#maverick being a fucking idiot

[kalpeavaris]

Top Gun (1986) and it's many memeable moments pt. 1 thanks to @forumsdackel for feeding me 4K screenshots lmao

[malkaviian]

this is something that came to my mind before i thought of The Whole Thing(tm), but i do think maverick and zachary would get along pretty well if they got to learn each others definition of "love" (read: something sick), considering it is basically the same. now i think is just funny

[lulunothulu]

Hello again!! Back with another request because you blew the first one out of the park 😍 this time could it be reader is a pilot and best friends with both Rooster and Hangman but they’ve been at each other’s throats lately so she decides to get the rest of the group in on a fainting prank she pulls on the two of them to force them to work together just fluffy worried boys

I love this and your brain 😭

“Hurt”

Hangman x Rooster x Reader

“You know next time I want a stupid opinion, I’ll ask for your input,” Rooster spits. The insult slapping Hangman as if it were Rooster’s hand.

“You know I’m right,” Hangman spits back. “You’re being reckless and you’re gonna get someone killed. Focus or get the fuck out of the pilot’s seat. You don’t need to be like your daddy you know.”

“The fuck did you say to me?” Rooster asks, getting in Hangman’s face.

“Woah, woah, hey,” you say, standing between them and holding a palm on each of their chests. “Calm the fuck down.”

“Tell him to calm down,” Hangman tells you.

“Tell him to watch his mouth,” Rooster counters.

These two handsome idiots are your best friends, the best you’d had in a very long time. So to see them arguing for the past two weeks had hurt more than anything.

They’d bicker about everything and anything. Yesterday, it was the fact that Rooster was breathing too close to Hangman’s ear at Hard Deck. The day before that, Hangman’s big mouth said something about Rooster’s dad and how flying with Maverick could get Rooster in the same predicament his dad did—dead.

“Just go take a walk,” you tell them. “Both of you.”

They mutter something under their breathes but they walk away.

“We need to do something about those two,” Phoenix tells you, wrapping and arm over your shoulders.

“You wanna make them box it all out?” Coyote asks.

“Nah, let’s make them drink their livers away and then make them fight,” Fanboy suggests.

“Those are terrible ideas,” you laugh.

“Maybe they’ll come together if something happens to you,” you hear Bob say quietly.

“What was that Bobby?” You ask.

The pilot turns red, looking anywhere but at you before clearing his throat and repeating, “Maybe they’ll come together if something happens to you. You know? If you get hurt?”

You rub your temple, thinking for a second before smiling and planting a kiss on his cheek—making him turn even more red than before.

“Bobby, you’re a genius.”

~*~*~*~*~

A few beers (and a lot of bad ideas) later, you and the rest of the Dagger Squad have a plan set in motion. A plan so great, the two dumbasses will stop fighting all together.

“Okay Bobby, are we ready?” You ask.

“They should be coming in any second,” he tells you.

See, the plan was to make it look like you’d taken a nasty fall and have Rooster and Hangman find you. What you didn’t anticipate was actually falling and getting hurt.

You’d just gotten the signal from Phoenix and Bob when you felt yourself slip from the ladder going into the jet you were set to fly that day.

It felt like a movie the way you fell.

Everyone around you screamed or yelled out. The world around you slowed down and you could see the looks of horror on Hangman and Rooster’s face.

They rushed to you but they were too late. You’d already fallen and hit your head in the concrete floor of the hangar.

“Is she breathing?” Hangman asks, holding your head in a stable position.

“If you would give me a second, I can check.” Rooster tells him harshly. He checks your pulse point on your neck and putting an ear by your mouth before nodding. “Yeah, her heart is pounding and her breathing is shallow. We need to get her to the medic.”

Nodding, Jake lifts you into his arms and begins to race toward the medical room—Rooster on his heels.

“She fell from the ladder going into her jet,” Rooster tells the nurse while Hangman gently places you on the gurney.

“We’ll take her to get some vitals and a CT scan.”

The two aviators fall back, watching as the nurses wheel you to another part of the medical building. Rooster is the one to speak first.

“She terrified me,” he croaks.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Hangman counters.

“Why does everything turn into a fight with you?”

Hangman’s brows raise, a surprised expression taking over his features. “What makes you think I want to be fighting?”

“Because every little thing we do or talk about, turns into us fighting and Y/N stopping us!” He exclaims. He rubs his eyes, plopping himself onto a chair in the waiting room. “I’m just tired of fighting.”

“I am too,” Hangman admits. “Without Y/N to keep us grounded, I don’t know how to control myself. It’s just…god, you get under my skin.”

“Same here,” Rooster smiles.

“I thought we could’ve moved past our issues, especially after you and Mav came back when we thought you both lost…”

“I thought so too.”

They sit in silence, grateful that they can enjoy it before Hangman speaks again.

“I really hope she’s okay,” he whispers, head in his hands.

Rooster turns to face him. He’s shocked. He’d never seen Jake to worry for anyone but himself and maybe occasionally you. He claps his hand to Jake’s shoulder, causing Jake to turn to him.

“She’s gonna be fine, Jake.”

Hangman only nods. He knows if he speaks, the cracking of his voice will give away everything.

No, instead he places a hand on top of Bradley’s and nods—sighing when Bradley squeezes his shoulder in comfort.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours later, you wake up in a dimly lit room. Beeping and the sounds of people whispering in the corner of…wherever you are…float to your ears. You sit up slightly to see Hangman and Rooster standing in the corner in a conversation.

They don’t look like they’re arguing…but you’ve been wrong before.

“Hey,” you groan. “No fighting.”

“Y/N,” they say, coming to your side, each taking one of your hands.

“How are you feeling?” Rooster asks.

“Like I feel off a ladder.” You squeeze their hands and smile. “I guess my plan worked.”

“What plan?” Hangman asks, eyes meeting Rooster’s.

“To get you two to stop fighting,” you tell them. You sigh when they open their mouths to argue with you. “Don’t even try to get out of this. You know you two have been fighting for the past few weeks. I was just tired of hearing it. I didn’t mean to actually get hurt.”

They’re silent for a bit before they smile at each other.

“What?” You ask. You turn to Rooster, eyes narrow. “Bradley?”

“W-what?” He stutters.

“What is it?”

“We talked to Phoenix,” Hangman tells you, making you swing your head to face him.

“Jacob Seresin, you tell me right now.”

“She told us about it your plan,” Bradley cuts in.

“And we’re very sorry we made you have to resort to…this.” Jake finishes.

You look between the two of them in disbelief. “Really?”

“Really,” Bradley nods. “And we’ll try not to fight so much.”

“If you two start it up again, I don’t k know what I’ll do,” you chuckle. “Maybe throw myself off a roof?”

“Please don’t,” Jake laughs.

Ugh… I need a Jake and Bradley

[criesinliess]

━MARCH 2024; susan's recs

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS

━━LUKE CASTELLAN

flatline @indecisivemuch

one year with luke castellan – august 14 with clarisse la rue @tangledinlove

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lighting the fuse might result in a bang @love-that-we-were-in

THE KILLERVERSE @tangledinlove — guys once again, go and read it!!!

EUPHORIA

━━ELLIOT

be quiet for me @itsoutrageouss

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LOCKWOOD & CO

━━ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

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confident @itstopplingdomino

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nightly terrors @crvptidgf

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(not) my girl @obaex

LIFE AS A HOUSE

━━SAM MONROE

first love/late spring @forever--darling

THE ONLY BOY LIVING IN NEW YORK

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photographer @eymie

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

what’s wrong with being confident @munsonluhvr

you're gonna make me fall in love with you @dual1pa

romance is dead, isn’t it? @megxplryxb

season two of "come home" @stevie-petey — go and read it if you still didn’t

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snow storm @eddiemunsonw

━━EDDIE MUNSON

bright eyes; part2 @caxde

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━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

hotter than texas; part2 @tongue-like-a-razor

ANNE WITH AN E

━━GILBERT BLYTHE

truce; distracted @crvptidgf

BRIDGERTON

━━ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

(not so) simple; part2 @atlabeth

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 8 - Final Part)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: slight arguing

words: 3.2k

Summary: Jake has one last try to fix it with you and he was gonna make sure to give it his all. Go big or go home, isn’t that what they say?

a/n: Here it is, the final part of my series. How did we get here? It's crazy! Thank you all SO MUCH for all the likes, reblogs and comments, they mean the world to me!! I hope you like this chapter!

Link to my masterlist

It’s been over a week and you haven’t seen or heard anything from your favorite group. They all had become friends to you and with Hangman, you would also get there eventually.

You got increasingly nervous and as well as Penny tried to hide it, she did too. Maverick being part of the mission seemingly wasn’t planned as to what she had told you and now that he was, made the whole thing even scarier. If they needed someone as experienced as him…you didn’t want to think about what they had to do and where they had to go.

You only knew one thing for sure, you had definitely seen too many action and disaster movies to uphold any state of calm.

Showing up for work and getting through a shift was your only constant right now and you held on to it for dear life. Fuck, you really hadn’t realized how much every single one of those idiots had found their way into your heart.

It was shortly after you had begun your shift on a Thursday when you heard familiar voices coming from the entrance. When you looked up, you saw Rooster first and then the others in their khaki uniforms following him into the bar. Your whole face lit up and you had a bubbly feeling in your stomach.

You got out from behind the bar and ran over to them. “You’re back!”, you exclaimed excitedly and hugged Phoenix first. Then you went on to hug everybody and greeted them with a kiss to the cheek, so happy to see them back in this bar, alive and well.

You looked behind them, searching for Jake but nobody was coming in after them. Your heart sank and you felt a twist in your gut. The smile dropped from your face.

“He’s fine. He’s coming over later”, Rooster eased your mind and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. You wished you weren’t that relieved to hear that because that meant you cared more for Jake Seresin than it was good for you.

“And you’re all fine? Nothing broken, nothing missing?”, you asked them and checked their faces for bruises and their bodies for any missing parts. “We’re all good”, Rooster laughed off your concerns. “But we’re all quite thirsty”, Fanboy stepped forward. “Of course, come with me”, you smiled and motioned them to follow you. Rooster put an arm around your shoulders and you placed your arm around his middle as you walked to the bar circle together.

“First round tonight is on me for our heroes”, you said as they all lined up at the counter and you grabbed bottle after bottle of beer, placing them in front of each one.

It got quite busy quite quickly at the Hard Deck and at the moment, you handled the circle alone. What would have led to a complete meltdown on your part just a few weeks ago, you now handled with some sort of grace and calm. At least you’d liked to think so.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched a man in a suit taking a seat at the counter, looking already annoyed. He looked so out of place here that it was almost funny.

"Hey, get me a scotch", he demanded more so than he asked. No please, no smile, whatsoever.

"I'll be right with you", you told him and didn't let his tone get to you. You were in the middle of serving a group of ten and had your hands full.

"How long is this going to take?", he called out in your direction after waiting for just 2 seconds. "Just a second", you said as politely as you could and even shot him a kind smile which was met by furrowed brows and a more than annoyed expression on his face.

"Hey girl, can I get another round for the table?", Rooster appeared at the counter next to you, using the nickname he had heard Phoenix and you use for each other. "Sure, just a moment", you told him, knowing he would have no problem waiting.

"Hey, lady. How much longer for my drink? What kind of service do you offer in this joint?", he asked full on angry.

You looked over at the suit, ready to say something to him, but then you saw his phone laying on the counter and had a better idea.

You looked over at Rooster who had followed your eyes over to that douchebag and then looked at you. You gave him a wink and then walked over to the sign Penny had hung up.

“May I divert your attention here for a moment?”, you asked him and gestured elegantly at the sign like you were the prize lady at a game show.

You gave him a few seconds while his eyes flew over the words carved into the wooden plague before you rang the bell.

A cheer erupted across the bar. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, he asked in an intimidated yet aggressive tone. “Means you’re paying a round for the whole place”, Rooster appeared next to the suit. Without a word you handed him a bottle of beer.

“Much appreciated”, he toasted the guy with a smirk. “I’m not paying for shit!”, the guy exclaimed with furrowed brows. You looked over at Rooster with a satisfied grin. You had expected that answer.

“Overboard?”, he asked. “Overboard”, you confirmed with a little nod. “Ah, I always wanted to say that: Hold my beer!”, he exclaimed excitedly and handed you the bottle. Rooster whistled and motioned to the pool table and was quickly joined by Payback and Coyote.

You rang the bell once more and he called out “OVERBOARD!”. The whole room joined in on the chant. The guy’s face changed from rage to honest concern as the three tall men surrounded him. They grabbed his arms and legs and carried him out the back door to the deck and threw him into the sand.

“Come back when you found your manners”, you called after him and laughed as you watched him getting flung off the deck.

When you turned around, you found yourself face to face with Hangman and froze, but only for a second. “Same goes for you”, you told him as the smile dropped from your face, sure that he had just witnessed the moment before.

You looked him up and down, checking for any bruises or injuries but you gladly didn’t find any, just like Rooster had told you earlier.

You thought that him being gone for over a week would ease your mind about the whole situation, assuring yourself that you had found your inner peace with Jake and his stupidity. But no. Right when you saw his face, it all came back to you.

You wanted to walk to the other side of the bar circle but Jake’s hand reached over the counter, grabbing your arm. “Wait, Y/N, can we talk?”, he asked with a hopeful expression on his face. You looked at his hand on your arm and then up to his face. “You’ll be next if you don’t let go”, you said with a nod towards where the suit had landed in the sand. He let go of your arm and held his hands up, showing that he would play along.

"We already talked", you told him and walked half the circle to the other end of the bar. Jake followed you. "We're not done", he told you in return. "Oh, we're so done", you said and Jake heard the double meaning in your words.

“Listen, I’m glad you’re okay, I really am, but turns out, I’m still mad at you”, you told him straight out.

He took a deep breath before he walked around the edge of the counter and behind the bar.

"Y/N, I need you to listen to me", he said and his voice had an urgent undertone.

"Hangman, what have I told you about being behind that bar?", you heard Penny behind you, who had appeared out of nowhere.

"I just need two minutes", Jake told her and the pleading look in his eyes made her tolerate his presence behind the counter. For now. She turned away and took care of the customers waiting for their drinks.

"You got two minutes", you told him as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. He just looked at you, seemingly lost for words all of a sudden.

"119, 118...", you started counting backwards. "Okay, okay", he stopped you by holding his hands up in defense. “I was acting like an idiot”, he said and paused. “I’m not disagreeing”, you told him as he didn’t continue talking right away.

“But so were you”, he said and you looked at him with big eyes at the unexpected words. “Excuse me?”, you asked in disbelief, putting your hands on your hips.

“You said you were over it which was clearly a lie. And then you go on to say that we would just go back to being a bartender and a customer, which is bullshit. We are friends. And as a friend I messed up, I know that. And I will never stop apologizing for it, but…”, he suddenly stopped himself in his tirade.

You just looked at him with big eyes, your heart beating faster with his every word.

“When I was away, I thought about you constantly. And when the mission went well, you were the first person I wanted to call. And I finally realized that I…I, uhm…”, he paused again, seemingly mustering up the courage which was an odd state to see Hangman in.

You just looked at him, holding your breath, not daring to speak.

“Y/N, I want to be more than friends with you”, he finally said and it felt like time stood still for a moment. Your eyes focused in on his and the pleading look that was in them and the hopeful smile on his lips took your breath away.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted it so bad. But with everything that had happened between the two of you and also everything that had happened to you in your past, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Jake”, you said and the almost apologizing tone in your voice made the smile drop from his face.

“You don’t believe me”, he said, a resigned tone in his voice. “I mean, how could I? You kiss me and the next day you act like you don’t even know me? How’s a girl supposed to feel with something like that?”, you told him and hoped that this was explanation enough.

“And my words don’t matter?”, he asked in return. You just looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“Your time is up, Hangman”, Penny called out from the other end and she didn’t know how right she was.

“I’m sorry”, now it was your turn to apologize. It surprised you how much turning him down actually hurt you. It should make you feel better, make you feel somewhat empowered but it didn’t.

You turned around and walked over to a new customer sitting at the counter. “Hi, what can I get…”, you started.

“Hey! Can I have everybody’s attention for a moment?”, you heard Jake behind you, yelling to tune out the chatter and laughter in the bar.

When you turned around, you found him standing on the bar counter. Your eyes got big and a shocked expression washed over your face.

“Hi, I’m Jake. Most of you know me as Hangman”, he began and the people around quieted down bit by bit. Someone even unplugged the jukebox.

“What the hell are you doing?”, you quickly came over and hissed at him, but he ignored you.

“Everybody that knows me knows that I can be a real asshole sometimes”, he continued. “Yeah, no shit”, Rooster called out from the back and some people chuckled.

“Thanks, Rooster”, he nodded in his direction. “But I really messed up this time because I was stupid enough to hurt this beautiful woman right here”, he said and pointed to you by his feet.

Your cheeks turned bright red as you found the whole bar looking at you.

“Jake, get down there. You're embarrassing yourself. But most importantly, me”, you hissed at him, grabbing his ankle. You would have loved nothing more than to just yank him off this bar and end this charade.

“She doesn’t believe me that I actually like her and I can’t blame her for it. But I need her to understand that I really do like her, very much”, he said and looked at you with a hand on his heart when he said it.

Normally, you would have rolled your eyes at a cheesy gesture like that but for the first time ever in your life, a cheesy gesture happened to you. It felt like you had an outer-body experience, watching yourself watching Hangman. This wasn’t actually happening to you, was it?

“And that’s why I’m using this, arguably, very drastic move to officially ask you to please go out on a date with me?”, he asked.

You knew that every single pair of eyes in this room were looking at you right now and you never hated Jake more than this moment. You loathed being the center of attention and for him to put you on blast like that…

But at the same time, you thought about the fact that never in your life had someone done something like that for you.

“Come on, Y/N, say yes”, you heard someone from the back of the room. Probably Coyote. “Say yes”, you heard someone else from the other side. You glared up at Jake, chewing the inside of your cheek. He looked back at you with a hopeful expression.

“Will you finally come down if I say yes?”, you asked loudly so that the people could hear it. “Then, and only then”, he said and a smile played around his lips.

“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you”, you finally agreed. “She said yes!”, he called out with a big smile and the whole place erupted into cheers.

“Good god”, you mumbled under your breath and felt your cheeks burning.

Jake hopped off the counter and stood next to you. Someone plugged the jukebox back in and the room was filled with music again. The chatter started back up and in a matter of seconds the bar was back to its old self.

“You know you’re crazy”, you said. “Crazy about you”, he said and put his hands on your hips, pulling you in a little bit. For some reason, you let him. A flutter moved through your stomach. Your arms automatically flung around his neck.

It felt like your stomach was full of butterflies. What was happening right now? Five minutes ago, you were mad at him and now you’re swooning?

“But you realize how embarrassing that was? For both of us”, you told him off.

“You’ve said you liked gestures”, he countered. You were surprised that he remembered what you had told him when you were trapped here in this bar on that stormy night.

“Small gestures like remembering the flowers I like or how I drink my coffee”, you reminded and lectured him at the same time.

He rolled his eyes at you playfully, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and then back at you.

“How do you like your coffee?”, he asked with a smile. “Nonexistent. I don't drink coffee”, you answered him and patted his chest with your hand before you stepped out of his embrace, attempting to get back to work.

“But you just said...”, he said in disbelief. "It was an example, Jake. Good god! Normally you're a bit quicker than that”, you teased him and couldn’t hold back the chuckle.

He reached out with his hand, hooked two fingers in the hem of your apron that was tied around your waist and pulled you close to him.

“You’re killing me”, he said and a smirk played around his lips. “A girl can try”, you shrugged your shoulders and shot him a wink and a grin before he bent down and kissed you.

The smile was wiped off you face rather quickly. He managed to surprise you one more time tonight.

You heard some cheers in the faint background but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You flung your arms around his neck again, sinking into his embrace. You felt his hands roaming your back and you got on your tiptoes to be even closer to him.

“Alright, alright, enough with the show”, you heard behind you and reluctantly let go of Jake. He smiled at your lips before he let go as well to find Penny standing next to you.

“As lovely as this is, you’re still behind my bar”, she said to Jake. “And you are actually working right now”, she added towards you. The smile on her face took the harshness out of her words.

“Sorry, Penny”, you said and smiled apologetically. She looked at the two of you once more before she got back to the other end of the circle.

“Are you free this Saturday?”, he asked as he walked out behind the counter and leaned against it on the other side, giving you a big smile. You both felt giddy from your kiss.

“I doubt I get a Saturday off. How about a Tuesday-date? Those seem to work for us”, you asked and reminded him of the stormy night after you had met in the diner where you had your date with Joseph. You pulled a beer out of the cooler, opened it and moved it over to Jake.

“Sounds like a plan”, he agreed and grabbed his drink with a wink. Before he was able to walk over to his friends at the pool table, you reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him close to your face.

“Don’t make me regret this, Hangman”, you told him with a low voice and pressed a quick peck to his lips before you shoved him back with a smirk. “Never”, he shook his head with a smile and winked at you again before he walked over to the pool table.

“You can take your 10 if you want”, Penny appeared next to you again. She was really quick on her feet tonight. Or you were just super distracted.

When you looked over to her you saw her gesturing towards Hangman who was talking to Rooster. Right when you looked over, so did he and his face lit up immediately, giving you another wink.

You thought about it for a second then a smile appeared on your face.

“He got his date. He can wait”, you told her and in response, she bumped her hips into yours with a chuckle and attended to some new customers.

You resumed to handing out drinks as well and got about 3 customers done until you suddenly looked up in nervous realization.

You had agreed to go on a date with Jake Hangman Seresin. How the hell did that happen?

a/n: You really thought I would let you guys hanging here? Well, you should know me better by now.

YOU WILL GET THE DATE!

Part 1 - the restaurant

[enditen]

birds of a feather

summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.

word count: 4090ish.

rating: m

warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.

pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )

author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader

You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.



“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.

“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.



“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”



“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”



The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.

It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.



He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.



Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck. 



“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse. 



“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”

You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.



That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.



"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.



Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.



"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."



"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."



Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.



"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "



A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"



You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.



"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."



"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."



The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."



If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."



You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."

Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.



This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.



It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.



You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.



His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.



Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.



"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."



Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.



"I—" He starts before you shake your head.



"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.



"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."



You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"



You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"



A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."



His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"



You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"



His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.

The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.



"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."



"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.



"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."



"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"



"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"



"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"



"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"



"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."



A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."



You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"



A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.



He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.



"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.



A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"



"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."



You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."



What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.



You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.



"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.



You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.



"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.



"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."



He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."



You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."



"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."

[thewulf]

Fool || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Can you write something about hangman x pilot!reader? also make it super fluffy? not a specific request I know, but I've having trouble finding new things to read. thank you!!

A/N: Okay! This was a BLAST to write! TY for the request!! Love my main man. This turned out way more angsty and spicy(ish) than I imagined but I think you'll love it. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4.2k +

“You can’t be fucking serious Seresin.” You nearly growled as you watched Hangman roll to the right after you expressly told him not to fucking roll to the right. He was supposed to stay straight ahead and head back to the aircraft carrier. But did he listen? No, he did not. His stupid big ass cocky brain would never take any advice. Soon enough it could cost him his life. One of these days it could really hurt him.

You heard him laugh. Laugh! The balls on that man were something else, “Don’t worry Wolfie. I’ll be just fine.”

You shook your head following as closely behind as you could. You heard your WSO, Beamer, curse behind you as you pressed your jet on further, faster. She could do it. You knew her limits. It’s what Maverick trained you for. You were built for this. Ready for this.

“What’s wrong?” You continued looking for Hangman, but he was going just as fast as you were.

“Bogies ahead. Six o’clock. Two of them.” Beamer shouted from behind you spotting something on the radar.

“I don’t think they’re friendly Beamer. Fuck, Hangman, did you copy?” You gunned it trying your hardest to catch up, but the motherfucker had other plans.

“What’s that?” You could practically hear the smirk dripping off his face with that comment alone. It took everything in your not to scream at the idiot of a man. You needed to get the hell over there to help him, but he was moving so god damn fast in the other direction. You’d never be able to catch him. Faster it was.

“Not friendly! Bandits! Six and eight Hangman!” Beamer shouted back in just as much frustration you seemed to be in. He didn’t have a back seater letting him know when objects were incoming. He was flying into what looked to be a trap.

“Shit.” You heard a pause before all hell broke loose on his end, “Wolf, got one on my ass.” He grunted.

“I’m on my way.” Panic rose through your chest, but you couldn’t freak out. Not yet anyway. This is when you needed to relax. Focus on the problem. The bandits. You needed to take the bastard that was following Hangman out. Calm down. Slow your heartbeat. Speed up. You could do this.

“Beamer, where are they?” You asked seemingly losing sight of them once you made it through the cloud bank. Where in the hell was that second bandit?

“20 degrees to your left, now!” He answered quickly forcing you to divert left. You dove seeing the planes up ahead. F-18 vs F-18 Super Hornet, it was up to the best pilot now. You gulped kicking up your speed even faster. Ignoring the grunt of your WSO you knew he was likely being flown into something bad. Hurry Wolf. Hurry. You pressed forward even faster. 690 knots ticketed upwards of 700 knots. You were blazing through the atmosphere. It was a damn good thing he was flying low, or you wouldn’t have been able to catch up.

710 knots. That was officially the fast you’ve ever flown. It didn’t seem like enough though. Like you weren’t going to make it soon enough.

“Hangman! Bank right 45 degrees.” You yelled knowing it’d give you a little more of a chance to catch up.

Thank God he actually fucking listened to you this time. His jet turned forcing the other F-18 to overshoot a bit. You knew the plan and had already been banking giving you the perfect shot on the enemy jet.

“Lock on Beamer!” You were yelling at your wizzo now. Sweat poured down your face as you maneuvered into a better position to help him lock onto the clueless pilot.

"Target locked!" He pressed on the second you heard the lock sound.

“Firing missiles.” As quickly as he spoke your hands were hitting the joy sticks. One second. Two. Three and then four.

“Target hit!” Beamer yelled out in joy seeing one of the missiles land dead on. You let out a sigh of relief seeing the other pilot was able to eject on time. As fucked up as everything was you never wanted to take a life. You’d always prayed they’d make it out in time. You’ve taken three jets down now. Tied with Jake. You saw two eject. You pretended the third did.

The celebration didn’t last for too long when you heard your jet being locked on, “Fuck.” You grumbled immediately heading for a nosedive. There was that second bandit. In hindsight you probably should’ve took your jet straight up, not down. You didn’t have much air space left to utilize at such a low altitude.

“Wolfie! 30 degrees to your right.” Hangman didn’t elaborate any further.

You had to trust him. That was rule number one in the field. Always trust your wingman and vice versa. Listening to him you punched it after leveling out and turning your joystick to the right.

“Shit, missed the shot.” Hangman grumbled, “Keep flying, I’ll come back around.”

“Hang on.” You spoke to Beamer after hearing his miss. Pressing the throttle all the way forward you nearly stalled the engines that were starving for the oxygen rich air.

“What are you doing?” Your WSO nearly gasped hearing almost every alarm on the jet ring simultaneously. You were going to starve the fucking engines if you didn’t move soon.

You smiled knowing this move was saved for very special occasions, “A move Maverick taught me.”

“Oh Christ.” He closed his eyes knowing whatever was about to happen wouldn’t be good for him. You were probably going to bend the damn air frame or something crazy like that. Mav tried to teach everybody. You were just one of the few who actually tried his bat shit insane moves.

“Relax B.” You grinned punching it once you saw the enemy jet fly by you.

“I’m going to throw up.” You could hear the sarcasm on his voice. He grunted as his butt hit the seat after floating for far too long.

You laughed pushing your jet once again. 620 knots. 630. 640. Come on baby. Let’s get moving.

“You’re about as well trained as Hangman up here. Puking over a little g-force?” You snickered to yourself knowing you could gut punch the both of them. Two birds one stone or whatever they say.

“Hey!” You heard both of them shout in unison. Men. They were just too fucking easy.

690 knots. 700. You heard Beamer groan from the back seat. You were really putting him through it on this mission weren’t you? A little bit more and you’d be able to shoot that jet down too. 710.

The smile adorning your face probably looked maniacal. But you didn’t care. You entered into another zone when you were in the air. It was kill or be killed in the air. Notably when you were in a dogfight. The odds were even higher.

“Target locked!”

You barely heard your wizzo before you fired for the jet ahead.

“Target hit!” He yelled in triumph. You slowed down before making a turn looking for a parachute. For anything. Kill number four. Ahead of Jake. One behind Mav. Two kills in one run. That was pretty damn remarkable. You heard muffled cheers in your ears but didn’t see a parachute. Four kills. Two chutes. Two nothings. Did that make you a killer?

“What the fuck was that?” You tossed your helmet to the side walking towards him. Charging towards him really. He just got you so damn worked up. The fucking idiot he was. A dumb arrogant idiot asshole. Now, you just needed to say it to his face.

He cocked his head to the side, “Thought I had him.” A slow smile spreading over his face seeing you so worked up.

You would’ve loved to punch him square in the nose, but you were on the carrier. In the middle of the ocean. That was the dumbest thing you could probably do. You weren’t even looking for a fucking thanks. Just an apology would be nice, “You’re such a…” You scrunched your nose up once you got to him. He was taller than you, by a lot. Still didn’t intimidate you. But you had to look up to him, quite literally.

His smirk grew, “Yes, doll? I’m a what?”

Shaking your head your pointed your finger right as his chest, “Fool. Jake Seresin. You’re such a damn fool.” You nearly hissed before spun around walking back for your helmet. You’d probably need to get that checked out. You threw it down pretty hard in your fit of rage.

In all your time working with him had you been so angry with the man. Hell, you’d even respected him a tad before this mission. The two of you were never close but you seemed to work well together, train well together. You knew his type and you were able to deal with it.

“Hey there! Slow down.” He grabbed your arm gently before your yanked it right back from him, “Have you been watching those sappy love drama movies? What’s it called? Pride and something? Fool. Who says that?” You felt the blood inside you boiling now. He really knew how to push it.

Giving him an almost bewildered look, you answered him, “Can you take anything seriously?” It was evident you were more than angry now. He knew he needed to tone down the jokes.

He put his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry then.” He didn’t look sorry. Words meant nothing to you. Words were useless without action. Pointless. Words got people killed. Actions did too but words always stung worse.

You shook your head not accepting his apology, “For what Hangman? What are you actually sorry for?” It wasn’t the anger that got to him it was the sheer look of disappointment that crossed your eyes that made him reevaluate everything.

“I’m sorry you got chased.” He sounded unsure of his reply. Like he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for. Did he? Did he know why you were so upset? He didn’t. He didn’t have a clue.

You rolled your eyes before walking away again. You had to give him a bit of credit though, he sure kept tying, “You just don’t get it.” You sighed walking towards the locker rooms. At least there you’d get a reprieve from the arrogant man.

He panicked and followed you, “Get what?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You weren’t like the other guys in your squadron. You loved flying but you hated killing. Hated the thought of taking somebody away from their families. It hurt you. Destroyed you. You thought about leaving for just that reason. And today? You’d probably killed a man or woman. Maybe even two. You never actually knew. And it was for nothing. It shouldn’t have happened. If he would’ve just listened to you the bandits wouldn’t have even spotted you. All that for naught.

“You think I like taking jets down? Killing people? Do you seriously think that I find enjoyment out of that? It makes me sick when I have to do things like that. That could’ve been somebodies dad. Somebodies daughter. Who the fuck knows Jake? I don’t. I never will. And now they’re just gone?” You were whisper shouting now. You’d never admitted anything like this to anybody. Not even your family. No therapist, military or civilian knew either. They didn’t need to know. So, you didn’t tell them. Not a soul, “If you just would have fucking listened to me I wouldn’t have had to do that!” Your voice was shaky now as you took off for the locker rooms. Tears on the edge of spilling over. You peered around thankful nobody was in ear shot. It was never a good thing to cry at work. You had like fifteen minutes before you had to report back for debrief. Fifteen minutes to get it the fuck together.

Jake just stood there as you dashed away. He could’ve followed but he knew you needed your space. You looked so hurt. So betrayed. He walked over to the locker room waiting for you to come out. You had to come out at some point.

He grabbed you when you walked out of the locker room. Your allowed yourself to cry for a few moments before you snapped it back together. You just hoped it didn’t show in your eyes.

It did. Jake saw it through your tear stained cheeks and your red rimmed eyes. He frowned feeling awful, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” You refused to look at him. You were still upset. You’d be upset for a little bit before you’d shake it off. It’s not like you had a choice. You’d have to fly with him again. You would have to figure this out at some point.

He looked down hearing the icy snap coming from you. You weren’t usually so forward with your emotions. Usually, you were cool calm and collected one. The one that fell in line. The one who knew her place was limited as a woman, and she needed to be strategic about it.

“Either say something or let me go. We’ve got a debriefing to get to.”

He snapped out of it, “They’ll wait on us, come on.” He took your hand without a second thought guiding you to the side of the carrier. He was smart, not many people came over here. There was a very low chance of getting caught back here. You let him guide you without much thought. You were afraid to admit how much his touch had an effect on you. It felt like there was a fire ignited in your fingertips creeping up your arm.

You didn’t want to admit that’s also why you were so worked up. You didn’t know how to tell the man that you had a rather large crush on him. How you wanted to be the one he flirted with at the bars. How you wanted to be the one he was so dead set on kissing at the end of the night. Who he got to take home. You wanted it. You and only you.

Only problem is you were you. You were one of the dudes. Wolfie. You’d gotten your call sign because you were all bark and all bite. You followed through. Tough as a wolf backed against a wall. You were flattered, truly. But it made you a guy. Not a girl. Not somebody he would think of. You’d probably be better off if you just cut it off altogether with Navy men and went for a civ guy. It’d be easier. Less games.

His expression softened seeing you in the anxious state you were in. You really didn’t like conflict. You didn’t enjoy being mad at people. You were a simple girl who liked resolution. It wasn’t like you get so angry, “Look, Y/N…” He sighed. He wasn’t good at this either. Sure, Hangman was a persona but owning up to mistakes that could’ve cost you your life? That was tough.

“I fucked up Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. I overestimated my abilities. I could’ve gotten you hurt. I could’ve gotten shot down. It was dumb. And I put you in an awful spot. I’m so sorry. Truly.” He rambled off quickly.

Your eyes narrowed as your searched for any sort of sarcasm, “You mean it?”

He nodded his head looking away from you, “Yeah. I messed up.”

Unfolding your arms from your chest you gave him a curt nod, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked at you with a newfound hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine. Don’t do it again you dumb arrogant asshole.” A small smile crept over your lips letting him know you were just teasing. There was some hint of truth there though. He was a dumb arrogant asshole in that moment.

He pulled you into a hug. One that was different than the normal ones he gave you. This one was more meaningful. More thoughtful. He squeezed you a little bit tighter than he ever had before. Pulled you into his chest just a touch harder. He held you a little bit longer than usual.

“Thank you for saving my ass.” He whispered once he let you go from his embrace.

“I got your back. Any day. Any night. You know that Seresin.”

He nodding pulling you back in. How had he not seen it before? How had he not seen the treasure that you were right in front of his face. God, you were striking. You were everything he needed in a life partner. You were incredibly smart, so self-assured, beautiful beyond words, wittier than he could ever imagine, made him smile when he needed it, knew the right words too say… he was a dumb arrogant asshole. He liked you. Hell, he might’ve already fallen in love with you without even realizing it.

“Seeing that bandit chase you down was awful. And then when I missed… I’m so sorry. I failed you in every way.” You’d never heard Jake so sincere. Never heard him admit to so many fuck ups. It made you feel things you hadn’t ever before for him. Like he wasn’t just that fucking dickhead persona. There might’ve been a decent human being under the character you were sure he was playing.

You shrugged. Trying to play it off. You were never scared. You were determined to be the best in that moment. You had to be the best in that moment, or it could be you at the bottom of the ocean. A shiver ripped down your spine at the thought. It hit you sometimes just how damn dangerous your job was.

“It’s fine. Just listen next time? Okay?” It felt like for once you were actually getting through to the man. It’d been so surface level in the half a year you’d been stationed with him. This was a surprise, a pleasant one though.

“You got it Wolfie.” He smiled letting his hand drop from your shoulder. You really liked how it felt there. Not that you’d admit it.

“Let’s go. We gotta go get our asses chewed out by Cyclone.” You sighed not looking forward to it. It was supposed to be a simple bombing. Get it and get out. Clearly, that didn’t happen and now he probably had to do a lot more paperwork than he was expecting. Shooting down two enemy fighter jets was more serious than you would think. You were surely going to get interviewed over it.

“Don’t worry doll. I’ll take the heat.” He pushed you forward by placing his fingertips to the small of your back. You thanked your lucky stars you were in your flight suit, and he couldn’t see sheer amount of goosebumps that exploded across your body from his touch. God, how embarrassing. He didn’t even have to try, and you were already weak.

“You better. It was your fault after all.” You countered feeling more and more like yourself as you talked it out with Jake. This was the guy you had a mad crush on. Jake. Not Hangman. Jake Seresin, the cowboy from Texas.

He shook his head with a growing smile on his face, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” It slipped out so quickly Jake wasn’t sure if he actually said it. But there it was. It was out there now. You had to have known how adorable he really found you.

Your head whipped around quickly giving him your own version of a smirk, “You think?”

He had a choice. Play it off or go all in. He had hardly thought this was how his day was going to go. He didn’t even know he really liked you like that earlier this morning. Now here he was ready to admit to it? What in the hell was even happening? But who was he kidding? He’d be flat out lying to deny it. He wasn’t a liar.

“Know so.” He shot you a wink before grabbing a loop on your flight suit to keep you on pace with him. Fuck it. He’d decided he was going all in on you now. Might as well step his flirting game up with you while he was at it.

You were so shocked by his admission you hadn’t even realized the smooth ass move he pulled by literally pulling you along with him. The move was so confident you were practically on your knees already. He looked over seeing your dazed expression.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, “What’s the matter darlin’? Cat got your tongue?” He dropped his hand from the loop so close your chest.

You didn’t drop your eyes from his hand that had pulled you along with him, “No. Just thinking.”

“What about?” He raised his eyebrows challenging you. He was clearly feeling a whole lot better. He was laying it on thick.

“Work.” It wasn’t a lie. He was work. He was all you were able to think about.

He smirked as he knowingly brushed his hand along yours. God he was a pro. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, “Sure doll. I think you’re lying though. You were thinking about me.”

You shook your head quickly not daring to draw your hand away, “In your dreams Seresin.”

He ran his index finger along your pinky, taking any touch he could get, “What if I told you I dreamed about you last night?”

“Shut up.” You didn’t believe him as you pressed on.

“Got me thinking about you doll.” His long strides kept pace with your quicker shorter ones. He wasn’t letting you walk away from this one. Lucky for him it was at least a ten-minute walk to the captains office where you’d debrief. Plenty of time to get you admitting some feelings he knew you had. Not with those emotions he’d seen earlier.

“I said shut up Jake.” Rolling your eyes, you willed yourself to get to the captains office faster. He was so much taller it didn’t matter. You could be sprinting, and he’d still be right by your side.

He ignored you, “Thinking about how smart you are. How often you kick my ass. How often you save my ass.” His eyes lingered in your at that last statement.

“What are you doing?” You stopped looking at him desperately. What was he doing? Was he going to blow this whole nonexistent relationship up? It’s not like you were the best of friends to begin with. Casual acquaintances. Training enemies. Mission buddies who were far more successful than not. The two of you were dancing on something that was hardly even there.

He shrugged, “Telling you the truth.”

“Why?” You took a step back boxing yourself against the wall.

“Why not?” He took a step closer pinning you against the wall placing either hand next to your face. It was so silent you could’ve sworn he could hear the gulp you took trying to regain some composure. What in the hell was even happening right now? Sure, you’d been crushing on him for what feels like just as long as you’ve known him there’d been no sort of indication he’d had any inkling of interest.

“Anyway,” He only grinned seeing your face. You looked starstruck. Like you couldn’t believe what he was doing. Hell, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. He hadn’t even really properly thought it through. But he good feeling about it. A really fucking good feeling about it, “As I was saying. I was thinking about how fucking pretty you really are. Especially when you wear that yellow sundress. You’re a vision, Y/N.” He was so close. So, so close.

Your head spun with his scent and that admission. He smelled so fucking good. A mix of wood and cinnamon. It mixed with his natural musk oh so well. If you weren’t in the middle of the open you’d probably jump right on him intending to rip that suit right off of him. But you couldn’t those thoughts right now. Not when you were about to get your head chewed off. You were ten minutes late already. That was already a hole you had begun to dig yourself.

You looked from one of his eyes to the next. The overwhelming feeling to lean up and kiss his him was starting to take hold. What in the hell was the matter with you?

“Didn’t your momma teach you that lying’s bad?” You whispered. It was a way to ask for confirmation without straight up asking for it. A way for him to deny it for the lie it was.

He shook his head quickly, “I never lie. ‘Specially not to you doll face.”

Your mouth dried slightly. Your lips parted to respond before they closed. Cat really did get your tongue now, “Thank you, Jake.” You could hardly hear your whisper. But he sure did.

“Anytime darlin’. Now let’s go. Get this shit over with.” He took your hand in his once more. He wasn’t planning on dropping it until he got to that door.

He watched as you walked in. Fool. That’s exactly what he was. He was a damned fool not to see you right there in front of him. But he knew one thing. He wouldn’t let you slip away now that he knew what he had. You. He planned to make you the fool’s girlfriend soon. Very, very soon.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @dempy

[airlocksandaviaries]

Pete Maverick Mitchell had absolutely no right being that much of a cutie pie in Top Gun 1986. “Gee I crack myself up ☺️” “Maybe buzzing the tower wasn’t such a bright idea 🥺” “Let’s Go!! 😃” “she’s lost that lovin feeling Goose, she’s lost it 🥰”

Pete. PETE. What the fuck. What the actual fucking hell. Stop fucking doing that or I swear to god I’m going to kiss your stupid fuckign adorable idiot face. Bitch

[film-in-my-soul]

Hey!! For the a ship, a trope, a sentence ask game: How about Icemav - accidental secret realtionship with "you guys walked in on us in the locker room, more than once, how did you not know?"

Maverick is nervous. He knows, realistically, that he shouldn't be. DADT had been repealed, Slider did a whole coming out thing for his niece the year before, hell, Maverick's seen Wolf with his hands down Holly's pants. But still, this is different. This clarifies that what he's got with Ice is here to stay, not a relative (well-loved as she is) or a hook-up when it's easy.

A hand slots into Maverick's, a body saddling up next to his in the bar booth. The hand is large, familiar, and heavier with the weight of the ring he'd slipped down Ice's fourth finger without complaint. It slides away just as quickly, old habits worn into the other man, but Maverick doesn't complain, not when Ice puts that same hand on Maverick's thigh.

"Could feel your leg shaking all the way from the door."

Maverick scoffs. "Sure you could."

Ice knocks their shoulders together and doesn't leave space between them when he settles again. It makes Maverick smile, opening his mouth to tease again when Slider's loud and unmistakable voice draws his attention.

"Alright, break it up, love birds," he slides into the space across from them, Hollywood hot on his heels.

"Where's Wolf?"

Slider rolls his eyes, and Hollywood winces.

"Might have accidentally told him the wrong day. He and Cindy took the kids to dinner."

Maverick kicks the other man under the table and doesn't look sorry when Hollywood yelps. All his previous nerves slip, and he pushes menus towards the new arrivals, waiting until their food's put in and they have drinks to try and broach why he and Ice have gathered them.

When he can't manage, picking at the corner of his bottle, Slider sighs.

"Alright, you two gonna tell us what this is all about? Cause if I gotta learn Maverick knocked up some Admiral's daughter, I'm making you pay my part of the bill."

And somehow, Slider's ability to shit talk right through a thick atmosphere has Maverick's tongue loosening.

"Ice and I are gettin' hitched." He doesn't even need to drag Ice's hand out with the simple silver engagement band, the man at his side doing it himself with a raised brow like he's daring either of the other men to say something about it.

They don't, though arguably it's worse than if they had. Hollywood spits out the beer he'd been sipping, and Slider's jaw drops damn near to the table.

"You-"

"I'm sorry, what-"

"When the hell did all this happen?" Slider settles on, waving a hand between Maverick and Ice. It makes Maverick's brows furrow, but Ice drops his arm over his shoulder, too, so what minor irritation had been forcing that expression smooths out, leaving only blatant confusion.

"What the hell do you mean?" There's a bit to Maverick's tone.

"Hey," Holly says, finally done choking, "it's not that we're not happy for you guys, hell yeah, marriage and all that, but... just... isn't it a bit fast?"

It's Maverick's turn for his mouth to slacken. He'd say they're fucking with them, but honestly, Hollywood's a shit liar, and Slider would have made some crack about them being married already.

"Are you both saying you didn't know?" Ice asks, drawing Maverick's eyes to him. He's unsurprised to see an equal amount of surprise pinching Ice's lips into a downturned line.

"I mean... we haven't seen you both in a while." Slider hedges, shrugging, and Maveirk's had just about enough. He throws up his hands.

"We've been together since '92!" comes his exclamation, "You guys walked in on us in the locker room more than once. How did you not know?"

Slider is the one who chokes this time, and Hollywood, flush high on his cheeks, probably remembering something he ought to have forgotten grimaces.

"Whoops?"

Maverick feels even less bad slamming the toe of his boots into the other man's calf a second time.

What a bunch of idiots.

[needforspeed161]

Just seen this on TikTok and- AHHHH IM CRYING ABOUT THESE OLD GAY PILOTS AGAIN. So I wrote a quick little Drabble!

“Maverick”

The brunette turned, setting down a grease covered wrench as he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

Ducking below the wing of his beloved P-51 he’d been busting his ass to work on.

“Who is it dad?” Bradley’s head poked around the opposite side of the plane as he fixed his mustache.

“Tom-….what’r…..” the shorter man was interrupted by a pair of arms coming out to hug him tightly. As soft sobs were left in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“Hey Tom….its okay, what’s going on?”

“Uncle Ice?” Bradley cocked his head, concerned bubbling in his stomach as he seen the picture laid out before him.

“Hey baby bird, could you grab your uncle some water? He’s gonna need it” Mav asked, and so Bradley was off, heading into the trailer parked inside the hangar that Maverick called home.

“Cmon Tommy, talk to me” he muttered, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I’m so sorry….I’m sorry I wasted so much time, I feel so stupid!” Ice spit out, coughing into his elbow before meeting his wingman’s eyes.

“Ice whatr you-“

“What kind of a fool was I…..”

“A-a fool? Cmon don’t talk like that you’re-“

Ices eyes, blue and true as the ocean laid out before them so many times before….locked onto Mavericks green ones, like the horizon line between sea and land meeting as their carrier approached home.

“What kind of a fool was I, to have married her, and not waited for you” the blondes hands came up to cradle the shorter pilots face. Thumbs brushing away newly formed tears on the others part now.

“I-I don’t understand” Maverick was crying now, holding onto Ices wrists with gentle hands.

“Maybe this will enlighten you, you beautiful idiot”

Through two sets of tears their lips finally met. Waves crashed against a grassy shoreline, they were home….

Mavericks arms slung around the back of Ices shoulders. Slotting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. As tears continued to fall from both sets of eyes.

“I gave up on the idea of you ever wanting me…” Maverick whispered, resting his forehead against the blondes.

“Pete….sweetheart, I always wanted you….I was just so fucking scared….I didn’t know how to show it, so I decided to be the best wingman and friend you could have ever asked for. Because it’s all I knew how to do….its all I was ever allowed to be….”

“I understand…..it’s okay”

“It’s not….I wasted so much time Pete….so many of our years….”

“You didn’t”

Maverick wiped away Ices tears, smiling up at him with that huge dopey grin that the blonde came to know and love over the years.

“Even though I couldn’t kiss you, or hold you for as long as I wanted, or tell you I loved you….I got to see your eyes light up when I made a stupid joke, I got to see you shake your head when Goose and I would do something incredibly stupid. I got to sit out on the tarmac with you under the stars for hours and talk about everything and nothing. I got to be right by your side on dangerous missions. I got to fly through the pink and orange sky above the sea with you. I got to be the first person waiting for you on shore when we couldn’t go together and vice versa….we’ve been inseparable since….i mean if you really think about it we’ve basically been an old married couple since the 80’s”

They both chuckled, Ice running his hands through Mavericks dark hair. “This is true….but I still don’t want to waste another second not being able to kiss you…or hold you, or tell you just how much you mean to me….and how much I both love and hate those cowboy boots”

“Hey cmon now” Mav faked a wince. “The boots are golden and you know it!”

“Hangman owes me 20 bucks” Bradley interrupted, holding a bottle of water, leaning up against a toolbox as both men stared at him.

“You placed a bet about my love life?” The darker haired man questioned as they both approached him. Ice grabbing the bottle of water.

“I knew it all along….I do have eyes yknow? And you two weren’t exactly discreet.” Bradley snickered, fixing his own hair. “Hangman said it could never happen, I told him I wouldn’t be

Surprised if the whole Sarah thing was just a lavender marriage”

“So you and hangman are on talking terms now?” Ice spoke this time, resting his hand on the small of Mavericks back as he drank some water.

Bradley’s cheeks turned pink for a moment and his eyes fell down to his feet. “Well….you could say that….”

“And now you owe me 20 bucks darling” the older blonde placed a small kiss on Mavericks cheek.

Bradley froze. “Wait what?! You two placed a bet on MY love life?”

“To be fair I thought you two hated eachother” Mav chimed in, flipping his wallet open and handing the spoils to the victor.

“To be fair, everyone thought we hated eachother”

“This is true”

Bradley’s jaw was about to the floor as the two men before him discussed the topic amongst themselves. Beginning to walk towards the plane and past a very confused Bradley.

“Welp baby goose, it looks like the apple don’t fall far”

“Dad, I love you, but we’re not even biologically related….HOW CAN THE APPLE- yknow what…Nevermind”

Ice let out a small laugh. “Hope you don’t mind seeing more of me these days kiddo” wrapping an arm around Bradley’s neck as smiles painted on everyone’s face.

[moonlight-prose]

❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜ + ❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜ w/ fanboy ? 🫣

FOOLS FOR FALLING IN LOVE

a/n: babes!! when i had started this, i had just recently rewatched top gun maverick which means the inspo for this man was through the roof. i kind of went overboard a bit and turned it into a long ass one shot. (even going so far as to giving it a moodboard). if it's alright with you i only used the first prompt due to someone requesting the second already. i swear this fic was meant to be short, but then again it's fanboy and i can never help myself. so enjoy this monster.

summary: pining after your best friend never ended well. however in the case of said best friend being mickey garcia, things turn out better than expected.

word count: 3.7k+

pairing: mickey "fanboy" garcia x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, flirting amongst friends, friends to lovers, pining, exhibitionism (seriously idk what happened), cumplay, cumeating, thigh riding, oblivious idiots falling madly in love.

It was just drinks they said. Just a group of people who were there to laugh, enjoy each other’s company, and eventually go home at some ungodly hour. That’s what you expected when you walked into the bar. Ready to nurse one beer, talk to Phoenix about your work issues, and go home.

Quick. Easy. Painless.

At least the hangover part the next day was.

What you didn’t expect was to find him sitting there, talking with Bob as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. You had half a mind to turn around and head back to your car—try this socializing bit on a different day. But Rooster’s arm was slinging around your shoulder, tugging you into a warm and rather hard body. You had to be careful not to trip over your sneaker as he dragged you with him. Never bothering to check if you were actually in step with him.

“Look who I found!” he shouted, his breath giving away the exact number of drinks he had.

“Rooster,” you hissed, trying to pull away before he made you sweat too.

“Leave her alone,” Phoenix chastised, finally yanking you free from his tight grasp. “You’re drunk off your ass Rooster. Sober up or you won’t be getting anywhere near the pilot’s seat tomorrow.”

You sighed in relief as she led you to the bar, signaling to Penny to put another beer on her tab for you. “He’s pretty touchy feely tonight.”

She laughed. “Yeah well he just got permission for a week off next month. I’m pretty sure he’s over the moon for a break.”

“Definitely sounds nice.”

It’s not that you didn’t want to make conversation with Phoenix. You looked forward to seeing her, hearing all the juicy details about what went on in the Top Gun halls. Hell you were even interested in what current feud Hangman and Rooster were stuck in this week. Tonight however, you were barely comprehending a single word she said. Your brain, lagging—unable to catch up fast enough.

You could see her hands moving animatedly as she spoke, lips moving fast, but the words went in one ear and out the other. Because he was sitting mere feet away, eyes fixed entirely on you. The burn from his stare singed through the thin dress you wore to combat the current heat wave outside. Even though you remained focused on Phoenix, you could tell he was in the exact same situation as you.

Transfixed by the utter longing that tore at your chests. Clawing for a way to get out.

“So that’s how I ended up fucking Hangman.”

You nearly choked on your spit. “What?”

“Ah there you are.” She grinned, taking a sip of her beer. “I’ve been talking for the past five minutes and you’ve been completely out of it.”

“Sorry.” You scraped your nail on the bottle’s label, attempting to refocus your attention on Phoenix, but it seemed to be too late. She had figured out where your mind had drifted off to.

“You know you can talk to him right?”

“What are you…”

“Fanboy.”

Was it that obvious that you were unable to even keep your composure in the same room as him? Your mouth opened and closed, words evading you as her lips pulled up into a shit eating grin. You could hear the words echo in your head: Got you. She knew you were close with Mickey. The two of you became fast friends a year ago, bonding over scifi shows and comic books.

But then he left. You understood he couldn’t be around for months at a time; his job came before everything and you accepted that. However, four months without his presence left you feeling empty in a way you couldn’t fully describe, even if you wanted to. He was the sunlight on your dark days. The warmth you clung to when life turned cold. And he was gone.

It didn’t take you long to realize how evident your feelings for him were. Which also meant…it took Phoenix less time.

You coughed, swallowing your beer to avoid giving her a response, but it was clear by the expression on her face that you weren’t getting off that easy. She sighed as if you were one of her irritable students who refused to see reason. When in fact, you were her oblivious friend who couldn’t see past your own fear to finally realize that Mickey was head over heels in love with you.

“Explains why he’s been sulking all day.”

That caught your attention. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been back in town for two days.” You nodded, remembering the text he sent you a week before with his flight details. “And have you spoken to him in person yet?”

She knew she caught you when you averted your gaze to the bartop. “I figured he was busy.”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes snapped to her. “It’s not—”

“You just figured you could avoid him and hope your feelings disappeared.” Heat crept up your cheeks, but she wasn’t done with you. Far from it. “Meanwhile Fanboy’s been acting like a kicked puppy for two days and none of us could figure out why.”

“He hasn’t been—” Her glare cut you off, forcing your eyes to wander back to where he sat rather quietly.

Most nights he was one of the loudest people there. Laughing and spouting jokes funny enough to have you in stitches. Except for tonight. His eyes were cast anywhere but you, smile only showing when he forced it. But even then, it never quite reached his eyes. All in all, he looked exactly like Phoenix described him. A man who couldn’t figure out why one of his best friends was avoiding him like he was the plague.

You felt the heavy weight of guilt settle in the bottom of your stomach, turning the taste of your beer sour. He’d been gone long enough for you to miss him. But it never occurred to you how much he’d miss you.

Before you could wrangle the remaining courage in your body and get up from the stool, his eyes traveled back to yours. Meeting them for the first time that night. He sat up a bit straighter, the small grin you loved so much making a reappearance as he sent a small wave your way. A peace offering that would hopefully lead to more.

You found yourself unable to stop the smile that spread across your lips. The familiar lick of warmth, coursing through your body.

He was your best friend. The man you spoke to on the phone for hours at a time while he was away. You sent him letters, various comics, and care packages full of his favorite kind of cookies. Even going so far as to send him cheesy holiday cards full of Star Trek references that you knew would make him smile.

He was your best friend…and you were completely in love with him.

Phoenix nudged your knee with hers, jutting her head in his direction. Only you were too late on that front. Mickey was already getting up, excusing himself from the group’s conversation, and heading your way. The familiar standard issue khaki uniform he had to wear did nothing to hide the strong shoulders you knew lay beneath the fabric. Simply watching him maneuver his way through the overcrowded bar towards you, took your breath away.

“What do I say?” you said under your breath, leaning closer to Phoenix.

She shrugged, grabbing the full beer in front of her that she asked Penny for. “Tell him you want to get married.”

You spluttered, trying not to choke on your beer. “I can’t say that!”

“Can’t say what?”

The all too familiar deep vibrato of his voice caused your whole body to stiffen in your seat. Embarrassment washing over you at the realization that he had heard you. Phoenix however was more than happy to slide out of his way, pressing the cold beer into his hands, and muttering what you believed to be a quick: Don’t fuck this up.

You had half a mind to drag her back just to get some more context, but Mickey sitting down, his knees pressing on the outside of your thighs drew your attention to him. He smiled and took a sip of the beer. And you tried your best to ignore the searing heat that came with watching the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

The silence that grew between you the longer he sat there was deafening. So much so that you found yourself half tempted to drag him outside where nobody could see you. At least maybe you’d finally have a chance to get the truth out. Or if not the truth, then some form of words strung together to make a single sentence. That was a better option than sitting there staring at him like an idiot.

“Welcome back,” you blurted out, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart.

He smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner. Works been keeping me busy and I—”

His hand on your knee caused the remainder of your rant to die in the back of your throat. “I figured you were occupied. So it’s alright.”

“It is?” you asked, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the raucous noise of the bar.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He shrugged, his hand never moving higher and never pulling away. You swore your heart had stopped beating the second his warm palm touched your bare skin—your eyes dropping down quickly to see the veins that spread beneath the skin.

Shifting slightly, you tamped down the emotions that ran rampant in your mind. Whatever you were feeling—or dreaming about—wasn’t going to happen tonight. If you were being entirely honest with yourself, it didn’t seem like a possibility that would come to fruition at any time. Which meant you were stuck in this neverending pit of pining over your best friend. Part of you wished Mickey could read minds just so you wouldn’t have to say the words yourself.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” The words came before you could stop them—fully revealing that you were in fact avoiding him. “I mean…I wasn’t…um…”

“Right,” he said, his hand pulling away and eyes shifting back to the bar.

You could physically see his walls begin to close up, the light that had reappeared in his eyes, now vanishing from sight. It wasn’t until then did you realize that saying the words wasn’t the hard part. No, in fact you found you could say them in an instant if you had to. The hard part was the possibility of losing him for good. The fear of him never reciprocating your feelings held you back—causing the chasm in your heart to grow every second.

“No, wait.” You grabbed onto his wrist lightly, catching sight of the disappointment in his eyes, and it broke your heart. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

You sighed. “Can we go outside? Away from all this noise?”

Mickey was standing up faster than you expected him too, digging out enough cash to toss on the bar for Penny before taking your hand in his. You didn’t fight the small grin that appeared on your lips this time. There was just something about him that pulled on the strings of happiness in your chest. That made you want to always see the good in the world—the good that you knew resided in him.

“Slow down,” you called, trying to keep up the pace as he practically sprinted towards the parking lot. You caught sight of his familiar dark blue car—having been in it more times than you could count.

“Sorry,” he replied, giving you a chance to catch your breath. “I figured you wanted out of there quickly.”

“I did.” How the fuck were you supposed to go about things now? When it was just the two of you standing there, his back pressed to the passenger door of his car.

You tried to ignore the way he looked—how the soft lights from the bar played across his face. Turning him into an almost ethereal painting you were visiting in a museum. It took your breath away and for a moment you remained silent. Watching as his eyes took in your features, his chest rising and falling with each breath. There wasn’t a better moment to kiss him than right now. Except your doubts began to rear their ugly head again.

A bitter heat crept up the back of your neck as you turned your attention to the rest of the parking lot. Trying—and failing—to come up with something to say. You just never expected Mickey to beat you to the punch.

“Don’t do that,” he said. Your eyes snapped back to him, catching the glimmer of dejection in his eyes.

“Do what?” You knew exactly what he was talking about and playing it coy wouldn’t stop him from pressing even further. It was a quality about him you both loved and hated. He would never stop until you told him the truth.

“Don’t hide from me.” His hand still held onto yours, thumb pressing gently along your knuckles. “What’s going on with you huh? What aren’t you telling me?”

You let out a breath, attempting to get a hold of the nerves that seemed intent on keeping you quiet. “I like you.”

He paused, eyes taking in the panicked expression on your face. You half expected him to say something in return—anything to appease whatever it was you were dealing with. But he didn’t. Instead he watched, his mouth opening and closing every few seconds as if trying to soak in the full extent of your words. I like you wasn’t much to go on, you’d give him that.

So you continued. “I’ve liked you for a while—although like is probably not the right word to describe how I feel about you. And I understand if you just want to remain friends. If it’s…easier that way. Or even if this is the end—”

He yanked you forward, his hand cupping your cheek to turn your face towards his. Lips capturing yours in a kiss that left you sinking into his chest, a soft moan emitting from your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed. Mickey kissed you like it had been the only thing on his mind since you first met. He licked into your mouth, dragging out sounds you didn’t know you could make—his hand wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you pressed close.

He kissed you as if he would never get the chance to again.

“Mickey,” you sighed, his lips sliding along your jaw, other hand pressing tightly to your waist to press your hips against his.

“I love you,” he murmured, bunching up the back of your dress as heat quickly filled your senses.

“You…” Tilting your head back, you tried to gain some sense of control over your thoughts. He however seemed adamant on keeping you right where you were. That is…until his words finally registered. “You love me?” you exclaimed, pulling away—much to his disappointment.

His smile was sheepish, red staining his cheeks and the very tips of his ears. “Have for a while now mi vida.”

Heat burned beneath your cheeks at the small nickname—the words burrowing deep in your heart. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He had you there.

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging his lips back to yours. “I love you mi amor. More than you know.”

A sound pulled from his throat—high and wanting. It was pressed into your mouth, his hands grasping parts of you that he had only dreamed of touching. Scrunching up the side of your dress, his hand slid up your thigh, digging into the plush skin as you moaned against him. You were right outside of the bar where anyone could walk out and see you. Yet neither of you cared.

Licking into his mouth, you dug your hands into his newly grown out short curls—your nails scraping against his scalp. He shivered, pulling you even closer and slotting his thigh between your legs. Giving you something to press down on.

That alone stirred something in the base of your stomach. A molten heat sliding through your veins until you were putty in his hands. Mickey seemed to sense the shift—your needy whine a slight beg for more—and began to guide your hips along his leg. The wet patch you knew was on your panties, now seeping into the light color of his khakis.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head falling back and hands grasping onto the front of his shirt. “M-Mickey.”

“Mhm?” he hummed against your throat, teeth digging in until it sparked pain through you.

“I need—ah—” His grip on your hip grew tighter, thigh bumping up and pressing against your clit perfectly. “I need more.”

He shuddered, his lips colliding against yours in a heady kiss. This one was different. You could taste the desperation on his tongue as he took you apart with his mouth. He wanted to leave you breathless. To see you writhe because of him and have you begging for more. And you’d give into him without question. You’d give him whatever he desired, because he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.

“Say you want me, and I’m yours,” he breathed, pulling you along his thigh harder.

Your knee pressed against him, grinding against him with each movement and you visibly watched him chase his high. He bucked his hips, desperate for the minimal amount of friction. A moan tore from his throat, his lips sliding along your jaw, hand shifting to grip your ass tightly. You wanted to give him that high. To watch him combust as you did. But you were lost to the sensations sparking through your body.

Something built in your stomach, pulling impossibly tight. You felt it grow—driving you so high that you were certain you’d go mad if you didn’t have it in your grasp. He pushed and pulled your body until you were a whimpering mess against him. His name was a reverent prayer you pressed into his mouth in the hopes he’d answer your greatest wish. To feel his love pour into you—captivate you so entirely you’d never be rid of it.

“I-I want you,” you stammered, your eyes hazy with lust.

“C’mon then.” He slid his hand down the front of your body, fingers dipping into the sopping mess that was your panties and finding your clit with ease. “Think you can cum like this mi vida?”

You nodded frantically, moving your hips to catch the friction of his fingers. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when he began to whisper praise against your skin. Kissing down your chest until he reached the top of your dress. Something in your brain begged him to pull it down. To keep going. But you understood the risk with being outside still. Neither of you wanted to get caught; the both of you would never live it down.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers pressing down harder—face lighting up at the sight of your eyes rolling back.

He yanked you back to him, lips sliding against your own as you shattered in his arms. It burned through you, causing your whole body to shake and your breath to catch in your lungs. Rather than pull away entirely, he kept going. Prolonging the pleasure until there wasn’t anything you could do. A muffled cry echoed around the parking lot and it took you a moment to realize that you were the one who made the sound.

Mickey gasped, his hips canting up against you in search of that same feeling. So you pulled on his curls, dragging his lips back to yours as his fingers still pressed firm circles around your clit.

“I love you Mickey.” You pressed the words against his jaw, watching as his eyes fluttered shut, his brows pulling tight. He managed to quickly muffle his moan against your neck, his whole body shuddering in your grasp and a soft whine of your name echoing in your ears.

Yet he never stopped his fingers from moving. Two of them gathering your cum that steadily leaked out and sliding them up to your clit. Sending another soft wave of pleasure through your body. You wanted to remain there. Forever stuck in this moment with him. But you knew the faster you managed to get home, the better the odds were for the both of you.

“I can’t,” you gasped, grasping onto this wrist to stop him from shifting the overstimulation into an uncomfortable pain.

Before you could ask him to take you home, he was rendering you speechless—slipping his shiny coated fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste. Your clit throbbed and for a moment you felt dizzy. Even as he held you upright. You watched his tongue peek out, wondering how it might feel against you. And once more the heat began to build again, causing your imagination to spin out of control.

“Mi vida?” he asked, pulling from your haze. His small smile let you know he had figured out what you were thinking—already halfway to teasing the answer out of you.

“Take me home Mickey,” you croaked, unable to wait any longer. “I want you.”

His eyes softened, fingers gently pinching your chin as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. Pouring all the emotion he ever said aloud into you. This was it. The moment that would replay in your head for the rest of your life. Mickey Garcia smiling sweetly, his hands caressing your hips to soothe the ache of his tight hold—love shining in his eyes. You felt your heart leap in your chest, breath once more getting stolen just by his mere proximity.

“I’m yours.” 

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 17 - Come a Little Bit Closer

📖 One of my friends who beta-read this for me pointed out there is a scene in here that is very similar to one in Ted Lasso (I've never seen it, though there are a lot of people in my life telling me I should now); so I'm just mentioning there might be a similarity.

There is also something in here that people have been waiting for. Albeit, it's probably not the one scene everyone wants, given recent events. But someone(s) gets karma'd 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, angst, mentions of shitty family dynamics, physical fights, Ruthless Dagger Squad, violence, verbal fights, and mentions of blood.

#7k words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 18

“Are you a fucking idiot, Bradley?!”

You slapped Rooster hard on the back of his head, the thwack anything but satisfying.

“He is, indeed, a fucking idiot,” Nat quipped next to you. Bradley frowned at you, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you would be happy I got to him!”

“You do not invert over another pilot on your team, catch them in a fucking corkscrew, and make them hit the fucking hard deck! Regardless if they are my ex or an asshole!”

It was hopeless to think you could ever stop swearing in Penny’s bar, not when Bradley was still pulling stupid shit like that. Therapy was a big step, but you knew deep down it would take a little more than a few sessions to make him less impulsive.

Maybe even more so from behind the joystick of his jet.

Rooster threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson. You know what he did to you!"

You shot him a look.

Bob rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "And what exactly did you accomplish, Rooster? Besides nearly killing yourself and him?"

Bradley gave him a death glare.

“I don’t care why you did it!” You snapped, tapping the end of the bottle opener hard on the top of the bar as you made your point. “You put yourself and a teammate in danger! You’re lucky Maverick stepped in before you got kicked out!”

You spun the tool in your hand while rolling your eyes, quickly popping the caps off the row of beer bottles lined up in front of you in frustration. Placing one in front of Nat, you handed Bob’s to him with a stern look.

“One, Robert,” You said, holding up your finger. “One, and then I am cutting you off.”

He grabbed the neck of the bottle, nodding and throwing his hand back in what seemed to be a 'yeah, I get it' kind of way. You held back on Roosters, holding it out of his reach, engaging him in a staring contest.

"Promise me."

"Liz."

You shook your head.

"This is not something I'm being funny about, Bradley. Promise me you will not pull that shit again."

"You're being unfair; it was just a dogfight."

You raised your eyebrow, purposely glancing over at the barbell for a split second. "I'll ring the bell on you."

Bradley cocked his eyebrow at you. The bell was something he prided on, never happening to him before. "I'll tell your manager you've been providing bad customer service."

You shrugged. "Go ahead."

Penny would legitimately not care. She'd do more damage to Bradley by chewing him out than you ever could.

"You should see the Yelp reviews when they mention me when I ring the bell on assholes. I don't care. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger anymore just to prove a fucking point."

Rooster made no effort to tear his eyes away from you. 

"Bradley Bradshaw, do you promise me?!" you tried again. When he didn't reply for the second time, you raised your voice, "Lieutenant Bradshaw! Do you promise not to risk your fucking life over proving a point?!"

Bradley blinked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

You thumped the glass bottle to the top of the bar, sliding it towards him with a huff.

“Liz!” Jimmy called out. You turned in his direction with a smile, though you were anything but happy right now.

“The Jukebox is doing that thing again. Can you see what’s wrong?”

“Did you try hitting it?” you called back.

“Several times!”

You sighed. Walking to the other side of the bar, you stopped in front of Bradley, pointing your finger into his chest.

“You pull that shit again, therapy or not, I swear to god, Bradley..." You couldn't even formulate the rest of your sentence, throwing your hands up in frustration and letting out a garbled yell as you walked away.

You approached the Juxebox with a huff, grabbing the sides as you peered into the glass. The machine was turned on, but the needle hadn't touched the spinning disc.

Someone slung their arm over the top of the machine, startling you with an almost empty beer bottle in their hand. 

"First, it was the keg, now it's the jukebox. What else is on your hit list, darlin'?"

You stiffened.

You hadn't seen Jake since that night. The minute you managed to get the courage to leave Rooster's Bronco, you cleared out your house of anything to do with him, his overnight bag sitting on your porch when you went to pick up Sadie.

It was gone when you came back home.

And It was suddenly like he hadn’t existed. You hadn’t found yourself going through what you assumed was the traditional aftermath of breaking up with someone. You hadn’t eaten a tub of ice cream, binged rom-coms or cried your eyes out except on the drive home. 

And that had been it.

No calls. No texts. No apologies. 

Without turning to face him, you remarked sarcastically, "Your over-inflated ego, but something tells me I'm going to need something bigger than a broken jukebox to take down."

Jake glanced at the machine, knocking it hard with the side of his boot.

You don't know what was worse, that the machine came to life or that it started up in the middle of the song, 'Come a Little Bit Closer' by Jay and the Americans, started up in the most ironic part.

Come a little bit closer. You're my kind of man, so big and so strong.

The quip fell easy from your lips. “Oh, what do you know, a knight in shining armour, solving all my problems.”

You don't know what you were trying to achieve by being like this. You just wanted him gone. But Jake didn't leave. Instead, he smiled at you. "You always have a way with words, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. Snatching the bottle from his grip, you turned on your heel.

"What are you doing here, Jake?" you called out, knowing he would follow you.

"I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

He quicked his pace, jogging up and interrupting your path. You stopped, gritting your teeth and twisting your hand away from him in frustration.

"Liz, please."

You huffed. You finally met his eyes, your gaze hard. “What is there to say, Jake? What could you say to me other than I was another bartender on your list? I just wish you had the common decency not to involve my niece in this, you asshole.” 

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout across the bar. 

"Jake!"

George had called out to his brother, surrounded by a group of women. When Jake turned at the mention of his name, George was already waving him over.

You couldn't blame the women shooting him flirty glances, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. You just wished the pang in your chest didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Go ahead," you offered with a tense smile. "You made your intentions known. You are free to do whatever the hell you want now."

Jake faced you, his expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched, failing miserably to hold on to some semblance of confidence.

"You don't think I know that?" he remarked. "I think about it all the time."

“You should've thought of a lot of things before, Jake," you sighed, stepping backwards and away from him. "Don’t start on my account now.”

---

Why George had decided to stick around, Jake had no idea why. Maybe it was insurance that the damage he had done was permanent. 

Jake just wanted him to get the hell out of dodge. 

He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation he’d been roped into when you walked away from him. He had no other choice but to walk over and let George introduce him to the two ladies he had been flirty with. 

Jake knew what George was doing. He was trying to entice him back into his old ways. It was clear as day to anyone George would be going home with this woman tonight. 

The other one, he thought her name was Bree or something along those lines, was trying to engage him in a conversation, batter her eyes or flirt. But he hadn’t so much as blinked, too caught up in how you shot him down and walked away from him. 

It wasn’t until George opened his mouth to answer a question that Jake snapped out of his trance and caught the last end of his sentence. 

“I guess having played football in high school makes it easier. My throwing hand is awesome when playing darts, though.”

That pipped his interest.

"Since when have you played darts?" he finally spoke up. 

"Since we hired a few new ranch hands,” George shrugged. “All they want to do is drink, sleep, and play darts. It's great for introducing yourself to other ranch owners. I practically win them over each time," he remarked, trying to throw in a bit of modesty.

The gears started to grind in Jake's head. And slowly but surely, the cocky-ass Mona Lisa smile came back. 

He nodded towards the dartboard. "Wanna play a game?"

George raised his eyebrow, taking a swing of his beer, "Want something else to lose your dignity to?"

Jake's grin didn't lessen. In fact, there was a certain glint in his eyes when he replied, "Something like that."

---

A crowd had gathered around the dart board while they had been playing. Practically, the whole bar was suddenly invested in this little game.

And you, leaning up against a pillar next to Bob, who had ushered you away from your post for a few seconds to watch the end of the game. Your arms were crossed, and you had a slight frown, watching him with sad eyes.

It was clear you wanted to be back behind the bar, not standing here, watching the person responsible for your broken heart play a fucking game of darts.

It wasn't even really a game. Jake could land a bullseye with his eyes literally closed. The regulars knew it, too. So, why was he purposely throwing darts with his non-dominant hand? You had no idea.

From what you could tell from when you were behind the bar, he still played well enough. They went for the long haul, starting at 501 points and slowly working their way down. Coyote and Rooster had decided to keep track, using the chalkboard on the side. George had led throughout the game and was still leading, but Jake was always close by enough to make it interesting.

Then George landed enough points that if Jake didn't get exactly what he needed to on his turn, George would win the game with his next. You didn't know why Bob pulled you over here; maybe it was to see Jake lose. Or to see George fail.

You have yet to determine which would be the better option at this point. And yet, you still couldn't bring yourself to step away.

You leaned over to Bob to ask, "What does he need to win?"

Bob sighed. "Two triples in the 20 slot and a bullseye. The bullseye needs to be last."

"What are the stakes?" you frowned.

Bob only shook his head next to you. "Nothing, from what I know."

George spun from his position, smiling at everyone cheering for him. He came to stand next to Jake, patting him hard on the back a few times.

"I don't know if you were trying to prove something, brother," he laughed, "But good game. We should do this again sometime."

Jake did the one thing he wanted to do his whole life.

He laughed at his brother.  

"George, I never understood why you've had this grudge against me for my entire life," he said, stepping out of George’s grip on his shoulder. 

Jake twirled the dart between two of his fingers, shaking his head. With a little sleight of hand, you watched as he switched his grip, the dart now in his dominant hand. You stood from leaning against the pillar and uncrossed your arms.

"You had it all. Dad's approval, the football career. All the girls flocking to your side in high school. You’ve spent your entire life under his thumb, chasing approval.”

He cut his eyes to you, seeing the frown on your face, and knew he had to continue. Stepping up to the mark, he squared his shoulders, eyeing the board.

“Trust me when I say this - you might've been the chosen one in Dad's eyes, but out here, in the real world? That doesn't mean shit."

Jake threw his first dart, the spike landing within the safety of the triple twenty. Everyone watching caught their breath in surprise.

Jake's smirk grew bolder, the fiery confidence he was known for blazing in his eyes as he looked back at his brother.  "Do you want to know what I would have said to you the day you were talking shit about Liz and Sadie?"

A quiet gasp escaped your lips.

George's mouth twitched.

“I agreed with you for one thing and one thing only. I know I won’t be welcomed back,” he stated. “I couldn’t give a damn if I am.” 

Something burned deep inside Jake’s chest as he pushed on, needing George to hear what he was saying desperately. 

" Sadie? She sees right through your bullshit. But she will not hesitate to stand up for someone if she thinks they are being mistreated. She’s so mature for her age, and I am damn proud to be her uncle.” 

He knew he shouldn’t have called himself that but was too caught up to care. 

“And Liz? The world throws so much bullshit at her, and she still chooses to be kind, even when she still buries her grief, because she doesn’t want her niece to see her cry.” 

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I found people who, despite knowing my flaws, chose to stand by me. Not hold them against me.”

Jake threw the second dart, hitting the board next to his previous dart within the rim. 

"I remember all the nights you came home, mirroring Dad's words, telling me how worthless I was.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Now I just realize you were literally copying everything he had to say to you from that day. Making yourself feel better.”

He'd never admit Rooster forcing the both of them in a Corkscrew is what made him realize it. He had been regurgitating every diminishing word and sentence his father had screamed at him growing up back at Rooster's face, hoping it would make him feel better.

He picked at the tail end of his dart, the weight of it familiar and comforting, before glancing at George's face.

"You ever heard of Roosevelt?" he asked nonchalantly. George eyed him carefully, "What does a dead president have to do with a game of darts?'

Jake had a conceited grin on his lips. "Well, he had this quote, and I'm probably butchering this, but he said critics don't count. Or the person who points out how we stumble or how someone could have done something better." 

Jake twisted from his mark on the ground, standing square in front of George as he continued to explain his point.

"Because the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."

Jake's voice was steady, but his eyes bore into George's with a fire. "All my life, George, I've been in that arena. I've stumbled and failed, but I didn't listen to someone from the sidelines telling me how to live my life."

Jake lifted his hand, never taking his eyes once off George.

"It's time I remembered that," he said, thinking about Sadie. "You shouldn't have to either."

He flicked his wrist forward, letting his dart fly.

Bullseye.

He heard the thump of the dart hitting the board, and cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck. Jake had thrown a dart enough times to know whether or not it had hit its mark; he didn't need to look. Even Rooster was laughing at the utter shock and disbelief across George's face.

"I'm living my life, George," he said, patting him on his shoulder, leaving his hand there. "It's about time you did the same."

For once in his life, Jake had managed to stand up to his brother. But the moment wasn't as satisfactory as he might have imagined - He found himself thinking it didn't matter.

Because as he stepped away from George to look back to where you had been, he realized you hadn't been there to see it.

---

Your shift came and went in a blur after Jake and George’s dart game. The squad still hung back well past closing hours, watching and even helping as you closed up the bar, except Rooster, who was messing around on the piano.

Jake was still here. And George. 

They had been out on the patio for over an hour now, simply talking. You tried not to pay them much mind as you tried to get through your remaining tasks quickly, but you couldn’t help but look out the back windows occasionally, unable to take your eyes off the Seresin brothers for long.

George approached Jake soon after he escaped the crowds. There had been no fights, no punches thrown or someone storming out. In fact, every time you looked up, the two seemed to be inching closer to each other.

Damn him and that cocky grin. Why'd he have to be so... Jake?

You didn’t want to be a spectator to Jake’s theatrics during that display during their dart game. Leaving before he threw that last dart, you were now questioning yourself… if you walked away to shield yourself or to punish him. 

While he stood up for himself against George, in the back of your mind, there was an insistent voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, that display was also for you too. 

Some of you ached at the idea of him seeking validation and needing to prove himself. And that's what hurt the most: that deep down, under layers of stubbornness and hurt, you still cared for him.

If it was, you weren’t ready. Not for this. Not for answers or explanations. You deserved more than whatever that was. 

But you still heard him. Heard everything he said to George.  

You really didn’t know what to make of it. 

The sound of the front door slamming up against the wall, rattling some of the portrait frames, startled you from your thoughts. There was a momentary thought of remembering you really needed to lock the front door when you were closing, but it was washed away just as quickly as it came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Tyler’s body as he charged forward, finger pointed towards you with a seething glare. “You fucking bitch!”

You stepped backwards, the sharp edge of the sink hitting your spine hard. A few glasses jolted from the force of it, sliding off the ledge and shattering to the ground. Rooster’s playing stopped immediately, and the piano bench toppled to the ground.

Was it anger? Shock? Disbelief the past few weeks of not seeing him coursing through your veins responsible for your reaction? You knew Tyler was dangerous, but deep down, you hated how easily you cowered at his appearance.

Tyler didn't get very far in his effort to get to you. Bradley came out of nowhere, something out of a comic, with his fist flying, punching Tyler square in the jaw.

“That was for Sadie, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for Bradley, Tyler only keeled over briefly before taking a swing. Rooster had not been prepared for him to retaliate, thinking his punch would have been enough to put the asshole on the ground.

Tyler had taken more punches and hits to the face as a football player than the average person would in their life. While Jake had managed to get him on the ground when he tried to kidnap Sadie, and Rooster was fitter than the average person, it would take much more than Jake and Bradley combined to keep Tyler there.

The uppercut to Bradley’s jaw could be heard from miles away, and you could only stand there, watching helplessly, as Bradley crashed backwards into a wooden table, his name a cry on your lips as the pieces scattered.

Whether or not they heard your cry or the commotion, the rest of the Daggers swarmed the island bar as Tyler watched Bradley roll on the ground amongst the splinters in some twisted sense of pride.

Whether you could realize it at the time or not, that would be his biggest mistake.

Nat was the first one there, the first one to put herself between you and Tyler, readying herself in case he tried to leap over the bar to get to you. Javy, Fanboy and Payback had run from opposite sides of the room to surround Rooster and Tyler, Bradley finally rolling himself off the broken table on the ground and pulling himself up.

And Jake, almost breaking the sliding door as he bolted inside to get to you, George on his heels. Rooster was too happy to stand beside him as Jake placed himself before everyone else, this hand twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"This is the one who did all that?"

Jake side-eyed George as he came up from the back to flank him on his other side.

"What?" he remarked, puffing out his chest and not once taking his eyes off Tyler. "I'm not that much of an asshole to know that's not how we treat women. Or children. We should drag his ass back to Texas and show him some southern hospitality."

Nat cocked her head at Tyler, speaking up from her spot next to the bar. "You must be a complete idiot to walk back in here after what you did to them."

Tyler shrugged, a sickening smile on his face. "I've got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"What, Daddy cut you off and kicked you out?" Rooster asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

With the presence of your friends, you managed to calm down a little bit. You were still scared, which would never change as long as you could see his face, but you could take in Tyler's state more clearly.

Dark circles under his eyes. Blonde hair, greasy. He was still wearing that same freaking white sweater, only it looked like it hadn't been washed in days.

Rooster was right. Tyler had been cut off, indeed.

Fanboy and Payback, having realized what was going on, went to either exit to stand guard. You weren't sure whether to keep people out or keep someone in. But Tyler hadn’t noticed. He was too preoccupied to remove his eyes from Jake.

You watched as Tyler glanced at everyone around the bar, obviously bothered by Rooster's remark but not addressing it. "Seeing a lot of protectors here. Must be that 'Navy bravado,' huh? All show, no substance. We've all seen how they fail when it matters most.”

Ironically, it was George who intervened first. “This isn’t your place, man. Walk away before you get hurt.” 

Tyler flicked his eyes between Jake and George, a smirk playing on his lips, “This is interesting. Another misguided soul ready to join this little squad over here?” 

George smiled at him, nodding at Tyler, cracking his knuckles, “Just somebody who doesn’t like your face.” 

Your voice was hoarse, vocal cords feeling like they were being dragged over jagged rocks, when you asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Tyler?” 

He didn’t even give you the courtesy of looking at you when he replied, “Respect! What else? 

Jake scoffed with amusement, "By wearing that dirty sweater and showing up here drunk and messed up? You're doing a great job, really. I applaud you."

Tyler doubled back with that all-too-familiar smug smirk, " Alright, saw through that one, did you,” He chuckled before he teased. “I came to see how Sadie's holding up. It must be hard, having her favourite play-hero away. Unless you've moved up from being her 'uncle' to something more."

Jake's face immediately paled, his entire demeanour changing from cocky to pure rage in a fraction of a second. The atmosphere in the room grew dense with tension. "You say her name again, and I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak."

Still grinning but with an undercurrent of faux uncertainty, Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, "Just stating facts, Jake."

George, sensing the danger in his brother, whispered a warning, "Easy, Jake."

But Jake's voice came out as a dangerous whisper, all restraint seemingly gone, "You wanna dance? Let's fucking dance."

Jake charged, tackling Tyler to the ground as you stood there wide-eyed and in shock. Rooster and Coyote flanked the grappling pair while George kneeled, calling out to Jake all the spots Tyler was leaving himself open. The sound of flesh hitting flesh accompanied Jake’s punches, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt someone put their hands on your cheeks, turning you away from the fight and wiping away your tears. Bob had somehow found his way into the bar with you and was currently forcing you to stare at his face.

“Nope, you don’t need to witness any of this.”

"How much trouble are they going to get into because of this?" you asked, scared out of your mind. Bar fights were a thing that could get you kicked out of the Navy.

Bob glanced over to the fight. Nat was walking towards the back door, her phone pressed to her ear, no doubt calling the police. As his eyes tracked back to Tyler, George and Javy had now joined the fight, the elder Seresin brother grabbing Tyler by the back of his neck and his belt, tossing him like a bale of hay onto the top of a nearby table as Rooster surprisingly helped Jake up from the floor.

The legs splintered under the force with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until you shuttered at the sound and let out a soft whimper between his hands he remembered you asked him a question.

"None," his voice was firm. "As far as anyone knows, he walked in here like that."

"Bob..." you whimpered. He stroked a piece of hair away from your face soothingly. "I'm not going to be the one that says he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Tyler’s not walking out of here now. He literally signed his own death sentence."

Deep down, you knew that. Tyler against not one, but three navy pilots and Jake’s brother? There was no way he was walking away from that.

The sound of glass shattering caused you to jolt again.

"Penny's so going to fire me after this," you managed to say through tears. Bob gave you an affectionate smile. "No way, you're the best bartender she's had in years. You put up with so much shit, and Sadie would no doubt give her two cents. She seems to be doing that a lot lately."

"Bobby..." you huffed through a sob. "You've never heard you swear before."

He shrugged, wiping away one of your tears. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Bob hadn't covered your ears. He was only keeping your eyes off the ongoing violence. So you could hear everything going on. There were no more crashes, glass breaking, or wood splitting in two. You could only hear the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting hard flesh.

The next cry out of Tyler's mouth made you stiffen.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" he gave an almost whine as Bradley laid a punch to his stomach. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

Where you were once scared, pure anger builds in your stomach. You pull Bob’s hands away from your face, swatting away his feeble attempts to reach for you. You marched towards the exit doors of the bar, rounding the corner to get to the group.

Jake saw you approaching first with a sharp lift of his head, tapping George on the shoulder, who looked up at his brother before his eyes landed on you, catching on instantly. He grabbed Tyler by the back of his sweater, hoisting him up onto his knees before changing his grip to the middle of his back. Jake gritted his teeth as he tugged Tyler's head back with a vice grip on his hair.

You kneeled down in front of him, taking in his face.

Even bruised and bloody, Tyler looked nothing like the egotistical sociopath you knew him to be. Nothing like the villain that stalked you months before this or when he walked into the bar all those weeks ago.

This version of Tyler looked desperate, unhinged, but on the verge of a last straw. You couldn't say seeing that white hoodie stained red was unpleasurable. To say he had nothing left to lose was one thing, but seeing it across his battered face was another.

“You’re sorry?” you snarked. “You’re sorry you abused my sister? Are you sorry you killed her? Sorry, you tried to kidnap my niece?!”

You wanted to nail him across the face. You wanted to know the absolute pain and heartache and suffering he had put you through. He took Ridley from you. He hurt Sadie. He hurt you.

But then you took in the room, Jake and George kneeling behind him. Bradley and Javy standing by, ready to pounce the second he might try to escape. And the state of the bar, the damage sobering your thoughts.

No questions asked.

You noticed the ties of his sweater were out of place. Lifting your hand, you fixed one back into place, smoothing the string down before looking him dead in the eye.

"I could fucking care less."

Approaching sirens could be heard outside the bar, making everyone hold their punches. You stood, turning your back on the display to rejoin Bob, who had followed you out from the relative safety of the bar.

You wouldn't give Tyler the satisfaction. Ultimately, he was still a narcissist, wanting a reaction.

"Tie him up," you heard Jake command. Despite Bob urging you not to look once again, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to see this. To see Tyler caught and unable to do anything but accept his fate.

You needed to know you and Sadie were safe.

Coyote was handing George a sailor's rope he had torn off the wall, having pulled the twisted pieces apart. Jake pressed his knee down onto Tyler's back, pinning him to the floor as George quickly hog-tied his hands together, not that he'd be going anywhere. The group of men had done enough damage. Tyler wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Everything happened so quickly in the moments after. The police burst through the front door. George was holding up some sort of badge, and you were suddenly rushed out into the parking lot by Bob and Nat.

Penny was already there, greeting you outside with extreme worry in her eyes, sweeping you up into a hug the second she saw you. She was trying to console you, tell you Sadie was safe with Mav and that you would be alright. You didn’t realize you started shaking until she pulled back in concern to ask what had happened.

Your breath hitched as you shakily joked, “I promise I’m not purposely wrecking your bar. I don't know where these assholes come from."

Penny huffed out a laugh and a sad smile. Biting her lip, she reached out and stroked your hair at the side of your face as only a mother could. She tugged you into her hold, refusing to let you go.

You don't know how long you stood there until Nat tapped you on the shoulder. She pulled you into her side and looped her arm around Penny's, holding you upright as the front door of the Hard Deck opened. A pair of Police officers were dragging Tyler out, still hog-tied and a mess. George was behind them, following them while speaking to another officer.

When you watched the police car containing Tyler in the back seat roll off into the distance, and a tow truck rolled that stupid white piece of machinery away, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Tyler's frightening hold over both you and Sadie was over.

And yet, it wasn’t as much of a relief as it should have been.

---

You wanted to stay away from the Choas unfolding in and around the Hard Deck. 

Taking the first chance you could, you escaped when nobody was looking, eventually finding yourself sitting in Penny's chair on the beach. 

Less than a year ago, you were sitting in the chair, unaware of what was about to happen to you. You who were desperately trying to get through a book by reading the same page twice. Gawking at a pilot playing Dog fight football who you knew was off limits, trying to get by till the following Saturday night. 

Then Ridley's ex came for you and Sadie. You had fallen in love with said pilot. Learned your sister was murdered. Your best friend hurt your feelings. You had gotten your heart broken by said pilot. 

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you had seen and experienced all this trauma, or that Ridley's death and abscene were still triumphing over all that. 

You jolted when someone placed a blanket around your shoulders.

George Seresin retracted his hands just as quickly as he placed the blanket around you, holding them up in surrender. 

You didn't have anything to say to him, choosing to remain stoic as he lowered himself into the sand, sitting with his back in front of the armrest of your chair. 

It was a full minute before he finally spoke. 

"I need to apologize, Liz."

You scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Apologize for the derogatory display of how you treat women? Or what you said to Jake to make him act the way he did?" 

At least this time, George had the decency to look shameful. 

"If his words at the dart game weren't any indication, I know you egged him on. He was trying to get you to back off, in his own twisted away.” 

"I still need to apologize. For all of it," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't my place to do that to the two of you." 

"Yours is not the one I need right now," you spat, lifting your feet off the ground and curling into the depths of the chair. 

Either one of you spoke for a few minutes after that. George seemed to ponder his thoughts, scanning the horizon but not finding anything. The waves were both loud and quiet, making the world smaller than it actually was.

You couldn't handle it. 

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did, George?" you said heatedly, uncurling yourself from the chair and submerging your feet into the sand. "You weren't just egging him on. You were meddling in someone's relationship because your father asked you to."  

"Yes, I know." 

"Do you know how fucked up that is?" 

"Jake doing that grand display with the darts painted a pretty clear picture in my head." 

You rolled your eyes. "When was the last time you asked yourself if you were truly happy, George?"

George thought about it for a second before he replied, "When I became the livestock official back home."

"And let me guess, you made that decision all on your own, without any influence from your father?"

He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful before watching it fall back to the ground. "Kind of. When I got the ranch, it wasn't by choice. But this felt like the first one I could make by myself."

"You just proved everything that Jake said, right." 

You huffed, frustration evident. "How do you plan on making up to him?"

George took a deep breath, steadying himself. "By supporting Jake genuinely in whatever he chooses. And by ensuring our father doesn't come between you two again."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was raw honesty. 

"Jake loves you. It's clear as day. Don't let this get between the two of you." 

You spat out a laugh, a high-pitchy sound you hoped would tell him you saw right through his bullshit. "Right."

"Liz, he didn't agree with the BS I was spilling to agree with me. Don't hold it against him."

 "But he went through with it," you countered. "Even if it was some twisted idea of dealing with all the bullshit you and the rest of your family throw at him save Janet, he still said those things. He still hurt me."

You threw yourself back into your chair instead. "I don't know anymore, George. I don't know what to think anymore." 

George dropped his head to his chest, furrowing his brow. "You know, you didn't allow him to explain that day. Or today even." 

That made you sit up. "Are you saying I should have?"

"I'm saying," he replied, "Whatever happened to giving someone a chance to know that people care? Even when other people think they don't deserve it?"

"That's different."

Maybe," he nodded. "But something is missing. I think that's only rooted in what other people think, not when they've done something to you." 

George's words made your voice catch in your throat.

"Give him a chance to explain, Liz. Just listen to what he has to say. Then make your decision." 

Suddenly you were wishing for the asshole from a week ago. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. 

"George, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You have potential. Listen to what your brother told you. You can't have your father tell you what to do for the rest of your life." 

He glanced down to the sand but tilted his head towards you so you knew he was still listening to what you had to say. 

"Ridley and I... My sister... We went through the same thing with our father. And I was so young, I didn't know any better. But she got us out before any more damage could be done. You still can get out. You don't need him in your life." 

"Is it wrong for me to want his approval?" 

You bit your lip, surprised at his question. "No. He's your father. It's natural you'd want that. But you shouldn't have to change who you are. You shouldn't have to seek his approval when he hasn't been someone worthy of giving it." 

George nodded, more to himself than to you, finally managing to mumble, "Jake is lucky to have you in his life. Sadie, too."

Even after everything that happened today, you still gave him a soft smile. "You're not that bad, George,” you said before adding, “When you want to be.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly. "Don't let it get to my head. I might end up like Jake."

You reached over and patted his shoulder. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

---

George left you a little while ago when an officer sought him out to take a statement. The night air was nipping at your skin, even with the blanket around your shoulders, and yet, you didn’t know how you would sleep after this, the adrenaline spike still showing no signs of slowing down. 

You didn’t know what to feel, the myriad of emotions thrown at you over the past week, month, and even year - any one of them would have sufficed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure it out. To live through any of them.

You just wanted to get through the rest of the day.

Dragging your feet through the sand, you made your way up the back steps of the Hard Deck’s back patio, shutting the door behind you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulders, you gently placed it on the pool table, readying yourself to take in the true extent of the damage Tyler had wrought on the place.

The bar was dimly lit, save for the neon flashes of red and blue pulsing through the windows. There were splintered pieces of wood from the broken tables still littering the room, chairs overturned and scattered menus. With shards of glass and the thick smell of alcohol, you hated seeing the bar in such a state.

And in the middle of it all, Jake, sitting on a barstool with his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. It was a stark image, seeing Jake’s knuckles bloody and bruised, his hair dishevelled. Looking less than himself. Utterly defeated.

It was a moment you weren’t supposed to see. A moment nobody was supposed to see.

And yet…

He didn’t hear your footsteps as you went behind the bar to grab a clean cloth, nor did he hear you take a metal bowl from under the sink and fill it with water. Or the ruckus as you fought with the first aid box.

It was only when you reached for one of his hands, having come to stand in front of him to run that cloth over his skin, that he jolted out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.

“Liz, I…”

You shook your head, shushing him. “Not now, Jake. Not tonight.”

He let you clean the blood from his hands. Let you dab at the split skin surrounding his knuckles. He was stiff as you worked, eyes tracking your every movement, from how you delicately held the bottom of his hand to watching you ring the cloth over the bowl. The water had already turned red by the second time you’d cleaned the fabric.

You reached for some antiseptic from the first aid kit, tilting the bottle forward as your finger held the cotton swab in place. Jake hissed when you placed the soaked cotton swab on his raw skin, his other hand shooting out quickly to grip your wrist tight.

His touch did feel like Sandpaper. But it wasn't as coarse, not as rough as you made yourself believe. You halted your fingers, the cotton swab falling to the floor at the shock of his touch.

“Sorry,” a quiet murmur on your lips. Jake eye’s darkened, a flicker of something passing through. He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn’t let go, letting his fingers slide loosely down to your wrist. You followed his touch, watching as careful fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

"You don't have to do this, Liz," he stated, his voice rough.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, keeping your eyes fixated on his hand. "Someone has to. You certainly won’t."

"You're always caring for me."

You reached with your free hand for another cotton swab, but Jake stopped you, meeting your hand with his. He brought it down, and you let him pull you gently into the space between his legs. 

"Do I deserve it?" He whispered, playing with your fingers. "Especially from you."

You swallowed hard. "That's up to you. But I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt."

You finally gathered the courage to look up at his face. It was a miracle Tyler didn’t do much damage other than a slight bruise along his forehead.

“Otherwise, you’ll go crazy,” he remarked, recalling when Sadie was in the hospital. "Even when I've hurt you."

"Jake..." his name a quiet plead on your lips.

He let his hands glide up your wrists to your forearms, the air between the two of you heated as he leaned forward, hooded gaze intent on your lips.

"If not tonight, when?" he whispered.

Your foreheads met, you more than him, allowing yourself to press your weight against his skin. The two of you came together like this, a series of almost kisses and burning moments that left the two of you wanting more. 

Except that was when you thought you couldn't have him when everyone was screaming at you not to get involved with him.

You're not sure what it is now. Because the person who swore so long ago never to let Jake be in a position where he could break your heart was crawling out from the depths, insisting you push him away and run for the hills.

But Jake's breath, mixing with yours, lulled you into his gentle pull, hands tugging you into him as you felt him lightly graze your lips with his.

What would it be like to memorize the touch of his lips one last time?

Penny’s voice startled the two of you, making the both of you jolt back and away from each other.

"Come on, all this wait till tomorrow."

Whether she was referring to the mess in the bar or your relationship, you couldn't tell. 

You cleaned up the first aid supplies as Jake switched holding an ice bag you gave him between his hands and face. Penny locked up the bar behind the pair of you once you finished, always standing between you and Jake.

He followed the both of you hesitantly into the parking lot, unsure what he could say or do.

At the last second, you turned. You looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time since you yelled at him that day in the Hard Deck, a quiet mummer and a sad smile on your lips as you said, "Thank you, Jake."

Then, with Penny guiding you with a hand around your shoulders, you left towards your car, keys in her hand.

He could only watch every step you took, watching as the distance between the pair of you grew, left wondering if there was still hope for him to make things up to you after all. 

Tag list: (I think I'm missing a few people, so if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky @

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 18 - Sapling is in-process

[icemankazansky86]

Just a little first bit of an Us (2019)/Top Gun (1986) au fic I’m working on. I guess we’ll call it the calm before the storm.

June 7th, 1986

Miramar, San Diego, California

It’s 10:30 when Maverick comes bounding up to the door like a hyper Golden Retriever puppy. His eyes are alive with whatever brand of chaos he’s got cooking up in his head.

As if endowed with some sort of sixth sense— in all honesty, he must have developed one at some point after being around the tornado that Mitchell is— Ice pulls the door open before the other man even gets the chance to knock. “You’ve got that look in your eyes, Mitchell,” Ice remarks knowingly.

“That “look,” Maverick parrots him, his face incredulous and none the wiser, lending further credence to the Golden Retriever puppy comparison.

Ice shoots him a look of his own, only his veers more towards “irritated mother”. “Yes, Mitchell,” he replies with a succinct nod of his head. “And you know damn well what I mean when I say that too.”

Ice sighs. “What sort of shit have you, Kerner, and Bradshaw got cooked up for the beach trip to Santa Cruz?”

Again, Maverick has that stupid look on his face. The one where his brows furrow to cast shadows down on his eyes. And then, out of nowhere the expression shifts and a grin lights up his face. “Oh, ye of little faith, Kazansky.”

“You think I was kidding?” Ice asks, his brows shooting up towards the ceiling. “No, I’m serious… if you three are planning on doing something stupid—“ he’s cut off by Maverick swatting at the air in front of him.

“No, no…” the other pilot stops and places one hand over his heart, feigning a look of hurt. “How could you think that?” Ice meets his question with an unamused expression and Maverick sighs.

“We’re not doing anything nuts. Well at least not in the realm of what you’d consider “nuts.” He grins then, which makes Ice a bit nervous. “We did rent a boat though.”

“Oh, well, you three enjoy yourselves because I will not be getting on that boat.” Ice states. Maverick presses his lips together and snorts in amusement. “Ice, man… you’re in the Navy and you’re scared of a teensy little speed boat?”

“Ah-ah,” Ice wags a finger at him like a mother would. “I’m not scared of the boat. I’m scared of the three— no, two idiots— who will be on it with me.”

Maverick’s face shifts to a mask of confusion. “Two idiots? There will be three of us on the boat, Kazansky. Me,” he puts his thumb up. “Goose,” then his index finger. “And Slider… simple math, Mr. Snow Miser.”

“No, no, I know how to count, Maverick. The two idiots I’m referring to would be you and Slider. There are three brain cells shared between the three of you and Goose has two of them.”

“Oh, fuck you, Kazansky. C’mon, grab your bag, Goose and Slider are waiting in the Jeep outside.” Maverick’s eyes fall away from the man in front of him and land on the calico cat doing figure eights around his ankles. “Looks like your little friend is gonna miss you.” He points out.

“Yeah.” Ice glances down at the purring feline. “Ana’s going to drop by and feed Rivkah while I’m gone. She’ll be okay, it’s just a couple days.” He heaves out a sigh and picks his bag up off the floor. “Alright, let’s go. I hope Bradshaw’s driving.”

“Slider does drive like he’s in NASCAR.” Maverick comments as Ice locks the front door behind him. He gets a low ‘hm’ of agreement from the blond man.

“So Carole and Bradley aren’t coming?” Ice asks on their way to the car. Maverick shakes his head. “Nah, Carole took Bradley to her mom’s to visit. It’s just gonna be us four.” Ice nods.

“Hey, Ice! How’s it going?” Goose’s cheerful tone reaches his ears and Ice can’t help but crack a half smile. “Not bad, Mother Goose. I hope you’ll help me keep an eye on Thing 1 and Thing 2…” Goose lets out a laugh. “Oh, I’ll definitely try, but you know I can only do so much, man.”

“I know. It’s unfortunate, really.” Ice mutters half-jokingly as he sets his bag on the floor between his legs. Goose gives him a good-natured punch in the shoulder. “Santa Cruz is gonna be great. …As long as we keep Mav and Slider under adult supervision.”

[mcswbkia]

Ice was always a really closed off person. Only a few people were close to him and even fewer people did he actually let in.

nobody ever called him anything other than ‘Iceman’ or ‘Kazansky’

so when he and Mav were arguing about being unsafe in the air and Mav said: “That’s right, Ice”

they both froze. Mav quickly recovered and added

“-man” with a pad to Ice’s shoulder and a grin on his face. To people who didn’t know them well, it might have come off as believable.

Not to Slider and Goose, though. They knew their pilots better than they knew themselves. So Slider called in an ‘emergency meeting’ with Goose.

“They’re fucking, aren’t they?” Slider deadpanned. Goose sighed.

“Most likely.” They chuckled.

“You owe me 20 bucks, Bradshaw” Slider smirked. Goose humphed and pushed the bill in Slider’s hand.

“I will kill him” He said and stalked off.

“just wait a few days and they might do that themselves” Slider called after him laughing.

—————————————————————————

“MAV”

Maverick turned around to face his RIO.

“You lost me 20 bucks, you idiot” Goose whined.

“I, lost you 20 bucks?” He asked confused.

“yes. Couldn’t you have waited for like, a few more weeks?” Goose asks exasperated.

“Goose! Waited with what?” Mav cut in.

“with fucking your rival, you dipshit.”

Maverick turned red.

“What do you mean? I’m not….I’m not… Where did you hear this?” Mav went from denial to concern. It wasn’t exactly tolerated to be gay, of any of the sorts, in the Navy.

“Ha! So you admit it!” Goose said victoriously. Before Mav could say anything else, Goose continued.

“and we didn’t exactly hear it. We just ‘noticed” Goose replied to Mav’s last question.

“We?”

“Yeah, Slider and I made a bet that first night at the O-Club. Slider said before graduation and I said after. And now I lost. So, your fault.” Goose explained pointing to Mav at the end. Mav just blinked at his RIO.

“Just remember, Mav. We know you better than you guys know yourselves” and with that Goose walked away. Leaving Maverick standing Dumbfounded.

—————————————————————————

“I’m treating you to a beer.” Slider said while sliding (Hehehehhe) into the chair next to Ice.

“What?”

“I’m treating you to a beer. Tonight.”

Ice just seemed more confused.

“You won me 20 bucks today, so I’ll treat” Slider explained.

“and how did I, win you 20 bucks today?” Ice asked while sipping his coffee.

“You and Mav are fucking, before graduation. So, I won.”

Ice spit out half of his coffee and chocked on the other half. Slider just patted his back, waiting until he was done coughing.

“what?!” Ice’s eyes were as big as dinnerplates, cheeks getting redder with the second. Although that could also have been because of the violent coughing.

“Beer. On me. Tonight.” Slider said and stood up and left. Ice looked over his shoulder as if Slider had grown another head.

[lambourngb]

good fences make good neighbors

Commiseration Tuesday

With AO3 temporarily down, lots of us are sad at not being able to read when we wanted to! With that in mind, I’m taking the opportunity to invite you guys to share a little something from a WIP to keep us going through the downtime! Preferably something we haven’t shared before, but whatever works for you! Tagged by @ravens-words​ - thank you! I am working on an exchange fic, so I can’t share that, but I can share a WIP that I had before then...

ICEMAV - Set just after 1986 - based on a prompt where Mav and Ice are roommates and they have noisy neighbors. mentions of period-typical homophobia, and some misunderstandings ....

4400 words currently, but unfinished.

***

It was the third time that week.

Maverick stared sightless up at the plain white ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster while he listened to his next-door neighbors, Wolf and Hollywood, do their best to medal in the sex noise Olympics. It would be one thing if they decided to do this during the early evening hours when Mav could raise the volume on the ball game enough to drown out the moans and rhythmic thumping, but apparently, no one had any excess energy *right* after a work day. Instead, the second wind came at 2 am.

Again, the third time in the week, and it was only Tuesday. Christ.

Mav swung his legs out of bed, abandoning his attempts at sleep. Tomorrow's seminar on flight instructor certification was going to be rough, but judging from his recent experience, and god did he hate that he had this knowledge, the next-door noise had only just gotten started. It would be at least an hour before things quieted down again.

He met his own roommate in the dimly lit kitchen. Ice's face was flat with annoyance.

"Woke you up too?" Mav asked stupidly because, of course, it did. Ice was completely by the book and subscribed to the minimum of eight hours of sleep during the week; only the noise of Hollywood and Wolf would have had him in the kitchen nursing a warm bottle of Budweiser.

"I bet if I reported them to the brass, it would stop," Ice muttered darkly before pushing a chair open for Mav with his foot and nodding toward the open six-pack on the table.

"Well, just means they would be annoying their fellow prison cellmates with this instead of us." Mav traded a tired smile with Ice, both of them secure in the knowledge that reporting Hollywood and Wolf was completely out of the question. A few sleepless nights was a small price to pay for them, a momentary annoyance; a complaint about the two pilots breaking the UCMJ with each other would have them both dishonorably discharged and likely imprisoned. In fact, because it *was* Mav and Ice sharing a wall in their base housing duplex was probably the only reason the couple felt safe enough to make any noise in the first place.

Still. It was one thing that their friends had a feeling of safety knowing they would never be turned in, it was becoming clear there was also ... a level of shamelessness going on next door.

Mav knuckled the gritty feeling of fatigue out of his eyes, "What I don't understand is ... how do they even have the energy? We're logging four hours in the cockpit and six in the classroom during this new certification session, and I think Jester has become even more sadistic in his teaching since we graduated from Top Gun. I can barely make it through the evening news at the end of the day, let alone want to do..."

He paused, and then they both heard the enthusiastic beat of a bed frame from next door, and the loud tempo of 'Oh god, oh fuck' soundtrack. "That."

"Are you admitting to a lack of stamina, Mitchell?" Ice smirked, his usual cool expression curving into an even more familiar expression of mocking Mav. At least now, there was only humor in Ice's blue eyes instead of the dislike from when they first met.

"What?! No, there's nothing wrong with my stamina; I have zero complaints about that. I'm just saying... those idiots have been together for years, how are they still... like that?"

This time Ice looked away, taking a long slow draw from his beer. The oven light and microwave clock hid most of the details, but Mav knew him pretty well now, he could sense the discomfort in the question. "I wouldn't know. My longest relationship lasted through the holiday break during the Academy."

"Are we talking two days of Christmas or the eight nights of Hanukkah?"

"The former...and believe me, my mother despairs of me."

Mav laughed and held out his beer to clink against Ice's in solidarity over their sad love lives. "Well, you beat me. My streak is six weeks, give or take." 

He wasn't even sure if he could count the time between Hop 31 and getting cleared to fly again as time spent with Charlie, most of that was a blank in his memory of grief and intense accident investigation prep work. Top Gun was an 8-week combat school session, in between finally scoring a date with Charlie and getting dumped for the Washington job two weeks after the Layton rescue, six weeks was probably generous. Maybe he should count Penny instead, add up his assorted weekends with her after meeting her in flight school when her father was overseeing Pensacola. Four years, six weekends.

"I always beat you," Ice reminded him, annoying as always in his precision, with the memory of last year between them. 

Mav had no idea where the Top Gun trophy was, only that he was a little surprised that it wasn’t displayed prominently in their quarters, especially after Ice had found out who his roommate was at the beginning of the session. 

Actually a lot of Mav’s presumptions about Ice and what he would be like to live with had not come true. Neatness was a rule, but there were no white glove inspections of Mav’s room and only the drollest reminder to throw out the carryout containers after a few days, and they both agreed to keep the women at the O-Club. After all, the curriculum to qualify as a Top Gun instructor was difficult enough, without complicating it with a clingy boat chaser or pilot groupie that stalked the bars around Miramar. As it turned out, as straight-laced as Ice was in his job, he was surprisingly relaxed about the apartment. Mav had even expected some sort of judgment from Ice about his sparse civilian wardrobe or his cheap generic toiletries from the exchange, but there was nothing. 

Other than the old joke about who was the better pilot, Ice was a generous and easy-going roommate. Most of the time he put up a token protest about Ice’s winning streak (1 out 1 in competitions) but he was too tired to argue tonight. 

Instead, he flashed a smile at Ice, letting his shit-eating grin say everything for him. Ice rolled his eyes in turn, but maybe he was tired too, allowing the subject to drop without a further jibe.

The thumps and sounds were slowly winding down, and Maverick picked up their empty bottles to take to the trash. He yawned, and gestured to the side where Wolf and Hollywood were staying, “I do appreciate that they feel safe here, what I don’t appreciate is the timing of it. I almost yawned in Viper’s face during the flight log review today because of them.”

Ice’s eyes crinkled at the admission, but he was kind enough not to laugh at least. He put the rest of the six pack back in the fridge and then wiped the table down with a papertowel, leaving the kitchen pristine again. “I agree. Their timing could be better, or at least quieter, and I guess I’m only a little jealous of them.”

“Why, because they’re getting laid?”

“No,” Ice drawled, without an eyeroll this time, “because they found each other. I might not have had a long-term relationship before, but I’m not opposed to the idea. Wood and Wolf, while I know they have to hide their relationship, at least they can talk about their jobs without boring the other person, or worse, spending the evening explaining acronyms. That kinda sounds nice to me.”

Then it had to be a trick of shadow, or the thin draperies by the window, but Mav suddenly had the impression that Ice was *blushing* after that confession. His mind spun over the possibilities, was that something that his wingman was interested in, and with whom, only a few people could possibly check that narrow set of boxes. Certainly not any of the women at the O-Club, unless Ice had his eye on someone Mav didn’t know. Pensacola had been graduating women for at least ten years, though not many in fixed-wing operations. He shook his head, deciding that he must have imagined that. Iceman was way too controlled to blush. 

He realized he was staring just then, and was standing too close to Ice in the dimly lit kitchen. Rushing to cover for his shameful preoccupation, Mav rubbed the back of his head and scoffed. “Yeah, sure it sounds nice, but I can’t really imagine it being realistic. At least not for me.” 

Ice said nothing in response, not even to make fun of Mav, he just brushed past him to leave the kitchen. The quiet in their apartment had been restored, it was time to attempt sleep again. 

As Mav waited to fall back asleep he realized that another presumption that he had about Ice had fallen completely flat. Ice might have been robotic in his flying at time, but the man was also a secret romantic. 

*

Two nights later it happened again. The thin walls transcribe nearly every movement and every breathless gasp from Wolfman and Hollywood.

Mav sat up in bed with a loud groan of annoyance as the ‘Oh oh, yes!’ chorus started up again. His textbook that he had fallen asleep reading slipped off his lap onto the floor with a loud thump, and then he crashed into his nightstand after overbalancing in his attempt to reach it. The nightstand hit the wall, and Mav yelped loudly in pain.

There was a pause and a giggle from the shared wall and then a loud shushing noise.

He rubbed his elbow, retrieving the textbook from the floor. Thank god blessed silence, Mav thought as the quiet extended past a few minutes, before pushing up from the floor to crawl back in bed.

Except the respite was brief, and the rocking movements of the headboard.

Mav groaned again, even more annoyed by them now. 

There was another spell of quiet, and suddenly, he realized what was going on. Wolf and Wood were listening to him. “Oh you fucking pervs,” Mav whispered to himself, and then shrugged. Maybe it was time for them to get a taste of their own medicine. He got on his knees and grabbed the plain headboard with one hand, then started to rock his hips in motion until the mattress squeaked in time with his efforts.

Boom, boom, boom, he knocked the headboard into the wall, while the mattress made obliging sounds with it. Mav pinched his thumb between the wall and the bed, pulling a loud cry of pain from his lips. Despite the circumstances that gave him an idea, it was the sound that was missing from his production. He moaned and cried loudly, until his muscles started to burn with the exertion.

Had it been long enough? How long did he have to do this? He didn’t want to be teased for being an early finisher if he quit too early-

Out of caution, Mav gave a few more minutes of his best performance without laughing, then he let out a satisfied whimper for his audience. 

It was silent next door. Maybe they were both voyeurs and got off to the noise and idea of someone else getting laid. Whatever the reason, Mav laid flat on his bed and fell asleep quickly in the renewed quiet. His last thought was smug, he had silenced the neighbors in half of the time and all it cost him was a bruised thumb.

* 

The next day was strange. It was Friday, and Mav woke up with a smile on his face. The class had an early morning test before they were all dismissed for the weekend, practically a three day holiday. He had studied the night before thoroughly and felt prepared, his sleep had only been disturbed briefly thanks to his ingenuity, and the weather was beautiful, perfect for an afternoon at the beach. Everything was coming up aces for him.

Except for one thing. Well, one person. Ice.

Never a chatty person in the morning without caffeine, Ice was downright monosyllabic on Friday. He nodded to Mav in the kitchen, taking his coffee back to his room with a brief return of Mav’s greeting of ‘Good morning’ and then he left for class before Mav was dressed from his shower, instead of sharing the walk to the hanger with him. 

Hollywood and Wolf on the other hand were all smiles and jokes that morning, elbowing each other and laughing whenever Mav came near them. He had chocked their behavior up to being a pair of immature pervs, even if they were madly in love with each other, and he had dismissed it completely. 

Ice’s behavior was a little harder to puzzle out.

His uniform was perfectly pressed, and his gold pen was still in his hand while they waited for the test to be passed out to the class. No sign of the lazy, hypnotic twirl that Ice was prone to do. It was as if every inch of him was locked down and under complete control. A complete 1-180 from how they first encountered each other. It was then that Mav realized that the pen-flipping and gum chewing were all signs of Ice being comfortable and at ease with his environment, and why wouldn’t he had been during TOPGUN, his skills had him in first place on day one, and everyone else had to play catch up, Mav included. Not today. A statue had more warmth and movement than Ice did. Mav tried to catch his eye from across the room, but Ice seemed to be deeply interested in front of the classroom and never acknowledged Mav.

That was also new.

“This might be a short day, gentlemen, but this test will determine whether you have the proficiency to teach the theories of aerial combat to incoming Top Gun classes. I hope you all studied hard,” Jester said from the podium with the tests in hand.

Hollywood smothered a laugh after Wolfman kicked the back of his chair.

“Something to add, Lt. Neven?” 

“No sir, we all studied hard. Some of us went at it a little harder than others last night,” Hollywood answered, almost respectfully. Mav noticed that Ice’s shoulders seemed to tighten and a red flush was spreading over Ice’s ear as he stared straight ahead completely stone-faced. The rest of the room was used to Hollywood running his mouth, nearly everyone rolled their eyes at the innuendo.

Mav had the strange feeling that he was missing something. Ice’s knuckles were white where he clutched his pen when just the other day that type of remark would have had him trading long-suffering looks with Mav. They knew better than anyone what Hollywood was referring to as the unlucky neighbors. However his musings were cut off by the appearance of the test. There would be time to figure out his wingman later, Mav reasoned, first he needed to make sure he didn’t wash out of the training program because of a stupid written exam.

The previous hard work the night before in studying was at least well rewarded. He confidently wrote in the answers to the open-ended questions and circled the appropriate bubbles during the multiple choice sections, hardly needing to pause to remember the correct information. Mav had to hide a smile as he reached the end of the exam, and noticed that Viper had updated the scenario with the MiG and inverted tanks. Finishing the test with a flourish, Mav stood at almost the same time as Ice did, both of them were the first to turn in their exams. 

He rushed to the front of the classroom, mostly with grace and slapped down his test in front of Jester with a smug celebration for being the first. Jester raised his eyebrows at the display, and placed the completed test to the side with an exaggerated gesture of patience. Mav turned his head to see if Ice was bothered by finishing second, only to watch him walk slowly and unhurriedly to the front, seemingly without a care. 

Like Mav was the only one who was competing. Like Mav wasn’t even worth competing with.

He was definitely missing *something* when it came to Ice. Well, as a pilot, Mav was well-trained in the dogged-pursuit of a bogie; putting his wingman in his sights was easy. Target acquired time to move in for the easy kill.

Or at least it should have been easy. Mav waited just outside of the classroom doors for Ice. 

Ice took one step out of the hanger, then caught sight of him, he then made a text-book perfect dress-right move away from him in an obvious attempt at avoidance. Ice must have been in charge of drill formations for his brigade at the academy, Mav mused to himself before jogging to catch up to match Ice’s long strides down toward the housing block. Something was definitely up with him.

Deciding to start with the obvious, Mav fell breathlessly in step with him, “Hey, so how do you think you did on the test? Not as bad as we thought, right?”

“Fine,” Ice gritted out without looking over at him.

“Just fine? I think I aced it,” Mav continued, undeterred by the short response. “Did you see the question about the inverted tanks? I feel like perhaps my name should have been cited as a resource there, since it was my intel from the Enterprise-”  he paused to see if Ice reacted to that, and was met with a clenched jaw but nothing else. “I guess we will find out on Monday if they wash any of us out for being too stupid to teach here. It’s not like the ASVAB where you get thirty points for spelling your name right, although yours was probably a challenge, Kazansky.”

“Right.”

There was no way that Ice was worried about failing out of the program, Mav thought, but maybe he was wrong about that. It was barely ten am, and there was almost three days before the results would be ready, maybe what Ice needed was a distraction. 

“Listen, it’s early enough, why don’t we hit the beach, scout out the best location before the rest of our class finishes up. Maybe it’s time for another rematch in volleyball,-”

“No, thank you,” Ice replied firmly.

The response was polite on the surface, but completely cold. Mav blinked, and realized that they were back at their shared quarters. Instead of moving toward his bedroom to remove his uniform for the long weekend, Ice was packing a slim carrying case with his textbooks and notes. His movements were smooth and unhurried under Mav’s stare, as if Mav wasn’t even there in the room with him.

He had tried subtle, but that had rarely worked for him, so Mav got straight to the point. “Is something wrong?” 

Ice didn’t pause after zipping the case up, even though his hands flexed on the supple leather. “No, nothing is wrong.”

“Are you sure? Because if I pissed you off, it wasn’t deliberate-”

Ice straightened, holding the case in his right hand. He was still the consummate officer, his left hand was free to salute, as he flicked his gaze over to Maverick for the first time all day. Up and down, without a hint of his thoughts on his face as Mav shifted anxiously under it. Whatever he saw on Mav, it must not have been interesting as he executed another precise pivot away from Mav. “You didn’t, I just don't have time for you right now, Mitchell.”

Dismissed. 

Mav thought about what Goose had said during that first night at the O-Club about Ice, “he wears you down, you get bored, frustrated, do something stupid and he's got ya-” somehow without Mav becoming aware of it, Ice had gotten lock on him and had fired, echoing the words of disinterested foster parents and bored peers who hadn’t cared to hear his teenage-mouth runoff about planes and the Navy in that dead end town.

Ice had his back to him thankfully for Mav’s ego, he was too intent on leaving the small duplex and missed the devastation left in his wake, calling out a belated, “Later, Mitchell,” over his shoulder. 

Still precise and polite, even after leaving a knife inside Mav. 

*

Time played games with Mav after that, slipping away in hours before lingering painfully over the last few minutes with Ice. He was somewhat aware of movement outside the door, a knock and call from Wolfman, some offer about the beach, but it felt unimportant to Mav. One thing was clear, he had not imagined the tension in Ice that morning and then the sudden dismissal after the test solidified that into fact. 

He had done something wrong, something that had killed the blossoming friendship between them after the Layton rescue. He had no idea what it could be, but he was a little too familiar with this type of confusion after having experienced it before as a kid. He remembered how it went back then, foster parents that were excited to welcome a son into their family, with wide smiles and effusive hugs always seemed to slip into cold, disapproving strangers because of something Mav had done.

There was even a particular look they would get after making the decision to return him to foster care, but before the social worker could find the next placement. With the brief return of the wide empty smiles, everyone would act nice, but behind it was the peace of knowing it would be just temporary and he would soon be someone else’s problem. 

Ice had found his limit with him; apparently, he was now cooly polite to Mav and obviously avoiding him. Maybe he had reached his own decision about Mav, there was no social worker for Ice to call to pick Mav up, but there were transfer orders and reassignments instead. 

He’s waiting to finish the teaching certification and then he’ll be headed back to sea, away from Miramar, Mav realized dully. They would finish the program qualified to be instructors, but not together. Somewhere along the line after Ice had signed up for the class with him, he had pictured sharing an office with him at Top Gun, taking up new pilots and bickering over paperwork, turning that bond they had from the Indian Ocean into something… more. 

Mav had never felt more stupid in his life, he suddenly understood why his stomach had clenched when Ice had confessed being a little jealous of Hollywood and Wolfman having found each other. “I might not have had a long-term relationship before, but I’m not opposed to the idea.” He was jealous, because he now realized that he wanted that too, with Ice. 

He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and stood up from their couch, suddenly aware that hours had passed and he had done nothing to fix whatever he had done to piss Ice off. The key to convincing someone to keep him around had always revolved around being useful to them. He had learned early on that certain home placements had lasted longer when he accepted the bulk of household chores, then later on, he had ensnared Nick Bradshaw’s lifelong friendship when he had volunteered for newborn diaper duty with baby Bradley. Hell, even Charlie had hung around for his knowledge of the MiG, which was all very useful to her career prospects in Washington. 

Now how could he be useful to Ice, and make up for whatever he did to alienate the other man?

The quarters they shared were still neat, as per Ice’s original request but maybe he also meant he wanted them to be clean? That he could do.

*

It was almost eleven when Mav heard the key scrape in the lock that signaled Ice’s return. 

He kept his attention on the baseball game, long since placed on mute after the sound of the announcers had started to scrape over his anxiety. Ice flipped on the lights, causing him to blink owlishly at the brightness, his eyes having long since grown used to the dim light of the television.

“Sorry,” Ice apologized, still polite and courteous. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

Mav glanced over at him before returning his attention to the game, even though he had no idea how his team was up by four. That confirmed another suspicion, Ice had stayed away until now because he wanted to avoid him. He hated it when his suspicions were proven correct. “Never left.”

He could see out of his periphery that his admission seemed to halt Ice in his tracks to the kitchen. It was just temporary, he recovered and continued to the small alcove to retrieve a beer from the fridge after placing his leather case on the small card table that masqueraded as a kitchen table. The sounds were familiar to Mav, the hiss of the refrigerator door, the snap of the bottle cap, the careful clink of Ice throwing the cap away in the trash, instead of tossing it carelessly like the rest of their class.

It all sounded normal, except for the bounds of tension that were looped around his chest. 

A ball was hit to the outfield, and Mav watched as it arched higher and higher over the desperate reach of a desperate center fielder. He blinked, realizing belatedly that his team had allowed the opponent to tie up the game. It was the bottom of the ninth, if his team held it they would have another shot at winning, but if they slipped it was all over. That, at least, felt familiar to Mav. 

“You cleaned,” Ice said, stating the obvious with a small wrinkle of confusion on his face as he took a seat next to Mav on the couch. His blue eyes scanned the room, noting each small change, like the rug was freshly beaten, the wood floors swept, the scent of lemon oil in the air. 

Mav pulled his attention away from the game and tried to read his expression, looking for some sign of approval or disapproval. Damnit, he was twenty-five years old, and somehow he had found a time portal back to 1973, eleven years old and wondering if he had cleaned the house well enough to avoid being sent back. For the first time since Ice had brushed him off, he felt the lick of anger at himself for being this weak. 

“I did.”

[topgunruinedme]

Slow Ride

Summery:

The younger man huffed gently biting his lower lip and purred, the soft worlds rolling off his lips in a way that should not have felt as attractive as they were. “Now dear, what is a pretty little thing like you doing in here hiding behind a desk” he pouted gently, “You’re robbing everyone the chance to get an eyeful” his eyes dragged down in a purposefully slow heavy motion “And i would very much like one”. He blinked. Then again. Throat clicking as the pen clattered to the desk from his lax fingers in surprise as he took in the younger man infront of him. Black hair, sharp green eyes, a libido bigger than an entire continent and a cocky attitude?   “Maverick?”

In which Iceman get de-aged and decide to terrorise Cyclone, lover style.

Rule one. Don't date your coworkers. 

Rule two. If you have a painful life altering crush on said rumoured married coworker, don’t make it obvious.

These were rules he abided by. Something he created when he first walked into his first Top Gun class and realized that his teacher was not only The Iceman, but that he would spend the next four weeks coming toe-to-toe with him in the air being pushed to his limits both physically, mentally, and consciously. He has never had to express as much self-control as he did in those four weeks of his career with the sheer amount of effort it took not to leer, drool, or make an idiot of himself, and in fact if it hadn't been for his Rio, Solomon, he probably would have combusted into a flustered ball and be working as a Starbucks barista by now. Instead he was now a respected Admiral who had meetings on monthly bases with said crush, which only grew over the years as the man's hair turned grey as they both aged. Not that the fact they were both older had anything to do with how flustered the man still made him when the man caught him off guard with a lewd comment. He had seen the man shark-like grin far too many times then he would like to count to believe it was truely accidental or innocent, the man had leaned over at inopportune times of important meeting to 'compare notes' just for an excuse to get closer so he could startled him with an inappropriate joke that made his ears tip turn pink. 

But the man must like him a little bit because out of anyone in the Navy he was the one that Ice has dumped his rugrat of a husband on him, despite knowing fully well of his opinion or lack of on the man. 

Where Iceman was serious and controlled at times he was also kind and packed a dry sense of rumor. Talking to him could feel like standing infront of your boss knowing you just fucked up and were getting the arse-cewing of your life or fired, or it could feel like a friend you havn’t seen in a while that your catching up with. A man who you could come to with an issue and Ice would sit across from you and help you find a solution. 

Then there was Maverick. And he was well…a maverick. Impulsive, dangerous, insubordinate. The man was brash, loyal to a heart, but a danger to the Navy in everything except the air. He was passionate and precise and all his risks were deadly but they only ever usually endangered himself. He was infuriating. Arrogant. And the dick held a damn grudge longer than he's seen anyone and it's hilarious to see how quickly the man can get under Cain's skin. But he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. 

The man may have somehow tricked the Iceman, Thomas Kazansky, top of his class, valedictorian, first place winner of Top Gun and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet to marry him- supposedly because he never did really get a confirmation .  

But he wasn't going to allow himself to fall for that innocent woe look at me act Maverick threw at him, no matter how often the man gave his coy looks or batted his eyelashes. He wasn't going to fold god dammit. He refused to be manipulated. He was stronger than Iceman. 

It was difficult enough seeing Iceman on a monthly basis finally settling into a nice lull of work and play when Maverick was thrown at him. Now his days revolved around completing extra paperwork Maverick produced and periodically checking around base to make sure nothing was on fire and that there's been no subtraction or addition to the daggers since his last check 15 minutes ago. 

Turns out Iceman failed to mention in his handover the fact that Mitchell had a terrible case of adopting everything that walks. He was 90% sure he had at least one more medical team then what he started with, and at least half a engineering department swarming his tarmac that he was absolutely sure he never approved transfer forms for.

Maverick was going to give him an ulcer at this point, the slightest thought of Maverick wandering around unsupervised gave him enough anxiety to sink a carrier. 

Normally he would be able to push past it, drag his feet until the end of the day then collapse in his off base housing and limit himself to a much needed drink before forcing himself to finish of whatever work he had left after fixing whatever demographic issue Maverick caused for the day before passing out and doing it all over again the next day. 

However it seemed like nothing was going his way today. 15 years running and he’s never fucked up this badly before:

Rule one, don’t date your coworkers. Ticked and signed. There wasn't exactly a great looking pool to begin with in the Navy besides a select few who were either Married or were certain to cause a scandal at some point and other then that he hadn’t been in the dating pool for at least seven years after the messy divorce with his wife Clarence.

Rule two, don’t be obvious. Considering he’s spending most of his time doing damage control and holding his head above the water during Kazansky personal calls he could confidently say he was rocking that one.

So why had his world quite literally been demolished around him in a violent tornado in the shape of a familiar green eyed pilot?

It had been fine, until it hadn't been. He had managed to arrive earlier than expected on base and took time to enjoy a cup of coffee without any of his kids rushing around yelling that they would be late to school, or telling him about school projects due two hours later. He had managed to conquer a pile of documents that’s been sitting on his desk for the last week by 10:30, suffering through a financial meeting (mostly about Mavericks plane allowance) until 11:45 before tragedy struck. 

He had been poring over some reports when the door to his office opened and someone made a pleased noise, stepping into the office without a care in the world.

His gaze jumped up to meet the sharp green eyes of towards the door reprimand already on his lips to tear the lieutenant barging into his office a new one, the rebuke on the end of his tongue stilled, barbs settling back into his own throat at the sight of a younger man; early twenties, black hair messed up as if the man had tried to hand comb it. The man swaggered forward with an easy grin. His green eyes shamelessly dragging down his body, seemingly confident. The man’s uniform sat tight around his chest and shoulders as if it was fitted to him, he dragged his eyes towards the man's shoulder flicking over the rank; Captain . 

The rank screamed at him from the man's shoulder, a rank far too advanced for someone his age. 

The man seemed immensely pleased at catching him in a rare moment alone approaching the desk boldly completely bypassing the seats that were placed specifically in front of the desk in such a particular way that it was supposed to dissuade people from the idea of approaching. The man placed his palms on the desk leaning forward getting in his face forcing him to lean backwards slightly as he narrowed his eyes at the intruder who looked him up and down openelly leering at him. 

What. the. Fuck. 

The man's biceps flexed from where he was holding himself and the tight fabric around his arms did not help the body appeal it gave him, the attractive way the man made each movement with almost a lingering seductive air around him, peering at him through half lids a sultry grin on his lips eyes dropping down to take in his half bent form over the desk where he had been working, frozen as he had watched the man approached with an air of disbelief idly wondering if he needed to get a physiological check or if he just finally had a mental break. His fingers twitched, itching to get the bottle of whiskey from his bottom desk drawer and skull it as an excuse to get away from whatever this was…

The younger man huffed gently biting his lower lip as purred, the soft worlds rolling off his lips in a way that felt as attractive as they were. “Now dear, what is a pretty little thing like you doing in here hiding behind a desk” he pouted gently “You’re robbing everyone the chance to get an eyeful” his eyes dragged down in a purposefully slow heavy motion “And i would very much like one”.

He blinked. Then again. Throat clicking as the pen clattered to the desk from his lax fingers in surprise as he took in the younger man infront of him. Black hair, sharp green eyes, a libido bigger than an entire continent and a cocky attitude?

“Maverick?” 

“That's my name sweetheart, don't wear it out” the man's grin widened, “That is unless you want to scream it for me”. 

What. the. Fuck. 

Maverick. Mav. Famed aviator. Maverick Mitchell. Captain Mitchell. 

How did this happen? What didn't he know anything about this? Maverick was an instructor under his care, a man he had under 24/7 surveillance via Hondo (although now he was questioning where the man's loyalties truly laid) he should be receiving reports by the hour. His instructor who had previously been only 5 years older than himself, only two years apart from competing at Top Gun, suddenly becoming a 20 something year old seemed like a pretty major security risk that he would have assumed he would have been informed about the very moment it happened. 

He was honestly astounded that the man hadn't already been collected by his wingman and shipped over state lines until the man figured out how this happened. 

“Cat get your tongue darling? Don't worry, I can lend you mine”. 

His breath caught in his throat and his chest stuttered as Maverick  moved shamelessly closer, stalking around the desk. Oh fuck . He pushed his chair back from the desk as the younger man grew closer in an attempt to put space between them, Maverick gave him an amused tilt of his head but instead of be-lining for him like he had been afraid of,  he perched his perky arse on the edge of his desk in front of him before lifting himself up onto it effortlessly. 

This was insane. Was Maverick seriously coming onto him right now? 

That was a dumb question. This was Maverick. The resident little shit who lived to make his life difficult. A man who would stand in front of him waiting until he finished chewing him out to offer to get them some off base coffee while they go through lesson plans with a small sly smile, the same smile that greeted him on the slightly younger version of himself,  only this time it was paired with something much more dangerous. The man gave him a knowing smile as he spread his legs, fabric stretching and clinging to the man's thick muscular thighs putting them on display wantonly. His breath shuttered in response as he swallowed down the lust that tried to rise at the very willing younger man flaunting his body in front of him. 

He was his subordinate. His aviador. 

He was his boss’s partner. 

He was… Maverick.  

He was young. Far younger than he had been when he saw him yesterday afternoon standing in this very room where he had been staring past him at the notch in the wall until he had been red in the face yelling at the man for another flyby. 

He was Icemans. His partner, his wingman, his husband. At least that's what he thought he was, no normal friends bickered like an old couple argued quite like they did. 

He swallowed thickly, eyes drawn back to the strong thighs before him, eyes trailing over the inner seam of the man's trousers that looked stretched like they were struggling to uphold their duty. Maybe he wasn't stronger than Iceman after all.  

Maverick ignored his inner turmoil giving him an easy smile that bloomed attractively on his face and the smug tilt to it meant he clearly knew what he was doing, using his body to his advantage to get what he wanted as he proceeded to fluster him. He swallowed stepping back trying to put more distance between them only for a tight grip to wrap around his wrist roughly tugging him forward, he stumbled slightly as the grip yanked him closer until he ended up between the man's spread thighs barley a hair away from grabbing the man's thighs and feeling the muscle beneigh the fabric twitch in anticipation. Maverick tilted his head back, chin jutting forward as he revealed the milky white throat clear of any marks as he gave him a sly look from where he was practically under him. 

“Running away sweetheart? Well I do like a good chase…”

His hand darted to the one around his wrist as he dug his nails into his own skin ignoring the pinch as he tried to wrench the man's fingers from his skin, it was useless, his grip was tight and it seemed as if nothing would separate them other than the own man's will. 

“Captain, release me” he warned slowly tugging on the man's wrist again only growing more frustrated as the man's grip tightened. 

Maverick rested back at ease, hardly blinking at their positioning. “And let a catch like you go? No chance,” the man snorted “I gotta get you before Ice sinks his teeth into you and trust me,” the man bit his lips “He likes to bite”. 

He blanched slightly, body jerking at the comment and his mind blanked temporarily. Holy fuck, he was learning far too much about his boss’s sexual relationships, and he had no interest in whatever bet these two had going. Even if it did end up with him wedged between them pinned by Maverick’s gaze and hands trailing down his body while Ice curled around his back hand pressed against his stomach obsessively as he trailed bites down his neck-

His dick twitched against his thigh. Right, shit. Young Maverick. Maverick was still propositioning him. He had to fix this, and quickly, before Iceman stormed in and demanded what he did to his precious wingman. He'd rather live. 

“He always did love to get carnage knowledge, it was his specialty you see. In clubs, on base, it gave him some sort of thrill, and well…I can't say it doesn't do the same for me” Maverick’s thumb brushed against his wrist no doubt feeling the way his pulse jumped the man's lips pulled tighter amusement shining in them, “I have no doubt Mr goodie-two-shoes has his eyes on you because damn . He'd be a fool not too”. 

“Captain-”

“Yes Admiral?” the little shit purred, his leer intensifying as his foot brushed against his outer thigh and it almost made him jump out of his skin. Maverick made a noise of interest, his gaze jumping to his throat watching it jump, “Don't tell me you're a goodie-two-shoes too, a rule sticker. Do I need to corrupt you sweetheart?” His foot brushed against him again this time higher as the man tugged him closer they bumped together the thin wood of the desk barley separating them as Maverick - surprisingly flexible - hiked his leg up on his hip, heel pressing into his lower back no doubt wrinkling his uniform as he tugged him closer trying to fuse them together. 

He gritted his teeth, “Captain Mitchell, this is inappropriate behavior-”

“Dont tell me your a virgin” the man sounded delighted, “Never fucked at work before, dear lord I tell you that was the first thing Ice does when he’s promoted-” fuck now thats the only thing hes ever going to remember when he goes to report to the man “-I think we've had more sex in those offices then he's done work in them” Maverick cackled. “Come on Admiral, let loose have some fun” the man's lips brushed against his ear “Help me desecrate the office”. 

Maverick's sly look glanced down slightly as he tilted his neck back stretching up towards his breath brushing against his own mingling with halted anticipation that he had half the mind to endure. There was a brief moment of hesitation on his part when he registered a commotion just before the door to his office slammed open, suddenly offering him a brief chance to drag himself out of the enchanting spell he had found himself entrapped in. Taking the chance of Maverick’s surprise to yank himself away from the man, barely getting the chance to put more than a foot of space between them, still held captivated from the man's grip on his wrist which didn't seem to be releasing anytime soon. He felt the man's pulse beneigh his fingertips, the way it raced almost kissing against the soft skin of his wrist as a group of aviators stumbled into his office. 

“Admiral-”

“-Cyclone-”

“-Have you seen-”

“Oh” 

He swallowed. “Does no one know how to knock these days?” While his voice was miraculously somewhat steady, he still sent the daggers a semi-panicked stare peering at them from over Maverick’s shoulder. They looked ruffled, clearly having tried their hand at babysitting the man but what threw him for a loop was the tall blond standing proudly beside them, carefully put together, from his sharp blue eyes to the frosted tips and the famous cold expression of a very unimpressed Iceman staring him down. 

Oh double fuck . 

Admiral Kazansky stared down at him equally as young, perhaps a few years older than his counterpart and just as equally attractive. Two of his lifelong crushes in a room together looking absolutely delectable. 

Dear lord, why was Iceman staring at him like he was a piece of meat being fed to a starving carnivore, like a prey to a ravenous lion, a prey to be hunted. 

His eyes flickered back to the daggers in the doorway. The small group looked haggard. Trace looked irritated; her hair had been pulled out of its bun into a hasty ponytail that had a few stray strands carded down her neck. Garcia appeared nervous peering over the woman's shoulder unlike the others he was still in uniform, his khakis pressed as if he had never made it to the locker room. Despite his put together appearance he still looked as if he felt out of place, switching from foot to foot. Meanwhile Seresin stood before them, as if he was the leader of their segment, they looked as if they had spent the morning running around looking for the very man who held him in his clutches. Seresin ran his hand through his hair looking far too exacerbated than he should at this hour of the day, his flight suit was wrapped messily around his waist, a writing pad wedged between the man's hip and suit as if he had been preparing for today's lesson. The man sighed heavily, meeting his gaze tiredly almost agreeing with his silent hysteria “Yeah…it's been a long morning sir”.

He allowed for a strangled noise to leave his lips as he glanced between the two seductive men. Maverick had left his perch to lean back on his palm shifting further on the desk, spreading out in a more revealing stance than he was previously. His thighs still spread, almost invitingly, the new position placed all his weight on his bicep putting stress on his chest as the man shamelessly pressed his chest out encouraging him to look. Throwing him a slightly sly look before tilting his head back lazily with an easy grin as he caught the gaze of his friend. “Hey Ice”. 

“Trouble” Ice murmured giving him a fond look as he stepped forward approaching the otherside of the desk allowing Maverick to almost lean on him as he placed his own palms on the desk almost perfectly mirroring Maverick mere moments ago. “I left you alone for two seconds and you're already chasing tail” the man teased gently a gentle look appearing as he looked down at the man hovering over Maverick with no hesitation but rather with ease as if this was common practice between the two, the lack of personal boundaries and the ability to touch freely. 

Ice lifted a hand and it curled around the back of the smaller man's neck tugging him further backwards, fingers curling in the man's hair causing a half groaned moan to slip passed Maverick’s lips as his head was tilted backwards and Ice claimed his lips in a possessive kiss; the stunning blue eyes engulfed in a passionate possessiveness that targeted his own and failed to detach almost screaming at him to make a move, to challenge them, as Ice forced him to watch as he staked his firm claim. 

Without any further prompting Maverick sank into Ice’s arms with a happy noise, the two man seemed to ignore the world around them as mav leaned further in an attempt to form into the man who cradled him in his palms without giving an inch to releasing his own grip on his wrist refusing to yield demanding both of their attention as he attempted to press further into his partners hold. Ice fingers wrapped around the man's hair tighter with a visible fervid need as he pressed his lips against the other man's tighter releasing his own soft noise of content as he felt Maverick submit under him giving him his body to his will. Ice pulled away and Mav chased him unashamed as he whined out in protest as he stretched in an attempt to recapture the man's lips as he panted, Ice lips tipped up in amusement but refused to allow the man to remount his lips. Mav pouted, rolling his eyes at the man’s antics as if he knew exactly what the man’s show was for, but any lingering irritation he had with the man quickly faded as he gave Ice a giddy smile in response to his affection, “Gotta get a head start somewhere”. 

“So you admit I'm the better pilot?” Ice murmured eyes lingering on the man eyes trailing over him appreciatively as if tracing the familiar lines of the man's body cataloging them for later to recall of the fondest of times.

Maverick snorted, clearly still absorbed in their own world, similarly trapped within Iceman's siren call as he had been with Maverick, unable to pull away far too enchanted by the man’s appeal. Ice tilted his head lightly still cradling the man gently as Maverick stared up at him with a soft grin probing him, “In your dreams. I just admit that while you can get them to fall at your feet, I need to butter them up a little”.  

Iceman hummed slightly, gaze breaking away from his lovers and zeroed in on his dragging it up latches onto his almost studying him. It made his skin prick, almost like a scalpel running over his skin in careful precise slices waiting for him to bleed out. 

“Admiral Kaznasky” he greeted roughly under the man's perusal, trying to resist the urge to salute. The man’s cutting gaze never left his own as the man's eyes trailed over him; taking in his uniform, the slight stain on his finger from the pen, and the way he held himself stiffly at the desk. His hand flexed when he realized the man focused on how he was practically between his wingman's legs which were still seductively spread and he felt the urge to step away. Like far away, a different content maybe. 

“Simpson” Iceman drawled dryly. 

Maverick let out an unhappy noise clearly annoyed with the lack of attention as he sat up pulling away from Iceman’s grip as he reached out towards him with his now remaining free hand. He stiffened when fingers wrapped around his chin tugging him forward and he had to place a hand on the desk beside the man to prevent himself from stumbling as Maverick forced his gaze back onto him. Intense heavy gaze bleeding into his giving him a stern frown voice dark with disapproval “Come back here darling, I wasn't done talking to you”. 

He swallowed thickly, very aware of the stare of everyone in the room. The feeling of drowning under being displayed so humiliatingly in front of his lieutenants as well as the suffocating feeling of Iceman. As well as the man's partner who he watched shamelessly flirting with him. He almost wanted to close his eyes and wait for the man to swing his executioner's axe. He raised his hand coming up to the man's wrist pressing his thumb into the ligament just between the radius and ulna under the wrist until the man hissed slightly and released his grip. “Get him out of here, and for fuck sakes keep an eye on them” he croaked suddenly all too overwhelmed with the situation, trying to escape from whatever the fuck was happening. 

Maverick's expression twisted into a playful pout as Iceman's arm dropped to wrap around the man's waist snaking around his slim middle and pulled him backwards into Iceman’s chest no longer restricted by grip or trapped between them. Mavericks back pressed against Ice’s chest as he stepped backwards dragging the troublesome man elegantly of the desk in one swift movement lifting the man with ease arm straining the fabric of the mans blue uniform tightened around the mans delicious biceps  before he set the man back on his feet by his side his arm refusing to leave its possessive hold. Maverick let out a brief sound of protest grumbling as he shot Ice an unhappy look at his spoils of fun being ruined.

“Where do you want us to take them sir?” Trace asked, leaning around Seresin looking as if she was already planning out some sort of plan. Thank god at least one of them had a plan.  

He ran a stressed hand down his face “I don't know! Anywhere but here!” He could hear the growing hysteria in his voice now, Iceman's brows furrowed slightly and Maverick whining stopped as he peered up at him with growing concern. “Just keep them on base. Stick them in a dorm room or something just watch them”. 

“Sir-” Seresin gave him an weary look, breaking parade rest to step closer, “Are you alright?”

“Do i look alright” he snarled, “Im half conviced im having a psychotic break so get the fuck out of my office before I demote all of your arse for keeping this massive security risk a secret and deport you an active warzone and shot you out of the sky myself!”

“Yes sir!” Seresin saluted his concern lingering but the man fell back into a parade rest turning to address the two other men in the room motioning for them to follow. Iceman tugged a reluctant Maverick out of the office guiding him out under his arm with a low warning “Mav” when the smaller man attempted to argue his way out of it. Seresin moved quickly falling into line behind them as Trace and Gracia guide the men down the hall keeping them in a strict weapons envelope in an attempt to prevent the men from escaping again. 

He barely had the time to wheel the chair back under him as he collapsed into it, he let out a groan of distress as his head fell into his hands. He attempted to muffle himself as he let out a scream of distress which he was sure could still be heard down the hall despite his best efforts. He gave himself a moment to wallow in stress, his shoulders shook momentarily as he felt the weight of his new days worth of issues to suffer from. He inhaled holding it for a few moments before exhaling shakily trying to collect himself  as he swallowed leaning back as he rolled his chair back under the desk casting his eye over the office that looked as if nothing amiss had happened as he reached for the phone on the desk holding the weight of the receiver in his palm, it felt ill weighted, but perhaps that was just his shock taking hold of him. The line rang briefly before it clicked signifying it had connected to the desk just outside his door to his secretary who had been the original cause of the commotion to begin with. 

“Admiral Simpson?” Thomas' amused smile could be heard in his voice. 

“Would you summon Solomon for me?” he let out a weary sigh as he drawl off a list of precious tasks he knew without a doubt the young man would have already started compiling ideas for. “Cancel my meetings for the next week and for fuck sakes could you do some damage control and ensure no one sees Kaznaky and Mitchel”.

“Already done sir,” Thomas tittered shortly before adding, “There is also a food order set to arrive in the next 10 minutes for you both and I've already started sending out emails explaining the visit of two new recruits”. 

He huffed at the man's amusement “I’m going to ignore the fact you’re taking pleasure in my pain” he pointed out, then smiled genuinely “Have I told you how much I love you Tom?”

The man laughed “Every day, sir”. Thomas' voice seemed to hitch slightly as the receiver shifted “Although I believe you are declaring your love to the wrong Tom, sir” the man teased. 

The line clicked disconnecting before he could answer and he placed the phone back down on its holder with a poorly suppressed sigh. God that man was a handful but he wouldn't be able to survive day to day in this job without him. He just knew that Sol would end up gossiping with him later no doubt already on his way to bully the details of the two men unknowingly acting out one of his very chest held sexual fantasies out of him. 

Why did he put up with Mitchell again? After all, he wouldn't be in this mess if Iceman hadn’t decided to test his patience. Where on earth had he gone wrong?

And after all his effort, all 15 years of it. It turns out, he wasn’t stronger than Iceman after all. 

He had two rules. Two very simple rules. However it appeared that however young or old both men of his desires had decided to say fuck the rules and seem quite insistant with their intent on dragging him with them to whatever sin they rested their heads upon at night. 

It appears he needed to implement a third rule; need not further the previous two rules may not apply if it involves Maverick Mitchell nor Thomas Kazansky. 

He sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose,  staring wearily at the door of his office waiting for it to burst open this time a welcome intrusion by the hand of his best friend, as the trail of Iceman’s arm still tingles across his skin and the feel of Mavericks fingertips on his jaw bloomed with heat that he had sworn was not there previously. 

The Navy specifically prohibits any pursuing of relationships within the ranks. In reality if he was in any other situation with both man in somewhat older states he should be reporting the fraternization, frankly he was partly impressed Mitchell managed to marry up but if anyone could snarl Iceman’s attention it would be his wayward wingman, on the other hand this was highly classified especially since he had to somehow explain the sudden absence of the COMPACFLT. 

The rules were clear, he was to report the relationship at once. The ghost feel of Mavericks thighs brushing against his hips caused him to curl his hand around the arm of his chair as his gaze dropped to the desk and he could swear he could almost see that passionate kiss again right before his eyes as well as the cold and calculated challenging eyes staring back at him. 

Go ahead , they dared him. Try it.  

Well he only had one thing to say after 23 years of faithful service. 

Fuck the Navy.