#Mike Metcalf

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(Viper invites Iceman to sit in on a meeting between Viper and other CO's) Viper: You'll have to take notes. Do you think you can keep up? Iceman(smugly): Let's just say I was president of the Stenographer's Club in high school for a reason. Maverick: Was that reason because you were the only member? Iceman:.....Yes.

[slidersbabygirl]

Goose: "Viper?"

Maverick: "You love us right?"

Viper: *not looking up from his desk* "Normally I would say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won't like."

[k9effect]

Spreading my Vipapa agenda with a sketch sheet of him and little Petey

[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags appreciated]

[the-authoress-writes]

Until Every One Comes Home

Synopsis: Duke Mitchell finally comes home.

Warnings: Family member death, grief, funeral planning, funerals, slight cursing.

Author’s Note: I meant to post this for Veterans Day—obviously, I wasn’t able to, but hey, better late than never.

Are there going to be military inaccuracies in this story?

Absolutely.

Am I still posting this?

Absolutely.

I dedicate this story to all those who served their country, especially to those who made the ultimate sacrifice, and to those who have yet to come home.

Early morning sunshine shone through a small kitchen window, upon a certain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, though it wasn’t a patch on the affection warming the very marrow of his bones.

Earlier, he’d come down the stairs, toweling his hair dry from his shower, to see the front door of his half of his and Bradley’s duplex open, admitting a goose-patterned fleece blanket-draped Bradley.

“Morning, Dad,” he yawned, using the free hand not clutching his blanket to scratch his curls, causing his blanket hood to fall off his head. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Joining me, huh?” Mav ducked his head, trying and failing to keep back his touched smile.

Ever since they reconciled, Bradley had been making sure to eat and spend time with him whenever he could, and when they purchased the duplex together last year, some part of Mav wondered if the time they spent together would decrease, less absence making the heart grow less fond, and all that, but if anything, it increased—in fact, Bradley spent more time in Mav’s half than he did in his own half.

That Bradley made sure to spend time with him was something he’d never fail to cherish.

“Yeah, isn’t visiting the aged a corporal act of mercy?” the younger man smirked.

Despite the memory of the immediately-thrown AARP letter he got in the mail yesterday saying otherwise, he shot back, “I’ll show you aged, just you wait until hops today.

And are pancakes good enough for you, Baby Goose?”

“Say less, Dad,” Bradley replied, striding to the kitchen, and Mav followed, throwing his arm around his boy’s shoulder.

So, there he was, stirring his homemade pancake mix in front of the stove, waiting for the pan to heat up, while beside him, a more-alert Bradley leaned back against the counter, watching the coffee he prepared brew in the maker.

Mav quietly took in the scene, basking in all the warmth from inside and out, before smiling and laughing quietly.

“What?”

He looked across at his boy, “Nothing—all this just reminded me of something.

I’d come back from deployment, and you’d always ask me to be the one to make breakfast; you’d sit on the counter, calling yourself my “‘sistant”.”

Bradley chuckled, “Yeah, actually—you’d pick me up and set me on the counter next to you.”

“Can’t do that anymore,” Mav laughed, as he poured the pancake mix into the pan.

“Don’t you dare, Dad.

And I don’t think the counter would be able to handle it, for another thing.

You, maybe, me, no.”

Though it was a fact that Bradley had nearly six inches and at least fifteen pounds on him, he protested on principle. “Calling me ancient, and now short?

Getting the shots in early, huh, kiddo?”

“You were the one who said short, not me, and I called you aged, not ancient—I could call you venerable if it makes you feel any better,” Bradley smiled.

Mav was helpless to stop his chuckle. “Call me a classic, then we have an agreement.

Now be my ‘sistant and hand me a spatula, will you?”

Later, while washing the dishes, Mav noticed Bradley intently filling out a form at the table. “What you up to, Roo?”

“Uh,” Bradley shifted, idly twirling his pen, “it’s a form to volunteer for honor guard if any deceased Navy personnel come through North Island.”

“Oh.” A sad smile touched Mav’s face. “What made you want to do that?”

“I…” his son scratched the back of his neck, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said about your father, and then my father… I, I don’t know—I just, someone should be there for them, you know?

Those who come home.”

He had told Bradley the story of his father while they were growing back together, learning how to be father and son again, but he never expected this kind of reaction to that story. “That’s great,” he nodded.

Bradley ducked his head almost bashfully before looking up, a gravity in his eyes. “They still haven’t found Duke yet, have they?”

Mav inhaled and exhaled evenly while drying his hands on a dish towel. “No.

Not yet.

Maybe one day, though.

I’m just happy that he’s no longer called a traitor,” he nodded, remembering the day Viper and the other members of VF-51 had managed to get the record set straight, Duke having been posthumously promoted to Commander and awarded the Navy Cross.

“He’ll come home too one day, Dad, I’m sure of it,” his boy confidently said.

“That would be nice,” Mav said wistfully. “Anyway, any special requirements for volunteering?”

“Nah, just gotta keep my uniforms close at hand, probably will have to buy a set for base, just in case, but nothing else, really.”

“That’s wonderful that you’re doing this.

I’m even prouder of you, Bradley.”

Bradley’s mouth twisted, and he sniffled a little bit, “Thanks, Dad.

Love you.”

“Love you more, Baby Goose.”

Mav didn’t think much more of this, other than when Bradley would come down for breakfast or in the middle of the day in uniform, or when he spotted Bradley come out of the locker rooms in them.

They would just exchange grave nods, the older aviator immediately understanding what was going on.

And then, very early one day, even by navy standards, Mav woke up, not sure what had roused him.

A moment later, his phone dinged with a message; a grope around the nightstand later showed that the message was from Bradley.

“Hey Dad, got an early arrival.

I’ll see you on base.

❤️🐓”

He smiled, admiring how dedicated Bradley was to his honor guard duties, sending off a “❤️” of his own.

Just as he was about to doze off, his phone rang again, this time with a call, the tornado siren ringtone indicating that it was Cyclone.

The thought of ignoring the call flitted through his mind, but he thought better of it, not wanting to risk his posting as a TOPGUN instructor and CO of VFA-223, the “Black Cloaks”, consisting of everyone selected for the uranium mission detachment training.

“Mitchell,” he spoke into the phone.

“Maverick.

You’re required on base ASAP.”

The words were familiar, but the tone was new: it was… almost gentle?

“Sir?”

“Be here by 0630.

Wear your blues, Captain.”

And with that, the line went dead.

He’d be lying if he said that dread wasn’t making boulders sink in his stomach as he buttoned the jacket of his blues, tucked his cover under his arm, and grabbed the keys to his infrequently-used Jeep, given the dress blues.

Eventually, he arrived on base at 0625, and the dread in him increased tenfold when he spotted Cyclone and Warlock standing outside NAWDC Headquarters, in their own blues.

He exhaled bracingly before he picked up his cover, and placed it on his head as he stepped out of the car.

Given the seeming gravity of the situation, Mav deemed it prudent to stand to attention and snap off a smart salute, once he was within four steps of the admirals. “Sirs.”

“At ease,” Cyclone nodded. “With me, Captain.”

It took a while longer than it would have for him to realize the three of them were heading towards the hangars.

Cyclone stopped them inside the hangar where Mav sometimes had classes, and just stood there, watching the runways, facing the longer one, being used as runway 36 today.

In a few moments, a C-5M became visible, landed on 36, and turned onto the apron, halting there.

From another building, preceded by a vehicle, twelve dress blue-clad officers in two single file lines stepped solemnly onto the apron.

Even at a distance, he rationally knew Bradley was one of those officers, but was still perplexed as to why he was here.

“With me, Captain,” Cyclone repeated, and they walked to the honor guard.

As they got closer, Mav saw that Bradley was indeed one of the honor guard, the head of the line closest to him, in fact, and the emotion on his boy’s face was puzzling, but he didn’t have much time to make sense of Bradley’s expression, because three things happened at the same time.

One, he realized that the other eleven members of the honor guard were all the members of his squadron—his kids—every single one of them was here.

Two, he realized too late that he was in a position of precedence over Cyclone and Warlock, in their line perpendicular to the honor guard.

Three, a flag-draped casket was carried out of the C-5, preceded by an officer in dress blues, a Lieutenant Commander, by the sleeve braid.

The Lieutenant Commander stopped in front of the trio of Mav, Cyclone, and Warlock, and saluted.

The three of them returned it, and in a shocking turn of events, the Lieutenant Commander addressed Mav first. “Captain Mitchell.”

“Commander,” he said, managing to keep most of the confusion out of his tone.

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Navy, and a grateful nation, it is my honor to return the remains of Commander Andrew “Duke” Mitchell to his family, and to the soil of the nation he died for.”

Mav felt his eyes widen, and his knees weakened in shock, but before he could hit the ground, he felt two pairs of hands supporting his body.

A glance up showed that it was Cyclone on his left, Bradley on his right.

“See, Dad?” Bradley tearfully murmured, “I told you he’d come home.”

“That’s him?

He’s home?” he asked imploringly, his grip on his boy’s arm tightening.

“Yeah, that’s your father, Dad.”

He took a few calming breaths, then nodded determinedly. “Let me up.”

The Vice Admiral and his son lifted him to his feet, and he stood to his full height, facing the Lieutenant Commander. “Thank you,” he murmured.

With a solemn nod, the Lieutenant Commander stepped aside, allowing Duke’s casket to pass between the honor guard, Bradley calling the squadron to attention as they all saluted.

The casket was carefully loaded onto the waiting vehicle on the tarmac, Mav magnetically drawn to the flag-draped casket.

He placed a hand on the sun-warmed fabric, head bowed between his shoulders. “Welcome home, Dad.”

He struggled to keep his composure, but the reality of the situation was hitting him hard, and against his not-insignificant will, a sob escaped his lips, and he swept his cover off his head to rest his forehead against the casket, tears falling onto the red and white stripes like a benediction.

How many years had he dreamt of this, hoped for this, prayed for this?

Now, it was no longer a dream, a hope, or a prayer—his father was here, home.

And that just made the tears come all the harder, silent, trembling sobs now wracking his frame, as Mav gave his father the loving embrace he’d been saving for over fifty years, the bill of his cover in his opposite hand hollowly ringing against the metal of the casket, like a bell finally tolling half a century late.

What could have been an eternity or seconds later, he felt himself tugged into Bradley’s strong embrace, hearing, more than seeing, the squadron close ranks around him, shielding his renewed grief from any prying eyes.

The next thing he knew, he and Bradley were seated in Cyclone’s office, the Vice Admiral talking about the funeral arrangements. “Your father will be buried with full honors, regardless of where, with provision for a flyover, location and weather permitting.

However, should you like him to be interred at Fort Rosecrans, all expenses will be paid by the Navy, up to and including re-interment of your mother in an adjacent plot.”

“Oh,” Mav breathed.

Fort Rosecrans was where everyone special to him was buried.

Goose.

Carole.

Ice.

It also meant that he’d be able to visit his mom and dad a lot more than if he had his father buried next to his mom in his hometown. “I’d like that—both of them together again.”

Cyclone nodded gravely. “I’ll start making the arrangements.

There’ll be some paperwork you’ll have to sign for the exhumation of your mother, among other things, but I’ll do my best to take care of as much as I can, make things easier.” Cyclone paused. “My condolences, Maverick.

He’s home now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You and Lieutenant Bradshaw are dismissed for the day, as is your squadron.

Go home.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mindless, and still in shock over the whole thing, Bradley guided him out of the office and back to the parking lot, where he helped Mav into the Bronco.

The drive back home barely registered in his mind, and eventually, Mav found himself on his couch, in his usual white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with red and black-striped fluffy socks (gifted by Jake), practically burrito-wrapped in Bradley’s goose-patterned fleece blanket, a hot bowl of spaghetti in his lap, Bradley himself next to him.

“Eat up, Dad, come on,” the younger man gently encouraged.

“How?”

“Uh, fork to mouth is how most people do it,” his son chuckled.

“No—I mean—my dad?”

“Oh.” Bradley swallowed, continuing, “well, the Commander in charge of organizing the honor guards asked me why I volunteered, and I said that my godfather’s dad had gotten shot down during Vietnam, and that they never found him.

He asked me for your dad’s name, said he’d look into it.

I was hoping for good news, but even I never expected this.

They found him on the side of a mountain.

It seemed painless, by the way, according to the report, based on what they could see on the remains.”

He nodded, grateful for small mercies, idly twirling the noodles onto his fork.

A gentle silence fell on them both, punctuated by the clinking of Bradley’s fork against his bowl, and his chewing.

Mav eventually wormed his hand out of his burrito, to rest it on his boy’s arm. “I can’t thank you enough, Baby Goose,” he breathed, voice breaking on the last word.

Bradley froze and slowly turned to face him, brown eyes shining, “Don’t thank me, Dad.

It’s the least I could do; after all, you brought me home—it was only right I bring someone home for you.”

Tears welled in his eyes again. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Come here, Dad.”

It didn’t take much convincing for Mav to lean into the offered hug, tears he didn’t know he still had in him spilling over.

“I’m sorry I’m such a fucking mess,” he sniffled, however long after.

“You’re not a mess, Dad,” Bradley spoke into his hair, “you’re grieving your dad.”

“He died decades ago,” he protested.

“And he’s only come home now.

It’s not like you had time to process Duke’s death properly, Dad.

You had to take care of your mom, then you had to survive shitty foster home after shitty foster home, then you had to survive NROTC, then you had to survive flight school, and then—”

“I think I get the point, Brads,” he smiled through his tears.

“My point is, this is normal; don’t beat yourself up for feeling… feelings.

Lord knows you don’t deserve anything else to feel bad about.”

Incomprehensibly, his heart swelled with even more love for this kid, his son in everything but name and blood. “You know I love you so much, right, sweetheart?”

He felt Bradley’s smile on the crown of his head. “Mm-hmm—you only tell me a million times every day, Dad.”

“Only a million, huh?

That’s a horribly low number; I feel like that’s something I should say more—remind me, will you?”

“Ugh, fine.”

The warmth in his son’s tone was a clear contradiction of the seemingly-exasperated reply.

Swiping a hand over his puffy eyes, Mav glanced down at the now-cool bowl of spaghetti. “You worked hard on this pasta and I’m not even eating it yet,” he guiltily muttered.

“No problem, I’ll just stick it in the microwave for a minute.

And it’s jar sauce, Dad, it’s not like it’s your Nonna’s nine-hour marinara.”

“It’s made with love, so it’ll taste just as good.”

“Say that again when you tell me there’s not enough basil, okay?” Bradley chuckled, easily taking Mav’s bowl to the kitchen to heat it up again.

(There wasn’t enough basil in the sauce, but he didn’t mention it.)

As the days progressed, despite all of Cyclone’s help, planning his parents’ funeral was still a to-do—there were so many things to be decided; what date, what time, what caskets, what kind of rails for the caskets, what flowers, what photo (or hell, photos?) to display at the funeral, what chaplain, and most importantly—for Bradley, at least—who would be invited.

“Dad, come on, you got to invite the Flyboys and the Squadron.”

Mav sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time; Bradley had been pushing this for the better part of a day. “Brads, no, I don’t want to be a bother or a nuisance, okay?

I don’t want them to feel like they have to take time to go to the funeral of people they don’t even know.

For God’s sake, Baby Goose, even you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I’d never force you.”

Bradley indignantly opened his mouth, closed and opened it repeatedly, before taking a deep breath. “You’re crazier than I thought if you think I won’t be there for your parents’ funeral, Dad.

I’m going, and that’s final.

Please tell me you’re inviting someone though?”

“Your Grandpa Viper, he deserves to say goodbye to his wingman.”

“Anyone else?” His son practically begged.

“Penny, because she’d probably throw me overboard the next chance she gets if I don’t, and she can even bring Amelia if she wants.

See?

I’m inviting people, Baby Goose.”

“Dad—”

“Bradley,” he evenly replied, a stern edge in his voice.

After a brief staredown, the younger man’s petulant sigh could probably be heard on the other side of the country. “Let it be known that I highly object to this, Dad.”

“Objection noted, kiddo,” Mav smiled weakly, reaching out to pat Bradley on the arm before changing the subject. “I like these for the flower arrangements—what do you think?”

Mav stared at himself in the mirror; today was his dad and mom’s funeral.

He carefully looked over his medals, making sure the order was correct—he still berated himself for, in his grief, screwing the order up for Ice’s funeral—only noticing the mistake when he took the jacket off that night.

Confirming that his Global War on Terrorism Service Medal was in the fifth row where it belonged, he stared at himself, wondering if his father would be proud of him.

It was pointless dwelling on what ifs and could have beens.

But, the fact remained that he was the only 86er still in the service who didn’t have at least one star.

From everything he knew, he and his father were so alike, even down to the way they flew, so maybe his father would also loathe the idea of stars taking him out of the skies.

A gentle knock snapped Mav out of his thoughts.

Bradley stood just outside his room, also in his blues. “You ready?”

“Yeah, just… thinking.”

“That seems dangerous, coming from you, Dad,” Bradley grinned.

“Well, I am dangerous,” Mav smirked in reply, quickly sobering.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, just… I’m a Captain,” he admitted.

“Yyyeah… you are, Dad.”

Mav sighed, “I—I’m the only 86er still in the service who isn’t flag rank, that—that’s the point.”

Bradley stared at him, the pieces snapping into place, and he approached, raising a hand to Mav’s shoulder. “I don’t know exactly what your dad was like.

I can’t.

But I know that he went down saving the lives of his squadron.

And I think… that he’d be so proud of how you always make sure everyone comes home.

I know I am.

I am proud of you, Dad.”

Tears, love, and old guilt welled up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring your—”

“Stop.

It’s not your fault, and it never was, no matter what stupid shit I said before.

It was an accident.

I don’t blame you, and my father never would.

Now, let’s get off this guilt trip, and get your dad and mom some rest, huh, Dad?”

“Okay.”

Bradley nodded, pulling him into a brief hug. “Alright.

Get your cover, and I’ll grab mine, then we can hit the road.”

The fact that Mav knew the route they would take by heart, able to tell even with his eyes closed, just when Bradley would take a turn, was a little bit depressing, and he prayed that this would be the last time for a very long while that he would have to go to a funeral, most especially a military funeral.

Even his first of those was one too many, he bitterly thought, glancing towards the section where Goose was, as they entered the gate of Fort Rosecrans.

Despite his somber thoughts, he was grateful that it was a beautiful day, with perfect weather for a flight, as he got out of the Bronco to approach the minuscule group of people standing behind the hearses containing his parents’ caskets.

Giving solemn nods of their own, Cyclone and Warlock waved off the salute he and Bradley were about to snap off, allowing them to instead turn to Viper who was with his granddaughter, Erin.

“Mike,” Mav warmly greeted the man who was like a second father to him.

“Kiddo,” the venerable aviator rasped, creaking forward to embrace Mav.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I’d have to be six feet under to miss this, Pete.

But even then, I’d find a way.”

His former CO had gasped in shock when he called the man several days ago to tell him his wingman had been found. “They found Duke?”

“They did.

He’s going to be buried at Rosecrans with my mom.

I’d like you to be there.”

“I’ll be there, no matter what I have to do to get there.”

“Hi, Uncle Pete,” Erin greeted, bringing him back to the present.

“Hey there, Diamondback,” he replied, using the nickname he’d given her years ago, moving to hug her too, mindful not to knock her cover off, the young woman having worn her Air Force blues for the occasion. “Thanks for coming.”

“We know how much this means to you, Uncle Pete, we wouldn’t miss it; and someone had to make sure Grandpa wouldn’t do something stupid to get here, or at least help him if he did.”

Mav laughed, smile only widening when Viper humorously interjected, “Quit talking about me like I’m not here, will ya?” as his still-sharp gaze landed on Bradley. “Bradley Bradshaw—it’s been much too long since I last saw you.

I remember when you were a little booger of a kid; now look at you.

Your old man would be proud.

Rooster, right?

With the 87 'Warriors?” Viper knowingly asked.

Bradley proudly nodded, “223 Black Cloaks now, under Mav, but, yes, sir.”

The retired admiral smiled as if Bradley had passed a test. “Quit it with the sir, son, but you let me know if Pete gives you any trouble, huh, Rooster?

Not too old to whoop this kid’s ass in a hop.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m not here, will ya?” Mav grinned, throwing the venerable aviator’s words back at him. “Excuse me,” he continued, spotting Penny and Amelia making their way to them, the latter striding forward and aggressively hugging him.

“I’m glad your dad came home, Mav.”

He leaned down, returning the hug. “So am I, sweetheart.”

She pulled back, looking back towards Penny. “I’ll let you talk to Mom.”

“Okay.”

After he gave Amelia a final pat, she strode off, declaring, “Hey, Chicken!”

Mav snorted, catching sight of his son’s expression at the moniker, but then his attention was drawn by Penny’s soft, “Pete.”

They had been taking it slow ever since the Uranium Mission, but seeing her never failed to make something in his chest flip flop. “Pen.

Thank you for coming, you and Amelia.”

“Of course.

Why wouldn’t we be here?” she murmured, placing her palm against his cheek.

He leaned into the contact, and her eyes softened even more. “You’re looking at me like that again.”

“Like what?” he smiled.

“Like I’ve hung the stars or something.”

His smile widened, “Only look I’ve got for you.”

She blinked, stepping closer to wrap her arms around him and gently kiss him.

Mav gladly leaned into the embrace, a sigh escaping his lips when she drew back. “Stay with me?”

“Didn’t have any other plans.”

A moment later, Mav decided to get the proceedings started.

Led by the honor guard and the hearses, they began the solemn walk towards the plots where his parents would be buried, Penny tightly grasping his right hand.

Eventually, he distantly saw the wreaths of flowers, the chairs, the twin holes the caskets would be lowered into, the easels with the photos of his parents, and Mav felt his breath hitch with emotion—reality was striking him more intensely than any G’s he’d ever pulled.

He clenched his jaw, willing the emotion back, and just as he felt like it was beginning to turn into a losing battle, he felt someone take his heretofore free left hand.

A glance in that direction showed Viper had replaced Bradley at his left, the older man sending him an understanding look, similar emotion shimmering in his own eyes, the two of them sharing a fortifying nod.

A further glance back showed his boy walking behind him and Viper, strong and steady, a sad smile on his lips, love and blade-sharp understanding in his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the plots, and had just settled into their seats, when Mav started in surprise; a large hand had clasped his shoulder and a familiar voice whispered into his ear, “What do you think you’re doing, starting without us, Shortstack?”

Mav turned in shock, seeing Slider right behind him, with all of VFA-223, Hondo, Hollywood and Wolfman, Chipper, Cougar, and Merlin approaching, one and all in dress blues.

Here, more familiar faces started to arrive—the Darkstar team, a couple of his fellow TOPGUN instructors, various NAWDC personnel, and then various North Island staff.

Mav couldn’t believe it—at the end, there had to be at least thirty people assembled around the gravesite.

Dots immediately connected. “Why are all these people here?

How did they know?” Mav whispered to Bradley.

“Well, word gets around, Dad—and it’s not like North Island’s that big,” Bradley nonchalantly replied.

He hissed, “Bradley Peter Bradshaw.”

The younger man squirmed in his seat, sheepishly muttering, “The squad and I might have… facilitated certain ears hearing about this.”

“Brads—why—I told you—”

“Dad,” Bradley reached out, “People care about you—the Flyboys wanted to be here for you. Despite what that nasty voice in your head tells you, and like, ninety percent of the brass hating you, a lot of people like you and want to be here for you.

Everyone here clearly wants to be here for you.”

Slider huffed, “You’re not a nuisance, Mav.

You’re family.

The real nuisance was you not calling to tell us all, but good thing the Baby Goose went behind your back.”

Mav rose from his seat, “Sli, I’m sor—”

Slider gently tugged him into a tight embrace. “It’s ok, just promise you’ll remember what brothers are for next time, huh?

Not a lot of us left, we gotta stick together,” he said, referencing the loss of Sundown not long after Ice’s passing—a harsh blow to the Flyboys. “Don’t listen to that voice in your head anymore, Mav.”

Wordless, he nodded. “Thank you.” Mav lifted his head to see his brothers, Hondo, and his squadron surrounding him, not a trace of anger in their faces. “All of you.”

Warm smiles and reassuring murmurs came from them all, and Slider patted him on the back. “Let’s get to work, Shortstack.”

“Okay.”

The ceremony proceeded according to plan, and eventually, it was time for Viper and him to hammer their wings into his father’s casket, but to his shock, before anything could happen, Omaha and Halo rose instead, unpinning their wings of gold as they went.

They hammered their wings into the dark wood of his father’s casket, then saluted.

Next to stand was Yale and Harvard, then Fritz and Coyote.

(Thump)

(Thump)

Two by two, his squadron went up and hammered their wings into his father’s casket, then saluted.

Payback and Fanboy.

(Thump)

Phoenix and Bob.

(Thump)

Bradley and Jake.

(Thump)

As Bradley circled back to his seat, Mav caught his eye, a shocked and wondering expression on his face. “I know we’re not your dad’s squadron, but hopefully we’re good enough,” he softly said in response to the unasked question.

Tears were already tracing Mav’s cheeks at seeing his squadron give his father this honor, but it didn’t stop there.

He was just about to tearfully thank Bradley when his attention was drawn by Slider and Chipper striding forward as they too, unpinned their wings.

(Thump)

Then Wood and Wolf stepped forward.

(Thump)

Cougar and Merlin.

(Thump)

One and all, his brothers hammered their wings into the casket, tightly grasping his shoulder in affection as they moved back to their places at his wing while he struggled to maintain his bearing, his heart swelling with love for this family who’d chosen him.

When no one else stepped forward, it was here, that Viper rose and drew a battered pair of wings from his jacket pocket, steps slow but even as he approached the casket, now covered in gold wings.

He gazed at the wings, a small, proud smile on his lined face, then with a gentle nod, he lifted his hand to place his own wings on the casket.

The sound of his fist hammering the wings in resounded through the air, the elderly man snapping to attention to salute his late wingman one last time.

When Viper turned, Mav rose for his turn, gently setting down the neatly folded flag in his chair.

It was this part he hated the most in all the military funerals he’d gone to, even more than the flag presentation, because it made everything feel so definite, the proverbial final nail in the coffin.

But this time, it felt almost like a relief—for once, his hands didn’t tremble as he unpinned his wings, and as his fist struck the metal into wood with the rush of wind and roar of F-18s overhead, Mav felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders; with his final salute to his father, he felt one of the oldest wounds in his soul beginning to heal.

The next thing he knew, the funeral was over, and he was standing before his parents’ graves.

Everyone was filtering back to the road, but he was seemingly frozen to the spot, staring down into the freshly dug earth.

He felt like he was waiting for something, the expectation in the air so thick he could almost taste it, but Mav didn’t know what it was.

Unbidden, the words “Talk to me, Dad, Mom,” slipped from his lips, barely audible even to his own ears.

Just then, a rushing sea wind blew through the cemetery grounds, and in the distance, he could see two birds dancing in the currents of air, soaring upwards into the sky, gradually disappearing in the distance.

The wind abruptly gentled, and though his cover had stayed on during the flyover and through the rushing burst of wind, it suddenly flew off his head.

He turned to follow its path, finding it already in Bradley’s grasp, who had a hand held out towards him, Penny, his brothers, Hondo, and his squadron—his kids, all standing behind his boy, who had a careful, expectant expression on his face.

“Hey Dad, let’s go home?” Bradley called out.

Mav cast a final glance into the distance that the two birds had disappeared into, a profound peace now in his heart.

He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Bradley.

“Let’s go home, Baby Goose.”

He did not look back.

The title is taken from the USO motto.

The Navy Cross is the second-highest military decoration given by the US Navy, second only to the Medal of Honor.

Mav’s maroon Jeep can be seen in a corner of the hangar during the first hangar scene.

NAWDC: Naval Aviation Warfare Development Command, under whose umbrella TOPGUN belongs.

The C-5M is a US Air Force aircraft, but the Air Force is tasked with bringing home repatriated remains, no matter what branch of service the deceased is from.

The speech given by the Lieutenant Commander to Mav is an adaptation of what is said at a military funeral, when the flag is presented to the next of kin.

I made use of my Italian heritage!Mav headcanon here, which I am quite fond of.

The order of Mav’s medals at Ice’s funeral was incorrect, and even though I didn’t have to mention it, I found a way to explain it!

I’m quite pleased with myself for that one…

VFA-87, the “Golden Warriors”, based in NAS Oceana, VA, is Bradley’s squadron in TG:M, as seen by the patch on his flight suit.

The procedures detailed for the funeral are a rough approximation of the protocol for burials at Arlington National Cemetery.

Clarence Gilyard Jr, who played Marcus “Sundown” Williams in Top Gun (1986), passed away on November 23, 2022 from an undisclosed protracted illness.

Technically, hammering wings tridents into the casket is a SEAL tradition, but 1), this is a thing in canon, 2), it’s supposedly spreading to the other warfare qualifications, and I don’t know, I think Duke deserves it after the Navy crapped all over his reputation.

Bonus: They had a potluck at the duplex later, because Bradley thought ahead and had the Daggers bring food to his/Mav’s place.

Taglist

@themareverine

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[sdrose93]

Mav and Viper 🤗❤❤

[whohasthecards]

Top Gun Drabble

How Mav views Jake vs how Penny views Jake

---

Maverick flopped down on Penny’s bar with a long groan, pillowing his head in his folded arm with a sigh.

“What trouble did you get to this time, mister?” Penny asked, setting down the man’s favorite beer.

“Not me, Hangman, the kid’s a brat, it’s like karma for all the times I fuck around when I was younger,” Mav sighed, taking a long sip from his beer.

“Hangman? Jake? I’m sure he’s not that bad, Mav, he’s a sweetheart,” Penny said, rolling her eyes at the dramatic man. “Don’t compare him to you, Mav, he'd practically be an angel,” Penny said as she started drying a glass with a towel.

Mav burst out laughing, almost hysterically, as he had to put down his beer. He looked back at Penny expecting her to share his amusement, when she simply just raised an unimpressed brow at him.

A sense of dread washed over Mav.

“No, you’re, you’re serious???” Mav exclaimed, forever denying that his voice raised an octave at that.

“Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin? Tall, blond, young man, plays pool, and darts? Yes, I’m serious,” Penny said, putting her hands on her hips. “Come on, Mav, he’s a good kid.”

Mav’s jaw dropped in shock.

—

Earlier that day

“Hey, hey, pops, pops,” Hangman said, jogging to keep up with Mav who was starting his pre-flight checks.

“Yes, Hangman?”

“Do the death spiral with me,” Hangman said grinning wildly.

Mav turned to look at his student/co-instructor/subordinate, “... We’re surrounded by rookies, kid.”

Hangman shrugged, “It’ll show them what we can do.”

“It will set a bad example, they’re still arrogant little shits.”

Hangman pouted, genuinely pouted, dear god were his students getting too comfortable with him, “You and Bradshaw did it.”

“And we broke the hard deck.”

“Since when did you care about that?”

He, unfortunately, had a point. “I’m trying to prevent what’s happening right now, but to this Top Gun class.”

“But it could also be us asserting ourselves as skilled in front of the students, while simultaneously allowing us to practice a maneuver we don’t usually get to do.” Hangman said, nodding resolutely.

“And when are we using the death spiral in a real dogfight?”

“Who knows? But the death spiral isn’t just about practicality, it’s also about getting to know your jet more.”

“Still a no, kid.”

“But you and Bradshaw did it! Come on, pops, favoritism ain’t allowed!”

“No.”

For some reason, the kid managed to get him to do a spiral with him anyways. Little shit knows how to push a man.

At least the rookies were too intimidated to even think about copying them.

Hopefully.

—

“Hey pops, I got you something,” Hangman said, giving him a box with a wide grin.

“It’s not a bomb, isn't it?” Mav said tentatively, holding the box in his hands.

“Not today at least,” Hangman said, flashing a grin bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Open it,” he practically whined.

Mav rolled his eyes and sat down on his desk as he gently removed the ribbon on the box and watched as the walls of the box fell down revealing a mug.

Keep on smiling!

That was surprisingly sweet.

“Thanks, kid, a bit corny, but thank you, sweet of you,” Mav said, smiling and thumbing the cheesy font.

“Yeah, it’s for your dentures!” Jake said, smiling toothily.

What.

“Figured you should have a specific mug for it,” Jake said as he looked at his watch for the time. “Gotta go, pops, don’t forget to put it in your bathroom, I’m glad you like it,” Jake said walking towards the door, a hand held up in a wave as he rounded the corner.

Little shit.

“I don’t have dentures!” Mav shouted at the younger man’s retreating back, making the young secretary passing by jump and look at him with severe judgment.

—

"Jake! Come on, you promised to help me do my science project!" Amelia exclaimed as she thundered down the stairs to Hangman.

"Aye, aye, captain, I'm here to help, when you actually decide what your project is going to be," Jake said, crossing his arms.

"I wanna make an info sheet on how fighter jets work, you'd help me, right, Jake?" Amelia asked, pleading with her hands clasped.

"I dunno, what do I get for helpin’ ya?" Jake asked, smirking lightly as he chewed on his toothpick.

"My overwhelming gratitude and the cake mom left for both of us in the fridge?"

"All ya gotta say was the cake, you better not eat all of it while 'm not lookin', missy," Jake said jokingly wagging a finger. 

Amelia rolled her eyes, "Just don't leave the cake unguarded, and you're supposed to be a military sailor."

"Naval aviator," Jake pointedly said. "You know, the aviator who flies the jets you're gonna be makin' a project on?"

“I’ll choose a jet you don’t fly,” Amelia said.

“Yeah? What jet do I not fly?”

“You could do the F-14 tomcat, that’s what I flew back in the day,” Mav interjected. “Hangman definitely doesn’t know how to fly that.”

Amelia gave Mav the stink eye, nose scrunched up, “I gotta do something more recent, Mav, that isn’t cool.”

“Yeah Mav, your jet is ancient,” Jake mocked, giving Mav a smirk.

“That ancient jet managed to shoot down 5th gens.”

“And I shot the last one just in time, with my amazing type of jet.”

“Pretty sure you bent the airframe, kid.”

“Did I?”

“Anyways,” Amelia said interjecting. “I’m not gonna do your plane Mav, you haven’t proved yourself yet.”

“Prove myself!? And Hangman did??” Mav asked in shock. “Yeah, Jake’s cool,” Amelia said, crossing her arms and nodding resolutely.

“And I’m not? I’m an aviator ace,” Mav exclaimed. He didn’t know why he was trying so hard to please his ex’s kid, but to be ranked lower than Hangman? Absolutely not. He didn't school the Dagger Squad on the first day of class for no reason.

“Old. And you broke my mom’s heart,” Amelia said, nodding resolutely before whirling around to Jake. “I changed my mind, let’s do your jet. You know so much about it, it’ll make the project easier.”

“You got it, memorized the thick ass manual, back to back,” Jake boasted. 

“Yeah like any good aviator worth their salt, like me.  I can help, right?” Mav said standing up.

Amelia looked Mav up and down. “I need to decorate it, and you have no taste in design. If you did, it would be 40 years outdated.” Amelia turned back towards Jake, "Can we go to the store to buy some stuff? I need my project to be great, please?"

"Yeah, let's roll, also, aren't you already getting straight As-?"

"Yeah, and I need one more," Amelia said, nodding resolutely.

"Copy that, missy, let’s go," Jake said, slinging an arm around her shoulder to lead Amelia to his truck. 

"Can I drive?"

"Not right now, little miss, your mother will kill me."

"Fine. Do you think we'll have enough money to get those plastic models of the planes?"

Jake shrugged, "If you don't I can buy it for ya, always wanted to make one of those anyways. "

"Nice, you're the best Jake," Amelia said grinning wildly as she leaned towards Jake giving a one armed hug.

"I know, and the old man should know now too," Jake said, smirking back at Mav. "I'm the best in the air and on the ground."

"You little–"

"Watch the house while we're gone, pops!" Jake yelled back as he shut the door.

—-

“And that’s only some of the shit the brat does,” Mav whines at Penny before taking a shot of tequila.

Penny simply gave him an unimpressed eyebrow, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you say it is, Mav, and even if it is.” Penny shrugged before refilling Mav’s shot. “It’s karma for all the shit you did when you were his age, you should tell Viper about him.”

“That’s a great idea!” Mav said, shooting up from his seat. “Maybe Viper would school some sense into him!” 

Penny simply gave him a mysterious smile, “Sure, Mav, that might happen.”

—-

“What are you talking about, Mav? Jake’s a good kid, not near as much of a hellion as you are,” Viper said.

He hid his gleeful smile behind a sip of his beer as he watched Maverick groan as if he’s in physical pain.

Karma’s a bitch.

Viper mused on whether or not he should pay the boy to make Maverick’s life hell for the duration he’s here. Maybe he will. Young men like him would take food and beer as adequate training.

And even if the boy was perfectly respectful when he met him, he had a certain cheekiness in his words, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Reminiscent of a pilot he trained many years ago.

Plus, the bribery may protect him from the kid’s schemes.

He's too old for another kid, but maybe old enough for another grandson.

—

“Okay, I’m cutting you off, pay your tab and get out now,” Penny said, setting down the bill in front of the severely inebriated man.

“Naahhhhh, I wanna another one–” the man slurred, standing up and suddenly slammed his hands on the bar counter. “ANOTHER ONE.”

Penny crossed her arms and glared resolutely at the man, “No. Pay now.”

The man grumbled and squinted at the bill, swaying unsteadily, “T-This ain’t fucking right, it’s a goddamn joke!” The man angrily shouted leaning forward towards the bar owner. “There’s too many zeroes.”

Penny’s eye twitched and was about to make a retort when a cue stick firmly pushed the man away from the counter. 

“Respect the lady, man, calm down,” A blonde man said, stepping forward, slamming the butt of the cue stick to the ground. “She said you’re done, so pay, and then leave.”

“What’s it to you!? This is between me and that bitch!” The man shouted, darting forward towards Penny.

It ended quickly.

The newcomer barely had to do anything. Or at least he made it seem so seamless. Sidestep, grab the collar, cue stick to the back of the knees, and throw the drunkard away from the counter. 

The drunk fell on his ass, and stumbled forward on all fours trying to get up before stumbling back down again. 

“Y-you asshole!” He slurred as he flopped down on the floor and buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Sure, buddy, I’m the asshole in this situation,” the newcomer said, rolling his eyes before resting the cue stick on his shoulder.

Newcomer turned towards Penny, giving her a small, shy, smile, unlike the confident man who just assisted her, “You doing alright, ma’am?”

“Doing good, thanks, kid, but I could have handled it myself,” Penny said, smiling warmly.

“I know,” the kid said in a matter-of-fact tone. “But if I could help, why shouldn’t I?” The kid said shrugging.

Penny gave a small laugh, “You seem new in town, what’s your name? Your tab is free today for all the trouble you just had to go through.”

“Jake Seresin, ma’am, at your service,” Seresin said, giving her a two-fingered salute.

“Penny Benjamin, welcome to my bar,” Penny said, extending a hand for him to shake.

“May I offer one suggestion ma’am?” Seresin said after a moment. Penny nodded in consent and Seresin offered her another grin. “Don’t cancel my tab, just charge it to this guy, he was an ass anyways,” Seresin said, jabbing a thumb towards the still groaning man who was acting like a dying fish on her floor.

Fish. Boats. Overboard.

“Good idea, EVERYBODY, A ROUND ON HIM!” Penny, exclaimed at the whole bar.

The bar cheers.

[sodapopboy]

icemav in the dcu? i watched batman forever and was a bit devastated that only one (how??) icemav gotham au existed. the material is. right there. this is an open discussion btw

[tomcat-tapes]

For one so small, You seem so seem so strong,

My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. This bond between us can’t be broken.

Snakestar took on the role of Falconkit’s father when Hawkstrike disappeared,

It’s a role he takes very seriously and with pride.

For @k9effect

Sketches below-

[jackiequick]

Smoke in the air < Top Gun Maverick fic Au

Top Gun Maverick Au Series

Setting: Set years after Top Gun, Before Top Gun Maverick

Summary: What happens when old family friends meet again? But instead it’s though daughters and granddaughters instead. What if Rachel ‘Frostbite’ MetCalf and Jennifer ‘JenPen’ Mitchell earlier, years before Top Gun?

Platonic Pairing: Jennifer ‘JenPen’ Mitchell & Rachel ‘Frostbite’ MetCalf. Maverick’s daughter & Viper’s granddaughter. 

—-

It was a hot shot day in April 2011, Jennifer was sweating bullets after running streets in the sun. She just finished a quick run with Amber Kazansky, the girl was faster than her in way she can’t count. She entered the household to see her dad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and aunt, Audrey ‘Sunset’ Davidson, in the kitchen trying to cool off.

“Hey Daddy.” Jen said giving a quick kiss onto her father’s cheek. Then she bounced over to her aunt doing the same, “Hiya, Mama.”

“Hi sweetheart.” He replied with a smile, checking his watch and placed on his shades, about to head out soon.

“Hello princess.” Added Sunset pouring herself another glass of soda, “Whatcha doing here so early? Where is everyone?”

Jen opened the fridge grabbing a water bottle as lifted it up to her lips, taking a sip before replying, “Kazansky and I just finished a quick run. Bradley is god knows where. And my other friends are at the beach. Where ya headed?”

“I’m dropping something off at Chipper and Wolfman’s house. While you’re dad is driving over to old Commander Viper’s place to drop over paperwork and then head over to the offices.”

Maverick lifted up his head, “Uh change of plans! Babygirl, i need to head out to a meeting with Slider and meet up with a old student of mine, so i need you to drop off the folders for me.”

“But Dad-” Jen tried to opt out but was cut off short.

“The address is on a post-it note in my garage. It will be a quick thing, i promise.”

“But i was gonna go pick up Rusty and Lucky to go to—okay.”

—

Jennifer took a quick shower and opted for a better change of clothes. A black tank top with a gray flannel wrapped around her waist, jeans cuffed at the ankles, sandals with a pair of big tear drop shape earrings. Along with the gold crusted green necklace necklace she never removed, that made her olive green eyes pop.

She headed downstairs taking the folder with the address taped onto the front, then headed out driving to the MetCalf household, texting the girls she’ll be late to the mall. She’s been there before when she just a little girl due to her father or uncles, taking her to the house to be babysat by Viper’s wife when no one could watch over her. Viper’s wife Linda was gentle soul, always welcoming everybody in with open arms and a full plate to anyone who’s hungry. She liked her very much, but she was tough at times too.

Jennifer parked in front of the beautiful house with a freshly watered garden to die for, a white painted front porch with lights gently handing off the edge of the front door and the sound of peaceful smiles lifting up the feel of the house. Simply lovely.

The girl stepped out of the car with the items she was meant to give to the folks in hand, almost tumbling up the footsteps and knocked on the door twice. No one answered, so she knocked again nor did she hear any noise coming from the other end of the doorway. She stepped back and decided to try and walk around towards the back porch. But before she can take the first step down the staircase, Jennifer heard the door swing open and whipped her head around to face the person.

She expected to see Linda MetCalf standing there in her classic light pastel yellow top and jeans, with her hair tie in bun. Or that’s at least what her memory decided to make up of the women. Instead she was met with a young blonde girl with dark green eyes wearing a gray sweater, navy blue shorts and Converses. She definitely looked way younger than her, probably early pre-teens. Something about her gave a icy annoyed vibe, like Jen just butted into her important conversation with someone by accident. As if she landed in some deep smoke with that look.

The young girl gave her a slight glare holding the doorknob, like she was ready to slam the door in her face or something for interrupting her peace and quiet. “Uh, who the heck are you?” She asked.

“I’m uh, a sorta friend of the family.” Jennifer explained pointing towards the house.

“Sorta?”

“Yeah, Linda MetCalf sorta was my babysitter.”

“Uh okay, i guess. How old are you?”

“Almost 20..? Who the hell are you?”

“Look, I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, so please..you know, leave.”

“But I’m not a—”

Then a classic voice was heard, “Honey, who’s at the door?”

“Some girl claiming she knows..um, you?” Replied the young blonde with a confused disgusted face, scanning the brunette’s outfit choice.

Linda came in after what looks to be drying her hands off and smiled recognizing her, “Jenny, is that you?”

“Y-yeah it’s me! I’m um, sorry to interrupt you.” Jennifer said apologizing, feeling the young girl’s eyes on her.

“It’s alright what are you doing here?”

“My dad wanted me to hand this to Viper..?”

She held up a folder with tons of paperwork inside with a half smile.

“Oh yes, Mike said your father was coming over. He’s just left to the store, but i can take it for him.” Linda said kindly, holding out her hand as the girl handed her the papers, “You wanna come in? I made blueberry pie.”

“N-no it’s fine, i was gonna head out to see my friends…” Jennifer replied about to give an excuse however the scent of pie hit her nose, realizing she was hungry, “Actually yeah, a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Wonderful! I’ll serve you a big slice.”

—-

By the time Linda served her the slice of pie, that already seem to be cut into earlier, the young blonde headed upstairs to do god knows what. The older woman stood a seat next to the young brunette smiling. Linda asked, “So how are you sweetheart?”

“I’m alright, to be honest could be better.” Jennifer said taking a bite out the pie and humming at the delicious taste in her mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Well dad and I are having trouble with picking career paths. Plus he’s had a little fight with my aunts and uncles..”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. You’ll figure it out eventually, you guys always do.”

“I hope so..how are you doing? I’ve haven’t seen you since i was 13, 12 maybe…?”

“I’m doing good, specially with the spring allowing more sales at the bakery and spring shopping.”

Jennifer chuckled, “Oh yeah, the mall is packed with new spring dresses at Macy’s.”

“I know it is, i brought 5 brand new outfits there last week.” Linda chuckled, pouring themselves another glass of water, “I’m so happy you stopped by, i missed seeing you.”

“Aww i missed seeing you too! If i known you were babysitting a neighbor’s kid or something i would’ve came later.”

“Neighbor’s kid?”

“Yeah the blonde girl..or is she not..?”

“Oh no sweetie you’re mistaken, that’s my granddaughter.”

“G-granddaughter? I’m so sorry I didn’t know!”

“It’s alright, you weren’t here for a long time. She is Valerie’s daughter.”

“Valerie? The oldest blonde one with the pink bracelets and used to play with me every time you babysat me?”

“That’s the one, surprised you remember. Yeah Valerie moved out with her boyfriend—now husband years ago and came back home with their daughter.”

“That’s sweet.” Jennifer smiled then jokes, “Soooo, is Hunter still available?” 

“Possibly.” Linda joked back, “And I think your a better match than his last girlfriend, Brianna.”

She laughed, “I might have to ask him out then. Besides, I think Brianna wasn’t the kindest girl…um what’s granddaughter’s name?”

“Rachel MetCalf. She’s a nice girl.”

“Uh, nice? She had an icey look like she could bite me.”

“She’s a sweetheart, Jenny. Go meet her, she’s in the guest room down the hall across from the bathroom.”

—

Rachel was laying down on the bed watching rewatching a Taylor Swift music video on her laptop, as her feet kicking on the back near the edge. The lyrics blasted throughout the cracked open door, her nails were still wet from painting them a light gray color. She was relaxed and singing softly, not hearing the footsteps of clapping sandals along the the wooden floor.

She knocked on the white painted door asking if she could come in, thankfully she received a quiet yes. Once Jennifer opened the door, she was met with a different look, a far more comfortable one.

“Uh hey.” Jen said standing in the doorway giving the girl a small smile.

“Ugh what do you want?” Replies the blonde pausing the music video, wiping her head around to the girl.

“To talk. To you.”

“Uh why? Look my grandma, if ask you to do that just don’t listen to her. You might be wasting your time You came here to bring over some stuff, that’s all.” 

“Uh ok first off, yeah she sent me here.”

“I knew it! We both know you got something more entertaining to do instead.”

“Secondly, watch your tone!”

“You ain’t my mother nor my grandmother!”

“Yeahhh I’m not but those two lovely ladies you just mentioned, I do know! I..sorry ok..I just came to be nice. Can we start over?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do.”

“Really? How so?”

——

The dark brunette, she didn’t speak, not knowing how to respond to that comment. Jen walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed, however knowing that this would be a long talk. Rachel sat crisscross applesauce on the bed, scrolling through the reopened Twitter page on her laptop. Memes, gifs, messages and videos filled up her feed. She glanced up at over every once in a while, waving a hand for her waiting for the girl to keep speaking.

But Jennifer didn’t.

Instead she watched her. The hair bouncing in front of her face, her dark nails, the rolled shoulder and annoyed pouted lips. The frosty looks that could sharply hurt you, a soft stabbing, focused glare underneath that deep eyeliner of hers. Some people are always like that that, it’s who they are. But sometimes it’s always something different, stronger. Something behind those eyes. Either she was going across a teenage phase or…

“How long?” Jennifer asked, the words just slipped out.

“What?” Rachel replies eyeing her up and down.

“How long was your father shipped out?”

“Wa-excuse me? How did you know that?! You just walk in here and asked me that…”

“H-hey I’m sorry. It just slipped out..well because I know the face. The attitude.”

Both of their voices were low, as if it was whispers of a conversation. Rachel looked at her once again, noticing that this girl seriously just called her out on something that she didn’t expect to hear. But somehow was known to everyone in that very room. It kinda sucks that the annoying girl in front of her read the room that quickly, or just guess it.

For Jen, it was something she knew a little too well. The look, sometimes the cries and the attitude. She experienced it, still does. Not something you catch on unless you travel around and met people every once in a while. Sometimes you need someone else to listen to you.

Rachel sighed, leaned back and scoff, “Okay that um, wow. Rude sorta I guess..but um yeah, my dad was you know gone for 6 months or less…Navy and stuff runs in the family. Guess with yours too?”

“Yeah. He’s never been gone for that long, huh?” Jennifer asked, she got a nod in return and continued, “I get it. It’s not easy, it gets annoying like the longest waiting game ever…what about your mom?”

“My mom?”

“Yeah..”

“Mom is usually at work nowadays, so I stay with um, well my grandparents. Mostly grandma. I mean yeah she’s always here but the last few weeks..she’s been usually busy with work.”

“It’s tough, at least you get to be near some cool grandparents. I get it, it can be hard sometimes you just want them safe and sound. Especially if your a bit of a daddy’s girl growing up, I guess.”

——

Rachel was still working out the way to look at this situation. Just a few minutes ago she was annoyed at this point with her but now it was like she has soften up. Sometimes you don’t know if someone is getting honest or just chatting with you to make conversation. As if it was a lie or something, she’s been though his routine before.

She scoffed and looking at her laptop, “Yeah well, what do you know?”

“What do you mean?” Jennifer asked, playing with her nails for a moment.

“You’re just sweet talking me or something. You don’t know me, you’re mom is probably at home with your dad.”

“She’s not at home.”

“Shopping for grocery then, whatever. At least she’s with you.”

“Yeah probably in spirit.”

“Huh?”

Jennifer scoff with a slightly half smile, “Girl, my moms dead.”

“Oh-oh my god! I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.” Rachel said quickly with widen eyes, closing her laptop, “I um, uh, I didn’t know..”

“It’s alright. You didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry…is that why you visited my grandparents a lot? I heard half of the conversation downstairs. You uh, talk loud.”

“Y-yeah I mean sorta..I guess that’s why. My dad or uncle were busy with work as I got a little older, so I was always dropped off here..just like you.”

“What? No other uncles or aunts or older siblings to take care of you? At least I had my uncles and aunts.”

“Live far away or you know, busy with work. My dad trusted me in the care of your grandparents.”

“And my aunts and uncles appears like it..”

“Oh no, they just showed up to play every once in a while.”

Rachel joked with a half smile, “In what year? 1987?”

“Hey! I’m only a few years older than you. And yeah, in the late very 80s.” Jennifer admitted, knowing she couldn’t lie abiotic that.

“Hahahahaha! Old lady.”

“Again I’m literally 19. What are you? Like 11?”

“11?!”

“13?”

“13?! I’m 15! Just turned 15 a while back.”

“Heheh! You don’t look like it…”

“Okay, rude.”

“But you sound like it.”

Rachel muttered a ‘wow’ trying to act serious and mature enough to act like it, but the moment she turned around to face Jennifer. It was a whole different story. The brunette was biting the inside of her cheek, grinning softly at her, “What?” The young blonde started chuckling that grew into a fit of laughter, the other girl followed suit. They laughed for a good minute straight, chatting a bit more.

“So uh, can we start over..?” Jennifer asked with a shrug, smiling.

“Sure, why not.” Rachel replied with a slight scoff and smile.

“Hi, I’m Jennifer Mitchell my friends c-”

“Seriously? The whole introduction thing too and-”

“Just do it. Please?”

“Fine..I’m Rachel MetCalf. My friends call me Rach, at least they would if I had any friends.”

It was Jennifer’s turn to scoff and half smile, “Cute. Did you just quote Meg from ‘Hercules’?”

“Well yeah, duh. She’s a cool chick and relatable to me..” Rachel replied with a shrug and smirk.

“Okay, Megara..”

“Yeah no.”

“What? Nicknames it’s for sake! Iceman is already taken.”

“Rachel is just fine.”

“Okay fine.”

“You give everyone a nickname?”

“On occasion.”

“Oh dear god…fine, only one nickname got it? It should be a cool one! Not some lame basic one.”

“Damn okay, yes ma’am.”

She laughed at the older girl reaction. It made her feel comfortable and cool. Honestly she wasn’t half bad in her eyes. Rachel thought that she was warm and sweet, which contrasted her cool and collective self. Yeah she had a friend or two, but this brunette girl was willing to stay up here with her for a while. Yeah sure, it took Linda MetCalf to do so, but still. Usually she was the loner who gave everyone the side eye, then comes on this girl to interrupt her vibe today. Interesting.

The two chatted a bit more. Talked about schools, discussing movies, joked about crushes, watch some YouTubers, and do more things to past the time.

Not gonna lie, Jennifer was glad she went upstairs. The moment she saw the young blonde at the front door, it was smoke in the air! Her mind was racing with ideas to leave the paperwork and get out of there, especially when that glare hit her. Planning to definitely refuse the idea of coming upstairs to actually meet her, meet up with her friends at the mall. But when she got to know the blonde girl, something about this newfound friendship felt good.

The pair were discussing a few new movie trailers when Jen phone vibrate with a call from Rusty, she excused herself real quick to answer it remembering about the mall. She heard that the girls were at the Food Court, just finished showing at Target waiting for her.

Jennifer ended the call, noticing a few missed text messages from her dad as well. Oops. When she returned to the bedroom, she was met with the young MetCalf eyes and soft smile.

“You’re friends?” She asked with small nod.

“And a few missed text messages from dad..” She replied nodding.

“Oof. Tough break, sorry about that.”

“It’s cool. I got hang out with a cool girl anyway.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah your kinda cool.”

“Your playing, I ain’t cool.”

“I would say so, Rachel.”

“Whatever you say, Mitchell.”

Both girls chuckled.

“Walk me out?” Jennifer suggested with a small shrug, pointing at the door.

“Sure.” Rachel reply was quick as she jumped off the bed, leading her down the steps.

—-

——

They chatted some more, greeting Linda midway to the front porch. She smiled at both girls, happy to see they somehow got along. She gave the young Mitchell a slice of pie to go and returned back to the kitchen counter to continue a phone call of hers. Rachel opened the door for her new found friend. Jennifer smiled, giving her a small thanks.

“You know I wasn’t expecting this day to go like this, but I’m glad it did.” Jen says holding the pie in her hands.

Rachel leaned against the door frame, “Yeah, it wasn’t bad. Again, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’m used to it, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s cool, I kinda needed it you know.”

“Yeah. Ohhh how about I swing by again this week and I can take you out?”

“Seriously? T-that’s odd, we just met.”

“So? We’re kinda on good terms and I would like to hang out with you a bit more.”

The blonde smiled hearing that, surprised to see how open this girl was receiving her this whole time. Somehow she liked this annoying ball of sunshine and jokes. The brunette smiled softly as if she can see the gears turn in her head, she was cool with hanging out with someone like her. Somehow she enjoyed the vibe of this bright eyed ball of cool breezes and slightly snarky remarks.

It was that ‘screw off’ attuned attitude towards her, that Jennifer liked for some reason. She wait for a response from the blonde, playing with her necklace.

“Oh right.” Rachel said snapping out if her thought considering her offer, “Sure! Y-yeah we can hang out tomorrow I guess, o-only if your free of course. You seem kinda busy.”

“Nahh girl, I ain’t that busy!” Jennifer replies with a soft chuckle, “I’m usually lounging around or something. So I can definitely hang out tomorrow.”

“G-great! That sounds great, you’ll pick me up?”

“If it’s cool with your grandma and—”

Suddenly the yells of Linda MetCalf was heard, “YES! ITS OKAY WITH ME!..sorry, I was eavesdropping for a moment!”

Both girls laughed at the older woman, nodding at the agreement. Satisfied somehow with this situation of today, it wasn’t planned but it was nice so far. Rachel said her quick goodbyes, giving the brunette her phone number in the process and closed the door. Jennifer nodded as the door was sorta slammed in her face and chuckled running off to her ride.

—-

Thank you for reading this fic! Hope you enjoyed it

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @msrochelleromanofffelton @gcthvile @drspencereidhotch @ohgodnotagainn @morgan108 @topgun-imagines @theloveoftoms @annepsilvaauthor @t-nd-rfoot @withakindheartx @starkleila @buckysteveloki-me @rooster-84 @novavida and etc.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Viper: I have to go out of town for a couple weeks. [points right in Maverick's face]...So whatever you're thinking of doing - don't. Maverick:......OK. (Viper leaves, Maverick turns to Iceman) Maverick(to Ice): Too bad, you probably would've had fun. (Mav slaps Ice on the shoulder and walks away, Ice pauses as he considers what he meant - then realization seems to dawn on him, and Sundown and Chipper burst out laughing)

[k9effect]

Top Gun Winner!Mav and Proud Dad!Vipapa au to heal the soul. You're never too old for your dad to embarrass you publicly!

[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags appreciated]

[bed-wed-behead-your-fave]

CDR Mike "Viper" Metcalf - Top Gun

[avianii]

hes not impressed

[needforspeed161]

Dagger Squad Vibes 💙

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(Iceman is up for a possible promotion from Viper) Iceman:...I got the edge. I know it's not exactly ethical but I sent him a little bribe to tip the scales in my direction. Check it out, you can probably see it from the window. (the guys peek in the window of Viper's office from the hallway) Maverick: Oh, is it that pinball machine with the big bow on it? Iceman:...No. Slider: That new mountain bike? Iceman: No.... Wolfman: Well what did you send? Iceman: ...A basket of mini-muffins. Maverick: But there's a whole table of mini-muffin baskets. Which one did you send? Iceman:...The small one.

[salmonsalad69]

In honor of my lifesize poster of Val Kilmer here's some more music school quotes as incorrect TG and TGM stuff

Ice: "How was your weekend?"

Mav: "Good."

*3 hours later*

Mav: "Today he asked me how my weekend was and I said 'good.' I think I'll marry him."

Goose: "Plants!"

Carole: "Aww, can we go in?"

Goose: "I have like, 20$. That's like, 2 more plant children!"

Slider: "Happy Pride. How is everyone?"

Wolf: "It's October."

Slider: "... Is that not pride? Did someone lie to me?"

Hangman: "What are you again?"

Bob: "A Capricorn."

Hangman: "What country is that?"

Mav: "I love when my equiptment works."

Viper: "What? Did you break something?"

Mav: "Why is that what everyone assumes? I'm extremely loving to all of my stuff. But yes, I completely wrecked it and I'll need another one for tomorrow."

Rooster: "I wrote this next one for a girl I met one time who told me to stop pretending I understood baseball."

Hangman: "... He doesn't understand baseball? I want him. He's such a himbo."