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bradshawsbaby · 1 year ago

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Hi! 👋🏻 Thanks for opening requests for TGM's 1st anniversary! 😘 I'm having thoughts about Rooster or Hangman actually being a mechanic. 👀 I don't know why the beach scene helped quite a lot. 😇 Have a nice day!

Mechanic!Bradley was something I never knew I needed until this moment! I may have gotten slightly carried away 😂

It all started when you needed an oil change.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had one,” you admitted to your friend Charlotte over lunch one day, after complaining about a couple other problems you’d been having with your car lately. “My dad would probably kill me if I told him that,” you added with a laugh.

In all honesty, you had no idea what you were doing with your car. Whenever you’d run into issues in the past, or needed things like an inspection or an oil change, your dad had always handled it for you. But since you’d moved out to San Diego on your own, you’d been left to fend for yourself when it came to such matters.

The main problem, as you explained to Charlotte, was that most mechanics could sniff out your naïveté right away and looked for any opportunity to exploit it and overcharge you.

“Oh no, you have to go to Mike’s guy,” Charlotte insisted, immediately grabbing her phone and scrolling through her contacts. “He has his own garage. Mike’s been going to him for years. If you tell him you know us, he’ll give you a good deal,” she assured you.

If Charlotte’s boyfriend trusted this guy, then you knew you could, too.

“I’m texting you his number now. His name is Bradley Bradshaw,” she explained, tapping away on her phone until she hit SEND. “He’s really nice. And really cute. And from what I know, really single,” she added with a wink.

“Charlotte!” you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks grow warm. “I just need a mechanic, not a date.”

“I say you need both,” Charlotte grinned, nudging you playfully.

You ended up calling Bradley Bradshaw the next day and making an appointment to bring your car in.

“This guy better not charge you more than $75,” your dad insisted when you spoke to him on the phone. “And even that’s pushing it. He tries to charge you a penny more, you just walk right out of there.”

“Alright, Dad,” you nodded, working hard to hide the amusement in your voice.

Ultimately, Bradley Bradshaw—who was incredibly cute, just as Charlotte had said—only ended up charging you $40 for the job.

“That’s it?” you asked with wide eyes, mentally kicking yourself for giving away your surprise.

Bradley chuckled, wiping his freshly scrubbed hands on a small white towel, which he then tucked into his back pocket. “That’s it,” he nodded, smiling at you. “It’s an easy thing to do, plus you come highly recommended from Mike and Charlotte,” he grinned.

You felt butterflies in your stomach when he smiled at you and you suddenly forgot how breathing worked. Fingers trembling slightly, you opened your purse and pulled out $60. “Here you go,” you offered, handing him the money. “Keep the change. Please.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” he insisted, trying to get you your change.

“No, no. Thank you. Really,” you said, waving your hands. “It’s hard to find a trustworthy mechanic. I’m glad Charlotte recommended you.”

And not only because you’re breathtakingly gorgeous, you left unsaid.

“Well thank you,” Bradley said appreciatively. “Next oil change will be on the house.”

“I might be back sooner than that,” you admitted sheepishly, rubbing your arm. “My car’s kind of been acting up lately.”

“Can’t have that now, can we?” he replied, running a hand through his sun-kissed brown hair. “Why don’t you bring it back on Friday and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Okay,” you squeaked, trying not to focus on how good he looked in the white sleeveless shirt he was wearing, streaked with oil and grease.

And that was how you ended up going to Bradley’s garage every couple weeks, every time some new issue with your car popped up. At first, you really were having issues. Your steering wheel needed realigning, your brake light went out, you needed a tire change. Bradley always handled your cases personally as opposed to handing them off to one of his men, and he always charged you a fair price.

“Hey, he charged you even less than he charges me!” Charlotte jokingly complained once when you told her. “He must like you,” she added, waggling her eyebrows.

What you didn’t admit out loud was that you certainly liked him. Very much so.

It wasn’t just that he was handsome, though that was certainly the case. You’d never seen a man more rugged and muscular, and you’d also never been so attracted to a mustache in your life. But it was more than that. Bradley Bradshaw was also kind, funny, and a gentleman to boot. He was always patient when he spoke to you about whatever trouble your car was having, and he always made sure to personally walk you out whenever you visited his shop.

Which was why you’d now started visiting him for even the tiniest of problems.

“Hi, Bradley, I’m sorry to bother you, but my car was making kind of a funny sound on my drive home from work today. Would you mind looking at it?”

“This light keeps coming on and I don’t know what it means. Do you think you could help me figure it out?”

“Do you think I should get my car detailed? I keep hearing people talk about that.”

You felt like a fool, but you couldn’t help yourself. For his part, Bradley always indulged you. He never laughed in your face or told you to get lost. And lately, he hadn’t even been charging you for your silly little visits that took up his valuable time.

One day, however, after performing a thorough check on your car, he approached you with a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing at his tanned skin. “Hey, so I looked everything over, and I really can’t find any issues. I know it’s an older car, but I really think she’s got a bit more life left in her.”

“Oh,” you nodded, deflating slightly. You were running out of excuses to hang around the garage.

As if reading your thoughts, Bradley went on, “I hate for you to always have to go out of your way to come here. Unless you run into some major issues, I really think you should be good until it comes time for your next inspection.”

That was months away.

“Oh,” you repeated, deflating even further. You supposed this was his nice way of telling you to stop bothering him. “Okay. I’ll just come back in a few months then.”

Bradley surprised you by placing a hand on your arm. “Even if you’re not coming around with your car, I’d still really like to see you,” he murmured, his ears turning red. He almost looked a little shy.

“You would?” you gasped, once again unable to mask your surprise.

��Of course,” Bradley nodded, grinning brightly. “You don’t think I put in this many hours for just any customer, do you?” he teased.

It was your turn to look shy.

“I would really like that,” you told him, biting your lower lip as a smile broke out across your face.

“Can I give you a call tomorrow?” he asked, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

“Yes,” you replied quickly, your eagerness showing.

“Great,” Bradley beamed, his dark eyes sparkling.

This time, when Bradley walked you to your car, he rested his hand on your lower back and helped you settle into the driver’s seat.

“Until tomorrow then,” he smiled, brushing his fingers against yours.

You grinned, already thinking about how you had to call Charlotte. “Until tomorrow, Bradley.”

From my “TOP ONE” Anniversary Celebration! (Requests are now closed)

#bradshawsbaby turns one! 🎂#bradshawsbaby’s ‘TOP ONE’ anniversary celebration #rooster drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #mechanic!bradley #miles teller #top gun: maverick

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heygerald · 1 year ago

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HEART MECHANICS - PART 9/9

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OFC

Matty faces a lot of things. Including herself, her dad, her issues, her friends, and, oh yeah, the pilot who left her without saying goodbye.

Now's the time to be an adult, to face things head on, and to accept the fact that she's not always right. Actually, she's rarely right. And a rule against who she can and can't have feelings for?

Well, that's actually total fucking bullshit. Who knew?

Read the story here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / ...

Two sandwiches and a large cup of water later and Matty found that Frank was probably onto something about her hunger. She felt considerably better after eating, and the pounding behind her eyes seemed to dissipate with each sip of water that she swallowed. Her hands were less shaky now that she hadn’t had a cigarette since dinner the night before, and after she had washed up she found that the damage from Nick's mishap had been nothing other than a small bump on the knuckle.

It was totally possible that she had overreacted a bit.

Or, you know, a lot.

She tended to do that when sleep deprived, hungry, and in a pissy fucking mood.

Ouch. Being her friend must totally fucking suck.

“You want to tell me why Frank just dropped you at the end of my driveway?” Rick asked over the game of checkers that they were playing. Chess had always been Hollywood’s favorite; he bragged about how the other pilots were awful when it came to any sort of game involving mental capacity, and while he had played his fair share of pool, darts, and volleyball as a younger cadet, since she was around, Hollywood had settled into a more skillful sort of sport. One that she sucked at. Hence why they were currently playing checkers, rather than chess. “Not that I’m not happy you’re here, kid, but you never come to visit just to visit.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Christmas doesn’t count.”

Matty paused, thinking, before she jumped one of his red checkers. “I’ve been busy.”

“Sure.”

“I have.”

He raised a palm as if surrendering, but she knew that he didn’t believe that bullshit of an excuse. Not that she blamed him. It was a bullshit of an excuse. Rick may have spent her early years traveling, but for the last decade he and her mother had been settled down not two hours from the base. His work trips were far and few inbetween. Yet, she was more likely to travel to Ice’s than to his. When they did spend time together it was at some backyard celebration with a whole group of people; never just the two of them.

She had never sat down to wonder why that was, and now that the dilemma was being plated right under her nose, Matty found she didn’t like the options presented. She moved on with a sniff.

“I yelled at Nick,” she admitted when he hopped two of her pieces. He piqued a brow, not saying anything, and she relaxed onto her chair with a sigh. “And Booms, and George, and… pretty much everyone else too.”

“That’s nothing new.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks,” she deadpanned.

Rick shrugged as he finished the last sip of his coffee. The house was unusually calm for that time of afternoon, and even the dogs seemed to be slumbering peacefully in the corner. It was odd to step into. Growing up, she felt like home was always chaotic and rambunctious. It was her mother nagging, and her father sneaking off to drink in the garage, and her sisters always picking fights with each other about anything and everything.

Well, maybe it was a little bit of her picking fights with her sisters, and her purposely doing things wrong so that her mother would end up having to do them right, and—oh yeah—there was a handful of times that she had gotten into her father’s booze cabinet when he wasn’t home.

Huh. Maybe the ratio of calm in the house was directly related to her presence in the house.

What a fucking drag.

“What were you yelling about?” he dragged her from the self-spiraling.

“Nothing important.”

“Ah,” he nodded, understanding, and she both hated and loved the fact that her father had no qualms with her tendency to be a bitch. To, well, everyone. All the time. Her mother had never gotten used to the quick barbs, and her sisters got riled up anytime she said anything snarky. Then again, Tabitha was just as much of a bitch as she was. Rick may have wanted daughters, but sometimes Matty wondered if they were more than he had asked for. At least Rosie was quiet natured and easy to get along with. “Why?”

“I just told you,” she shrugged, moving her pieces at random now. “It’s nothing important. Nick squished my fingers today, which totally fucking hurt, so that was probably a reasonable enough reaction. But, you know, it’s been other stuff which doesn’t actually matter. Booms being too loud, Claire coming in late, Frank drinking the last of the coffee.”

“That’s not what I asked, kiddo.”

“Sure it is,” she rolled her eyes with a vague hand wave. “You asked why, I just told you. Bing, bang, boom. Let’s move on. You think Mom will cook steaks for dinner?”

“Matty,” he clipped.

A warning and a plea all in one.

God, she hated when he did that.

“Dad.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re avoiding the game,” she shot back, gesturing to the half empty board. Just to disprove her point he moved one of his pieces, and just to avoid his question, she moved one just as quickly. It was a totally illegal move, but Rick didn’t seem to care. “Come on, seriously? Have you and Frank started secretly listening to Oprah or something? We don’t have to get into this.”

“He dropped you on my driveway.”

“A total dick move, by the way. I don’t have anything with me. If you weren’t here I could have been kidnapped or chased by a rapid dog or something. He does know that women are very vulnerable members of the population, doesn’t he?”

“I’ve seen you scare off rabid dogs before. I don’t think that’s an issue.”

“Okay, well, what about—like—the weather? Could have frozen to death.”

“It’s eighty degrees out,” he deadpanned.

“Heat stroke, then.”

“Matilda—”

“Oh, Jesus!” she groaned, throwing herself out of her chair with a frustrated cry. Rick didn’t use her full name often, but when he did, it was because she was so far up shit’s creek that a motor engine wouldn’t even be of any help. A ridiculous notion that she was somehow in trouble with her father for her behavior at work when she was a fully functioning grown ass woman. She didn’t need his approval or his advice about her personal life. “Dad, I’m so not doing this with you.”

“Too fucking bad, kid. Now, sit down. We’re doing this.”

“Sit down? Seriously? You’re not my principle and I’m not in trouble and I am more than able to walk out that front door and—”

“Matilda.”

Matty folded right back into her chair without a single word. There was a huff, though. Actually, there were quite a few huffs that seemed loud enough to rouse the dogs. They glanced at her with weary eyes as if they hadn’t known her for their entire lives. Dodger, a Bernese as big as she was, even left the room.

Coward.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

Rick sighed. It had been a while since they had sat through one of these interventions, and she wondered if her dad had forgotten how much work fathering a daughter could be. There was a creak as he moved towards the bar cart on the other side of the room. There was some clinking as Rick poured himself a fifth of scotch—she really hoped that her mother didn’t come home any time soon, she would be pissed to find that Matty had Rick drinking this early in the day—and he took a long sip before asking, “is this about Ice?”

Her godfather’s name had her drawing up short with a bristle. “No,” she snapped, and when he cast her a disbelieving look in response, she took time to tamper down some of her attitude. She repeated herself in a calmer tone. “It’s not. I promise. It’s… it’s stupid.”

“So you do know what’s wrong.”

Matty rolled her eyes. People always thought that she got her attitude from her nowhere; suspected that it had just been endowed by the luck of the draw. In reality, she had gotten her silver tongue and sharp wit from Hollywood himself. She hated how much she was like him in moments like this. It made it hard to get anything done.

“What does it matter?” she pouted, drawing her feet up beneath her, the checkers completely forgotten. She was losing, anyway. Rick drifted through the room slowly, surveying the picture frames that dotted the walls as Matty started fiddling with a small model plane that had been sitting on the table. “It’s not a big deal, alright. I’ll apologize to everyone, buy them some beer, and all will be forgotten. We’ll move on—as we always do when I’m a bitch.”

“You can’t ignore the root of the problem. That’s how you end up in the emergency room with stomach pains that end up being appendicitis.”

“I was fourteen,” she whined. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Are you ever going to learn from it?”

She mimicked him. Not her best moment, but certainly not the worst. Rick just responded with a baleful glare and a deep sigh as he finally returned to his seat. “Are you pregnant?” he asked, and Matty actually choked on her own saliva at the question.

“What? No! Why would you even ask that! Christ, Dad! Is that why you didn't offer me anything to drink?”

He held up his palms. “Hey, it’s not exactly a question I want the answer to any time soon. I just had to ask,” he defended. Then, after a moment, muttered, “thank god for that.”

“Um, excuse me?”

“Look, I love you, but I do not intend on being a grandfather anytime soon. God knows raising you three was enough of a challenge. And your sister is still in college. I’d like to have a few good years of peace before the thought of changing more diapers comes into the equation.”

“I’ll make sure to let my gyno know that I need to stay on the pill for a few more years,” she deadpanned. He winced at the word gyno, and she rolled her eyes. Honestly, how could he have three daughters and still get uncomfortable about feminine issues? “I’m not pregnant so you can calm down, Dad. I think I’d need a boyfriend first and fuck knows how that’s going.”

His gaze sharpened. “Ah.”

Matty paused in her fiddling. “What?”

“This is about the kid, then.”

“No—no this is not about the kid. I—why does everyone keep saying that?” she asked in a huff, throwing her hands up so quickly that she nearly knocked over a lamp. Matty managed to fix it as it wobbled back and forth on the table, thankfully, but when she turned back towards her she almost wished she had just for a reason to leave the room.

“Did he… do something?”

“You mean did he make me a ruined woman? No, Dad, this isn’t the fourteenth century.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you have to make every conversation so goddamn difficult, Matilda?”

“For comedic purposes, obviously,” she snarked. He didn’t seem amused, and, for once, Matty didn’t feel all that proud of being a sarcastic bitch. Maybe that’s why she decided to give up the act with a sigh. Or maybe it’s because, after so many accusations, she actually did want to talk to someone about it. “He got sent out on a mission.”

“The one with Mav?”

“Yeah.”

“You knew he would.”

“Well yeah, but it's—you know—dangerous.”

“And you knew that the mission was dangerous.”

“Yes, but—”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“What do you mean what’s the problem? He got sent out last minute on a very dangerous mission that he could almost certainly die on! How is that not a problem?” she asked. “He wasn’t supposed to leave until this weekend. We were gonna spend more time together and then, out of the blue, he shipped out at the crack of dawn without so much as a warning. Not a text, not a call, not even a courtesy email. I had to find out about it from Boomer for chrissake! I’ll never live that down.”

Her raised tone seemed to startle Skiff from the nap he had fallen back into. The lab gave her a disgruntled look, stood from his bed, stretched, and went in the same direction that Dodger had gone.

“It’s the job,” was all her father said.

No shit it was the job. She knew that. She had seen that all her life with her father; he would pack up and ship out with barely any notice. He had missed important life events; birthdays, holidays, school recitals all because it was his duty to go. Ice had too. And Mav. It was just what they did, it was what they signed up for.

“I know that,” she clarified with a glare. “Obviously, it’s the job. Whatever.”

Whatever.

It clearly wasn’t whatever, and they both knew it.

“I guess I was just not expecting it, you know. To—to, like, feel so… sad, or whatever,” she huffed, waving her hands around again. Her finger throbbed a little when she smacked it onto the lamp—again—and this time Matty let the light fixture wobble back and forth without saving it. It was ugly anyway. “I mean, not sad. It’s not like this is the forties and he’s going to war. He’s coming back. If things go well, anyway. Which, then of course, what if things don’t go well and what if he… I—I don’t know what I’m saying. You get the idea. Or, maybe you don’t, whatever, it’s just so stupid that we’re even talking about this right now.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Everything about this is stupid. Why am I being all pouty and miserable when I’m not the one that got sent out? Why haven’t I pooped in two days? Is this some weird reverse pregnancy sympathy? Can that happen?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “I think you’re just worried about him.”

She blew a raspberry, returning her attention to the model plan. She never understood why her father had the patience to sit around and glue tiny little pieces of metal together when he could, quite literally, go to the base and fly the real thing. “Worried, schmorried. Maybe Booms is right and I’m about to start my period. Sync ups are totally real, you know.”

He grimaced. She smirked. Then he said something that wiped the smirk off her face. “Well, now you know how your mom felt every time I was deployed. A little bit crazy, a little bit overwhelmed. Not to mention she had three little hellions to look after all on her own.”

She bristled at the implication that she had anything in common with her mother. Matty didn’t hate her mom by a long shot; she loved the woman. But they were too different to ever get along well, to ever be as close as some mothers and daughters were. To think that they ever had something in common was disgruntling.

And, just maybe, true.

Still, she argued. “It’s totally different. You and mom were married, in love, all over each other blah blah blah. Bradley’s just some guy I know. Barely know, if you really think about it. We’re just, you know… friends.”

“Sure.”

“We are.”

“Friends don’t look at each like you two did at the bar,” he said. There was no inflection in his voice, no room to argue. Rick just said it like he saw it. “He’s gone, and you’re worried about him, and you’re taking it out on everyone else. But you can’t do that, kid. Frank, Boom, George? They’re your friends too. And if they don’t know what you’re upset about, they’re going to take your behavior pretty fucking personal. Not to say they shouldn’t—we both know you can be mean when you try to be. But they sure as hell don’t deserve it.”

She waived in her seat. “I… I know. I didn’t mean to yell at them.”

“Hell, what does meaning matter when you still do it?” he chuckled with a sip of beer. She was starting to wish that he would offer her one as well, but Rick held firm. Just as well, she figured the last thing she needed right now was alcohol. “You really like him, huh?”

“No,” she said, so quickly he barely got the question out.

“You sure?”

“How can I be sure?” she spat with an annoyed eye roll. “We went on one date and, like I said, we’ve only known each other for barely over a month. That’s not even one percent of my life—probably. Isn’t there some sort of rule about this whole thing?”

Her dad laughed again while scooting closer to the checkerboard, studying it. “Don’t think love is one of those things that has rules,” he told her. When she remained resolutely silent he added, “when I first met your mom, I was head over heels in moments. She, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so taken with me. Took months to get her on a date, actually. Ice and Sarah? They were all over each other the moment they locked eyes. Tabitha and Chase knew each other for six years before they started dating.”

Matty scrunched up her nose. “Chase? Who the hell is Chase?”

“Her boyfriend.”

“What? Since when does Tabitha have a boyfriend?” she cried. There was something so unsettling about the idea of her sister dating someone when Matty couldn’t even commit to a brita. I mean, who wants to change the filter every month? That was totally unreasonable.

“The point is,” he continued, ignoring her protests, “there are no rules when it comes to forming connections with people. Sometimes you meet someone who understands you the second you meet.”

“He didn’t even know my last name until three weeks ago,” she deadpanned.

“And yet he stuck around to find out, and then stuck around even after finding out. That's the kind of person you want to keep around; not the ones that find it easy to know you, but the ones that take the time to learn about you,” he added with another sip of his beer before reaching forward to hop three of her pieces in a single go. “Why are you being so hard on him? Is it because you don’t like him, or is it because you’re so goddamn stubborn that you don’t want to admit that you finally found someone you do like, and he just so happens to be a pilot?”

Her scowl was instant. “I’m not sure I like this supportive side of you. Too much smugness can kill you, you know?”

Rich grinned. “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black, I’m not sure I know what is. Now,” he waved at her across the board. “You want to tell me what you did to scare Frank off? I was hoping he would have stuck around for a beer.”

Matty tossed a plait of blonde hair over her shoulder with a grimace. “Ugh. You two are so gross. Just have an affair and run off together or something, you’re driving the rest of us crazy with all the suspense.”

Rick shook his head with a laugh as Matty finally turned her full attention to the game.

Yeah. She was definitely losing.

---

Matty stuck around at her parent’s house for the entire weekend. It was the longest she had stayed with them alone since she was a teenager, and though it felt a little weird, it was also exactly what she needed to get her head on straight. Frank returned to pick her up Sunday at five on the dot. She was pretty sure that he had planned that so he could be invited in for dinner (much to her mother’s chagrin), but she found she couldn’t complain about it. It was nice seeing her father and her best friend get along so well, even if it meant most of their ribbing was about her.

They left shortly after eating in far better moods than they arrived, and though they didn’t talk much on the return drive home, Matty didn’t mind. After a week of being run down by every single emotion she could think of, singing to the radio with Frank was a good way to decompress. Besides, she really did need to work on knowing not to talk shit.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she said anyway when they were ten minutes from her house. Afterall, she could always work on her attitude tomorrow. Frank arched a brow at her sideways, and she continued, “you literally abandoned me at my parent’s house. Not cool, Frankie. Not cool.”

He grunted. “I thought you were gonna bite my head off.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do when kidnapped. The police say you should use everything to your advantage. That includes my sharp, pointy teeth,” she said matter-of-factly, peeling her lips back to clack her jaw together like a shark.

Despite his unamused stare, Matty caught the tail-end of a smile curving his lips. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

“Bastard.”

He pulled into her driveway with a smile that she returned. The truck was in park for only a moment before Matty flung herself at him. He froze—as if worried she was actually going to bite him—only to relax when she full-heartedly clung to him. “Thank you,” she muttered. Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt as well as the radio. Still, he heard her. “I’m sorry for being awful.”

Frank patted her back. “You’re always awful.”

“And yet you’re still my friend.”

“Yeah, well,” he joked when she pulled back an inch. “I’m waitin’ to hear back from a couple other blondes around the area, so you’re a good place holder.”

Matty’s smile turned into a glare. “Ugh,” she groaned, detangling herself from him with as many sharp knees and elbows as she could manage. She didn’t bother climbing back into the passenger’s seat but instead popped open his door and clambered out that way. There was a grunt when she managed to knee him in between the legs, and that left her feeling better about the situation. By the time that Matty swung the door shut, she was all sickly sweet smiles again. “I love you.”

Frank responded by giving her the finger.

She cackled as he peeled down the street.

---

The week passed quicker than the previous. There were a lot of repairs to get done in a very short amount of time, so even if she had wanted to stew on unresolved feelings, she didn’t get a chance.

When she did have the time, the first moment to relax after five long days of work, she found herself striding across an over-crowded parking lot at the Hard Deck. Apologizing to the others hadn’t been as easy of a win as it had been to Frank. While George and Nick were able to soothe their ruffled feathers with a simple apology, Boomer hadn’t been so forgiving. It hadn’t mattered how sincere she was or how many times she brought donuts in for the crew—donuts that Eggs seemed to scarf down despite the fact that he had been on vacation the previous week and hadn’t even been there during her tyrannical parade—Booms still didn’t want to talk to her. It had taken her promising to buy the entire crew drinks at the bar for him to soften, and even then, he still seemed a bit upset. Eggs and Claire promised to cool him off before their evening out, however, and while she trusted them, Matty found herself a little bit worried that the evening wouldn’t go as smoothly as she wanted it too.

Hence why she was showing up to the bar thirty minutes early.

Or, well, okay, if you were going to be technical about it, Matty didn’t show up early as much as she did show up on time, but for her, that was early. Practically unheard of, actually. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten to one of their group outings just as it was starting. It was definitely her fault. Either she would forget to do her laundry ahead of time or she spent too long in the shower or she—on two separate occasions—would have had to spend twenty minutes searching for her phone only to find that it had been in her back pocket the whole time. But today she had prepared for all possible situations. That included not even taking her phone inside her house. Instead, it had been stuffed inside her glove compartment since lunch.

“No fuckin’ way,” Frank’s voice drawled from the parking lot. She turned to find him and Boomer exiting his truck with mutual looks of disbelief. “Did someone die?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not always late.”

“You were late at your own birth,” he deadpanned. Matty rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. Her mom had told the story of how she carried Matty for a week and a half past her due date before she finally decided to show up. Typical. “You look nice.”

Her tongue darted back into her mouth at the compliment, and she did a half-hearted spin in the parking lot with a laugh. She had paired a jean skirt with the new sparkly black top that Claire had gotten her for her birthday. Paired with some dangly earrings, a blow-out, and her favorite pink eyeshadow, Matty had to admit that she looked good.

“And you showered for once. Ooh-la-la. Who are you boys trying to impress?”

Frank muttered something unsavory under his breath, but Boomer’s response was more or less lacking. Matty’s smile dropped into a frown, and she quickly caught Frank’s eye. He didn’t say anything else; just knew what she was asking.

“I’ll find the others.”

Boomer went to move after him, but was held up when Matty grabbed him gently by the elbow. “Booms, please, can we talk?” she asked. Implored, really. It was actually so close to begging for her that if he had said no she likely would have cursed him out. But he didn’t say no, and together they formed a small huddle at the bottom of the stairs. “I was a total bitch, I was totally out of line, and I never should have yelled at you this week.”

He grunted. “You dumped my coffee out.”

“Trust me, no one understands how sinful that was better than I do,” she said. “I’ll buy you coffee all this week.”

“You kept referring to Hobart as hob-shart.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at that. Even when she was a bitch, at least a funny one. “That was wrong of me.”

“You said—” he started, pausing, then clearing his throat when his voice pitched to a girly decibel. “You said that Hugh Jackman is an awful actor.”

“Only because I’m jealous! He’s so good looking, with nice pearly whites,” she cried. “We both know that he deserves an Oscar for his performance as Wolverine in the x-men movies.”

Boomer sniffed. “And for the Greatest Showman.”

“The Greatest—? Yes, no, definitely,” she quickly corrected herself. “You like musicals. Of course you like musicals. That was an amazing film, and he deserved international accolades for it.” What she was saying seemed to wear down Boomer’s grouchiness, and slowly the tension in his shoulders receded. “Now, how about I buy a round of drinks? We could hustle some pilots at darts. That always makes you feel better.”

His head teetered back and forth a moment before, finally, she earned herself a smile. “Yeah, alright. Hustling some pilots would make me feel better.”

“See!” Matty exclaimed before planting a glossy kiss onto his cheek. That had him grinning properly, and he tossed an arm over her shoulder as they started towards the front door. “I bet we can round up some real losers. Wounding some pride always makes me feel better.”

“I could definitely think of a few fellas that would pony up some money.”

“Too bad Hangman isn’t here. I would love to make him buy me another blowjob shot.”

Whatever she said seemed to amuse Boomer greatly, and she shot him a winning smile as they stepped into the bar. She was surprised to find that it was packed wall to wall already. For it only being seven, that was practically unheard of.

“Jesus, what’s all the fuss about?” she wondered as Boomer steered her towards the bar.

“What’s it ever about?” he joked. She thought about that, and before he even gave the answer, she already knew what it was. “Pilots.”

“Fucking pilots.” Matty rolled her eyes with an over exaggerated raspberry. “We can definitely find some suckers to hustle tonight then. What do you want to drink?”

“Your choice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. There was something sly and unsettling about his grin, and Matty narrowed her eyes at him when he dropped his arm off her shoulder. He spotted Frank at a table towards the back. Claire and Eggs were already there, and, if she had to guess, Nick and George wouldn’t be far behind. “I’ll be with the others. Try not to get too distracted before you deliver the coldies, yeah?”

He disappeared before she could give a response. “Why would I get distracted?” she asked no one in particular. Of course, there was no one to answer that question, and so Matty let it go with a shrug. Australians—she would never really understand them. Something else she didn’t understand was how packed the place was. It took more than a few elbows to get to the bar, and even then, it took five minutes before Penny arrived.

At least she had a smile on.

“Service with a smile usually counts for more when I’m not waiting forever, you know,” Matty jibed. “I think I can feel the dementia settling in as we speak.'

Penny laughed, completely unbothered by the attitude. “I’m just happy you didn’t come across the counter yourself.”

“Wow, you’re in a good mood,” Matty said. “Haven’t seen you smile that big since you won that thirty pound turkey in the Thanksgiving raffle last year. Should I be worried about going bankrupt tonight?”

Penny tossed a dish towel over her shoulder with a fond eye roll. “Funny as always, Mats,” she drawled. But, if the smile that stretched back onto her face was anything to go by, she clearly wasn’t that bothered by the jab. “What can I get you?”

“Seven beers.”

An odd look appeared in Penny’s eye, but she began lining up some glasses anyway. “Crew night?”

“Uh, duh, Pen. It is Friday.”

“Well, sure,” the woman said with a huff when the glasses clinked together. Matty pointed to the tap closest to her, and inched a little bit closer across the bar to hear better. “But I thought you would be joining in with everyone else tonight, too. Not just the crew, anyway. Unless you still really do have problems with the pilots.”

Matty furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

Penny laughed as if Matty had made a joke, but when she caught the confused look on her face, she slowly let go of the tap handle. “I thought you would have heard.”

“Heard what?”

“They’re… back.”

“Back?” Matty echoed, shaking some hair over her shoulder, uncomprehendingly. “Who’s back?”

Penny didn’t give her an answer other than to glance around the crowded bar. Matty followed her line of sight slowly, looking for the gag to whatever joke this was, but that line of thinking went out the back door when she started picking up on some of the faces in the crowd. Faces that were smiling, laughing, and having the time of their lives as if they had just gotten back from a successful mission.

She didn’t know what to say, so she settled on the classic.

“Son of a bitch.”

Penny’s grin faltered at the reaction. “I’ll get some shot glasses,” she said, as if not knowing what else to say, and Matty didn’t try to stop her as she disappeared around the other side of the bar. Shots sounded pretty good right now.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed when Penny returned with two shot glasses and a bottle of something brown. She poured them quickly, not bothering to keep the bar top dry, and when she moved them towards Matty the blonde downed them both in succession without blinking.

“Fuck,” she hissed, wiping her mouth, completely forgetting about the lip gloss. “That burns.”

Penny held up the bottle with a smirk. Bourbon.

“Ew, Jesus, I thought that was tequila.”

“Oh no,” she wagged a finger at Matty, before returning to her earlier job of filling up the beer glasses. “I know you and tequila, Matty, and you do not need tequila right now. Last thing I need is for you to start some trouble in my bar.”

“I—I’m not going to start any trouble!”

“You have that look.”

“Look? What look!”

Penny set down a full glass of beer only to pick up another one. But the look she gave Matty was telling; a lot like a nun shaming a rambunctious toddler. “Like you’re going to do something stupid, but you don’t know what. I don’t need that tonight. No ma’am.”

“Uh—ugh!” she tossed her hair, huffing like a bull. It was an absurd idea that all Matty did was cause trouble at the bar; worse even that tequila and her didn’t mix well. Matty happened to love herself on tequila. It made her fun, fearless, and—well, okay, maybe a little bit more likely to punch someone—but that was just a quirk. “Just give me a shot of tequila. Please?”

Penny arched a brow, arms crossed. “Just one?”

Someone pressed up behind her, an elbow stretching smoothly onto the bar top, and Matty was just about to mentally prepare herself to ruin some poor pilot’s night, when the cadence of a warm voice spoke over the music to say, “actually, make it two.”

Penny’s eyes sparkled as she disappeared to the other side of the bar. Matty watched her go, frozen almost. A ridiculous notion that some guy hitting on her at the bar could have her freeze up—she was Matty Neven, afterall, and she didn’t just let some handsome pilots smooth talk their way into her pants—and with that particular mindset she tossed some hair over her should with a shrewd glare.

“I don’t let pilots buy me drinks,” she told him.

His lips curved into a smile, and she took a moment to give him a good look over. He was dressed a lot like the first night that they had met. A cotton button down that was open just enough that she could make out the hard lines of his collarbones, snug dark jeans that fit in all the right areas, and a pair of boots. Not military issued, but nice ones. The type that would bend very little if she tried to stomp on his toes, and that would hurt a whole lot if they kicked her in the shins. Around his neck dangled some familiar dog tags, and next to them was a pair of Ray Ban aviators that were probably sold out of the store from how many other pilots had the same ones. His hair was gelled just enough to let some loose curls dangle onto his forehead, and although his cheek was marred with a few healing cuts, he looked good.

Really good.

And—hell—if that wasn’t the problem.

“What do you have against pilots?” he asked.

Matty popped a hip as she sank her elbow onto the bar. They were facing each other now, and even though she was a tall girl, she still had to tilt her head back to meet his stare-down fully. She doubted the sparkly lip gloss helped her to look intimidating.

She hoped the sharp tone of her voice would be enough. “Well, they’re annoying—”

“Ouch.”

“Egotistical, selfish—”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Big-headed, stupid, and more often than not, they’re liars.”

He hummed, taking in her insults with nothing more than the melodramatic furrow of his brow, and Matty felt her glare waver slightly. She stuck her nose out further with the simple remind that—hello—he was a pilot for fuck’s sake.

“That’s harsh,” he noted. He leant further onto the bar so that they were only an inch apart, and her breath hitched against her will. “And how do you know that I’m a pilot?”

“Please,” she scoffed before snagging his dog tags with a chipped nail. “The only people that wear aviators anymore are fifty years old who want to feel young again and pilots. Not to mention the fact that I know everyone in this bar.”

He tsk-ed, but it didn’t stop the smile that was slowly inching across his mouth. It drove her up a wall. Not because she wanted to kiss that stupid perfect little mouth but, because—well—she couldn’t really think of a reason at the moment, but Matty was sure that one existed.

“You know everyone here? You must be a big deal or something to be that popular.”

She nodded, coming back into herself a little bit, and let his dog tags go with a shake of the head. Tendrils of hair went cascading over her shoulders. She tried to draw some confidence from that. She was an independent bitch boss of a woman who didn’t need anything from anyone.

Particularly not a pilot.

“Yeah. Actually, yes I am,” she started, crossing one arm over the other. Then, when that felt a little too weird she untucked her arms so that she could start waving them around wildly as if to prove her point. She almost smacked someone walking by in the head in doing so, but didn’t let that stop her. If some idiot with glasses got smacked in the head it was his fault for wandering too close. “I am a big fucking deal and I have plenty of men that throw themselves at me every single night. Case and point the fact that I’m a ten out of ten, eleven if we’re being honest, and all these other losers have been giving me eyes since I walked in here—which is crazy, really, if you think about it, because the only guy that I actually want to have attention from decided to just leave without saying goodbye. Not a text or a call or anything!”

“What an asshole,” he drawled.

“A total asshole! And now, even worse, I got all dressed up and am standing here looking like this and he still won’t just take the fucking hint and—”

Bradley kissed her before she could say anything else.

Thank god for that, too, because she wasn’t sure she had anything else to say, and her self-control seemed to be at an all time low, but Matty would be damned if she had given in first.

He kissed her like his life depended on it, like it was the only thing that he had wanted to do since he met her all those weeks ago in this exact same bar, on a Friday night just like this, packed like sardines by all the other pilots that she couldn’t really stand. Her arms swung around the back of his neck just as his clutched her waist. At first, he held her gently—almost like he was afraid she wasn’t real—but after a moment she felt his entire body relax, and his hands became firmer as they shifted to the base of her spine. It was a kiss just like after their date; warm, explosive, radioactive in the best ways possible that had her toes tingling and all the thoughts evaporating from her head. But it was also better than that. There was no holding back, no unspoken words.

Just him and her.

“Seriously, get a fucking room.”

Oh, and Hangman.

They pulled apart with heaving chests to find that their show had earned themselves quite the audience. Hangman was at the forefront, a beer in each hand, and while her first instinct was to break his delicate little nose that she always thought looked a bit too much like it had been bought with daddy’s money, Bradley surprised her by just laughing.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist just because I beat you to the girl,” he said.

Hangman scowled. But then his mouth did this weird thing and it actually turned up into a smile. Not a smirk, but a real, god-honest smile. “Yeah, well, it’s the only time you’ll ever actually beat me at something, Bradshaw, so you better savor it.”

“Um, excuse me,” Matty chirped, drawing his eyes. “Hi? Fuck off, won’t you?”

The group of pilots crowed in laughter at her barb, but Hangman didn’t take it all that personally. Rather, Mav was there shooing them all away before he could mange any sort of retaliation. “Alright, alright,” he said, waving the group off towards the pool tables. “That’s enough. Let’s give the kids some privacy, huh?”

“At least use protection!” Hangman jeered over the crowd as he was shoved away.

Mav smacked him over the back of the head just as they disappeared into the sea of people.

And suddenly, just like that, it was her and Bradley.

Bradley, who was staring at her with stars in her eyes. “Hi,” he said.

Matty responded by promptly punching him in the chest. “You dick!”

“Hey,” he threw up his hands, laughing, when she just continued to swat at him. He caught her by the wrists, and when she tried to smack him a third time, he pointed out, “you kissed me.”

“I’m not upset about the kiss!” she exclaimed. Her hair went in every direction when she tossed her head at him, but rather than frighten him, the show only seemed to amuse him more. She supposed her pink eyeshadow was no less attractive to him as it had been the first time they met under these circumstances. Kismet, bismet. This was total bullshit. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving. Ass!”

“I know.”

"You promised that you wouldn't leave me behind. Remember that? The whole 'sitting out on a surfboard and bearing my soul to you' thing that we did? That wasn't a hallucination!"

Bradley sobered up beneath her barrage, and she was happy to note that he actually looked guilty in front of her. Granted, it was skewed a bit by his overall handsomeness. Still. "I promised I wouldn't leave and forget about you, Mats. And I didn't. I know I should have said something about leaving, but... our date went so well and I felt like I couldn't find a good time to bring it up and then..."

"Then?"

"I didn't want to, you know, be together our last night just because I was leaving."

"Be together?" she echoed, not quite catching on at first. When she did, her entire brain seemed to blank out. She hadn't thought about it like that. "Oh. You mean—"

"Yeah," he grimaced. "I wanted it to end like it did. With a kiss and a promise that I could take you back out on a second date. Not with me sneaking out first thing in the morning. Not that I would have! But, I just... didn't think I would go if you asked me to stay," he admitted with a long breath. His shoulders sank as if that truth physically deflated him.

She tried not to feel so bad for being so mad at him. Failed, then tried again by shoving a finger into his chest. "Well, you didn’t tell me you came back!”

“I know."

“And you could have been so totally hurt.”

“I know.”

“And—and—and I missed you!” she tacted on thoughtlessly. Albeit, not all that tactfully. Her voice pitched a decibel higher that had her sounding more like a crying cat than a scornful woman. Yet, upon hearing the revelation, Bradley’s features softened, and when her lip started to tremble he moved closer. Through sniffles, she said, “don’t touch me, I’m still mad at you.”

He ignored the warning to tilt her chin up so that she was looking at him. “I missed you too.”

“Like—a lot.”

“A lot, a lot. You have no idea how much,” he muttered, softly brushing some hair off of her face. She wondered briefly about what her dad had said; about how the people willing to stick around to understand you were better than those who did immediately. But—what if those people were one in the same thing? “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back. I stopped by the motor pool but you were already gone. Boomer said you’d be here tonight.”

She floundered. “He didn’t say anything about it.”

“I got the idea that he was a little pissed at you,” Bradley mused.

When he arched his brow she shrank beneath his gaze. The stories of her behavior over the past week were not something she was going to share with him. Ever, if that was an option. Instead, she evaded the unspoken question to ask, “why didn't you call?”

He sucked his lip between his teeth. "I did, actually. You probably have, like, a hundred missed calls and thirty voicemails from me at this point. You weren't answering your phone."

"My—oh," embarrassment welled up her throat until her entire face was bright red. "I left it in my glovebox because I kept losing it and I didn't want to be late tonight because Boomer was—it's a long story."

He didn't say anything. Just smiled softly while gently pulling her closer to him. At this distance, she could see the damage done to his face.

“Your face is all cut up,” she pointed out, softly brushing over the skin. He winced, and Matty immediately retracted her arm.

“It’s… a long story.”

They shared rueful, knowing smiles. "And everyone else?"

“Good. Better than good, actually. Hangman got another kill, so we know he won’t shut up about that. Not to mention that Mav finally got his head straight about Penny—said that the whole mission made him realize what was actually important and not. Think he might actually do something stupid like propose. And, you know, I got that kiss. Not a bad way to come back.”

She flushed. The scowl that came next was ruined a little by the pink dotting her cheeks. “Just… don’t do that again.”

“Kiss you?”

She punched him; softly this time. “Leave without telling me, dick.”

Bradley smiled.

"I told you, babe, you're unforgettable. I wouldn't dream of it." he said, and, when the compliment did lighten her mood, the air between them stopped feeling so tense and started feeling a whole lot more electric. Bradley fucking grinned. “Does this mean I can finally start buying you drinks?”

Matty huffed, inching closer, just as he swooped down to steal her breath. All thoughts of love and life and worry and fear vanished. And—yeah, in that moment, she felt like she finally did understand her mom a little bit better. It sucked having this big inevitable thing in life that would take away the person you cared about, but it was also worth it if every time they came back felt like this. Like nothing had changed, like no time had passed.

Like your heart would need a tune-up at the mechanics from how hard it was pumping.

This kiss ended sooner than the first, but her lungs ached just as much. “Can I take you out on another date?”

“I think you’d be better off taking me home,” she muttered. His chest rumbled with laughter, and while she did mean it, when Bradley tried to drag her away from the bar, she tugged him right back with a smirk. “Later. I think right now you need to buy me a drink.”

He fixed her with a handsome smile, before conceding.

“And don’t cheap out on the liquor, Bradshaw,” she snarked,

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Neven,” he quipped back with a small hand at her waist.

By the time they came out of their little bubble to tune back into what was happening at the bar, they found Penny had reappeared with two shots of tequila, as well as her platter of beers. Mav was chatting with her with a conniving sparkle to his eyes that Matty really didn’t like, but she didn’t get the chance to ask about it before there was a burst of yelling from the pool table.

Penny sighed. “Will you do something about that?”

“About what?”

“Boomer is hustling the pilots again,” she said. The brunette didn’t seem all that put out by it, though. Her tone was more so that of reluctant acceptance. “The last thing we need is him and Hangman to go at it over a couple of bucks. Those two have the biggest egos I’ve ever seen in this bar. The only thing worse is that I think they’re actually becoming friends.”

Matty and Bradley shared a look.

“Maybe we can stick around for—you know—just one game of pool,” he hedged.

“Well, it is pretty early,” she agreed. “And we definitely can’t have those two becoming friends.”

“No, of course not. They would suck all the air out of the room. Obviously, we can’t have that.”

There was a moment of silence as they sized one another up, before Matty and Bradley downed their shots of tequila in unison. She snagged two beers off of the tray, and before Mav could stop them, she said, “take the rest to the crew in the corner, won’t ya, Mav? We’ve got to hustle some losers at pool.”

Maverick popped his mouth open to protest, but they didn’t stick around to hear it.

“Well, well, well, what ‘ave we here?” Boomer cried when he saw her approach. He didn’t hesitate to take one of the beers out of her hand, and Hangman narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. “Finally come to help me teach blondie ‘ere how to lose with dignity?”

“Actually, Booms,” Matty grinned. “We thought we would teach you two how to lose with dignity.”

The boys straightened, sizing up how serious she was.

“Well?” Bradley arched a brow. His tone was just as devious as hers, and, really, she thought that maybe Penny was onto something about the lot of them being nothing but trouble. “You want to play or what?”

“Oh,” Hangman drawled. “It’s so on.”

The sound of the cue ball cracking somehow felt louder than the jukebox, but unlike the first time that the mechanics had been introduced to the pilots, Matty found that there was a whole lot more laughter than anything else. The others joined as the hours ticked by; a never-ending loop of pool, darts, cards, and then pool again that went until they were kicked out by Penny in the early morning hours. She didn’t remember a lot of it. The amount of alcohol they consumed was probably death-defying if she were being honest, but she did remember one thing.

She let a pilot buy her drinks.

And, fuck, did that feel good.

***taglist (we're finally done!) @callsignbarb @coyotesamachado @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @olivethenerd16 @the-winter-marvel33 @hiddleless @momc95 @alanadetigy @obsessedasusual @voidisms000

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #heart mechanics #rooster fanfic

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alegendoftomorrow · 10 months ago

Text

Snowed in Grief

Summary: Not all wounds can be seen, and sometimes it takes being trapped in a childhood cabin to open those sores and let them be healed.

Characters: Natasha Trace and sister!reader. First person, no use of name other then “little sister”. No physical descriptions of reader

Word Count: 1659

Warnings: Mentions of grief and death of a family member. Mentions of being hungover/alcohol consumption to cope. Some cursing

A/N: This is my second entry into @sailor-aviator winter challenger. My prompt was snowed in and I wanted to take this one in a little bit of a different direction. I know for so many of us the holidays can be a time of grief and loneliness rather than the joy they are for others. For anyone who thinks they are alone in this, I want you to know that you’re not. I’m here and I understand. You don’t have to struggle alone; you don’t have to be alone. Reach out to those around you and if you have no one to support you then know that I am here and always willing to listen or just be there for you. I’m happy to sit with you in the dark until you’re ready to stand up again. Always.

The wind howled against the window panes and rattled the walls of the house. Sending a chill straight up my spine despite the warmth radiating from the crackling fire. My eyes watched the wood shift as the flames continued to eat away at them. Turning the solid structures to blackened ash and smoke that floated up the chimney. With another long sigh I curled up tighter into the side of the ancient couch. Pulling up the grey throw blanket Natasha must have laid over me last night when I fell asleep over my shoulders. Everything hurts but especially my head, which pounds in a rhythm that’s out of tune with the shuddering windows.

“Ah she wakes,” Nat’s voice cuts through my foggy thoughts and I shift only enough so I can see her leaning against the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Her usually perfectly hair is loose about her shoulders and fluffier from where she’s run her fingers through it. A mug with the words World’s Best Sister is steaming in her hands. “How are you feeling?”

I ignore her question and turn back to the fire. Shifting enough I’m sitting up with my knees against my chest and my arms wrapped around them. “You know it’s a week past Christmas right,” I say instead.

I can’t see her expression but I’m sure she looks down at her very bright red, fluffy pajama pants that have Merry Christmas written in white letters all over them. She laughs and I hear her walk over and sit down on the other end of the couch with a sigh.

“It’s not the New Year yet so I can still celebrate,” she says with a self-satisfied tone that almost pulls a smile to my lips. “Isn’t that what mom always says?”

“Said,” I correct. A habit now. A correction I can’t stop myself from making. Like it’s an impulse I have no control over. “It’s what mom always said.”

Silence falls between us as the wind picks up again. Only this time it’s muted slightly by the snow that’s drifted up to the edge of the windows. Covering the back porch and no doubt nearly burying Nat’s car that she used to drive all the way out here to find me in our family’s cabin. The one mom left me in the will Nat had been executive of four months ago. The cabin we had played in as little girls. Our heights still carved on the door and our artwork still stuck to the fridge. Nat’s little grey jets zooming through a crayon blue colored sky and my rows of flowers in every different color. All of it untouched. All of it the same as the last time we had been up here. Except for the now empty liquor cabinet and the pile of photo albums sitting unopened on the coffee table in front of us.

“Right,” Nat finally breaks the silence. “You know she’d hate the fact you didn’t decorate this place.”

“She’d hate a lot more things about me then just that,” I shoot back. My eyes starting to blur with tears as I set my lips in a hard line to keep the sob out of my mouth.

Nat sighs again and I hear her set her mug down on something.

“No, she wouldn’t. She’d be upset that you were hiding here by yourself instead of with your family but—”

“I’m not hiding!” I snap. I wince at how childlike it sounds. Setting my jaw and turning my body suddenly to face Nat who’s sitting up straight and proper on her side of the couch. The perfect little soldier.

It’s not fair but I seethe anyway. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going specifically so this wouldn’t happen. I wanted to be alone. I deserved to be alone. Nat had always been better about…. well, everything. Always the first, always the champion, always the pride and joy of our family. The All-American Softball star with a full ride and a shot at the pros who’d given up that dream for a career as a Naval Aviator. Valedictorian and prom queen. The oldest child with medals and trophies proudly displayed on the walls of our parents’ homes. Then there was me. The wild child, the rebel, the girl with her nose stuck in everything but a book. I was Nat’s opposite in nearly every way. Well, almost every way.

“You have no idea what it’s been like for me for this past year. You weren’t here! I was the one who stayed, who took care of everything, who made sure everyone knew what was happening with mom. I made sure she took her pills and I was the one who stayed up for days on end when she got so bad, she’d stop breathing! I gave up my whole life to come and take care of her and I never once asked you, or anyone else for help!”

My voice is laced with grief and it shakes despite my best efforts not to let it. Tears, hot and burning trace down my cheek as I swallow back the burning remnants of alcohol that try and climb their way back up.

“That’s not fair! I would have—”

“I know you would have! Because you’re perfect right? Because you can always o everything right and poor little me can’t handle anything?” The words are out of my mouth before I can really think about them and it’s only when Nat looks at me like I’ve slapped her do I regret them.

I look away and bury my face into my knees as I start to sob again. Whatever pain last night’s bender had numbed now coming back full force. Anger and grief knot my stomach and choke off my sobs as I only half gasp for breath. Wishing instead that I too would stop breathing. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe then I could stop hurting people.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it I—I… I just wanted to prove to them, to—to you that I wasn’t a failure. That I could do one thing right. That I could take care of mom and she’d--… she’d…” My muffled words fade out. Choked off by another cry that tightens my throat. I feel the couch shift and then Nat’s arms are around me. Strong and sure as they always have been, she squeezes me close and without thinking I curl into her. A child seeking the comfort that she’d denied herself.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I’m so sorry little sister. It was never your job to take care of her alone. You never had to prove anything to anyone. Least of all me. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you had to,” her voice breaks as she squishes the last words out.

I close my eyes and move my arms to wrap around Nat’s body. Shifting until my knees are laid over her thighs and I’m practically in her lap. She’s crying too. I can feel the tears soaking my hair as her hands grip into my sweatshirt. Her body curling around mine too.

“I’m sorry you ever thought yourself less then. You are a wonderful, and amazing, and talented young woman. I wish you could see that about yourself. I wish you could see the woman I see when I look at you. The woman mom saw. Even if you are a major pain in the ass most of the time.” We both half laugh at that as I sniffle against her chest.

“Above all that though you are my sister. You will always be my sister first and I’m sorry if I made you feel abandoned, or alone but I’m here now and we can get through this together. Okay?” Her question is a plea that pierces my heart and for one second, we are eight and five years old again. Hiding in a blanket fort with our stuffed bears and a flashlight, promising to be sisters forever. Promising never to leave each other’s sides. Promising to have each other’s backs always.

“Okay,” I whisper. Pulling away and wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. “Okay.”

Nat smiles through her own tears and wipes at my face. Gently tucking the fly aways off my forehead and wiping the last of my tears as I sniffle again and lean back down into her shoulder.

“Okay then,” she says. Clearing her throat and snuggling me closer beside her. “Then first after this snow clears up and we can actually get out of here, we’re going to go home and you are going to come out to San Diego with me. My apartment is big enough for the both of us and we’re going to be stationed there for a while still.”

“I don’t know if that’s such—” I start.

“This wasn’t up for debate,” Nat interrupts. “I miss my sister and you can’t stay here alone. Mom would want us to be together. To help each other get through this. We’ll take it one day at a time. Maybe we can both start over there. A fresh page, a new chapter for the Trace sisters.”

I nod. For the first time in a while, I can see a tiny glimmer of hope floating somewhere far ahead of me. San Diego sounds like a good place to start over. It’s not a cure and it won’t fix everything, but maybe, just maybe it can be the start of something. Maybe all of this grief doesn’t have to be the end of everything.

“Okay.” Is all I say for now.

Outside the wind silences itself against the fluffy banks of snow, which now feel less like a prison and more like a safety blanket. Waiting to be pulled away to reveal something beautiful underneath. Like a row of multicolored flowers.

#Liz’s Christmas challenge #writing challenge #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace #christmas #snowed in #grieving #unhealthy coping mechanisms #new start #snowed in grief #top gun maverick

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