoulders with her.

"An idiot I met at the jukebox who keeps trying to shoot a shot he missed," Caro said, taking a sip of her mojito.

"There was an idiot at the jukebox, and you're just telling us now?" Sami asked, "Which one?" She stood slightly, looking over the crowd, and Caro flicked her arm.

"Buzzcut, with the other Navy boys," Caro answered, fixedly taking another sip.

"The one with the smile?" Kayleigh asked, fully turning around in her seat to look. Caro flicked her too, but she just waved a hand back.

"He's cute. Even with that haircut," Kayleigh mused, nodding approvingly at Caro.

Caro gave her a very unamused look as Sami grinned. The final bit of "Brown-Eyed Girl" played out as the song shifted to the Beatles.

And then she realized which Beatles song was playing and looked over to Buzzcut who offered her a smile and tilted his head towards the jukebox. As if to acknowledge that yes, he'd played this song too. She let out a small huff which could have easily been mistaken for a laugh as she looked back at her friends.

Each of them were still, listening to the lyrics as if trying to deduce whether or not this was another song played for Caro. It hit them at exactly the same moment.

So how could I dance with another? When I saw her standing there?

"So he totally played this song for you too," Kayleigh said.

"Yeah." Caro nodded, not even bothering to deny it. She looked down at her mojito, attempting to stir the ice even more as the lyrics continued to sink in.

Well, she looked at me, and I, I could see

That before too long, I'd fall in love with her

"Oh my God, this is working on you, isn't it?" Sami bumped Caro's shoulder with her own.

"It's not working. It's just surprisingly accurate," Caro refuted with a jerky shrug.

"So is his heart going boom right now, then?" Sami pressed, and Caro spun in her chair quickly as the girls laughed at her quick reaction only to find no one approaching.

She glared at them, sticking up her middle finger as the other two collapsed into giggles.

"Look, you could at least let me live vicariously through you," Sami reasoned. "And if you won't let me have that as my going away present, you could at least continue this song battle for my enjoyment."

Caro sighed dramatically as she stood from the table, and Sami cheered. "This is for you, and just for you," she said, pointing a finger at Sami.

"And it is much appreciated," Sami grinned back. With that, Caro took a long drink from her mojito before heading back off towards the jukebox. Buzzcut seemed to notice her approach and separated himself from his own friends, going to meet her, but instead she brushed past, not even bothering to look or speak to him on her way to the jukebox.

Laughter followed in her wake as did, apparently, Buzzcut.

Caro ignored his presence as she flipped through the catalog, looking for the perfect response.

"Told you I can pick a good song," Buzzcut said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"I don't think copying my song choice counts as you picking a good song," Caro responded, giving a shrug as she kept her eyes focused on the songs before her.

"Obviously that doesn't count," he agreed. "I just had to get your attention somehow."

"And annoy everyone else in the bar?"

He shrugged. "I annoyed you the first time it played, they can be annoyed the second."

She shook her head, fighting the smile that was attempting to make itself known. "How thoughtful," she said flatly.

"My actual song was pretty good though."

"It was the Beatles," she dismissed, eyes narrowing in on the jukebox's David Bowie offerings. "Of course it was good."

"Yeah, but it was so good it got you to talk to me again," he pressed, and Caro shook her head as she entered the number for "Modern Love."

She stepped back from the jukebox, arms crossed. "So is this like a bet?"

Surprise infiltrated his face. "What? No–"

"A dare? Because if your friends told you to come over here to like get my number or something, I'm not interested, but I do have a friend who might be." Caro said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"There's no game or bet or anything," the boy protested, looking back over at his friends and cringing slightly as he turned back. "I just saw you across the bar and thought I'd take a chance. The only thing my friends are doing right now is watching me blow it pretty badly."

Caro's eyes darted towards the pool tables, finding a group of boys staring in their direction. One of them waved at her when he caught her gaze, and another elbowed him. Her eyes flicked back to the boy in front of her.

"That's pretty embarrassing."

He huffed a laugh and looked back up at her. "Extremely," he agreed. A silence took over between the two of them, as Bowie continued his song.

Never gonna fall for Modern love, walks beside meModern love, walks on by

Buzzcut pointed to the jukebox, and Caro stepped aside, assuming his position on the side so she could watch him flip through the songs. He was mercifully quiet as he turned back towards the beginning of the alphabet. It took him a suspiciously short time to enter in the code, and as she matched it to the options available, she let out a laugh.

Take a Chance on Me - ABBA.

He looked up at her with eyebrows raised, and she shook her head.

"It's my friend's last night in San Diego," she said, shrugging. "And she's the only reason I'm here. Once she's paired off with some Top Gun pilot and crossed it off her bucket list, I'm taking off."

"Bucket list?" he repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

Caro nodded. "It's a thing we did at the beginning of freshman year. We each made up a list of things we wanted to accomplish before we graduated and left for the real world, and she, for some unknown reason, decided that she wanted to take a Top Gun boy home."

"I'm guessing you don't have that on your list," he said, an amused smile on his face.

"That would be correct."

"You know, I happen to know a couple of people that could help your friend out."

"You could help my friend out," she returned.

He shook his head. "Not interested in your friend."

"You haven't even seen her."

"Don't need to."

The comment hung between them and Caro rolled her eyes even as her cheeks warmed a bit.

"Why don't you guys come over and join us," he said, gesturing with his head towards the pool tables and the group of pilots over there. "You get to hang out with your friend, and she gets to cross off her bucket list item."

It was undeniably an offer she shouldn't refuse. It would give Sami the in she needed to be able to accomplish all of the major items on her bucket list, and she would still be able to spend time with her even as the other girl attempted to find her way into a pilot's pants. Knowing Kayleigh and the fact that it was practically a miracle no one had come up to whisk her away yet, she would also probably peel off with some pilot and have a great night. All Caro would have to do was put up with some admittedly respectful if not persistent flirting from a cute boy.

There were worse ways to spend a Friday night.

But as she looked over at her table and at Kayleigh and Sami laughing at each other, a protective jealousy rose up in her.

"As much as this might make me a terrible wingwoman, I kinda want to keep her to myself," Caro admitted, looking back at Buzzcut.

His face was surprisingly understanding. "I get it," he nodded. "Goodbyes are weird."

Caro pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, casting another glance at Sami, and wishing that she was a slightly better person. Instead she turned to the Navy boy and shrugged. "I'm sorry."

ABBA started up on the jukebox and rather than responding he pointed to the jukebox as it sang the line: If you change your mind, I'm the first in line.

Caro smiled. "Have a good night, and good luck, with everything…."

"Mickey," he supplied.

Her eyebrows rose. "Your callsign? Really?"

He grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. "No, uh, it's my real name."

Her jaw dropped. Actually hung open in disbelief. "No it isn't."

He nodded his head. "It is."

"Your parents named you after a cartoon mouse?" Caro asked, a laugh waving as an undercurrent in her voice.

He shrugged. "I think they just liked the sound of it."

She shook her head in continued disbelief before looking back up at him. "Well, extra good luck with a name like Mickey," she said before turning around.

"Do I at least get to know your name?" he called after her, and she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Caro."

He smiled, and despite herself, she did too before making her way, for the last time, to the booth that held both of her friends.

"Aaaaaaaaaaand?" Sami asked as Caro once more sat down on the bench next to her.

"That looked really flirty," Kayleigh said, putting her head in her palm. "You guys were smiling at each other a lot."

Caro shrugged. "He's nice."

"He's nice," Sami mimicked, nudging at Caro. "And yet you're still over here with us."

"Because he's still a Top Gun boy," Caro returned, pulling her mojito back over to her and taking a sip.

Sami and Kayleigh gave each other a look before Sami turned back to Caro. "You knoooow," she dragged out, waiting for Caro to acknowledge her before continuing. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for you to have one one-night-stand. Just to celebrate graduation and the last day of your unbridled youth."

Caro snorted at this, and even Kayleigh shook her head at Sami.

"You know, listen to ABBA, take a chance," Sami pressed, and Caro turned back to her drink, taking a sip and ignoring her friend. Sami looked like she wanted to say more, but before she could further press the issue, her eyes flicked up as two boys approached the table.

One was the bar drummer from before, with light orange hair and a scattering of freckles across his nose. He hardly looked any older than them, and looked like he could be one of the frat boys from Fiji. Next to him was a dark skinned boy, his hair cut into a close cropped fade and his hands tucked into his pockets.

"I don't suppose any of you know how to play pool?" The drummer asked.

Sami flashed a smile up at him. Because of course she was into the drummer. "When you say 'know,' does it mean I have to be any good?"

He exhaled a laugh and shook his head. "We can teach you. We just need partners," he said, gesturing between himself and the other man.

It was quite obvious that they didn't. For one thing, they could play just the two of them, and for another, the girls had witnessed them playing all night with the other people in their group. But, Sami didn't seem to mind how lame the excuse to talk to her was. Instead, she told him, "Yeah, I'll play. Kayleigh?"

Kayleigh eyed the quieter of the two, eyes dragging from his face down his thin muscular body to shined shoes. There was a pause before her eyes moved back to Sami. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Great," he smiled. "You're welcome too by the way," he offered to Caro. "There's a group of us in the corner." She didn't even bother looking. She knew exactly what corner he meant and who was probably there eyeing her. It was well played, she had to admit.

"Besides, you can watch me kick Kayleigh's ass," Sami said, motioning Caro out of the booth so that she could slip out to play pool. The guy laughed as the two girls joined them.

Caro shook her head at her friends. "You guys have fun. I think I'm going to finish my drink and head out."

"No," the two protested, but Caro continued to shake her head to ward off any protests.

"I've got breakfast with my parents tomorrow," she lied. "I'd have to leave soon anyway." Sami frowned but stopped fighting, instead stepping forward to wrap Caro in a tight hug. The two girls swayed back and forth as Caro fought to keep herself from crying in front of strangers.

"I'll call you on the road tomorrow," Sami promised into Caro's hair, and Caro squeezed her even tighter.

"You better."

Sami pressed a kiss to Caro's cheek and then released her, offering an attempt at a smile and letting Kayleigh give Caro a goodbye hug. This one was quicker and after she released there was an awkward pause before Caro told them goodbye and the boys started back towards the pool tables, the girls heading off with them.

Caro watched them leave, not even bothering to sit as she finished off the last of her drink and started towards the door, phone in hand to summon her Lyft.

She had barely been outside for five minutes, her ride just picked up when the door behind her opened and a familiar voice spoke. "You weren't kidding about leaving, then."

She didn't bother looking at him, instead eyeing the distance of her driver to the beachside bar. "Nope."

"Need a ride?"

This time, she did look at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm not getting in the car with a stranger who's been trying to take me home all night."

He laughed, hands raised in front of his body as if to demonstrate he meant no harm. "Fair enough." He dropped his arms and the two stood in silence, Caro looking at the 12 minutes between Faruq's present location and hers. The silence wasn't long lasting though, as Mickey spoke again. "I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal? Already?" Caro asked, and he laughed at her.

"If I can guess your favorite song, will you give me your number?"

She eyed him: the hope and amusement on his face and the unassuming nature of his smile. Matched with the absurdity of his request, the proposal seemed entirely harmless. Almost ridiculously harmless. More as if it were for show for her than an actual request.

"I'll cancel my Lyft if you can guess my favorite song."

He grinned slowly and then began nodding. "Alright. Ok." He patted down his pockets before noticing something over her shoulder. He darted away but before she could even turn to ask where he was doing, he was back, holding a cocktail napkin out to her. "Here, write it down on this so you can't change it."

Caro accepted the napkin but looked up at him. "I don't have a pen."

He looked at her and then the napkin, eyes cutting to a group of girls huddling around the side of the building with colorful drinks in hand. "One second," he said, holding up a finger before walking backwards and then turning to go over to the group of girls.

Caro watched as they each eyed him with interest and excitement, one letting her eyes trace up and down his body as he talked to her friend. Two of the girls dug into their bags with more enthusiasm than a request for a pen necessarily warranted, and Caro felt her lips turn up as she watched his face.

He was completely oblivious in his eagerness.

Mickey looked over his shoulder, as if to check that she was still there, and seeing her looking at him with amusement, he smiled at her and then turned his attention back to the girls, one finally digging up an ugly yellow and purple Planet Fitness pen and passing it to him.

Caro could tell he was thanking her before he walked quickly back over to her and passed it over.

She shook her head, leaning against the railing to write down the song name, one hand cupping over her writing as she did so. "You realize that any of them would happily give you your number, right?"

"No way," he said, shaking his head, and Caro paused her writing to give a raised eyebrow up at him. "They were married."

She leaned her head out, looking again at the group of girls, this time scanning their hands. At least three of them did have wedding bands on. Including the one who very obviously checked him out.

"Besides," he said, pulling her attention back to him. "I don't want their numbers."

She rolled her eyes and finished off writing the band name, passing the pen over to him to return. He did so quickly before coming back and looking at her with a mock intensity. His eyebrows narrowed, and he held his hand up to his chin.

"Am I allowed questions?"

Caro smiled and nodded. "Three. Yes or no only."

"So I get three yes or no questions and one guess or I lose my chance?" he clarified, and Caro nodded.

"And you'll shake on it?" he asked.

Caro laughed and offered her hand. "Yes, I'll shake on it."

"Good," he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it a few times before letting it go and taking a step closer.

"Hm." He squinted his eyes at her, back in his assessing mode.

"Is the song in English?" he asked, finally.

She nodded. Wondering if it was her own bronzed skin or cleverness that prompted the question.

"Ok," he nodded, almost as if her answer confirmed his expectation. He waited another moment before asking his next question. "Does it make you nostalgic?"

She tilted her head at this, eyeing him herself. It was a surprisingly good question. Not only did it speak to when she'd heard it for the first time and its age but it also covered the vibes of the song.

"Come on, you have to answer."

She smiled, shaking her head."No. It doesn't make me nostalgic ."

"No," he repeated, eyes raised. "I'll have to think about this," he said, turning out to look at the parking lot. Her phone buzzed. Your Lyft driver is approaching.

"Time's almost up," she said, looking up at him, and he furrowed his brow, eyes focused on hers as if trying to see into her head, reading her thoughts.

A pair of headlights pulled into the parking lot, circling a row of cars as it started towards her. She shrugged, moving towards the black Nissan that pulled up next to the curb.

"I still have a question," he called out, and Caro looked over at him.

Sami's words echoed in her head. Listen to ABBA.

"How about this," she started, and he walked forward, closing the distance. "I'll come back on some random night and some random time this week and stay for a drink. If you happen to be here too, I'll give you a guess. If not, I'll go about my life, and you'll find someone else for the summer."

A smile split his face in two as he nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. Shake on it?"

She stuck out her hand again and he shook it. Even as he stopped moving it up and down though, he didn't let go, and despite herself and the Lyft driver patiently waiting for her to get into the car, Caro didn't pull it away. His thumb ran over the side of her hand, and she pushed the feeling of butterflies aside, keeping her face as straight as possible.

"Goodnight for good this time, Mickey," she said, attempting to slip her hand out of his. He stopped her with a slight squeeze before releasing his hold.

"Goodnight for now, Caro," he said, allowing her to get into the car.

He stayed in front of the bar until the car pulled out onto the main road, and even then, she lost sight of him before he went inside.

Next Chapter >>

Tag List: @cantfighthemoonknight @rae-gar-targaryen @akabluekat @hairringtonsteve @chrissymunson @candlelitcabin @veetlegeuse @itsjustgracy @oneirataxia-girl @kingsmakers

#fanboy garcia x oc #mickey garcia x oc #fanboy x oc #mickey fanboy garcia x oc #mickey fanboy garcia #top gun oc #top gun: maverick #mickey fanboy garcia fic #tgm #top gun: maverick oc #top gun #fanboy garcia fic #mickey garcia #fanboy garcia #oc: carolina alvarez #ship: fanro #series: tailspin #motion sickness universe

104 notes · View notes

the-fanros · 2 years

Note

Hi fanros! What are your favourite ships that remind you of danro? <3

-your favourite fanro 💌

I couldn't choose just one so heres a list

(dan=left side,zero=right side)

kel x sunny (omori)

noel x susie (deltarune)

berdly x kris (deltarune)

natsuki x yuri (ddlc)

the hotlands gaurd guys (undertale)

basically any ship that follows this trope:[puts up with person B's chaos] x [makes the person A more chaotic]

2 notes · View notes

joaquinwhorres · 2 years

Text

Tailspin Masterlist

PAIRING ››››› Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x F!OC (Fanro tag)

UPDATES ››››› Updates about once every two weeks. Get alerts on FFN or AO3

OCs ››››› Carolina Alvarez and Jas Lane from @bobfloydsbabe

SAME UNIVERSE AS ››››› Turning Tables by @bobfloydsbabe & Sweetheart Deal (a 2nd gen tale)

IMAGES ››››› Tailspin in Gifs, Tailspin Playlist, Tailspin Jukebox, Tailspin in Pics

Chapter 1: Brown-Eyed Girl

Chapter 2: The Boys Are Back in Town

Chapter 3: She Way Out

Chapter 4: I'm Ain't The Same

70 notes · View notes

joaquinwhorres · 2 years

Text

Tailspin - Part 2 (Fanboy Garcia x F!OC)

PAIRING ››››› Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x F!OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,845

WARNINGS ››››› None

MASTERLIST ››››› Here

A/N ››››› I can't believe I forgot to mention my lovely beta-readers @rae-gar-targaryen and of course @bobfloydsbabe. @bobfloydsbabe has also done me the honor of allowing me to use her OC Jasmine Lane in this story which I am beyond thankful for.

Caro never planned on coming back to the Hard Deck.

Given her reluctance to even step foot in the navy bar in the first place and the subsequent events which had done nothing but affirm her initial aversion, coming back now seemed borderline masochistic. She'd already spent more than her fair share of time within the wood paneled walls.

But she'd promised him that she would come for a drink, and she was nothing if not a woman of her word.

No matter how ill-thought her word might have been.

Caro took another deep breath in as she eyed the oceanside bar out of her passenger-side window. And then, before she could convince herself to do the smart thing and just go home, she pulled her keys from the ignition and propelled herself out of the driver's seat and towards the wooden front doors. She allowed the momentum of her decision to push her through the doors and back into the last place on earth she wanted to be.

Even in the early evening light, the interior of the bar looked largely the same. It was still full of men and women in the same starched tan uniforms. It was still undeniably and inescapably Navy themed. It was still what some might generously describe as cozy.

Caro scanned the room, eyes searching the groups of laughing friends and jockulating sailors that dotted the room. Her eyes caught on several tanned figures with their dark hair buzzed short, her breath catching in her throat each time before they turned and revealed a nose that was too long or lips that were too thin.

She had just decided to get herself a drink before doing a walk around when, halfway through her first step, she was very nearly run over.

"Oh!" Caro exclaimed, hands shooting out to hold the shoulders of the auburn haired woman who had suddenly shot in front of her. The move was successful in keeping them from fully colliding into each other and tumbling to the floor. Instead, the other woman startled back, the drink in her hand sloshing between them as her head whipped forward from where she'd been staring over her shoulder.

The surprise on her face only grew.

"Doctor Alvarez?"

Caro blinked, her mind venturing through the haze of surprise to pin a name to the familiar face that stood before her.

"Jasmine!" Caro breathed, letting her hands fall from her patient's shoulders. "Hi."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't get any on you, did I?" Jasmine asked, eyes scanning Caro's loose floral shirt and jeans for the tell tale splotches of alcohol. Caro joined her in the quick assessment, and shook her head.

"You missed me," she said, eyes rising back to meet Jasmine's face. "How are you?"

"Good." The word was high and breezy and sounded very much like the "yeah" Jasmine offered whenever Caro asked if she'd been keeping up with stretching at home. "You?"

"I'm good too," Caro lied, offering a professional smile that seemed to put even her most nervous patients at ease. Only instead of noddign or smiling or wrapping up the conversation there, Jasmine's head tilted once more, this time more slight as her eyes also narrowed the smallest bit in assessment. She'd forgotten that Jasmine was well versed with the bedside smile. She'd probably given out plenty of them hserself. "I'm here with the office for Bryson's birthday," Caro explained, hoping to carry the conversation along and away from herself.

This seemed to successfully distract the other woman as Jasmine's eyebrows shot up. "Here?"

Caro laughed, running a hand through her hair. "He picked it out, I don't know."

"Not really the place for birthday drinks," Jasmine remarked, looking around the room, and Caro could not possibly have agreed with her any more than she did right then.

"You come here often?"

Jasmine barked out a laugh, her characteristic grin finally making an appearance. "Are you hitting on me, doctor?"

The question pulled Caro out of her head, a laugh escaping her as she felt herself relax a little, the surprise of seeing Jasmine and anxiety over being here at all leaving her for a moment. It was Jasmine's gift, she'd noticed; getting people to step out of themselves if even just for a moment. It was part of the reason Caro had come to enjoy their weekly sessions so much.

"You just seemed to know it well."

Jasmine acknowledged this with a bobble of her head. "Yeah, it's the big place to come after work on base."

Caro really should have known that. She knew Jasmine was a doctor on base and this was a Navy bar. It made all of the sense in the world for Jasmine to be here and not expect her entire chiropractor's office to be seated around one of the tables.

"Any advice, then?" Caro asked.

Jasmine's smile grew at the question, and Caro had to admit it sounded a little dumb asking for advice on how to navigate a bar, but before she could say as much, Jasmine was talking. "Yeah. Stay away from sailors, and don't put your phone on the bar."

Despite the fact that Caro was the absolute last person who needed to be warned away from Navy boys, she still felt grateful that she wasn't the only one who seemed to see through the sailors' charades.

"Thanks," Caro smiled, this one warmer and more genuine than the first she had offered, and Jasmine seemed to notice this too. "I guess I should probably work my way over to the group, but it was good to see you."

"You too," Jasmine nodded, her brow creasing as she noticed something over Caro's shoulder. "Tell Bryson happy birthday from me."

"I will," Caro answered, but she'd hardly gotten it out before Jasmine had started off, disappearing quickly in the crowd and leaving Caro alone once more.

Despite the crowd, the battle towards the bar was fairly easy and service came rather quickly. It wasn't long before Caro had a tequila soda in hand and was approaching her coworkers table. The group of three had already been here for forty-five minutes, and a couple of shot glasses and three glasses with varying levels of drink in them were scattered amongst them. It seemed that they were not too far gone though because Robin noticed her fairly quickly.

"Caro, you made it!" the office manager greeted, beaming and moving over in her seat so that Caro could slip in. "Hard time leaving the house?"

That was an understatement. Not only did she have a difficult time getting out the door of her house, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to get out of her car for a good fifteen minutes. Instead, she sat in the parking lot, staring over her steering wheel as she tried to find it in her to go inside the bar.

"There was a little drama around missing shoes. Sorry I'm so late," she apologized. Robin laughed, shaking her head knowingly at Caro as the coworkers across the table gave her looks that belied their suspicions. Gia eyed her carefully, as if she might break at any moment and the younger receptionist didn't want to be caught in the mess. Bryson, for his part, looked a bit too happy to see her; as if his large toothy smile could make up for her own discomfort.

"You're fine," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "It's just a shame you missed the singalong."

"The singalong?" Caro repeated. If Gia had been the one to mention it, Caro might suspect that she was being messed with, but not only was Bryson too earnest to ever even think of the joke, he couldn't keep up under the pressure of continuing it.

"Some guy unplugged the jukebox and played a few songs at the piano," Gia filled in. "Him." She reached across Bryson, pointing out a man wearing a ridiculous Hawiian shirt and aviators indoors. Everything about him practically screamed Top Gun pilot, and that was before Caro even noticed the dark haired woman in the khaki uniform next to him.

Her eyes didn't linger on the pair long, too drawn to the jukebox in the corner that looked exactly the same as it had the first time she ever saw it. The urge to cross the room and greet her old friend rose in her, a wistful smile crossing her lips as she listened to it belt out "The Boys Are Back in Town".

"I know, he's cute, right?"

Caro tore her gaze away from the jukebox and back to Gia, blinking as she worked to make sense of the comment. The singer, she remembered, prompting her eyebrows to shoot up at Gia. "He looks ridiculous."

"But his voice," Bryson practically swooned. "I'm telling you, that voice alone could get someone pregnant tonight."

She felt the rustling of Robin's foot swinging under the table and into Bryson's shin, causing the man to wince.

"Has anyone brought you a drink yet?" Caro asked, choosing to breeze over the awkwardness even as Bryson reached down to rub at his leg.

"Just these two," he said, gesturing to Robin and Gia as he straightened up. "I'm eyeing out my prospects now, though. Letting my gaydar acclimate."

Gia and Caro laughed at this, Caro looking out over the bar as if she had any kind of skill in picking out men. Her eyes skipped along the different groups, hoping to catch the gaze of someone looking over at the table when instead she caught sight of an oddly familiar blonde leaning over the bar to get the bartender's attention.

Her eyebrows knit together as she tried to place where she'd seen him before, flipping through the variable rolodex in her head. It wasn't until she turned to the college years that she came up with it though, and she doubted she would have been able to place him if she had seen him anywhere else.

He was a Top Gun pilot.

A former Top Gun pilot.

"You ok?" Robin asked, and Caro blinked, turning back to the group and offering a fleeting smile.

"Yeah," she affirmed, her voice sounding distant, like it hadn't returned to the table with her. "I just thought I saw this pilot my old roommate used to hook up with."

"Really? Where?" Gia asked, sitting up in her seat to peer into the crowd even as Caro shook her head.

"It's probably not him," she said. "People don't come back to Top Gun."

The statement was met with sympathetic looks from Bryson and Robin that made Caro feel very much like coming here was a mistake. Not only did she have to deal with her own neuroses all night, but now there was this.

As if God wanted to confirm this thought, a new song came on the jukebox, the twanging chords of the intro knocking all of the air out of Caro's lungs. Her chest constricted at the sound of Van Morrison's voice picking up the first verse.

"Caro?"

Instead of looking at whoever said her name, Caro's eyes snapped to the jukebox as if by muscle memory. It was a stupid reflex, a useless one. Because she was right: people didn't come back to Top Gun. What did happen was long work weeks made high strung people ready to assume the worst and most ridiculous outcomes of totally normal coincidences. If this could even be called that.

But as her eyes landed on the brown-skinned man in the service khakis standing by the jukebox, his hair still buzzed and smile just as bright as ever, all semblance of logic and rationality escaped her.

Because this should not be happening. He could not be looking back at her across the bar right now.

"Oh my God," Caro whispered, feeling very much like she was going to throw up.

Across the table, Bryson leaned forward. "Girl, you are whiter than Gia. What's happening?"

She knew what he was saying, knew what he meant, but she couldn't manage to form any sort of response other than repeating again: "Oh my God."

Over by the jukebox, the man's smile seemed to waver slightly, as the rest of the table turned to shift their concerned looks from Caro to the direction she was looking. He gave a small, awkward wave.

"Is that…?" Gia turned around first, cutting herself off as if not wanting to speak the end into existence. It's not like they needed her to finish the question anyway. They all knew exactly what she was going to ask.

Caro nodded slowly, watching as confusion and concern overtook his features and missing Bryson's eyes widening in shock. "Holy shit."

"He's coming over here," Gia announced needlessly as the others were already watching him start to move towards the table.

Robin shifted in her seat next to Caro, trying to usher her out of the booth. "I'll head him off," she said, making a shooing motion which Caro followed on instinct, only stopping once she was standing at the edge of the seat, looking between her coworkers and the last person she wanted to see.

"No, I–no," Caro said, fumbling in her attempt to pull herself together. "I think I should…you…I'll–I'll be right back."

The other three looked at her silently, Robin looking very much like she wanted to stop her. But she didn't. Instead she pressed her lips into a line and nodded.

Caro mirrored the gesture, pausing for another moment before turning to move towards him.

The two met by the bar where the crowd was thickest and preoccupied by getting their drinks or enticing someone into coming home with them. Caro was thankful for the crowd now if only for the fact that it meant she didn't have to be stuck alone with him.

The aviator planted himself before her, a tentative smile back on his lips now that he was certain he at least had her attention.

"Hey," he greeted, brown eyes soft and excited, just like they had always been. They pinned Caro to the spot making her feel suddenly small and even more unprepared for this moment than she thought possible.

"Hi," she breathed. The word came out more as an exhale than actual language, and his lips quirked up slightly more at the sound.

"Come here often?"

It was odd, hearing the question come from him with the same words and same intention she'd had when asking Jasmine fifteen minutes ago. Yet despite the teasing lilt in his voice, the line made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Never," she managed, and he chuckled at this.

"I'm guessing you still don't talk to Top Gun pilots then?"

"What are you doing here, Mickey?"

Whether it was the question itself or the accusational tone that delivered it, the confused-concern washed the smile from Mickey's face once more. Only the corner of his mouth seemed to keep its bit of happiness, curving up just slightly into a sheepish sort of look.

"I got called back," he answered with a shrug. "Payback's here too–Reuben." He gestured to the pool tables where a group of sailors stood watching them, including the man with the ridiculous Hawiian shirt, the woman with tied up dark hair, and a familiar dark-skinned pilot who had apparently grown a mustache since she'd last seen him. "I'm sure he wants to say hi."

Caro blinked, shaking her head slightly in disbelief as she returned her attention to him. "Why'd you—I didn't think—you're back?"

"Not for good," Mickey admitted, his shoulders sinking as he said it. "Just a few weeks."

"A few weeks," she repeated.

His confusion was dwarfed by obvious concern now, and he took a moment to look at her, really look at her, eyes roving and assessing each detail of her that might have changed in the past five years. She wanted to disappear then, off into the crowd like Jasmine had or melt through the floor; whatever was fastest.

"Are you ok? You seem—" he trailed off searching for the right word but ultimately seemed unable to find it, switch gears instead to ask: "Is something wrong?"

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Caro admitted.

Something in her face or maybe the fact that she didn't even attempt to deny that something was very obviously horrendously wrong hit Mickey, and hurt flashed in his eyes.

"I tried to text you," he said, hesitantly, and Caro's breath caught in her chest once more. He hurried to explain. "Just to tell you that I would be in town. I know we haven't spoken in a while, but I wanted to see you."

Mickey took a step towards her, and Caro leaned back, out of his reach. "Why?" This word was once more just breath, and if she had any control over her faculties at the moment, she wouldn't have even asked it. She knew why, and she didn't want it confirmed.

He shrugged. "I missed you."

She closed her eyes and turned her head away at this, unable to bear the hopeful look on his face. Like this was what she wanted to hear after all this time. Like she wanted to hear anything from him at all anymore.

"Caro–"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as right when he began to continue, Caro was jolted to the side, a cool splash and the overwhelming smell of hops hitting her at the same time.

"Oh my God!" the person who had bumped into her exclaimed as Caro looked down at her shirt to assess the damage. "I am so sorry."

Caro looked up from the dark spots of beer on her shirt, her eyes meeting Jasmine's. There was something far less apologetic in the other woman's eyes and instead more…searching.

"It's ok. It happens," Caro dismissed, pulling the wet shirt from her skin and fluttering it as if that would dry it. For his part, Mickey had darted over to the bar, gathering up a stack of cocktail napkins which he now offered to Caro. She took a few from him in exchange for a quick, tight smile and then proceeded to dab at her shirt.

"I don't think that's going to cut it," Jasmine frowned at the napkins that were already falling apart in Caro's hands. "They have paper towels in the bathroom though, and maybe we can try to rinse it?"

Caro nodded, casting a look at Mickey who seemed very much like he wanted to follow them into the bathroom if it meant that he got to continue his conversation with Caro. "I'm sorry, Mickey," she apologized. "I just–I can't."

She didn't stick around for his response. Not even when he called out her name at her back. Instead, she crossed the bar as quickly as possible, napkins pressed into her side to soak up as much beer as possible. Jasmine matched step.

"You ok?"

"I'm fine. It's an old shirt anyway–" Caro started, but Jasmine shook her head.

"No, I mean with him."

Caro looked at Jasmine, and peering into the other woman's concerned face, she started to piece together what had just happened and why she was on her way into the woman's bathroom. "I probably could have thought of a better way to get you out of there, but you looked trapped." She pulled the door to the women's bathroom open, ushering Caro inside.

Caro sighed, dumping the napkins into the trashcan by the door before moving to the closest sink to start attempting to rinse the beer from her shirt. Behind her, the door swung closed and the rapid sound of the paper towels' dispenser handle being pressed filled the bathroom.

"That's my ex," Caro finally offered, her voice more unsteady than she would have liked it to be while speaking to a patient.

"Your ex?" Jasmine repeated, her pace on the handle slowing as she met Caro's gaze in the mirror. "Like, your ex, your ex?"

Caro nodded.

"Holy shit," Jasmine swore, her hand falling from the paper towels, instead looking blankly around the bathroom as if searching for someone else to ask if they believed this shit. It took a few seconds for her to come back to herself, Caro's shirt now thoroughly damp with the tap water instead of beer. "Do you want me to kick his ass?" she asked finally, placing her hands on her hips and looking for all the world like she would.

Caro snorted. "No, getting me out of there was more than enough. Thank you, by the way."

Jasmine grimaced, tearing off what had to be at least a couple of yards of paper towels and bunching it together. "Us lady doctors need to stick together," she smiled, offering the bundle to Caro. "Especially when it comes to Navy guys."

Caro laughed at this, thinking of Mr. Simmonds who had once gone off in the waiting room about how he would rather wait forty-five minutes for Dr. Katz than be seen by "the lady doctor." Jasmine, who had also been in the waiting room, had looked straight up murderous at the comment and demanded from Bryson that her appointment with Dr. Houten be switched to the lady doctor and only ever the lady doctor from then on out.

Caro accepted the towels and began to attempt to at least alleviate some of the dripping from her shirt. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Jasmine said with a shake of her head. "At least not until we've successfully gotten you out of here and not just trapped in the women's bathroom."

Caro sighed, defeatedly. Not only were the paper towels not working even a little bit, but there was no way that she could stay to celebrate Bryson while she was half-soaked and Mickey was here. Jasmine was right: she had to escape.

"I'm thinking, I go out there first and run cover, and you grab your purse from your table and make a break for the front door."

Caro laughed, walking over to the trash can and throwing the useless paper towels in. "You don't have to do that."

"I know, but I'm going to."

Caro smiled as she looked at the other woman, gratitude filling her. "Thanks, Jasmine."

"I think after this, you get to call me Jas."

"Ok," Caro nodded before gesturing to herself. "Then, Caro."

Jas nodded back in agreement before giving Caro an assessing look. "So… you ready, Caro?"

She wasn't. But she never would be. Instead, Caro nodded, dumping the wet paper towels into the garbage. "Might as well be."

The WSO rejoined the group looking just as lost as he had standing alone in the middle of the bar, watching Caro be whisked away from him by some stranger. Rooster noted the look on Fanboy's face with a low whistle, the rest of their group shaking their heads in a mixture of sympathy and amusement, the exact amounts of each emotion clearly varying per person. Only Payback remained still, instead eyeing Fanboy as if he could determine exactly what was said just by looking at his back-seater.

"Shot you down pretty bad, huh?" Rooster asked, his attempt to keep the amusement from his voice clearly failing as he clapped the young aviator on the shoulder.

Coyote didn't even try to hide his own entertainment, as he offered his own commentary. "You were so confident going in," he laughed, mimicking a plane taking off with his hand. "And then…" His plane took a hard nosedive, hurtling towards an explosion which Coyote made sure to voice, his fingers wiggling in shockwaves. Rooster chuckled at this, his hand remaining on Fanboy who had yet to say anything or even shrug him off.

"You ok?" Payback asked.

The sound of genuine concern prompted Phoenix to turn and face him, her eyebrows furrowed together even deeper at this. Even Rooster seemed to take notice of the tone, offering Payback a quick glance before looking back at Fanboy.

"Hey, it happens to the best of us," the pilot said, shaking Fanboy's shoulder a bit before letting his hand drop to his side.

The other man still didn't say anything, just nodded.

"What's up with him?" Phoenix asked, the question directed to Payback and sounding very much as if Fanboy wasn't even there. Which, to be fair, he didn't really seem to be. His gaze had been drawn off towards the bathrooms, his focus unwavering as the corner of his lips pulled down into a frown.

Payback pulled his eyes from Fanboy to Phoenix. "That's his ex."

"Your ex?" Rooster's eyebrows shot up as Coyote let out another laugh.

"Man, you know you gotta run game before you hit up an ex," Coyote remarked, shaking his head. "C'mon."

This comment seemed to be the first one to actually reach Fanboy as he returned his attention to the group. "She didn't answer any of my texts. I mean, we haven't been in touch, but she didn't even open them or anything," he shook his head, seeming to run out of steam or ability to resist Caro's magnetic draw. Or maybe he just knew that the girl's bathroom door was about to open as it did, Caro and the girl who had spilled her drink all over Fanboy's ex, coming out.

Caro chanced a look over to the jukebox and then towards their section of the bar, her shoulders straightening as she noticed Fanboy's attention on her. Her head snapped forwards and she took off quickly to her table of friends, weaving determinedly through the other groups of bar patrons.

"She probably blocked you," Phoenix said bluntly, her eyes tracking the girl's progress as well, watching as she arrived at the booth, grabbing her bag from the seat and offering a few quick words.

Everyone reacted to this differently. Coyote snickered, Rooster grimaced, and Bob winced in sympathy. Fanboy's attention was ripped away from Caro, the full desperation of his look levied against Phoenix who seemed almost…annoyed.

"So what did you do?" she asked, arms crossing across her chest and a single brow lifting up.

"Nothing!" Fanboy defended, and while he did sound understandably offended, there was also the tiniest bit of doubt in his voice. Just enough for someone who had spent hours upon hours with him to notice.

"C'mon she had to have dumped you for a reason," Coyote pressed, joining in on Phoenix's interrogation.

Fanboy's head whipped to Coyote. "She didn't dump me," he snarled. The small display of aggression seemed to take the bit of energy and life he had out of him, as his shoulders slumped back down. Fanboy dropped his gaze to the ground shaking his head. "We just broke up at the end of Top Gun. I had to go back to my squadron and she was going to her grad program."

"So, it was a summer fling thing?" Rooster asked, placatingly.

Fanboy shrugged looking helpless to find the words to describe exactly what had transpired five years ago.

Payback shook his head. "Nah. It was more than a fling."

This confirmation was enough for Phoenix, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked up at Payback. "That's right, you were at Top Gun together," she remembered.

Payback nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, and they seemed legit. I was surprised you guys called it quits."

Fanboy shook his head, offering another shrug. "It was the plan," he said. His gaze wandered from Payback to the direction he had last seen Caro, this time finding her at the door, tugging it open and disappearing outside in one quick motion. "It's what she wanted."

Next Chapter >>

59 notes · View notes

joaquinwhorres · 1 year

Text

Tailspin - Part 3 (Fanboy Garcia x F!OC)

PAIRING ››››› Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x F!OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,474

WARNINGS ››››› None

MASTERLIST ››››› Here

A/N ››››› Wow this took forever to figure out. But here it is! Also, yes, this takes place two years before Penny buys the Hard Deck, but in my head, she works there before she buys it from the previous owner.

It was entirely possible that the whole Top Gun class would be banned from The Hard Deck by the end of the week.

Or murdered, judging by the look on Penny's face.

The bartender stormed out from her station, crossing the room in long, purposeful strides. She looked every bit like an Admiral, ready to ream out a young officer for a victory lap.

A hand came down on Fanboy's shoulder, drawing his attention away from Penny's warpath and onto his friend. "Good luck," Payback said, offering a smile that somehow managed to be equal parts amusement and sympathy. His eyes flicked from Fanboy's face back to Penny who had come to a stop next to the jukebox. She stooped down and yanked the cord from the wall, cutting off Van Morrison mid-lyric.

"The next idiot to play that song is getting thrown overboard," Penny announced, threatening the bar with a wag of the cord. Applause broke out amongst the other patrons, a few even cheering as she bent over once more to plug the jukebox back in.

Payback let out an amused exhale as he raised his eyebrows at the WSO. "You're gonna need it."

He wasn't kidding. Fanboy was definitely going to get banned if she didn't show up by tomorrow.

The pilot patted the backseater's shoulder once more before heading off towards the doors to rejoin the rest of the aviators headed back to base, leaving Fanboy alone at the Hard Deck for yet another night.

As much as he wished Columbus or Payback had stuck around a bit longer, he wasn't exactly sorry to see the rest of the class go. Three straight nights of Ripley and Beaker ripping into him for "pining over that jukebox girl" was enough to have him at the end of his patience. He was just as relieved as everyone else to hear Blondie singing once the jukebox whirred back to life.

"So you're aware, that rule goes for tomorrow night too."

Fanboy whipped around to face Penny, finding her standing at his back with a finger pointed threateningly at him. "And if I do have to hear Brown-Eyed Girl again, you're buying everyone a round."

"Fair enough," Fanboy conceded, offering a good-natured smile.

"Good," Penny said, lowering her finger and jerking her head towards the bar. Fanboy slipped from his seat at the high top, gathering up his friend's abandoned beer bottles before trailing after Penny.

"You know," he started, placing the bottles in front of what had become his usual spot. "I'll even help throw them overboard."

"You'd better," Penny huffed, tossing the bottles a couple at a time into the recycling where they crashed against the others already there. "It's your fault I'm losing my mind."

"If I could control Beaker, I'd be a captain by now," Fanboy reasoned. The bartender shook her head, throwing the last of the bottles crashing into the bin before heading over to the fridge.

"You know damn well they only play that song because you keep responding to it," she rebutted, pulling out a new beer for him.

He acknowledged this truth with a sheepish smile. He couldn't help his reactions. Every time the beginning guitar riff started, his heart stuttered with the possibility that it could be her. None of the other aviators, or even Penny, had experienced her smiling right at them as an oldies song played in the background like a moment straight out of a movie. If they had, maybe they wouldn't be on him as much as they were.

"It's only Tuesday," Fanboy shrugged as Penny set the beer down in front of him. "I'll start to give up hope on Friday."

"God willing she shows up before then," Penny muttered as she removed the bottle cap, vapor curling up and out of the neck as the piece of metal clinked down onto the bar.

"She will." The words were out before Penny could even pick up the cap. She paused, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"She will?" Penny repeated, not even bothering to keep her disbelief contained to her face. Fanboy opted to omit the fact that if she didn't come by Thursday, she probably wasn't coming at all.

He'd worked it out in the spare moments between the drills and lectures and debriefings that filled most of his time in Fightertown. He'd reviewed all of the details from their too short encounter on Friday: from the look of wonder on her face while scrolling through the song catalog, to the subtle upturn of her lips when she spoke about her friends, to the glint her eye as she set up their agreement before slipping into her Lyft. He'd turned over her statement that she didn't talk to naval aviators and her friends' confirmation of her stance. He'd considered every possible scenario of how this week could turn out, all with the same precision he brought to analyzing a mission.

"She'll show up," he affirmed. "And some of the pilots are going to lose a lot of money when she does."

The skepticism faded from Penny's face, replaced with a resigned disappointment. "Really? It's a bet?"

Fanboy shrugged. "They bet on everything. I just hope I get to watch Payback collects his winnings."

This seemed to mollify Penny as she simply shook her head with a slight smile before catching sight of a customer attempting to flag her down. "I hope you're right," she said to Fanboy, patting the bartop in front of him before heading over to the other side of the bar.

Fanboy grinned to himself, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes drifted to the closed front doors.

They remained closed, for the most part.

Over the next few hours, the only time the front doors opened was to usher patrons back into the outside world, the already light Tuesday night crowd growing thinner and thinner as last call ticked closer. It was looking increasingly likely that Fanboy would be helping Penny close down the Hard Deck again tonight. A prospect which Penny did not seem ready to resign herself to.

"Do you have a picture?" she asked, stopping in front of Fanboy with her hands on her hips.

"A picture?" he repeated back, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Of the girl," Penny clarified. "I can give you a call if she comes in."

Fanboy raised his eyebrows at the bartender, a grin forming on his face. "Trying to get rid of me?"

Penny offered a half-smile as she leaned down on her elbows. "You're too young to be spending your nights sitting here, waiting on some girl you hardly know, who may not even show up," she said, a little too kindly. "Go downtown. Find someone who actually wants to give you her number. I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there looking for someone just like you."

There were.

Over the past few days, he'd waved off more than a few girls and their offers of drinks or feigned interest in his work as a WSO. His dismissals had sparked criticism and jabs from the other pilots and almost indignation from Ripley.

"Top Gun is made for flings," his front-seater scolded. "It's thirteen weeks to get your dick wet before heading back to the carrier and your right hand. Stop wasting it."

The others had agreed with Ripley, Beaker chiming in his support by adding, "Dude, you have got to start seeing what's in front of you."

But if Fanboy only focused on what was and not what could be, his frontseater would probably be dead instead of here at Top Gun, leading the charge in making Fanboy's life hell.

He didn't say that though. Instead, Payback had pointed out how odd it was that Ripley was so focused on Fanboy getting laid instead of finding someone himself.

Fanboy had a feeling that saying the same thing to Penny would get him banned sooner rather than later. Instead, he offered her a shrug. "There are, but I want to see about this one first."

Her half-smile bloomed into a full one even as she shook her head at him. "You're a good one, Fanboy."

"Th-" The word died on his lips as the all-too familiar guitar line picked up, raising a chorus of accompanying groans.

"Jesus Christ," Penny swore, pushing herself away from the bar and towards the bell, giving the rope five sharp tugs. The grumbling amongst the patrons shifted, changing into cheers.

Fanboy spun in his seat to see who had come back to harass him, and his heart jumped in his chest.

Caro.

He couldn't believe he'd missed her entrance. She stood out like a beacon with her bright red top and jeans compared to the working uniforms of the men who slowly made their way to where she stood.

Fanboy turned to Penny, finding the bartender stood with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. "That's her, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded.

Penny smirked. "If I were you, I'd hurry over then."

"She didn't know..." he started to appeal, but she stopped him with a shake of her head, her smirk widening.

"Rules are rules. And I believe you promised you'd help throw the next person overboard."

Fanboy hung his head, but he couldn't stop his own smile from his face. She was here. She came. Before Friday. "Close me out?" He asked, looking back up at Penny.

She nodded, turning to the POS system as Fanboy left his seat and his beer, making his way over to Caro. She seemed to have taken notice of the officers hovering around her, her face growing increasingly apprehensive.

"I got this one," Fanboy said as he arrived at the jukebox.

The attention turned from Caro to him, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Instead, his eyes were locked with Caro's, and he watched as her shoulders lowered half an inch at the sight of him.

"Mickey," she breathed.

"You came," he said.

"I came," she nodded.

The other patrons around seemed to catch on to the shift in atmosphere, nodding at him before moving back to their seats. Caro watched them leave, confusion tugging her lips into a frown.

"What was that about?"

He gestured towards the jukebox. "There may or may not be a ban on that song."

Her eyes narrowed immediately as she turned to face him. "Since Friday?"

He nodded. "I'll explain outside."

"Outside?" Caro repeated, disbelieving. "Why?"

His grin turned sheepish. In all of the scenarios he considered, kicking Caro out of the Hard Deck hadn't even crossed his mind. And he'd entertained one course of action that involved driving down to a Vegas chapel. "You're being thrown overboard."

"I'm what?" Caro blanched.

This was not going to go over well.

"Going overboard," he said. "Penny's kicking you out."

"Because I played a banned song?" Caro asked, looking around the room. From behind the bar, Penny offered a wave goodbye and a sympathetic smile.

Caro paused and despite her impassive face, he could see the thoughts racing through her head. He'd be lucky if she didn't just get in her car and leave.

"I promise, I'll explain," he pressed. "And it's going to give you some excellent material to make fun of me with."

"It better," Caro said, shaking her head as she started walking to the door.

"Rules are rules," Penny called out, and Fanboy stopped Caro with a light hand on her arm.

"What, has the Navy banned walking too?" Caro asked, sounding completely exasperated.

He grimaced. "Part of going overboard is that you have to be thrown overboard."

"You're kidding," she said flatly.

He shook his head.

Caro stared at him blankly, time stretching on as she waited for him to break under her stare. When he didn't, she sighed, stepping towards him.

"Don't drop me," she ordered, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He scooped her up easily, reveling in the small gasp that escaped her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, looking down into Caro's face.

She broke eye contact first, readjusting her hands clasped around his neck, and a small thrill shot through Fanboy at the reaction. He started out of the Hard Deck, passing by a smiling Penny on his way towards the front door.

It was difficult to keep his mind focused on figuring out how he could explain this to her in a way that didn't send her racing for her car. Instead, his mind kept slipping to how soft she was and how perfectly she fit in his arms. He had to focus on keeping his hands in the right places and not how she smelled like vanilla or how if he looked down at the right angle he could probably see–

Boot camp.

Punching out of a plane.

Watching Spock—

"Mickey!" Caro exclaimed, holding out a hand to push open the door he had almost run them into. He muttered an apology as she kept it open with the tips of her fingers so it didn't swing back in his face.

He stopped just outside of the door, leaning down to deposit her on her feet.

Caro found her footing again with a hand on his shoulder for support. "So," she started, turning to face him and folding her arms across her chest. "What did you do to get that song banned in four days?"

"You might be impressed to know that it only took three days of excessive playing for the song to get banned," Fanboy answered. "I wasn't here on Saturday."

"Oh," Caro said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I'm very impressed."

"Thought you might be," Fanboy grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Caro shook her head, something like a smile ghosting across her lips. "Did you think if you played it enough I'd just appear like Beetlejuice?"

"Didn't you?" he asked. Caro opened and shut her mouth again before he decided to save her. "No, uh, my friends played it a lot to mess with me for waiting here all night. Every night."

Caro looked surprised. "Every night?" She repeated.

He nodded, offering another shrug. "Didn't want to miss you."

"That's…" she trailed off, and his stomach tightened, hoping for her to end the sentence with "romantic" or "clever" or even "cheating." Instead, she decided on "Pretty desperate." But her eyes crinkled at the edges, and rather than it coming out as an accusation, there was a fondness to her voice.

Fanboy tipped his head in her direction as an acceptance of the charge. "According to my friends, it's incredibly desperate."

This was what earned him a laugh from Caro, the sound bubbling out of her and causing a warm feeling to blossom in his chest.

"It worked, though," he asserted. "I mean, if it wasn't the Beetlejuice thing."

Caro shook her head at him, the smile still remaining on her face. "Well, it's good to know you're not the type of guy to be hanging out at a bar on a Tuesday night an hour from close."

Fanboy whistled at her, shaking his head. "That's pretty judgmental coming from the girl who just got thrown out of a bar on a Tuesday night an hour from close."

Caro's mouth hung open for a second before she pushed at his chest. "That was entirely your fault."

Fanboy laughed, holding a hand over the part of his chest that she'd shoved. "If you'd just come on Sunday we'd both be inside, and you'd be having your drink."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. "Well, since I can't get my drink, I think I might as well go home."

"Or," he started, taking a step towards her, a part of him relaxing when she didn't step backwards to reassert the space. "We could go somewhere else to get a drink."

She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure this is a sign I should stay out of bars tonight. When I get in my car, I'm going home."

"Then don't get in your car."

It came out faster than he intended, slipping from his lips easily and without much thought. All he knew was that he couldn't let her slip through his fingers.

Caro raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth, probably to remind him that she wasn't about to get into the car with a strange man desperate enough that he spent the last three nights waiting alone at a bar on the off chance she'd show up and give him her number. Before she could tell him any of this, he spoke again. "Take a walk on the beach with me."

She raised her eyebrows. "That wasn't the deal."

"No," he agreed. "But it's nice out, and you're already here."

Her eyes moved from his face to the beach. "You're not going to get me kicked off the beach are you?"

He grinned and shook his head. "No."

She nodded twice, thoughtfully. "Alright," she agreed. "A short walk."

"Do I get to decide what counts as short?"

"No," she snorted.

"Will you at least hold my hand?" Fanboy asked, extending an open palm to her, ready for her to entwine her fingers with his.

"We're not holding hands," she said, a smile quirking her lips. She gave his hand a small high-five as she brushed past him, starting towards the path to the beach.

Fanboy stared after her, frozen in place for a moment as he watched her go, a blend of cool moonlight and warm patio lights illuminating her figure against the darkness. She seemed to sense his eyes on her, or maybe just that he wasn't following, because she paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Change your mind?" She asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

The question spurred him into action, and he started after her, pulling at his boots' laces as he went and then hopping as he tugged off his shoes and socks, desperate to be by her side as quickly as possible. She waited for him, watching the spectacle but saying nothing, even when he rejoined her.

The pair walked down to the water's edge in companionable silence, the night air cool on their skin. The beach was largely empty, only a few couples dotting the sand here and there. Fanboy was careful not to pay too close attention to what they were doing, instead keeping his eyes on the girl beside him. The girl he wasn't sure would come despite what he said to the rest of the Top Gun candidates and Penny.

"I'm glad you came," Mickey said, his voice coming out softer than he was entirely proud of. She didn't seem to mind, offering him a gentle smile and shrug, her dark hair falling off her shoulders and down her back.

"We shook on it."

He could have kissed her then.

He could picture it so clearly in his head, reaching out to tug on her hand so she turned back into him, only so he could tilt her head back and press his lips to hers. They would move together in the same gentle rhythm of the waves washing over the shore, and it would be perfect.

He could have kissed her, and he would have, if he wasn't dead certain that if he did he'd probably lose her. And she'd probably slap the shit out of him before she went.

She seemed to notice the awe on his face and misinterpret it as something else. "I'm a bit offended you think I'm the kind of person who doesn't follow through with her agreements."

"No," Fanboy said, shaking his head quickly, breaking eye contact with her to look back ahead. "I just thought you were the kind of person who doesn't talk to naval aviators."

She hesitated for the briefest of seconds before dismissing the remark with a shrug. "I'm not. I just really didn't think you'd be waiting here every night. What did you even do?"

He shrugged. "My friends were here part of the time. The rest I mostly spent talking to Penny."

"The bartender," Caro remembered, and he nodded. "About what?"

"Yours and mine's deal, what it's like for her working at the bar, Star Trek," he said, shrugging.

"Star Trek?" Caro repeated with a laugh.

He nodded. "I've been a fan since I was little. It's why I wanted to fly," he explained. "And join the Navy."

"I didn't think Star Trek was about the Navy," Caro said, eyes focused down the beach.

"It's not," he shook his head. "The characters are part of Starfleet which is kind of like the UN's peacekeeping forces meets space Navy but for exploration and diplomacy."

"Two things that militaries have historically handled extremely well," Caro snarked.

"That's the thing," Fanboy pressed. "The show shows what could be. It teaches us why we need to value diversity and—stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Caro asked, before pressing her lips tightly back together.

"Like you're trying not to laugh at me," he said, bumping her shoulder with his.

"I just didn't think you'd be such a nerd," Caro defended, bumping his shoulder back.

"You say nerd. I say fan," Fanboy protested. He couldn't help but notice that the distance between them had closed some, the space small enough for him to reach out a finger and hook it with hers. He resisted the temptation.

"Anyway, it's how I got my callsign: Fanboy."

Caro burst out laughing, and Fanboy raised his eyebrows at her. "What?!" he asked in mock defense, a smile taking over his face.

"I can't decide if Fanboy or Mickey is worse."

He laughed then, and Caro grinned back at him.

"Alright then, tell me something I can make fun of you for," he charged.

She shook her head at him and shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, I don't really have anything you can make fun of me for."

"Nothing," he said, disbelieving.

"Nope," she answered, popping the p.

"Are you a good dancer?"

She looked up at him with a smile. "I'm a really good dancer."

"Do you have a boring job?"

"I don't have a job," she shrugged. "I just graduated USD and my cert program doesn't start until September."

"Your cert program?" he repeated, and she nodded.

"I'm going to school to become a chiropractor."

"So you're a future doctor who's a really good dancer and also extremely beautiful."

"Yeah," she nodded, beaming up at him.

The urge to kiss her rose up in him again, but he pushed it back down, instead reaching out to loosely tangle his fingers with hers before pulling his hand back to his side.

"Well, what made you want to be a chiropractor?

"Have you ever seen the TV show Bones?"

"You're really funny."

Caro shrugged. "I know."

The two continued along the beach for a moment more in silence before Caro spoke again. "I just think the spine's really interesting–how it coordinates so much of what happens in the body. I just think it's underrated. Like people know it's important, but so few people actually care for it until suddenly they have back problems or get in a car accident."

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Instead, she offered him a sheepish smile "I totally just have you something to make fun of me with, didn't I?"

"No," he shook his head. "It's a good point."

"Really?" Caro raised an eyebrow. "Because I think I just said that the spine was underrated."

He cracked a smile and shrugged. "Maybe I just think you're right."

The conversation wound from there, Fanboy sharing some of his other interests much to Caro's delight and teasing. Caro continued to amaze him, with her wit and insight and stories of musical festivals and time as a yoga instructor.

It almost felt like no time had passed by the time he finally looked at his phone and realized he had to wake up in five hours.

"So," Fanboy started, prompting a smile from Caro. He wouldn't be surprised if she already knew the question he was about to ask. "This rule about not dating naval aviators…how firm is it?"

"Pretty firm," Caro affirmed, nodding her head.

"Bad experience?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I just live too close to base for there to be any mystique. I've seen this story play out too many times."

"You've seen our story play out?" He asked, brows raised in amusement. "You should have mentioned you were psychic."

Caro stared at him, unimpressed, but he pressed on. "How does it go?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes with a shrug. "You go through Top Gun and split your scraps of free time between me and your friends, but somehow I still end up too attached. After your program's up, you go back to wherever it was you're from or maybe off on some assignment, and I'm left behind. If we're really stupid, we kid ourselves that we can do long distance, but that crashes and burns within a couple of months and ends with at least one person getting hurt."

She went silent after that, her face somber as the moment stretched out before she broke free of her thoughts and shrugged again. "The only way it works is casual and short and that's not for me."

"Definitely not," he agreed.

She shot him a quizzical look. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me or trying to agree with whatever I say so I break the rule."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "No, I just meant--you don't seem like the type to love 'em and leave 'em, and I can't see anyone spending five minutes with you and thinking they could shake you off as just a one night stand."

Whatever stormcloud had hovered over Caro while sharing the reasoning behind her rule seemed to dissipate, and instead she seemed amused by his analysis. "What about you?" Caro asked.

"After one night? I think it'd take at least a month to get you out of my system," Fanboy nodded. "Maybe two, depending on how good it was."

She laughed then, and he grinned, thankful for the sound.

"No, I meant, can you do casual and short? One night stands?"

He shrugged. "Not usually."

"Ohhh," Caro said, taking a step back to make a show of looking him up and down. "So you're the 'I don't usually do things like this' guy?" She laughed as she accused him, and he couldn't help but laugh too, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

"You are!" she exclaimed, coming closer once more to walk beside him.

"In my defense, it's true!" he defended.

"Mhmm," Caro hummed skeptically, bumping her shoulder against his. "Of course it is, Fanboy."

"It is," he insisted. "I'd much rather date you than just go back to your place."

He meant it, and he hoped that she could see it in his face. As much as he would enjoy a night in her bed, making her forget how ridiculous she found his names as she cried them out, it wouldn't be the same if he didn't get to wake up with her in his arms.

Caro flushed, looking off to the side and away from him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright, well, you've still got your question and your guess for my number."

"So I have a chance?" Fanboy asked, tapping at the back of her hand with a finger.

"At getting my number," Caro responded, moving her hand away and offering him a coy look instead.

He bit his lip and nodded. "Ok. Fair enough."

The pair stopped at the bottom of the path up to the Hard Deck's parking lot, Fanboy narrowing his eyes in mock-assessment as he looked over Caro. He had thought about this moment too over the past few days, contemplating what question he would ask to confirm his guess. It had only taken a few hours and seven scratched out options in the margins of his notepad.

"Do you relate to the lyrics?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stood in thought, and he wondered if the lyrics were running through her head right now in the same way that they filled his. He wondered if she was matching the same snippets of verses to herself that he had when pairing them up with memories and the facts she revealed about herself on their walk.

Finally a small smile turned up the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah," she said, and then nodded to herself. "I do."

Fanboy nodded too, waiting a beat and fighting the smile rising to the surface.

"You have a guess?" Caro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have the answer," he corrected and her eyebrows shot up as she ooohed at him playfully. "It's 'She Way Out' from The 1975."

Her jaw dropped.

But instead of the surprise or amusement that he had hoped for—or the throwing of herself into his arms that he had dreamed of—apprehension crossed her features.

"How did you—how did you know?"

All of the quips he's come up with about his strategy or cleverness or own psychic ability flew from him in the wake of her unease. Instead, he softened and admitted the truth: "I asked your friends after you left on Friday."

"They told you?!" she burst, indignantly.

"Sort of," he said, tilting his head back and forth. "One of them was going to, but then the other convinced her not to. She said I should at least put in some of the work."

"Sami," Caro breathed. He couldn't remember the girl's name, but Caro seemed so sure, he nodded.

"She gave me the band after I beat her in darts. And bought a couple of rounds."

Caro barked out a laugh at this.

"I looked them up, saw they only had one album and listened to it a few times. It's pretty good."

"It's incredible," Caro corrected. She continued to stare at him before shaking her head. "I can't believe you just listened to it and guessed."

"Well, I had the answers to my questions," Fanboy said. "But that one reminded me the most of you."

Caro started to say something, but he cut her off half-singing, "She said it's not about your body / It's just social implications are brought upon by this party that we're sitting in."

She blinked several times before finally quipping, "And here I was thinking you were about to call me intelligent or compliment my style." As she said this, she fished into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled napkin with purple writing on it and passing it to him.

She Way Out - The 1975

619 - 92 - 113

He looked up and grinned at her.

"I'm still not going to date you," she said, turning around and heading up to the gravel parking lot, Fanboy lightly jogging to catch up with her.

"Of course not."

"But since my friends are off starting their new lives and you're stuck here for a bit, maybe we can hang out."

"Sounds good," he nodded, walking with her over to her car. She pulled open the door, but before she could sit down, he leaned on top of the frame. "What are you doing Friday? Wanna hang out?"

"Text me," she said, offering a grin. "And we'll see."

Next Chapter: Ch. 4 - I Ain't the Same

#fanboy Garcia x OC #Mickey Garcia x OC #fanboy x OC #mickey fanboy garcia x oc #fanboy Garcia #Mickey Garcia #Mickey fanboy Garcia #mickey fanboy garcia fic #fanboy Garcia fic #Mickey Garcia fic #Top gun Maverick OC #TGM OC #Top gun Maverick fic #TGM fic #oc: carolina alvarez #ship: Fanro #series: tailspin #motion sickness universe #mickey “fanboy” garcia

45 notes · View notes